Chapter 37

Kitty.

I sat in the window seat in Squatch’s living room, and felt tiny. It was made for Squatch, which meant it felt like I was a child sitting in a grown-up’s chair. I’d made coffee, put chocolate in it, a lot of milk, and then put it over ice. It was so freaking hot outside, it was unbearable. I’d sat on Squatch’s patio at first, but had given it up in less than five minutes. This was the best of both worlds — a view of the woods behind his house and air conditioning.

It’d been two days since the execution. I should’ve gone back to work the night before, but Bobcat had told me he needed to handle a few security issues before I came back. If I’d known it was going to be a few days, I wouldn’t have changed to get rid of the marks on my ass from the spanking Squatch had given me. He’d whaled on my ass with that horrid drilled paddle, but fuck, I’d needed it. Something about crying while my big Sasquatch holds me in the safety of his arms makes everything in the world right again. It shouldn’t, but it does.

I assumed I’d go back to work that night, but Bobcat hadn’t contacted me yet to let me know what time to come in. Did I talk to Squatch about this, or stick with Bobcat? My gut told me to keep it up with Bobcat, at least for now. He’s my boss. His decision.

Except I knew that wasn’t the case. Mad Dog would have the final say, but if Squatch didn’t want me going back to work, then I was out of a job. I didn’t think he’d do that, though. Or I desperately hoped he wouldn’t.

I had something else to talk to Squatch about, and I had no idea how to bring it up. He’d told me, while we were at the beach house with Brooke, that if I screamed out loud I’d get the belt. I’d screamed once, and he seemed to have forgotten it. I know I should’ve been relieved, but it felt as if he’d lied to me. Or rather, as if he’d made a promise he hadn’t kept.

And yet, there was no way I could bring it up to him. It would be like asking him to whip me with his belt — which I’m not opposed to doing if we’re playing, but punishment is so much different. It was impossible for me to ask, and yet, if he was going to let it go, it changed who we were to each other.

But we’d had sex before he left to handle shit. Oh, who am I kidding. We didn’t have sex, he fucked me into the mattress. It’d started out sweet, as it sometimes does, but then it’d been me draped over the bed, him standing behind me, fucking me hard enough he’d have probably killed a human woman.

And I’d loved every second of it.

Except that I’m supposed to be punished before we have sex. And then, there’s no orgasm for me, which usually means no sex.

I heard three engines drive onto our road, and I pulled them apart in my head. Two of Squatch’s motorcycles, and his truck. His brothers had moved our things out of the apartment and into his house, but they hadn’t brought any vehicles.

My car had been stolen in Atlanta, and I only had liability insurance on it. I’d complained to him the night before that I felt a little trapped here, without my car, and pointed out I needed a ride to a used car lot, so I could buy another. He’d given me his spare key to his truck, and told me I should drive it for a few weeks, until we figured some things out. In the meantime, he promised to tell his brothers to be on the lookout for a dependable car someone wanted to sell.

And he’d followed through on bringing the truck. I closed my eyes and leaned back, more relieved than I wanted to admit because this meant he wasn’t going to try to keep me locked up.

Squatch came inside ten minutes later. I expected he’d have at least two of his brothers with him, but he was alone.

He didn’t walk to me and kiss me. He stepped into the room, stood, and stared at me until I opened my eyes and looked at him.

“You seem unsettled.” His deep voice settled me a little. This place didn’t feel like home, but having Squatch here helped.

“It’s a big house. I’m used to a small apartment now. The last big house I lived in belonged to my father.”

He looked at me at least thirty seconds this time before responding. “And you lived in a huge bedroom on the top floor there, too.”

I turned and looked out the window. “Yeah, now that you mention it, but I hadn’t thought of it.”

“There are empty houses in the compound. If you want to look at all of them, I can sell this one and buy another. We can make it our house from the start, and not my home that you’ve moved into.”

I shook my head. “No. I want to go through the process of making this my home, too. I love the floorplan, the views, the energy.”

“We need to have a serious talk. I’ve put it off as long as I can, but I’m still not comfortable doing it with the mood I sense you’re in.”

I turned back to him and met his gaze. Was he waiting to punish me until I was in a better frame of mind? “Maybe I’ll be more settled once we have it.”

Again, a long pause before he responded. “Perhaps you will.” He turned and walked to a chair that hadn’t been in this room before. It was in a corner, kind of off to itself. It was armless, with a low back. It seemed too small for him until he sat in it, and then it seemed to fit. Not comfortably, but as if he was more, somehow.

“Come here, Kitten.”

Every square inch of skin on my body erupted into goosebumps. Even my scalp. If I’d had fur, it would’ve been standing up.

