She needed a job, he needed a personal assistant. It seemed like a match made in heaven until he laid out the rules he expected her to follow.
"Oww!" He didn't return to the stroking, which she missed. Soon the sharp sting mellowed to a warm tingle. Not entirely unpleasant, but tender nonetheless. Nothing more happened, then she recalled what she was supposed to do, except saying the word would only bring his hand down again. She clutched the tissue to her nose. Ridiculously, she wanted to cry. He hadn't hurt her, but she still wanted to cry. Finally, her breathing slowed, and she lowered her head again. Eyes closed, she murmured, "One."
The second strike seemed even harder than the first, and she kicked out with a sob.
"Ow. That hurts."
He said nothing, nor did he move until she tried to rub her throbbing butt. Capturing her wrist, he restrained it at the small of her back.
"No. Hands stay forward. You are not to reach behind you or touch your bottom in any way until I give you permission to do so."
"But it hurts."
"I realize that, but, while the sting dies down, think about how stinging your disobedience was to me as well."
"Not that bad," she countered.
"I refuse to argue the point. You have your instructions, and I expect you to follow them, even if you don't want to."
Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she scrubbed at them with her free hand. She had just one more to get through, and this punishment would be over. Except this was only the first of many yet to come if his warnings weren't exaggerated. Emotionally, she felt raw and exposed, while his silent presence shielded her from feeling abused and mistreated. Though his swats weren't gentle by any means, his voice and quiet remonstrance was.