Title: Asking For It
Disclaimer: Most of these characters belong to Donald Bellisario, and I hope he won't mind that I've borrowed them for my own amusement. The original character of Beth is my own creation.
Warning: This story contains the spanking of adults. If that's not your thing, it would be best if you didn't read it, or at least that you refrain from telling me about your displeasure. Also, while there is no sexual content in this story, there is reference to the fact that for some people, sex and spanking are connected.
Author's Note: Months ago, sasha1600 and I joked about the unimaginable possibility of Tim seeking punishment from someone professional. As we have both learned, it's never a good idea to tease one's Muse. Sasha's Muse immediately jumped at the challenge and wrote Alternative Remedy, in which Tim learned the hard way that what he gets from Gibbs is special. I completely agree, but I still wanted to believe that with the right person, Tim could experience something positive and meaningful outside his comfort zone. This story, at long last, is the result of my own musings.
Tim had chosen her because of her name. Beth. Even though he knew it wouldn't be her real name, something about it seemed reassuringly honest. Tim thought that he could probably trust someone named Beth. He couldn't see himself dealing with someone who called herself Lady Lucretia, for example. Although even that was better than Mistress Ava Correction, whose post was so detailed and severe that Tim had to turn off his computer after reading it. In fact, he was so shaken by her ad that when he turned his computer back on an hour later he half expected to find an email from Mistress Ava waiting in his inbox, sternly reprimanding him for running away before he had been properly dismissed.
Beth offered private discipline sessions to both men and women, though not couples. She made it clear that she didn't do sexual services. Tim kept returning to her post, day after day, fixating on one line. "Sometimes we all just need a firm hand to make things right again." Reading her ad didn't make Tim feel dirty, like some of the other posts that were accentuated by a leering photo of a woman dressed in latex or holding a riding crop suggestively between her breasts or legs. Tim knew it was stupid to make assumptions about Beth from her ad – after all, she was a professional dominatrix, offering to spank strangers for money. This was hardly someone he was going to bond with over coffee or take home to meet his parents. He simply needed something that he couldn't get from anyone in his real life, and she was willing to sell it to him. That was all. It was a business transaction, nothing more, nothing less.
Tim stared dumbly into his closet. He wondered what a person was expected to wear to a meeting with a dominatrix. It crossed his mind that maybe that wasn't even the right term - it sounded dated and politically incorrect. Perhaps she was a Discipline Professional, or a Spanking Care Provider. The latter choice made him giggle - it sounded like something his health insurance might cover. Although maybe they would deny his claim on the basis that Gibbs had spanked him before, so this would count as a pre-existing condition.
Tim shook himself back to reality. This was no laughing matter. Beth had responded to his introductory email by explaining that an initial session with her always took place in a hotel, and they had to talk first over a non-alcoholic beverage in the hotel bar to make sure that they both felt safe, and that Tim was still interested. If he wasn't, then he'd only be responsible for the hotel costs. If he wanted future sessions with her, he could choose between continuing to see her in a hotel, or scheduling appointments at her place, which was better equipped for more involved sessions. Tim felt a chill run down his spine - his overactive imagination could have a field day trying to visualize what a "more involved" session might entail, and what exactly Beth meant by "better equipped". Thank goodness this would be a one-time thing. Tim just needed to feel a sense of closure after seriously mangling a critical stack of paperwork that he sent to the FBI. The fiasco had been completely accidental, and ultimately Tim had found a way to fix the damage and cover his tracks (and NCIS's proverbial butt) without being caught, but he still felt extraordinarily guilty about the near-disaster. The schoolboy inside him wanted to confess to Gibbs, but that was just selfish - if Gibbs knew the truth then he might have to make a formal report of the incident, which would only serve to make Gibbs's life difficult - never a good idea, but even less so if it meant that Gibbs had to apologize to Fornell. And given that Tim really had cleaned up the mess without anyone knowing, there would be no satisfactory way to explain that his own turbulent conscience had compelled him to publicize his screw-up solely in the name of honesty and absolution.