When I was standing before him, he nodded. “Good girl. This will be where you’re punished. Nowhere else. Tell me why we’re here.”

“Because you told me not to scream with my voice, Sir. To do it in my head. I let one scream out.”

“That’s right. What do you do now?”

“I strip and kneel, Sir.”

“Yes. In the future, when I send you here or call you here, you’ll remove your clothing at the coffee table. Clothes folded on it, shoes placed under it. You won’t come into this corner with your clothes on. You didn’t know today, so it couldn’t be expected of you. Please return to the coffee table and strip as efficiently as possible.”

Right. This wasn’t about me turning him on. How had he put it? The ritual of punishment.

I looked at the chair again as I undressed and folded clothes. It was basically a wide box with a low back. It didn’t have four legs. My instincts told me it was to weigh it down, so it was more equipment than chair. If the base was heavy, there was less danger of it tipping over. If he’d actually attached it to the floor, there was zero danger of it falling.

When I returned, he was leaned back, his legs straight out in front of him. The top and back were upholstered, with plenty of cushioning and padding. It matched the rest of the room enough I hadn’t realized what it was for, when it’d shown up.

I put my hands on my thighs, palms up with my fingers relaxed. Usually, I put my hands behind my back, but it’s my choice unless he instructs otherwise. Today, I wanted my hands in front, for some reason. I looked to his mouth. No eye contact when I was on my knees to discuss a punishment.

His deep voice vibrated its way straight to my clit, and I tried to rein in my arousal.

“I will probably send you to kneel before I come to the corner, in the future. You’ll have from five minutes to an hour to consider why you’re here. The base of this chair is storage. Among other things, there’s a container of rice. There’s enough room behind the chair for you to kneel on the hardwood floor.”

I felt my brows furrow. “Rice, Sir?”

He nodded. “One of my brothers tells me it’s the perfect way to make a point without bringing sex into the mix. I’ve decided this is how I’ll deal with punishments surrounding your safety, in the future. First, we need to deal with the scream, and then we’ll handle a much-needed discussion.”

He stood and motioned to the chair. “Your knees go in the seat, your hips go over the back, and your hands get placed on the floor behind the chair. It won’t be comfortable. It wasn’t designed to be comfortable.”

I kneeled on the seat of the chair, and stretched up a few inches to get my hips over the back, but the floor was too far down for my hands. I looked at him, unsure of what to do, but he only crossed his arms and waited for me to do as I’d been told.

I leaned down to show him there was no way my hands would reach the floor, only they did.

But barely.

Uncomfortable was an understatement. This put most of my weight on my hands, and my legs were now straight and angled down in a desperate attempt to keep me from falling forward and landing on my head. I had zero control from this position. I wouldn’t even be able to kick my feet around much without being in danger of falling forward.

I heard the swoosh of his belt being pulled through the loops, and he stepped into position. I wanted to ask him how many, but he hadn’t told me so I didn’t think I should.

“In truth, I’d expected you to scream more than once. My plan was seven for the first scream, and three for each one that came after. I’m pleased you managed to only scream once, but we still have to deal with it.”

“Thank you for following up, Sir.”

“You’re welcome. We’re here because you couldn’t keep silent, so it seems fitting that you take these licks without engaging your vocal cords.” His deep voice was suddenly in my head instead of my ears. Talk to me this way, if you must. Scream this way, if you must.

Yes, Sir.

Taking a belt without a warmup isn’t even in the same ballpark as feeling that fire once you’re ready for it. And fire isn’t an exaggeration — it felt as if he painted me with red-hot flames. Or perhaps white-hot. Once. Twice. Three times. I screamed in my head and clamped my mouth closed, but when the fourth hit, my scream came out my throat despite the fact my mouth was still sealed closed.

“That’s three more, Kitten. You’re going to have to do better or we’ll be here all day.”

Fear was like a stone in my belly. If I screamed every fourth strike, we would, indeed, be here all day. I managed to keep from screaming again until the eighth strike, and then I figured I may as well get it out of my system, so I opened my mouth and screamed long and loud — but only once.

He stopped before the final strike — the thirteenth one. Well, assuming I could keep from screaming when he delivered it, anyway.

“You know this one’s going to be harder. If you scream, you’ll get four hard ones all at once. Tell me you understand.”

I understand, Sir.

Good girl.

I took a quick breath and held it when I heard the belt sail through the air. The line of fire forced tears to stream from my eyes, but I was holding my breath, which meant no sound came out.

Squatch’s bare arm came under my boobs and lifted me. Another arm went under my thighs, and I was in the air and being turned over. He sat in the chair, cradling me in his arms. “Breathe, Kitten. It’s okay to make noise now. You did good.”

