Guardian Domination (13 page)

“You need to sleep, Baby. You have a long day tomorrow.” And with that, he turned off the light and closed the door gently behind him.

* * *

My head was aching the next morning and I squinted at the light in my window. I saw the reflection of the sun on the clouds over the ocean with streaks of pink and blue staining the sky. It was only 7:00, and I knew Jace wouldn’t be awake for at least another two or three hours. The strap left on my dresser elicited butterflies in my tummy. With a sigh, I pulled out my laptop and started writing my essay.

It was difficult as I scrupulously evaluated my boredom and how there were few things at home that would occupy my interest for any amount of time. Snorting, I also realized that Mark was right about my need for social interaction and began a list of things I would be interested in that would take me outside of my safe haven.

After I finished, I made French toast and coffee and brought it up to his room. “Jace? It’s 9:30 and I made you breakfast. Your favorite.”

Rubbing his face, he sat up. “Thanks, honey. That was sweet of you. How are you doing this morning?” he asked, launching into the meal. I was pleased; Mark was teaching me how to cook and I was getting pretty good at it. Maybe I could add that to my list?

I shared with him all the things that I had thought about last night and he attentively listened. I ended with a promise to try to do better.

“I’ll accept that promise. That’s all I ask is that you try. And that you think before you do something.”

“I will. Jace? Can I ask you something?”

“Anything. I have no secrets from you. I trust you.”

That took me back. He trusted me? After all I put him through?

“Your second drawer. Why do you have so much stuff? You didn’t get all that to use on me, did you? Some of it looks old.”

Jace considered his answer for a moment, weighing how much he should tell an impressionable eighteen-year-old girl who was too smart for her own good. He decided on the truth.

“Snooping in my stuff, huh? No, don’t worry,” he saw the color drain from my face, “that is one drawer I don’t want you to forget. I’m a Dom, honey. I help adult women get their lives straight through the use of corporal punishment.”

“I don’t get it.”

“It’s hard to explain.” He smiled, sipping his coffee as he made room for me on the bed. He launched into his opinion that the world was so messed up and that many women have been forced to take on roles of men, roles they weren’t designed to do. When I got defensive about it, he stopped me to explain it had nothing to do with a woman’s physical or mental ability, but her emotional makeup. He asked me honestly about how I felt when he or Mark spanked me.

“Besides it
hurting
, I feel safe, protected, cared about. I also feel bad about disappointing you and want to make you proud of me.”

“Don’t think for a minute that once a girl turns eighteen or becomes independent, that those needs go away. In fact, the older a lot of girls get, the more overwhelmed they become and they need that reassurance.”

“Why don’t they go to their dads or brothers?” I asked innocently.

Jace laughed. “Remember your friend Cara? Because they aren’t sure what they really need or how to get it, or they are too embarrassed or prideful to ask for help. Not everyone is like this. With the way we are raising you, you may not need that reassurance or reminders as you get older. But if you do, you know you will get them. That gives a girl a sense of stability. Do you understand?”

“Sort of. I just don’t see why anyone in their right mind would
ask
to be spanked.” I shuddered.

“You did, remember? Guilt and the need for forgiveness is a very strong thing when you’re involved in a healthy and trusting relationship. If not taken care of, it can lead to many physical and emotional problems.”

“Do you have sex with the girls you spank?”

“My, we are inquisitive this morning? No, I don't. Not unless I’m in a dating relationship with them.”

“Is Mark a Dom too?”

“Yes, but he tends more towards the academic side. Just like we do with you.”

“Did you know that when you met him?”

“Okay, enough questions. You’re stalling now. Let’s get things cleaned up and deal with you. Did you eat? Good. Okay, get moving.”

“One more.” I paused, blushing. “That time you caned me… I… what happened?”

“I was wondering when you would ask about that.” Jace smiled kindly, eyeing me. “It’s called 'Subspace' and is the place some natural submissives go mentally during a session. It’s the body’s way of protecting itself from pain or stress, using endorphins to not only numb the sensation, but even turn it pleasurable.”

