Treasured Submission (19 page)

Abby couldn't suppress a thought that he didn't seem to care if her bottom hurt even as he worried she might cut herself with the knife. In fact, he was demanding she pay an even higher price. She ducked her head, knowing she had earned this. "I'll be careful," she said, when he released her hand. Giving one last try, she looked up at him, "I thought you said it was getting late and we… we needed to go."

Dean couldn't help but smile at the somewhat juvenile attempt to wiggle out of the promised switching. "Would that have worked with your parents?" he asked softly, reaching out to stroke a finger down her cheek.

Abby blushed, a bit ashamed at the attempt, "Um, no. No, I guess not."

"I didn't think so," Dean said. "Let me worry about getting us home. All I want you to think about is what switch you are going to bring me, okay?"

She nodded, her face feeling hot. "Um, okay." He gently turned her from him, giving her red backside a gentle pat. Abby gasped, but also felt her stomach flip over as she moved to climb down the boulder, stepping into the woods to find a suitable tree. Her hand ran over several small branches, searching for a proper switch, not believing she was actually doing this. She remembered being switched as a child. The huge weeping willow tree in their backyard had sacrificed many of its branches to chastise a small bottom. Her parents had always made her watch while they cut her switch, but Abby instantly understood Dean's reasoning in having her do it. Having to select, cut and prepare a switch that you knew was going to light a fire in your butt, certainly made you think about why you were in that position. Making her selection of a branch about two feet long, limber and flexible with only a few buds, she sawed at the branch and then stripped the leaves off, hoping Dean found it acceptable. As she turned to walk back to the boulder, she stopped abruptly.

"My God," she whispered to herself. "What the hell am I doing?" Was she really going to take this horrible switch to a man who had just spanked her bottom raw? Dean had flipped her over his leg and given her the first spanking of her adult life. She blushed imagining how she must have looked, naked and bent across his leg, her feet kicking, her ass jiggling and bouncing under his hand. "Oh God," she moaned, shame flowing through her. Looking at the small branch in her hand she saw it shaking uncontrollably.

If she obeyed Dean in this, she would be committing herself to obeying him in the future. This wasn't some one time sort of deal. Bringing him this switch as ordered, she would be crossing that invisible line. In presenting the implement she had actually chosen and prepared, she would be demonstrating her willingness to submit to him—to give up control to this man. A very strong man, one who had shown no hesitation to take her in hand. Reaching back, she rubbed her bottom with her free hand, feeling a twinge of guilt at that simple act. She wasn't supposed to rub the pain away. Dean had told her that she was expected to just let it burn. Her skin felt hot and swollen under her fingertips. A flush covered her entire body as she felt shocked at both the fear and the intense desire she felt. How could a spanking that caused such pain arouse her? Was it the pain that turned her on, or was it the man who gave it to her? Was giving up control and allowing Dean to discipline her the secret?

Confusion at her feelings made her wish she could talk to Samantha and she smiled softly, realizing she was buck naked, no pocket for any cell phone. She didn't really need to talk to her. Thinking of Sam, and remembering the conversation of the evening before, she realized that Sam would have already presented her switch to her husband, already been over Ian's knees, her ass lifted for whatever he ordered. With a deep breath, Abby gripped her branch tighter and stepped out of the woods.

Dean was standing on top of the boulder, watching for her. Would she obey? Would she submit to him? He admitted she hadn't had much choice the first time; he had grabbed her and begun spanking her before she had a chance to react. This time, however, he had given her the opportunity to choose to submit or refuse. He wasn't certain which she'd decide, even though she had agreed a few minutes ago. He had dressed and had been standing a while, watching for her.

Abby stepped into the clearing and looked up to see Dean standing above her. They stared at each other, and then Abby hesitated, her eyes dropping first to the switch, then back to Dean. He gave her a nod and held out his hand. She climbed back up onto the boulder, her state of complete nudity seeming incongruous with the fact that he was fully dressed, even down to his shoes. Feeling like a little girl about to meet her doom, she blushed and realized she pretty much was. Her hand trembled as she presented the implement. Dean took it and swished it through the air, his brief nod showing his approval. With a soft whimper, Abby realized she was scared to death of what the switch was going to do to her ass.

