With thanks to Paolo of Wholebean and I
Sarah and Mark’s Story began here
They sat nibbling bits of toast and leftover pizza, as though this were a perfectly uneventful, if late, night. Mark had whistled as he prepared tea and coffee, a light and happy tune that chased away the flickering shadows and deep solemnity of the sitting room where the Ritual had occurred. He was still Sir, but now he was the Sir with whom she could joke and snuggle. The man she could look in the eye and discuss things with as an equal. A dominant still, but their status was not as polarised as it had been a few moments ago, a point that was made abundantly clear when her inadvertent spill of coffee was greeted with nothing more than a towel and an indulgent smile. She inwardly berated herself for the stains on he new white socks and the drips on the floor, but he merely handed her a towel and kept spreading peanut butter on his toast.
When the dregs and crumbs had been cleared away, he again took her hand and lead her back into the sitting room.
“I brought something for you,” he told her with a grin. Sarah looked down at the table, momentarily puzzled until she noticed the disk amid the sea of notes and implements and returned his grin with a hug to go along with it. He had been flabbergasted when she had admitted to never having seen Secretary. It seemed this was another deficiency he intended to address. As with the others, she felt only gratitude. She could not imagine a better way to experience this for the first time than curled by his side with a freshly warmed bottom and glass of mellow red wine.
She was glad she had waited. Not that the film would have been unenjoyable on its own; she could easily relate to Lea’s struggles, her relief at finding an outlet, finding someone who cared. Her confusion when that care was withdrawn, supposedly for her best interests.
With Mark’s commentary, the experience was made more complete, more intense, more intimate. “What he’s doing now? I did that for years, he told her as Mr Grey flew into a destructive fury. From the faraway look in his eyes, she knew that he spoke truth, that this was something he had experienced as well. She found herself drawn back to memories of Nathan, that same look. With a shake, she brought herself back to the present. The moment was too perfect to allow her mind to ruin it with unpleasant memories. She snuggled closer to him as she watched the violent display of denial on the screen, relieved that that they had both emerged from the other side of that trying period.
It was a perfect evening, and one that she wished would never end. But end it did, as he turned off the television and turned to her.
“Are you ready for bed?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir.” As much as she wished to linger, she couldn’t deny that she was tired.
“Very well. Go change into your pyjamas, I will be with you shortly.” She blushed at this and hesitated. She had known that this would be a problem ever since she had packed her bags that morning, but had managed to completely push it from her mind until now.
Sensing her hesitation, he raised an eyebrow in question and her confession came spilling out.
She hadn’t quite so much forgotten about night-wear as deprioritised it. After so many years of sleeping alone, she had never given a moment’s thought to slipping into anything other than an old t-shirt and track pants at the end of the day. When he had first suggested that they spend a night together, she had planned to address this issue, but once he had given her the school uniform assignment it had slipped her mind, much the same way that it had slipped her mind that the uniform required white panties until he had reminded her. That deficiency, at least, she had managed to address.
He laughed at this and hugged her to drive off her embarrassment. “I guess you’ll just need to fix that for next time. Off to your room, I’ll tidy up here,” he ordered with a sharp swat to her bottom.
Her room, he had called it. No longer “the guest room.” When had that happened? Buoyed by this thought as much as his understanding over the pyjama kerfuffe, she floated up the stairs.
She was sitting on the bed mindlessly fiddling with a pillow when he came in. He smiled as he opened the door and sat down on the bed next to her. “Time to introduce you to your bedtime spankings,” he announced as he pulled her over his lap.
She felt his hand run over her “pyjama”-clad bottom for a moment before it descended with a crack, quickly followed by another. He spanked sharply, but not long and not as hard as he had before. With everything else her bottom had been through that night, it was enough to reignite a bit of heat, making her squirm over his thighs.
“You wouldn’t sass this daddy would you?” he said jokingly when he stopped. Sarah didn’t reply, blissed as she was by the experience. “Would you?” he asked again with a sharp spank to bring her out of her revelries.
Sarah knew the “proper” answer, the one he expected, but had always had a contrary streak that occasionally reared it’s head. Particularly when she wanted to manipulate a situation.
“Perhaps just a little,” she finally replied.
“Oh would you?” Mark chuckled as he indulged her in another round of spanks. Sarah began to squirm a bit more frantically when he suddenly stopped. “Get up,” he ordered. “Kneel on the bed facing the door, and lean forward onto your hands.”
Sarah eagerly complied, despite the burning sting behind her, and watched as Mark reached out of the door to retrieve something from the hall. He turned back to her, revealing the cane in his hands.
“You cheated!” Sarah proclaimed, perhaps unwisely, though she had already damned herself the moment she had first agreed to meet him.
Mark only smiled as he walked behind her and began tapping her bottom in preparation. Sarah watched in the mirror (she was beginning to pick up on something of a theme in his chosen spanking positions) as he adjusted his position and raised the cane high to deliver the first cut.
The stroke was light, and her clothing muffled the impact, but even so the implement delivered a crisp audible crack and an neat line of pain. Sarah sucked in her breath as he began tapping again, choosing where the next stripe would land.
Five times the cane swished through the air, and five times Sarah bit down on her lip as the can bit into her bottom before Sir set the cane aside and pulled her into his arms.
“I have one more thing for you tonight,” Mark said when he released her. Sarah wondered what he could possibly have to follow the cane, wondering with no small amount of anxiety, only to be relieved when he returned with the notebook.
“I’ve written comments after each of your entries. If you had fallen short of expectations, you would see that written- along with any additional sanction. For tonight, you have earned a ‘very satisfactory.’ You will keep this with you, and bring it to each of your disciplinary appointments where any entries I have directed you to make since our last meeting will be reviewed and addressed,” he explained.
Sarah shivered in anticipation. She knew that it may be quite some time before they would see each other again, but of course he had thought of that. He had a solution- a way of reminding her of what they had together when she was alone. A way of keeping in touch, and a physical reminder of Him that she could carry away.
Sarah smiled and read through his comments as he put the cane away. She laughed aloud when she reached the end “twenty-five strokes of the cane,” he had already written. He had been planning that all night!
“Would you like Sir to lay with you for a while?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir” she murmured into his shoulder.
He pulled back the duvet, inviting her to slip into the bed before joining her, effectively trapping her between his body and the wall. She snuggled close to him, equally determined to enjoy the warmth of his presence for as long as he stayed and to not kick him in her sleep.
Sarah rolled over and realized that it was light. And he was awake. And he was still here (and still unharmed from what her mother had always described as her “active sleeping habits”).
“Good morning,” he greeted her. “Would you care for tea?” she nodded and returned his hug, shifting over into the warmer half of the bed as he got up to fix the tea. She had nearly fallen back asleep when she returned with both her tea and her shoes which had been left downstairs at some point the previous evening.
“You have a lesson coming this morning,” he told her sternly as he set down the mug, “so I would like for you to change back into your uniform and meet me downstairs.”
To be continued