Traditional Change (4 page)

"Yeah, well, I was giving Caine a tattoo and, long story short, we somehow got onto the conversation of Domestic Discipline. The idea made sense and I ate that shit up. Any way to be different than what I knew sounded brilliant. At the time I was on course to just repeat history. After the tattoo, I went home and researched the hell out of it. When I had my next session with Caine, I pumped him for every single detail. I guess you could say Caine was my mentor."

"God help the girls you are with then," Rebecca murmured, half joking. "Caine can be a real hardass."

"Yeah, well, I can too."

"So from then on you were in DD relationships?"

"Yes and no. I had a lot of learning to do. I mostly played around with it, and explored BDSM a bit. To really be in a Domestic Discipline relationship, you have to be committed. Commitment wasn't my strong suit."

"You've never been in a committed relationship?" she asked.

"Maybe two. I wasn't good at them, but I sure as hell gave it my all." The buzz of the tattoo gun and his constant chatting almost put Rebecca into a trance. The pain seemed to fade with his voice.

"I was married once," she confessed. "The difference being that I
didn't
give it my all. By the time I realized I probably needed to, it was too late." Opening up to Sawyer was so easy. Sort of similar to how you can open up to your hairdresser. "So you feel spanking your girlfriends makes things better?"

"I do."

"Why? How?"

"It's about dynamics. A man wants to feel like a man, and a woman wants to feel like a woman. The roles of DD allow the man to release his alpha tendencies, and the woman is allowed to let her femininity and submissive nature surface. When a couple fights, the roles and dynamics get all muddled up. Everything blends, which causes the eruption. The woman is trying to be alpha. The man feels like it is being stripped from him. The woman doesn't feel loved and protected, and so on and so forth. When you stop all the fighting with the DD dynamic, whether it is via spanking or some other sort of discipline, it allows nature to step in. It's in our make up. It's who we are deep down. Alpha and submissive."

"I'm alpha," Rebecca threw in.

"No you aren't. You just feel you
have
to be alpha to get respect," Sawyer countered. "But if you were given the respect, shown the respect, and truly respected by the man you loved, you wouldn't feel the need to bang your fists on your chest and attempt to be the alpha dog. Wouldn't you rather have someone care, nurture, love, protect, and cherish you in every way?"

"Well, of course. But I don't see how spanking makes that all happen."

"Spanking isn't Domestic Discipline. It is just a tool of it. You can't have the man be in control and the leader of the relationship without some sort of tool."

"So spanking is just used as a way to make the woman submissive?" The conversation they were having truly was fascinating. Rebecca regretted not really sitting down and listening to her friends. It was fair to say that Sawyer was right. She had been judging.

"Yes, and it does. If it's done correctly, that is."

"But it just sounds like the woman has to be weak. Why would she allow someone else to lead her?"

"Actually, it is quite the opposite. Women in DD relationships are extremely strong. It takes more strength than you know to give up the constant fight. They are handing the alpha role over to the man they love and trust on their own terms, rather than having him try to steal it in a battle of wills. It also takes a lot of wisdom and patience. They can see beyond the whole, 'I am woman hear me roar' thing. They don't have anything to prove. They are comfortable with who they are and what they are without having to fight to be heard. And when they allow themselves to truly be a woman and stop trying to be what they aren't, they are happier, more content, and can allow the love of a man. They realize it isn't a competition anymore." Sawyer stopped tattooing for a minute and let out a laugh.

"What's so funny?" Rebecca asked, looking over her shoulder at him.

"Jesus, I sound like I should write a how-to book. Sorry, I just went on a rant."

She smiled, taking him in, seeing a gentler, wiser side of the man. "No, thank you for doing so. Hearing you explain it… it really is starting to make sense. I can see why my friends choose to practice it." She turned around and he started to tattoo her again. "I think a lot would depend on the man. I can't even imagine my ex-husband leading anything, especially me."

"Exactly. Not every man is strong enough. And the man who
thinks
he is all alpha and pounds his chest isn't right, either. It takes patience, control, sensitivity, and a whole lot of putting the female first."