“Being punished is
not
pleasurable, Jace.”

“No, but for some people, it can go in that direction. I discovered that you can be taken there fairly easily, which tells me about your innate need to submit.”

“I don’t like submitting. I’m not a doormat.”

“We’ll talk more about this later, Baby. I assure you, a submissive is far from being a doormat. In fact, the best ones are as priceless as a Rembrandt and should be treated with the same dignity, respect and awe. You have that potential, My Girl. Just remember, you can only get there if
I
choose to take you. That means you have to learn to surrender completely to my control. You have a lot to learn before you get there.
If
you want to get there.”

I thought about what he had said, not quite understanding how anyone could voluntarily present themselves to a stranger, or derive any ‘pleasure’ from so much pain. It dawned on me that some of the “blind dates” Mark set Jace up on might be this Dom stuff. Jealousy whirled inside me for a moment, but I quickly dismissed it as a sense of possession.

Jace met me in the living room after I put the dishes in the dishwasher. “Since you had so many questions this morning, I am going to show you something. Something, I trust, you will never forget. Go upstairs and bring me the strap, please.”

I bit my lip and obeyed, trembling as I picked the four-inch heavy leather razor strap off my dresser and silently handed it to him. Taking my hand, he led me downstairs towards his studio and the movie theater. He walked past the bathroom and opened the door to the closet at the end of the hall. I looked at him with confusion, but he gestured me to enter into the large, walk-in clothes closet that had an inconspicuous door towards the back.

Still silent, he led me inside. My heart jumped into my throat as I stared at several odd looking pieces of furniture, some mirrors, a large desk with a straight back chair, and a small leather couch. There were leather restraints on one wall and hanging from the ceiling, and an entire wall with implements hanging neatly and waiting to be chosen.

“Welcome to my dungeon,” Jace said quietly, watching me take it all in. “This is where I discipline adult women. Lessons are taught here that are not quickly forgotten. I make them watch their punishment and see what their bottoms look like when I’m not pleased. There is little or no cuddling afterwards. When they leave, they know they have paid for their mistakes and have a fresh start. Do you see the difference?”

“It’s so, so cold in here. It’s so impersonal,” I whispered, clutching his hand. I was truly frightened and wanted out of this room, yet was drawn with curiosity as to the process and the interaction.

“And humiliating. But this is what they want, and what they need. You see,” he patted my hand and tried to pry it from breaking his fingers, “They want my hand, not my heart. You have both. Now, let’s go upstairs.”

Still shaken by the image of the dungeon, I didn’t even hesitate to pull down my sweats and panties when he pointed to the Royal Lounge. I bit my lip, suppressing the yell when the first taste of the strap was felt against my bare bottom. Somehow, I managed not to kick or squirm for the first eight strokes. I can’t say I was quite that good after that as I lost count, but I tried desperately to make him proud by taking my punishment well. I needed him to see that I was sincere in my promise to try to be good for him.

My backside was blazing when he stopped and checked me. He sat down on the couch and patted his thigh, waiting patiently for me to place myself in the degrading position of bottom turned up into the air. Jace was a firm believer in that I would always feel his hand against my bare skin to remind me that I was his and that he would always reinforce that claim. My whimpering began again as he landed smack after smack over my crimson red, very tender flesh.

As hard as I tried, it was impossible for me to reach Subspace, that odd feeling sense of separation that nebulously resembled a slightly drugged state of mind. I vaguely remembered him saying that only he could take me there and that it would require complete surrender to his control. I was not prepared for that.

“I will say this much,” he said, helping me to my feet and pulling my panties up before he pulled me into his arms. “You took that better than most of my subs. I’m proud of you.”

His praise made me feel so good. How odd, to feel proud of taking a punishment well. I wished Mark hadn’t restricted my internet access; I needed more answers about this submission thing and the art of achieving Subspace.

“I’m glad you don’t cuddle anyone else,” I whispered into his neck. “I don’t want to share you that way.”

“You might have to one day, but I promise that you will never be neglected.”