Dean looked down at her and said quietly, "I'm going to switch you, Abigail. Tell me why."

Her lips trembled as she opened her mouth, and then closed it without speaking. Her eyes moved from the slim branch in his hand to his face. Seeing the love and concern in his eyes, she took a deep breath. "I disobeyed you. I jumped off the boulder when you had told me not to."

Dean shook his head. "I spanked you for disobeying me, Abigail. Tell me why the spanking I gave you isn't enough."

Abby didn't really want to answer but somehow knew he'd simply continue to stand there, his lips closed as he waited. Looking again at his hand she answered, "You…you are going to switch me because I put myself in danger."

"Good girl," he said softly. "That's correct. You are getting your bottom switched because you put yourself in danger, despite the fact that I specifically instructed you as to the reason why I didn't want you to jump. I love you and can't bear the thought of losing you. You could have killed yourself, and, sweetheart," he said, lifting her chin until she was forced to look him in his eyes, "losing another woman that I love so deeply would have killed me as well."

Her eyes filled with tears, and she felt an almost crushing guilt constrict her lungs and squeeze like a vise around her heart. She hadn't given a single thought as to what he had lost. She now completely understood his insistence on safety. Though he had lost Janet to a horrid disease, and not to an accident, by disobeying him, she could easily have injured herself or possibly robbed him of the woman he swore he loved. Suddenly a switching, even one given by this huge man, didn't seem like enough. She deserved to have him order her to cut down an entire tree and bring it to him, one branch at a time. Tears flowing down her cheeks, she looked up at him. "I am so sorry, Dean. God, I'm so sorry."

The utter devastation on her face, the raw emotion in her voice almost broke his resolve.

Abby sensed his hesitancy. She reached out and put her hand on the switch. "I know I've earned this. I willingly accept your decision, Dean."

He nodded, then led her to the cooler where he had laid their folded blanket to provide padding, her discarded clothing placed to provide a cushion for her knees. "Kneel and bend over the Igloo. Put your hands on the rock and don't move them. Do not reach back; I don't want to switch your hands or fingers. Keep your knees apart and push your naughty bottom up and out for your switching."

Abby stopped thinking, just obeyed his quiet commands, somehow grateful that she didn't have to worry about what to do, that he would lead her through every step. Remembering his words about bending your wife over something so that you would have room to effectively wield a harsher implement for more blatant misbehavior, she whispered, "De–Dean?"

"Yes, Abby?"

An unexpected rush of relief washed over her as she realized she was immensely relieved to hear him call her 'Abby' versus the formal 'Abigail' he had been using since the entire horrid incident had begun. "I…I," she softly stammered, before giving a shake of her head as if attempting to shake something off. "I mean, is…is it going to hurt?"

Dean answered honestly, "Yes, sweetheart. It is going to hurt rather badly but, honey, you'll be forgiven and feel so much better inside when we are done."

Abby gave a soft sob and then asked, "How, how many?"

"Strokes?"

She nodded and then whispered, "Yes, Sir, how many?"

"I don't know, Abby. I'm not usually ever going to give you a specific count. I will switch you until I feel your bottom has paid the proper price. You have to trust me in this, but I will tell you that you will be very well-striped."

Abigail swallowed hard, and knew it was going to be the worst punishment she had ever endured in her life. Saying a quick prayer that not only would she be able to endure it, but that it would free her of the nagging voice inside her heart, she nodded. "I'm sorry."

"I know, baby," Dean assured her, and the sound of a whisper reached her ears a millisecond before the switch struck.

The first few strikes of the switch surprised Abby so much that she couldn't breathe, much less cry out. She obviously hadn't remembered how badly each line of fire stung as it exploded against her bottom. However, as the fourth stroke lit into her, she screamed. By the time it descended again, she arched her head back and was begging, "Nooo, nooo, stop, stop!"

Dean ignored her pleas, switching her again and again. Forgetting his orders, she reached back, desperate to block the next fall of the horrid switch.