So that left two choices - get over it and move on, or find a creative way to deal with his anguish. While Tim wished the former option was viable, he knew himself too well to expect it to happen, so that left seeking outside help. Back when Gibbs had first started using corporal punishment on him at work Tim had been bewildered and confused. He desperately wanted to understand what was happening to him, and so he sought answers and perspective in the best way he knew. Tim spent hours online reading scholarly journal articles on spanking as a mode of parental discipline, wikipedia discourses on every aspect of the "BDSM lifestyle", and cheesy fanfiction stories about movie and television characters spanking each other. (Tim wasn't sure he'd ever be able to take Captain Picard seriously again after reading a particularly shocking tale of him being decisively topped by Kathryn Janeway.) He'd perused personal ads on dating websites under various alternative categories that ran the gamut from sturdy leather daddies looking for youthful submissive hunks to haul across their knees, to earnest God-fearing ladies seeking caring, church-going men for traditional marriage and domestic discipline. He found sites where he could purchase hand-crafted wooden paddles, sign up for fantasy "vacations" that involved spending a week experiencing life in a Victorian-era British boarding school, and download videos showcasing every imaginable combination of genders, ages, and role-play characters whipping each other for fun or serious punishment.
At the end of it all Tim had come to the conclusion that he didn't have a sexual fetish for being spanked, but that being physically disciplined by Gibbs brought him a sense of comfort and order that he couldn't get in other ways. Tim's research had also left him with a large stockpile of information, so he knew exactly where to look when he decided that he needed to be punished by someone he wasn't likely to encounter anywhere else in his life. It had taken less than an hour to find Beth's ad, though it took significantly longer than that for Tim to compose an email, and almost as long again before he actually hit 'send'. When Beth's positive reply had come just minutes later, Tim was startled – he'd forgotten that this wasn't a date, and hence she would have no reason to be experiencing the same kind of nervous hesitation that he was. Several emails and one lengthy questionnaire later they had a meeting scheduled at a hotel suggested by Beth. Now there were less than two hours before Tim would be face-to-face with the woman that he had chosen, well, hired, to spank his ass. Tim wondered, not for the first time, what the hell he was doing. But he sternly reminded himself that he was not going to back out of this – he hadn't taken this step rashly, and he'd never forgive himself if he chickened out. With a renewed sense of purpose, Tim surveyed his closet.
After much agonizing, Tim selected an almost-shiny black shirt and a pair of sharp black jeans. Trying on the outfit, he admired himself in the mirror. The clothes made him look attractive and sexy, if he allowed himself the indulgence of being a bit vain. Then he scowled. He wasn't supposed to look sexy for this. He wasn't headed to an upscale kinky play club, or even on a blind date. Plus he was going to be punished - he shouldn't be strutting about, trying to impress the woman who would be doling out this punishment. He should project remorse, not prideful confidence.
Tim rifled through his clothes once again, annoyed at all of his options. None of them screamed "humble regret" to him. Finally he settled on a striped button down shirt – casual but not scruffy - and a pair of khaki slacks. He still thought that he looked a bit preppy, but it was the best he could do at this late juncture. He hoped Beth would focus more on the emotions in his face than on the message communicated by his inadequate clothing. Tim sighed. If he was going to get to the hotel in advance of Beth's arrival, he had to leave now.
Tim was studiously rearranging the multicolored sugar packets when the waiter directed Beth to his table. He jumped slightly at the sound of her voice.
"Thom?"
It took a second before Tim remembered that he'd used his pseudonym in his emails.
"Uh, yes. I'm Thom." Tim spoke awkwardly. Suddenly he realized that he should probably stand up to meet her. He pushed himself up too quickly, though, and bumped his thighs roughly on the table, scattering yellow packets of Splenda and brown packets of raw sugar everywhere. Tim felt his panic rise as he tried to mentally figure out whether it was more important to clean up the table or to offer her a handshake.
Before he could figure out the answer, Beth gracefully pushed aside the sugar packets with her left hand while simultaneously extending her other hand towards Tim. He looked up to meet her gaze, and she was smiling without any sense of mocking. "I'm Beth," she said. "Should we sit?" Without waiting for his reply Beth slid into the booth, and Tim collapsed gratefully back into his seat.
Beth requested a glass of cranberry juice and soda from the waiter, and then turned back to Tim.
"Were you able to find the hotel easily?" she asked.
"I...yes. My work takes me all over the city, so I knew where it was. But I have a gps too, in case I didn't, or if I got lost." Tim knew he was rambling and stopped talking abruptly. He wondered if he'd said too much about his job – after all, he didn't want to reveal too much of his real life to her. But all he'd really told her was that he knew the city – that could mean that he was a cab driver, for heaven's sake. He had to stop scrutinizing every word out of his mouth.