Rebecca huffed. "Isn't that what every woman wants? To be put first?"

"Yeah, and if you look at the DD relationships you know, wouldn't you say the men dote on their women? Aren't they loving, protective and would die for them?"

Rebecca nodded. She had to admit he was right on that count. Neely, Coley and even Kendall were cherished. There was not a thing their men wouldn't do for them. It was obvious in every action. Those ladies were their men's number one priority, and love exuded from their husbands' alpha bodies.

"Listen, I'm not saying DD doesn't have its flaws," Sawyer said. "But it works for many, and I sure as hell hope it will work for me in the future. Love can be a real bitch. So, in my opinion, anything that can help it along is a good thing."

He had a point. A very good point. Love
was
a bitch, and maybe it did need all the help it could get.

"All done for the day. I'm really amazed at how well you sit," Sawyer announced, as he turned off the machine and squirted the paper towel with some astringent.

"It's easy with you. You talking really helps pass the time. I really learned things today. Sort of opened my eyes."

The cool wetness of the paper towel felt heavenly against her inflamed skin. She couldn't help but release a small moan as he caressed her back gently, wiping away the ink and blood. He handed her her shirt and stood to assist her with it.

"Don't wear your bra this time," he said as he helped her sit up.

As soon as she sat fully up, her ears began to ring and the room seemed to fade into shadows. "Uh oh, I feel like I'm going to faint." Her words sounded distant to her.

Sawyer quickly grabbed a bottle of water from his workstation and handed it to her. "Here, drink this."

She did so quickly, not sure if she was going to remain conscious or not.

"Where's your snack? Granola bar?" he asked, as he made a lunge for her purse.

She shook her head, regretting her decisions. "I didn't bring anything. I haven't eaten all day." And, with those final words, the darkness won.

* * * * *

Rebecca woke up to find a cold rag placed against her forehead. She appeared to be lying down on the black leather couch in the lobby, and Sawyer was looming over her with concern in his eyes. She tried to sit up and take in her surroundings better. The reality set in that she had fainted, and she could have died of embarrassment.

"I'm so sorry, Sawyer. I don't know how that happened." She didn't know how she'd made it to the couch but could only assume that he had carried her.

"Just sit back and rest. Don't try getting up." He pressed a granola bar—one of his—into her hand. "Eat this," he commanded.

He sounded annoyed. Or was it angry? Rebecca wasn't sure.

"Thank you," she said as she took a small bite, feeling self-conscious of her situation. So much for being a good tattoo client.

He handed her a water bottle and silently watched as she drank some and finished off the bar. It did seem to help, but her body felt weak and her head heavy.

"I told you to eat today. I also told you to pack a snack," Sawyer began to lecture. "I warned you that this was going to be a long session. You sat in one spot for hours."

"I know. Clearly I should have taken your advice." She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath.

He squatted before her and studied her face. "How are you feeling? Do you feel like you might faint again?" He placed the back of his hand to her cheek, then her forehead. "You have some color back, at least."

She nodded and tried to stand up, only to be shoved gently back down by Sawyer. "You aren't going anywhere. Sit down and stay that way. I'm going to go clean up."

Rebecca watched him head toward the back room and felt a sense of relief to have a break from his disapproving eyes. She repositioned her body so the plastic on her tattoo wasn't pressing up against the back of the couch. Why hadn't she eaten something? Passing out on the tattoo chair was about as amateur as you could get.

About twenty minutes later, Sawyer came back into the lobby, and she was feeling much better.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. He didn't seem quite so annoyed now. Still concerned, but he didn't seem to be simmering anymore.

"I'm good. The ringing in my ears has stopped, and my head feels normal again."

"I have half a mind to spank you for not listening to me," he said with a stern glare.

"What?" Was he joking? Looking at him, it didn't appear so. He sort of reminded her of Caine when he got fired up.

"You heard me." His stare never wavered in the slightest.

