A Switch in Her Master's House Pt. 02

I nearly jump in surprise, but I know better by now. I wait, my calves tense from standing here for who knows how long.

"Come here."

I swear my heart drops. He didn't use my name - which means He's really pissed. I knew this already, but I was hoping He would have calmed down at least a little bit by now.

I walk over to Him and kneel down, not daring to look Him in the eye. If I do, He'll surely be able to see my guilt of not being ready.

As great as it feels to no longer be standing, I can feel myself shaking. The anxiety that clenches at my gut has only gotten worse. I close my eyes. Breathe in, breathe out.

"Look at me, Eliza."

I shake my head, keeping my eyes shut tight.

"Eliza."

The tone in His voice makes me look up, looking up at Him with one eye open.

That, at least, makes Him chuckle. My hammering heart slows, and I can feel the shaking stop. All that with just a chuckle - who would have ever guessed my body would react this way to Him? To be instantly comforted by His presence.

He soon becomes serious again. "Have you thought about why you're being punished?"

I nod quickly.

He gives me The Look.

"Yes Sir." I remedy, making sure to speak loud and clear.

He gestures for me to continue.

"Sir, what I'm being punished for is..." I pause. What if I didn't actually get caught? What if I admit to breaking the number one rule and He didn't know? I would be royally screwed. "I... don't actually know."

I wince as soon as I say it. That's worse. That's much worse. I have to reflect during corner time. "What I mean Sir..." I quickly scramble for words. "Is that I thought really hard about what went on today, and I realized nothing I did would warrant..." I look up and meet His gaze. Bad mistake. If He looked mad before, now He's fuming.

I stop, looking at the ground. Best to stop digging that hole before it gets worse.

He laughs, but it isn't a joyful laugh like before - more like a short, hard bark. I wince.

He crouches down. I can feel Him right in front of me - but I don't dare look up.

I don't need to, it turns out - because He grabs my hair and forces me to look up at Him. My eyes fill with tears, both because of the pain and because of how upset He looks.

"Is this a joke to you?" He asks.

My heart breaks. Unable to shake my head, I have to speak. "No, Sir, I promise it's not."

He stands up, His fist still gripped tight in my hair. I stumble upright, and then fall again as He sits on the bed and drags me across His lap. The only thing He does is change the fist holding onto my hair.

"Sir, please, let me explain!" I cry out once the first swat falls. He never lets up on hand spanking. Never.

"There's nothing for you to explain, Eliza. You clearly think this is all meaningless." He speaks, continuing to let the swats fall.

"I don't Sir, I promise!" I crane my neck to look at him as much as possible, pulling more on my already screaming roots.

"Really?" He spanks harder, making the sting from my earlier spankings come back in full force. "Then why are you lying to me?"

Lying? Does he know then? What I did? Or is it still something else? My gut sinks. He can't know what I did - breaking the number one rule wouldn't involve any sort of discussion, would it?

"I... I don't mean to Sir." I speak clearly, carefully weighing my words. "I'm just worried about what you'll think of me."

He stops for a blissful moment. A moment that is gone as soon as it had came. "That's no excuse. Stand up." He lets go of my hair and I stand up on shaky legs.

I face Him. He still looks incredibly upset. I shiver. He points over the closet. "Bring me a paddle, now."

I wince and look back at the closet. Allowing me to choose is not a relief. It's a warning. If I choose too lightly, He'll punish me harder. If I choose too hard, well, then, that's my choice and I have to live with it. I look down, nodding. Darn these predetermined numbers!

I shuffle over to the closet, my mind racing. What were those numbers again? 65, 42, ... 39? Shoot, the last one escapes me. Or was that the first??

I've stopped right in front of the closet, and I must be moving too slow, because He calls from the bed. "Hurry up now, girl."

I grit my teeth. I hate being called that, and He knows it. I open the closet and stare at the assortment of paddles. I swear He switches them around - the big leather one is in the upper corner, where before it was in the middle, the thin wooden one is near the bottom where last time it was up at the top... the only one that is consistently in the same spot is what the other girls and I call "Mr. Business". One inch thick and made of maple wood, Mr. Business sure knows how to make an impression. Especially with longer punishments.

I think of the numbers again. 31?, 65, 42. It's too many to choose Mr. Business but with that look in His eyes...

I sigh and take it out of the closet. I did break the number one rule, after all. Even if He doesn't know, I'll know I deserve it. I close the closet and look back at Him.

Despite His stern expression, I catch a glimpse of pride in His eyes. I relax slightly and walk over, kneeling down.

He places His hand on my head. "You're learning." I can hear He's happy with my decision. Am I going to be happy? That remains to be seen. Probably not.

"So, Eliza." He starts again. "Tell me what you thought about during your corner time."

Feeling bold, I look up and meet His gaze. "I thought about what I could have done to deserve this, Sir. It took me a while to figure it out, so I didn't have much time to reflect on how to do better." I look down in shame.

He leans forward, taking my chin gently and raising my gaze to His. "And what did you figure out?"

My mouth dries. Do I really want Him to know? Does He already know? Am I doomed either way?

He must sense my panicked thoughts, because His grip tightens on my jaw. "The numbers are already decided, Eliza. You can't add any more."

But He hasn't told me what the numbers are for yet. That changes the punishment drastically. And what is that first one anyways? Why can't I remember it? Is it 33? It's got to be 33. I'm going with 33. I stare at Him, like a deer in the headlights.

He stares right back. I get pulled into His gorgeous green eyes, caught between wanting to run, and wanting to confess. I start to tremble, but He doesn't break eye contact. I don't either, straining to keep my eyes on His.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, I close my eyes, looking away as much as possible, showing Him my submission. I try to quell the aching in my chest. Breathe in, breathe out. The numbers are already decided.

There's no going back now.

I meet His gaze. Time to confess to breaking the number one rule. "I went outside."