Beth didn't seem to notice any awkwardness in Tim's answer. "It's quite amazing, the technology in a gps, don't you think?"
Tim refrained from going into the technical details of the satellite technology, which he agreed was remarkable, though he saw an abundance of ways that it would no doubt be improved in the future. Instead he forced himself to reply simply, "It really is."
They exchanged more pleasantries over their non-alcoholic drinks, each topic initiated by Beth. Tim wondered when the conversation would move to the real purpose of their meeting, and who was expected to bring it up. He felt a surge of anxiety thinking that maybe it was his responsibility and there was a time limit, and if, say, 30 minutes went by without the topic being mentioned, then Beth would simply assume that he'd changed his mind and excuse herself with the same polite charm that she'd been exuding through the small talk.
Tim drained the last of his ginger ale. He put it down slowly, as though the imaginary timer would go off when the glass hit the table.
As if reading his mind, Beth asked. "How are you feeling about being here tonight, Thom?"
Tim knew that this was his opportunity to call the whole crazy scheme off. He could end this with a bit of dignity, pay for the drinks and leave with his head held high, at least until he was alone. But looking at Beth, Tim realized that he didn't want to leave. He wanted to see this through, and for some reason, he knew that he could trust her. That same feeling kept him from lying when he answered her question.
"I'm kind of nervous. And scared. But I want to do this." Tim didn't think he sounded particularly confident, but he tried to sound as genuine as he could. Then he remembered her initial caveat. Tim wasn't entirely sure how to ask Beth if she was still interested in their arrangement. It suddenly occurred to Tim that he'd be deeply hurt if she turned him down. What if he wasn't even good enough to be spanked by someone he was paying? Tentatively, he asked, "Are you...I mean, do you still...is this OK with you?"
"It is. The decision is completely yours now, Thom. If this isn't something you want anymore, or you just need more time, you should feel free to say so. I won't be offended or disappointed in you."
Tim's insides flipped. He stared at the table, unable to meet Beth's eye when he answered. "I need to do this."
"That's fine," Beth's tone was kind but firm. Tim could tell that something had shifted, and she was asserting her control of the situation now. He knew that he could stop her at any time - he'd provided her with a safeword in advance – but she was letting him know that this was her show, and she was secure in her ability to run it. "I'm going to give you what you've asked me for. Did you get an extra key to the room?"
Tim fumbled in his pocket, and pulled out one of the two keycards that the hotel provided. Beth took it from him and slid it into her purse without looking down.
"This is what's going to happen now, Thom. You're going to stay here while I bring my things up to the room. After you've paid the bill for our drinks, take the envelope with my payment and have the front desk hold it for me." Beth glanced at her watch. "At 8:30, I want you to go up to the room and wait for me. I'll be out of the room when you arrive. Take off your shoes and sit on the end of the bed. When I return, I'll knock on the door, but you're not to get up. I'll let myself in with the key."
Tim nodded, unable to speak or move.
Beth stood up. "When you get upstairs, you may take a few minutes to settle yourself down, but then you're to sit still and wait for me. Is that understood?"
Tim nodded again, and Beth turned to leave.
"It's Tim." Tim whispered, unsure of whether she'd hear.
Beth looked back at him. "Pardon?"
"My name. It's Tim. My real one, I mean."
Beth's voice was gentle again, like when they were first talking. "It's OK – lots of people prefer to use a different name when they're with me. It can be about privacy and feeling safe, or about getting into a character role. I don't need to know your real name unless it's important to you."
Tim looked straight at her now. "It is. I'm here because of something I did in my real life. I'm not role playing. If I don't use my real name then it will be like...like it's not really me being punished."
"That's fine, Tim. I appreciate your honesty and trust."
Beth strode off, leaving a dazed Tim at the table. Even though he was going to place Beth in charge of what was about to happen to him, there was a strange way in which he was controlling the events. It was different than when he was going to be punished by Gibbs. While he knew that Gibbs would stop using spanking as a disciplinary measure if Tim actively objected, there was still a sense that Gibbs maintained all of the authority, and that Tim had to accept whatever Gibbs decided to dole out. Although he hated the actual spanking, Tim had to admit that there was something comforting in this knowledge. Tim liked thinking that Gibbs knew what was best for him, that Gibbs always understood the big picture of what was going on, and that when something was off-kilter, Gibbs had an unshakeable resolve to put it right. If that required a firm hand, then Tim was willing to submit to it.