She swallowed hard, not sure what to say or how to process what he said. If she was being honest with herself, her pussy just pulsed and tingled with the threat.

"Someone sure as hell needs to," he went on.

"Yeah, well, there is no one in my life up to the job," she murmured. The harsh reality—that she would be going home to an empty apartment without anyone caring if she'd almost fainted today or not—set in. Having an alpha male to protect and care about her sounded pretty damn good right now. As crazy as it seemed, there was a part of her that wanted to have a man who would punish her for not putting her health first.

Sawyer crossed his arms against his chest and repositioned his weight. "Then I guess I just got elected."

"To spank me?" she asked. Why was she not appalled by the idea?

"Yes," he stated simply. "But I need to hear your consent. I want to hear you say the words."

Okay, she was going to let him spank her. Was she
letting
him? Or would he regardless? No… he wanted consent. She had the control—for now. She took a deep breath as she readied herself for the first step.
Oh dear lord
.

"I may soon regret this, and I may be insane, but yes. I would like for you to—you know—well, you know what I'm trying to say." She couldn't say the word 'spank'. If she did, she was positive she would start giggling right then and there.

"So you agree that you deserve a spanking?" Was he smirking? And why could he say the word and not laugh out loud?

"Deserve?"
Does a grown woman ever really deserve a spanking
?

He nodded. "Yes, deserve. Why do you think I should spank you? Why did
you
just agree?"

"Well…" She paused, and seriously thought about those words. Did she deserve a spanking? Sure, he had told her to eat and bring a snack. He'd stressed for her not to forget, and had even sent a text on the morning of the tattoo as a reminder. She'd chosen to ignore his warnings completely, and she couldn't drive home right away. It now put him out, having to babysit her, so she had messed up. She'd acted irresponsibly, she hadn't taken her safety or health into consideration, and she was imposing on Sawyer. Was that all deserving of a spanking? Maybe. "I don't know."

She looked down at the ground and attempted to will the embarrassment away. No doubt her face was beet red right now. Being a true redhead definitely had its disadvantages sometimes. There was no way to hide it when she blushed. Did they really have to talk about it? Couldn't they just get this over with, and she could finally see what all the fuss was about?

Sawyer walked across the room, grabbed a simple wooden chair and carried it over. He placed it in front of where she was sitting, and lowered himself into the chair without saying a word. He leaned forward and grabbed her chin with the tip of his finger, forcing her to look into his eyes.

She locked her stare with his and found herself lost in his gaze. His eyes… Jesus, his eyes.

"I'm not into playing little spanking games, Rebecca." He still held her chin so she couldn't look away. "This is real to me."

"I understand that." She swallowed back the nerves as her voice shook with her words.

"I don't make a habit of spanking my clients for not listening." Was he second-guessing this? She couldn't read his expression, although his eyes never left hers. "I need to know why you would agree."

She tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip on her chin and wouldn't allow it. "I guess I'm curious," she said, barely above a whisper. "When you suggested it, even if you were joking, the idea didn't repulse me like it has in the past. I sort of, well, I… sort of… was intrigued by the idea." Never before in her life had she been so honest. What was it about Sawyer that just pulled that confession out of her?

He sat back, crossed his arms against his chest and studied her in silence. His eyes narrowed a bit and his jaw was clenched. Rebecca didn't look away—even though there was a part of her, the sane and rational part, that wanted to. But she knew she needed to convince him that she was going to take this seriously. She knew enough about Domestic Discipline from her friends to know that this sort of thing wasn't taken lightly.

"I don't usually spank people I'm not dating." His eyes narrowed even more and he licked his lips. He clearly was pondering the idea. A long moment of silence lingered between them, as though he was waiting for a response. But what was she supposed to say to that? He took a deep breath and patted his lap. "Come here."

Oh God. Was this it? Her stomach flipped, and she suddenly had to go pee.

He gave the command once more when she didn't move; this time with more conviction. "Come here."

