Broken Submission

Connection

"What?" Amelia startled, eyes jerking as high as his chest in surprise.

"That's ten. You aren't being entirely honest with me, and so you lose the privilege of wearing your shirt. Take it off."

Her hesitancy also let him relax a bit, even if he was going to punish her for it. Subs that showed no opinion or personality put Derek on edge. Amelia paused long enough that he was about to add to her sentence when she pulled her top over her head. She wore no bra, but her legs were tucked to her chest, arms tight to her sides. It could've been modesty, but his gut was telling him some thing else. He thought that she was hiding something.

"Present."

Derek watched as her shoulders hunched, head ducking even lower. He waited a count of five for her to do anything—to obey, to tell him to go to hell, anything. When she didn't, he pushed forward.

"That's another ten, and if I know Jerrol, that's on top of an already tender ass."

He watched as she gulped. Then, she slowly straightened, taking a deep breath as she did so. She stood, pale skin practically glowing in the light. Her movements were slow and deliberate as she placed her feet and laced her fingers behind her neck, chin up, eyes down.

He didn't move, leisurely taking in her face, her small chest... Derek's gaze stuttered as it hit her abdomen. Raised as they were, he could easily count every one of her ribs. Her stomach sunk inward, her hip bones protruding. He swallowed hard as he stared at the woman before him. This... Surely this wasn't a choice...

Amelia heard the harsh intake of breath when he saw her. The position of her arms accentuated her malnutrition. Her body had lost most all of its female attributes. It was concealed with impact play where she rarely disrobed, but it had limited her already sparse sex life. She'd had offers, but once the clothes came off... they would see. Nobody wanted to have sex with a skeleton.

Derek saw the shiver go through her and wanted nothing more than to wrap her up and hold her. But he needed answers, and it was close to impossible to lie or maintain a stony silence in such an exposed position.

"Amelia," he said, grateful that his voice didn't reveal his uncertainty. "What do you need? This... this can't be a choice. Why haven't you asked for help?"

"People are getting laid off. I'm lucky, I just got reduced to part time. But," her voice wavered, "it's not enough. I'm not making ends meet. In fact," she paused and took a deep breath, "I've been meaning to come and see you. My membership...I'm need to cancel it. I've tried—but I just can't anymore."

Derek took several deep breath's before he spoke, trying to eliminate the anger in his voice. It didn't work. "Why didn't you ask for help?"

For the first time, Amelia met his gaze, if only for a second. "Why? This is a club I frequent. An outlet, a business. Why would I come to you for help?"

He erupted out of his chair. She flinched back, but he gripped the hair at the back of her head and pulled, forcing her gaze back to his.

"It's time for your punishment," he murmured. "Go lay over my desk, legs wide, ass up, hands out to the sides."
She gulped but for the first time didn't hesitate to obey.

His desk was the perfect height for unruly subs, high enough to support the tall ones while lifting the short ones off their feet. Amelia's toes barely brushed the wood floors.

He walked up beside her and flipped her skirt up to her waist. Her skin was lightly pink from her previous scene, but perfectly fine to take a good paddling. Which was good. He damn well wanted to get his point across, not indulge in some perfunctory punishment.

He brought his hand down in a heavy slap—no warmup—eliciting a small squeak from her.

"We are a community." He punctuated his words with stinging blows. "We are not a business, or just some sex club. We are a family, and we take care of our own."

Amelia's eyes welled as he scolded her, not from the sting of his hand but from the support he was offering. He was holding her accountable for her actions while also taking some of the weight. Her legs kicked slightly as he reached twenty strokes. She was glad he hadn't made her count them aloud—her voice was always the first thing to reveal her emotions. She let out a sigh as he finished his set, palm rubbing gentle circles over her stinging bottom. He withdrew his hand with a light slap that made her jump.

"Stand."

She wiggled backward off the desk and stood at loose attention before him, feet apart, head down, hands clasping her elbows behind her back.

"You took that well," he praised, and her core heated in pleasure.

"But we're not done."