He must’ve taken his shirt off before he whipped me, because I sat on his denim-covered thighs, but leaned against his bare chest, the heat of him soaking into my bare skin. My bottom and thighs hurt something awful — swollen and tight. Hot. Bruised. And did I mention hot?

Tears streamed down my face now, and I sobbed and hiccuped into the hard muscles of his chest.

I’m sure he held me for a good fifteen minutes, long after I’d stopped crying, before he kissed my forehead and told me, “You seem calm now. I need you to kneel again, Kitten. Arms behind your back. Grab your elbows.”

I got into position, and he touched his booted foot to the inside of my knee. “Spread more, Kitten. Enough so those lovely lips spread and your clit peeks out.”

He waited for me to comply, and continued. “We’re still in the corner because of the importance of this conversation. We’re going to go over important rules, and you’re going to get a short experience of what will happen should you defy me on these rules, so this corner seems fitting.”

He paused as if he expected me to respond, but he hadn’t asked a question, so I remained silent and stayed focused on his lips.

“Our rules say you obey me when it comes to sex, but only for sex. We need to add to that, so you obey me when your safety is in question.”

I looked into his eyes, realized what I was doing, and focused on his mouth again. “I’m not sure I’ll agree to that, Sir.”

“I’m not sure I care, Kitten. If I give you an order to go inside, or to stay with one of my brothers so he can keep you safe, and you go against my order, you’ll be punished. Call me an overbearing bully if you want, but that’s the way it’s going to be.”

“Did you tell Bobcat not to let me come back to work, Sir?”

“I did not. That’s actually Mad Dog’s doing, and it’s temporary. We’re upgrading the security system, and we’ll be adding to your personal security when you return. He worries someone from your ambush will try to take you again, and I have the same concerns. They know Brooke can find you in South Carolina, so there’s a chance you end up in Canada or Russia or Australia this time, far enough away she might not be able to locate you.”

“I didn’t think you would, Sir, but I had to ask. I’m sorry.”

“No apology necessary. You expected to go back to work last night, but you still needed rest, Kitten. You should go back tomorrow night, but it might be the next.” He’d been sitting up straight, and he leaned against the back of the chair. “You’re safe here, but I can’t keep you locked up, even if it’s to keep you safe. I know that.” He rubbed his thigh, as if his palm itched. “Eyes, Kitten.”

I met his gaze, and he told me, “Mad Dog has assigned Freckles to you. Anytime you aren’t at home, the clubhouse, or working, he’ll be with you if I can’t be. He doesn’t know club secrets, so you mustn’t talk about going next door at work, or anything else you’ve learned from me. You’re going to hate having a bodyguard, but you’ll live with it. If you don’t like Freckles, particularly, we can assign someone else. He’s good with his fists and good with guns. If he loses you, he faces my fists. No one will take you while he’s guarding you.” He leaned forward again, his forearms on his thighs. “This is an open talk session. I need to hear from you.”

“I’ll agree to it for a few days, and then we can talk again, Sir. If I need to go somewhere without him for the rest of this week, I’ll let you know. Sir. I won’t sneak off.”

I knew he wouldn’t like that I wasn’t promising it more than the rest of the week, but I also knew he’d probably take it, for now.

“During a crisis, you will do as you’re told without arguing or asking why or pointing out you’re capable of fighting, too. I know your capabilities. If we need them, I’ll use them. If we don’t, I’ll send you to safety. The same goes for Mad Dog and Bobcat. Frost and Dementor, too. Any of them gives you an order when the shit is hitting the fan, you follow it. No argument. No discussion. For stuff like a bodyguard, you can come to me and talk to me during downtime. Freckles will go to the range with us, so he can see you in action. He’ll know you have a weapon on you while you shop or hang out with friends. He’ll take that into consideration should you come under attack. You aren’t obligated to obey him, but you should work with him and not against him.”

“And if I argue with one of your brothers when they tell me I can’t do something they think isn’t safe?”

“They’ll watch you kneel on rice. They’ll see you punished. You can wear shorts and a shirt in front of them, but when it’s just me, you’ll be nude when you kneel in the corner.”

“I’m a tiger. I can take care of myself.”

“A tiger who’s mated to a wolf. Not just a wolf, but a biker.” He breathed out, frustrated. “Kitten, sometimes, being important to me will put you in danger. Most of the time, being my ol’lady makes you one of the safest people on the planet, but there are times it does the opposite, and you have to let me and my brothers see to your safety when that happens. Right now, we worry for your safety because of the ambush. I don’t think they’ll defy His Majesty and come after you, but I don’t know that for a fact. Later, it might be because our enemies are looking for a soft-spot to hit.”