Oddly, though, what he was doing with Beth didn't feel like submission. In fact, contacting her and making arrangements had required a assertiveness that he was surprised to discover in himself. But now he was passing the reins over to her for the evening. It was a strange power dance, and Tim wasn't sure that he completely understood how it worked, or whether this arrangement could even be satisfying. Maybe the fact that Gibbs really did have power over him gave the punishment a sense of meaning beyond just the painful effect of a belt landing on his ass.
But maybe, like therapy, the fact that Beth wasn't connected to him in a personal way meant that he would give her access to places inside of him that he'd never allow Gibbs to see. The thought scared Tim, but also left him fascinated and a bit excited. If Beth really could fix what was wrong inside him... Tim didn't want to get his hopes up, but if she could, that would be worth any payment she asked for.
Upstairs in the hotel room, Tim sat with his legs dangling at the foot of the bed. The king-sized mattress was set just high enough that Tim's feet couldn't quite lay flat on the ground, and it was making Tim feel very young. He had to make a conscious effort not to swing his legs back and forth. In fact, everything about the situation was starting to make Tim feel like a kid. As the minutes ticked by without Beth arriving at the door, Tim's mind began to wander and he stopped obsessing about what was about to happen to him.
He craned his neck around, checking out the decorative details of the room. Usually he would only be in such an establishment to investigate a crime scene. Thinking about a crime scene made Tim think about Tony, and he experienced a wave of alarm at the prospect that his partner might find out about what transpired tonight. Tim would never be able to go back to work if that happened. Paranoia started to creep in as Tim considered the possibility that Tony already knew, and that he'd set this entire thing up. What if Tony had access to his computer, and had intercepted Tim's emails, and then hired Beth himself to pretend to be a dominatrix, exposing her true identity later? Could Tony have set up some kind of a webcam in the hotel room? Tim squinted around the room, looking for likely hiding places for a camera. As the absurdity of this scenario began to occur to him, Tim heard a knock at the door. After a pause, he heard the key card unlocking the door, and Beth entered. Her manner was both graceful and powerful, and Tim realized that he wasn't so much frightened of her as he was in awe. In spite of the circumstances, he wanted to impress her. Tim straightened his posture self-consciously.
"Thank you for following my instructions, Tim." Beth nodded briefly in acknowledgement of his position on the bed. "I'm sorry that these are the circumstances under which we had to meet today."
Tim felt immediately chastened, and dropped his chin.
"I trust that you've spent your time alone thinking about why you're here right now?"
Tim sheepishly recalled his conspiracy theory about Tony. Of course, there was no way for Beth to know that this was how his mind had been occupied in her absence. Still, she seemed to share Gibbs's ability to see right through him, and Tim wasn't taking any chances. He shook his head 'no' in response to her question.
"I'd like to hear your answers out loud, Tim."
Tim felt his face get hot at being admonished. "I wasn't thinking about that. I was thinking about...other stuff."
"Do you think that was the best use of your time while I was gone?"
"No. I'm sorry."
"I think it's important that you really focus on why you're here, Tim. Please go and stand in the corner, hands clasped behind your back. It's been some time since the actual incident occurred, so I expect you to use this time to consider what you did, and why you deserve to be punished for it. Is that clear?"
Tim nodded. Beth locked her gaze on him until the instructions actually registered in Tim's brain. "Yes, ma'am." he croaked. Beth hadn't told him to address her that way, and she didn't seem to demand it, but it felt necessary in the moment.
"Very well then. I will let you know when you can turn around."
Tim slid off bed and headed for the closest corner. It was embarrassing, but he was also glad that this position afforded him some time away from Beth's scrutiny.
As Beth had pointed out, the incident in question had happened over three weeks ago. Under normal circumstance – if anything of this nature could really be called normal – Tim would screw up at work, get caught by Gibbs, and then find himself bent over a conference room table. If Gibbs was really mad, Tim might be braced against a wall with his pants around his ankles. But either way it was over quickly.
