Old Habits. (2)

The duo were attending a gala. Chris was sporting a stunning three piece — black on black on black. It made Jane weak in the knees. The sight of him was almost enough to make her want to go. Almost.

She would much rather be in their cozy home snuggling with the dogs and curled up on the toasty hearth of the fireplace with a good cup and a full glass of wine. She would rather have her hair thrown up in a messy bun, not a trace of makeup on her face. She would have donned her pair of African pants and her black “Soft ‘N Sexy” tee.

Ugh. How she longed for that comfort. The privacy of her own little room. No prying eyes, no forced conversation, no pasted on smiles, no pained laughter, no awkward moments. There was no need for her to perform in her bubble of happiness. She didn’t have to be part of the masquerade. She didn’t have to glue on the mask. The mask of polite intrigue. The mask that was expected she wear.

It wasn’t the worst. As long as Chris didn’t leave her. As long as his hand stayed in hers, Jane was fine. It was embarrassing. She hated asking that of him. Detested that this was the one area where her independence seemed to fail her.

Chris was the opposite of his sweet Jane. He could flit around the room and easily make conversation with every single person he encountered. He was charismatic. He was charming. He was enchanting. He was mesmerizing. When he spoke people listened. When he laughed, the room warmed with its contagious qualities. Jane would never understand the mystery that was her lover. How he had so much bravado. So much gall.

Jane was lost in thought, watching Chris interact with the people sitting around their table. She knew a few of them through brief encounters. Not well enough to join in on the conversation taking place. So, she just kept to herself, wishing she could morph into a shadow and disappear. It was all she could to remember to throw in the appropriate quiet chuckle, or to keep that small grin plastered on her painted lips.

The time ticked by. Designated speakers performed their speeches one after the other. Jane had forgotten which charity this was for. And as the clock struck ten, she was ready to go home. Antsy.

Her toes clenched in her black heels. Her fingers fiddled with the diamond bracelets adorning her slim wrists. Her eyes glazed over, her focus landing on her empty glass of wine. She should refill that. Wine made her chatty. Wine made her friendly. Likable.

Sighing Jane poured herself another glass of white. Examining her fingers as she did so. Another sigh had her swallowing half the glass. Nobody looked twice. Nor did anybody notice when her hand withdrew from the glass and absentmindedly found its way into her mouth.

She didn’t think of it as she started to pick. Started to chew at the tips that were just starting to grow. She reversed the progress she had made over the weeks prior in a matter of minutes. It was only when she felt Chris’s hand slip underneath the hem of her simple black dress that her brain recognized what exactly she was doing.

Her throat dried. Her eyes stung as she looked to Chris — his hand gripping her thigh with an intensity she read for what it was. A warning. A call-out. She had broken a rule that was recently brought into play. A rule that she had asked to be brought about and implemented: No biting of nails.

There was a look on his face. It wasn’t disappointment. He knew that making the rule itself wouldn’t be enough to break a lifelong habit. He knew he would have to dole out punishment. In fact, he was proud of her for making it as far as she did.

But now wasn’t the time to reveal that little fact.

“Come.”

Chris pushed his chair back, holding out his hand to Jane who grabbed it a tad hesitantly. She didn’t know what kind punishment awaited her. She wasn’t all that familiar with them. He had only ever really punished her once, and it struck her deep and left a mark. That punishment hadn’t been physical. It had been a deprivation of the one thing that she loved — to give Chris pleasure. To service him. It had hurt her. It had taught her the lesson that he had needed to get across.

She would not forget to ask permission to cum anytime soon.

But this time? She had no idea what he had in mind. She was kind of surprised he hadn’t waited until they had gotten home.

Chris kept her hand in his until they exited the auditorium. The second the door closed he shifted his grip to her arm — holding it tight enough to set the tone. This was not a game. He was not playing.

That was almost bad enough for Jane. Knowing that she broke a rule. Knowing that this was not one of their glorious ‘funishments’. This was real and it was killing her.

“Chris, I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t even realize-”

He released her arm at that. Opening the door to the family washroom, motioning her inside and locking the door behind them.

“Jane, you’re the one who asked for help. I’m here to hold you accountable. To do what you asked. To help you. It isn’t up to you how I do so. You asked and I accepted, are we clear?”

Jane couldn’t swallow. As though she had just inhaled a mouthful of sawdust.

“I-I understand, Sir.”

“Good girl. How many nails did you chew on?”

Hm. Good question.

Her gaze darted to her bitten nails. Her cheeks flushed red as she counted in her head.

“Three.”

“Six swats then. Lift your dress and bend over my knee.”

Her cheeks bloomed crimson. They were going to do this here? Now?? At a gala?!

“Do not make me ask you twice, Jane.”

Slowly, she did as she was told. Lifting the dress to her waist, revealing the lacy black g-string underneath. Tears stung her eyes as she bent over his propped knee — her heels making an otherwise impossible situation reality.

As his palm hit their target, her shame only grew. It resounded within her. Booming inside her head until she could no longer keep the warbled words retained,

“I’m sorry! Chris, I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking and I just-ahh!”

She endured the rest silently. Three on each side. Two were placed just below where her bumcheeks met her thighs, one placed on the center of said cheeks.

Her skin started to burn. Not just where his hand had marked, but every bit of exposed skin was stained scarlet. Jane couldn’t find it within her to lift her eyes to meet his. She was severely disappointed in herself, and was petrified that Chris was too.

“My love, look at me.” He murmured into Jane’s ear, standing her up and straightening out her dress, “You were doing so good. I’m proud of how long you made it without chewing them. You’re making progress my love. I’m just helping keep you on track. I love you.”

His words were a soothing balm to her invisible wound. He wasn’t disappointed in her. Quite the opposite in fact. He thought she was making progress. He was proud of her! The single thought was enough to dull the pain of the punishment given.

“I love you too. Thank you for helping.”

With a tilt of her chin and a sweet kiss on her lips, Chris interlocked his fingers with hers and lead her out of the bathroom,

“You are most welcome. Now let’s say our goodbye’s and get out of here, hm?”