He rubbed his face. “Off topic, but I forgot to tell you. We’re having lunch with His Majesty and Kirsten in two days. Backroom at the Rolling Thunder Restaurant. Back on topic, there are three important things to note. One, you’ll have a bodyguard when you’re out, either me or Freckles. If you have a problem with this, talk to me about it, but under no circumstances do you ditch your bodyguard and take off on your own. Two, you’ll immediately follow my orders, or those of my brothers, during a crisis situation, or whenever your personal or emotional safety is at stake. Three, punishment for safety-related issues will involve kneeling on rice. I can tell this doesn’t impress you, so you’re about to spend ten minutes doing so, as an object lesson. Punishments will likely start at two or three times that, but this should give you a rough idea of what you’re in for. Remain where you are.”

He stood, lifted the seat, and swung it forward until it rested on the front of the base. He reached into the storage area, lifted a full zipper-bag of rice, and poured it on the floor in the corner.

“Stand.”

I released my hands from behind my back and stood without walking to him.

“I didn’t tell you to move your hands.”

I put them back, but he shook his head and reached into the storage area again. My heart stuttered when I saw the zip-ties.

“Turn around.”

I did, and he put one around my wrist and forearm, near the opposite elbow, and he tightened it until my wrist bent inward.

He talked while he secured the other wrist in the same manner. “Yes, it’s tighter than it should be, but it’s only for ten minutes. You’ll survive, and maybe next time you’ll follow instructions better.”

He grasped my upper arm, walked me the five steps to the corner, and pushed down. I went to my knees and moved to sit my butt on my feet, but he held me up.

I was facing the wall instead of the corner, and I understood why when he took a quarter from his pocket and held it to the wall. “Put your forehead on it.”

He moved it down a little as I leaned forward, so it was in the right place. I had to lean forward to hold it in place, and the rice started digging into my knees like a million tiny little knives. Fuck. The pain was bearable, but I wasn’t sure I’d last ten minutes.

“Lift your feet off the floor. I’ll add five minutes every damned time they touch the floor. If the quarter drops, your time starts from zero.” He stepped back and I could feel him pulling himself together.

“I’m sorry. Anger has no place in this corner. Ever. My anger isn’t at you, but at the people who might want to take you from me.” He walked across the room and sat in a chair directly behind me.

“If you don’t agree to this punishment, you’ll be bound into it, and you’ll be there longer. Just so you know, a butt plug coated in pepper oil can add to your misery, as can clamps on your nipples and tongue. Or needles. Like this, the sexual component is removed, and that feels important for safety-related consequences.”

Tears pushed into my eyes and I swallowed them down. No way was I going to cry because I was having to kneel and face a fucking wall.

But the rice dug into my knees. Dug into the very bones. Nerves I didn’t know existed screamed at me. I tried to arch my back, but I almost lost the quarter so I quickly moved back into the position he’d put me in. There would be no adjustments to try to deal with this pain.

When he finally lifted me from the corner, tears streamed down my face. I’d held it together while in position, but the relief of being lifted off the rice was too much, and I couldn’t hold it in. He brushed the rice from my knees and I gave several staccato screams. Fuck, that hurt.

“If this had been an actual punishment, you’d put every grain of rice back into the bag, along with the quarter, and then you’d put the bag back into storage for the next time you need it. This was just a demonstration, though, so I’ll vacuum the pieces up and put fresh rice in a bag for next time.”

I looked at my knees — deep red with dozens and dozens of little rice-shaped impressions on each. Deep fucking impressions. No wonder my nerves had screamed so loud. I could already feel the skin growing tight. Swelling.

He touched my chin. A single finger. I turned and lifted my face towards him, and met his gaze — his eyes were the color of deep, warm chocolate, but that didn’t fool me. He was dead serious about this.

“Your safety is my number one priority. Tell me you’ll follow instructions designed to keep you safe, so we don’t have to spend time with you on your knees on rice in the corner, Kitten.”

Part of me wanted to agree to anything he asked, but a bigger part of me couldn’t. I wasn’t going to let the ambush force me to be an almost-prisoner again.

“I haven’t agreed to anything more than checking in with you before I go against orders for the rest of the week. I’m not agreeing to a permanent babysitter, Squatch. I didn’t fight for my freedom just to let you put me in a safe box again. I won’t be stupid. I don’t want to be captured, I don’t want to do anything to risk being able to live my life with you, but I can’t agree to your demands past the end of the week, and if I don’t agree to them, you can’t punish me for not following them.”

His jaw muscles jerked and tensed, and his glare would’ve terrified anyone with a lick of sense, but it just made me clench my own teeth and stare back.