"Hands down!" he barked, and when she failed to obey, he dropped to one knee and took her wrist in his hand, pinning it at the small of her back. When her feet began to kick out, her toes scrabbling against the rock in an attempt to rise, he gave her a quick stroke across the backs of her thighs. As her head reared back and her shriek split the air, he warned, "Knees apart and keep your feet down or I'll switch the backs of your legs as well as your ass."

Abby sobbed, but moved back into position, the one stroke across her thighs providing enough incentive that she knew she didn't want another. Dean laid line after line onto her bottom, the switch relentlessly raising and lowering. Abby continued to squirm and beg for him to stop. He didn't stop; he knew he couldn't until he felt her total submission to not only her punishment, but to his authority in administering it. At last, she went limp across the cooler, her legs no longer kicking out, her body stilling, and her hand no longer tugging in an attempt to free itself from his tight hold.

"I'm so sorry, Dean," she sobbed loudly. "I, I won't ever do it again."

Though he knew she was sincere, he gave her another six lines of fire before he lowered the switch. "I know you are, baby, we are almost done. Just a few more to make sure you don't forget how sorry you are."

She cried, but didn't wail or attempt to change his mind. Dean was proud of her, tapping the switch against the very tender area where her buttocks merged into her thighs. "Lift up onto your toes, Abby, legs spread as wide as you can," Dean instructed softly, and was extremely pleased when she obeyed.

He gave her three strokes, hard and fast, to give her a very strong reminder of her switching that she would remember every time she sat down for the next few days. She bucked hard against the ice chest as this area was switched. He laid two more stripes against the tender flesh of her sit spot, and she sobbed harder than she had ever before in her life.

Finally it was over. Dean threw the switch away and lifted her from the Igloo, dragging the blanket from its surface. He heard her keen as he released her, her arms reaching for him. "Shh, baby, let me spread this out," he said, quickly arranging the blanket before drawing her down. He pulled her onto his lap. At her instant hiss of pain, he adjusted her so that she was sitting on her hip instead of her ravished rear. Her tears soaked his t-shirt as she buried her face against him, her hands clutching at the fabric. "Shush, Abby, it's over, honey," he murmured, his free hand moving to stroke down her arm.

He held her close, stroking her softly, until she was only sniffling with the occasional hiccup. Though he knew she wasn't particularly going to like his next statement, he made it anyway. "If we were at home, you'd be sent to your punishment corner to think about your behavior. Instead, I want you to go sit on the rock, not the blanket, pull your legs up and put your hands around your knees. I want your little hot bottom sitting on the hard rock as you think about why you just got your ass switched." Abby lifted her head, her eyes showing her disbelief that he would ask this of her. "Reflection time, remember?" he said gently, reminding her of what she had learned during the lecture.

"Can't…can't I reflect on your lap?"

"No, honey. Lap time comes later. You need to be alone to be able to truly reflect on all that has happened. This time is for you, Abby, and I think you'll understand the benefit afterwards." With her dubious nod, Dean helped her up and guided her to a flat space on the rock. She sat on her aching, burning bottom, her knees drawn up and her arms wrapped around them. Laying her head on her arms, she looked out over the river and felt the sun bearing down on her skin. After a few minutes, she wiggled on the unforgiving surface of the hard stone.

"No wiggling, young lady. Keep your butt pressed hard against that rock. Don't think about your comfort, I want you to think about your behavior and how you are feeling."

Abby stilled, realizing that he must be watching her, and felt her tummy flutter. Attempting to ignore the throbbing of her backside, she began to use this time as it was intended. Reflecting on all that had happened, she examined her feelings. Dean hadn't lied, the switching had hurt—it had hurt a great deal, but not only had she survived it, she knew she deserved it. According to Samantha and the contents of Dean's book, she should feel perfectly guilt-free after submitting to Dean's discipline. Her throbbing ass spoke of the price she'd paid for her actions. Why then was the promised euphoria of total forgiveness as elusive as the breeze that occasionally wafted across her skin?
As if you don't know, Abigail,
the soft voice inside her heart said, only to have the stubborn voice in her head snap at it to
shut up!