I never thought of him actually getting married. Once again, jealousy loomed inside of me. He was mine and I wasn’t going to let anyone else have him. Impulsively, I informed him of my claim, bracing myself for rejection.

Jace smiled, but didn’t laugh. “We’re going to have to wait quite a while for you to mature a bit before anything like that could happen.”

“Then wait for me,” I said stubbornly, “If you think that might ever happen.”

He hugged me tight. “Then wait I will… as long as it takes.”

I suspected that he was just humoring me, but his expression suggested that he was considering the same thing I was. At that moment, I was determined that there would never be anyone else but me to take my place in his heart. No way. He would be mine.

Chapter Ten

Jailbird

Jace and I were outside on the deck quietly reading and enjoying the warmth of the spring sun. We had just celebrated our one-year anniversary, my 19
^th
birthday, and the miracle that I had managed to go three months without getting into any significant trouble.

The day before, Mark had left to visit his family for a week and Jace and I were free to mess up the house to our hearts content without him nagging. In addition, after thoroughly reading my ‘essay,’ Jace subsequently enrolled me in horseback riding and ice skating lessons to alleviate my boredom. He also promised to teach me how to drive now that the courts lifted my probation for a learner’s permit, and found ways to spend more time with me. We were becoming inseparable.

The phone rang. It was Gayle and she was crying. “Is Mark there, Celeste? I tried him at home but no answer.”

“No, he’s back East. Are you okay?”

“Can I speak to Jace? Is he home?” she sobbed. I handed the phone to Jace and waited.

“Gayle? What’s happening? What? Oh no, are you alright? Okay, Hon, calm down. We’ll be down to pick you up in a few minutes. No, it’s no problem, I’m here for you. Shhh, it’ll be okay. I’ll take care of everything,” Jace said, picking up his wallet and keys as he spoke.

He hung up the phone and turned to me, “Throw some shoes on; we need to pick up Gayle at the campus police station. She got caught smoking pot on campus.”

“Is she in trouble?” I asked timidly.

“I’m afraid so. Big trouble. She’ll be visiting The Room.”

I swallowed hard as I noticed the dangerous glint in his eyes. I was
so
glad it wasn’t for me, but I couldn’t help but feel sorry for Gayle. I adored her and how she treated me like a little sister, often taking me shopping, to the movies, and hanging out when the boys had to go on the road. I had assumed the reason we got along so well was due to the common bond of being spanked by the same men.

“I thought you liked Gayle,” I said slowly.

“Going into The Room doesn’t mean I don’t like or care about someone. I care about all my subs, believe it or not. It is just part of the psychological discipline that needs to be present. Remember how that room terrified you? How cold and heartless it was?”

“Yes, Sir,” I whispered, fiddling with my hands. “I would never want to be taken there.”

“Exactly. That is the place where only discipline occurs. It’s not supposed to be inviting or warm.” He explained further, “If I ever had to take you down there, you would not receive your cuddles until we got back upstairs. But you would still get them.”

“Will Gayle?”

“Yes. But not until I’m ready to give them to her.”

He pulled into the station and I followed him inside where he signed a bunch of papers and waited patiently for the officer to bring Gayle out. She looked terrible. She had been crying, and her hair was not brushed and her clothes rumpled.

She threw herself into Jace’s arms, thanking him and telling him she was sorry at the same time. I watched, thinking how many times I’ve done the same thing.

Gayle hugged me too before we got in the car. “Hey, Kid, I’m real sorry. What I did was wrong and I wish you didn’t have to know about it.”

“I’m not a child, Gayle,” I said firmly, sitting next to her. “I’ve been around. As long as you’re okay.”

Gayle nodded, “I am now. Jace, do you mind if I shower when we get home? I reek.”

“Ask me properly.”

“But Celeste…”

“She is well aware of the situation and the circumstance. Show her how a proper sub would behave.”

I stared at Jace. I had never witnessed him in full Dom mode and it sent tremors down my back. Gayle’s too.

“She knows?”

“Everything. Now, ask properly.”

“Yes, Sir. Please, Sir, may I shower when we get home?”