She took a deep breath and stood up. She lay across his lap, feeling awkward and clumsy. Should she rest all her weight on him? Feeling too heavy, she tried her best to rest as much weight on the tips of her toes as she could, but the position made it difficult. Sawyer silently answered that question for her when he repositioned her body so her bottom was more upturned, and there was no way she could hold herself up anymore. At that very moment, she was one hundred percent
on
his lap.

"I normally always spank a bare behind, but considering the circumstances, I will allow you to keep your panties on." He pulled down her yoga pants, and the cool air against the flesh of her thighs and butt cheeks stunned her.

Rebecca's mind raced to remember what panties she had on. Were they pretty? Old? She hadn't been planning for this! If she remembered correctly, they were…

Oh, shoot me now
.

She was wearing her green panties that were covered in little shamrocks. The words 'lucky' were written across the globes of her ass. It wasn't even close to St. Patrick's Day. As she stared at the ink-stained concrete mere inches from her nose, she realized that this wasn't exactly a sexy fantasy, or something her friend Coley could write about in one of her books. She was over her tattoo artist's lap, wearing old St. Patrick's Day underwear, and she still had to pee.

"Lucky, huh? I don't think your ass is going to feel very lucky when I'm through with you." He chuckled lightly, causing her body to jiggle with his.

"Ha, ha, very funny," she replied, and rolled her eyes. How did she get herself in this situation?

Wasting no time, he landed a searing swat on her backside. "I don't think you are in a position to have a sassy attitude with me, young lady."

Woah, what the hell was that? Before she could even process the swat and his stern voice, another slap landed on her ass, and then another. The spanking continued in a rapid succession, and Rebecca hadn't even taken a breath yet.

Her mind drowned in thoughts and questions. Did it hurt? Was she supposed to cry and plead? Was she supposed to make cute little sexy noises? Was she supposed to put up resistance? Was she too heavy for his lap? How bad did her shamrock panties look?

Those thoughts didn't last long as the spanking continued. This was no joke. His hand came down over, and over, and over again. With each spank, the intensity increased. With each swat, the burn intensified.

Does it hurt
? Yes!

Am I going to cry and plead
? Maybe, just maybe.

Am I supposed to make sexy noises
? She didn't care anymore, as her ass caught on fire.

Am I supposed to put up resistance
? Her body had a mind of its own as she tried to block the spanking with her hand, only to have Sawyer pin it behind her lower back.

Am I too heavy for his lap
? She sure hoped so. Maybe he would end this spanking much sooner.

How bad do my leprechaun panties look
? Who gave a fuck? They were her only saving grace at the moment.

"I think it's about time someone took you in hand," he began to lecture her. "You need someone to show you they care. You need someone to show you that you matter." His spanking increased in severity—if that was possible. "And I will gladly be that person and teach you this lesson. You." Smack. "Will." Smack. "Put." Smack. "Your." Smack. "Health." Smack. "And." Smack. "Safety." Smack. "First!" Smack.

"Yes! Yes! I will," she cried out, kicking her legs up and down in protest to her very first spanking ever.

"From this moment on." The spanking continued. "If I ever feel you are putting yourself at risk, I will personally pull you over my knee and blister this behind. Are we clear?" He didn't let up on the spanking at all.

"Yes!" Sweat beaded her brow and lip. "I definitely get your point," she squealed, as a few swats landed on her upper thighs.

Just as she was about to beg for mercy, he stopped. He gently ran his hand over her behind, offering some, but very little, comfort. Rebecca took the few moments to try to regain her breathing and composure—even as she lay across the lap of a man she barely knew.

After a few more caresses of her panty-clad bottom, Sawyer assisted her up to sit on his lap. He pulled her into an embrace. Although the act seemed foreign, at the same time, it felt so very right. After what had just occurred, she needed his affection and warm embrace. She almost melted into him as he began to stroke her hair and run his hands gingerly down her spine, reminding her of the tattoo she had just been given by him. She could have sat like that for days. His natural smell, not masked with cologne, permeated her nose. She took a deep breath as she closed her eyes, relishing in the man who'd just opened her eyes.