The events had unfolded differently this time. After Tim realized the gravity of his error at work, he'd gone into overdrive covering his tracks. He had worked around the clock for three straight days making sure that everything was put right at both the FBI and the NCIS end of things. Not a single proverbial hair was out of place by the time Tim was finished, so no one would ever sense that something had been wrong. And if, by some absurd fluke, the mistake was discovered, Tim had set up an elaborate labyrinth of computer footprints to keep suspicion away from himself, Gibbs, and the agency. Under any other circumstances, Tim would have been incredibly proud of his meticulous work.
In retrospect, Tim should have predicted the gnawing sense of guilt that would plague him afterwards. He craved the sense of closure that a spanking from Gibbs would bring him, but there was no good way to make that happen without causing Gibbs an enormous amount of administrative and professional grief. Tim started wishing that Gibbs would find out accidentally, but ironically it was Tim's own handiwork that would keep that from ever happening. So now he was here, standing in corner of a hotel suite, waiting for – oh god – his dominatrix to tell him that he could turn around and accept the punishment he'd been seeking for almost a month.
Really, Tim? He mentally asked himself. A dominatrix? At what point, exactly, did that seem like a good idea? Forgetting Beth's instructions, Tim dropped his head into his hands, pushing his fingers painfully into his temples.
"Should I take that as a sign that you're ready now, Tim?" Beth's voice brought him out of his wallowing.
"I guess." Tim waited for a response, and when none came, he tentatively looked over his shoulder for guidance.
"Not yet." Beth's tone was firm, but her words didn't come across as a reprimand. "Tell me what you've used this time to think about."
"I thought about...what I did." Tim felt a bit awkward talking to the wall.
"And did you think about why you needed to be punished?"
Tim's brow furrowed in confusion. Wasn't that what he'd just told her he'd been thinking about? Was Beth not as sharp as he'd originally surmised?
"Well, Tim?"
"Yes, I thought about that."
"Good. Come here then, please."
Tim turned around and took several steps in Beth's direction. They both stood in silence for a few moments. Beth watched him expectantly, and Tim seriously considered the possibility that she was reading his mind, before harshly reminding himself that they were in a DC hotel, and not a Star Trek episode.
"Why do you need to be punished, Tim?"
Tim felt a wave of panic run through him – he'd been explicit over email that the incident was confidential and he was not at liberty to discuss its details. Beth had seemed really respectful of this when they had communicated in writing. Was she changing the rules on him now? Was this part of her technique, some way to exert her power over him now that he was vulnerable?
"I...I told you," Tim stammered. "It was a work thing...something I can't talk about. I'm not just saying that. My job..it's complicated...but I can't..."
Tim paused to gasp for breath, and Beth was able to break in.
"No, Tim. I don't need to know what you think you are being punished for. I asked you why you think you needed to be punished."
"I don't think I understand the difference."
"I assume this was not the first time you've done something wrong at work."
Tim shook his head. "No. Of course not."
"And your boss – the one you wrote me about. Has he spanked you for every one of those times?"
"No."
"Have you ever asked someone else to spank you, then?"
Tim's imagination spontaneously produced a vision of Tony standing over him with a raised paddle. "God, no!" Then he realized that Beth probably meant another professional, like her. More calmly he said, "No. This is the first time."
"So what changed? What made this time different?"
Tim felt himself hunch up just a little bit. This really was starting to feel like therapy. He shrugged, avoiding her question and her gaze. He wondered if she'd send him back to the corner to do some more thinking.
Beth spoke gently. "You don't have to answer me now, Tim. But the answer to this question is what you should be focused on while I'm spanking you. Do you think you can do that?"
Tim's past experiences made him pretty sure that the only thing he'd be able to focus on while Beth spanked him was the fire in his backside, but he really did want to please her. "I'll try." Tim figured that was the closest he was going to get to being truly honest here.
"I hope you will."
Tim noticed that while he had been in the corner Beth had moved a cushioned bench over to the foot of the bed. She walked over to the desk now and pulled a small wooden paddle out of the drawer. It was oval, and slightly larger than a hairbrush. Tim thought that it was more feminine than anything Gibbs would use. Gibbs could navigate the Delaware River in a canoe with his paddle. Still, the implement in Beth's hand seemed solid and business-like. Tim had the sense that the paddle was a perfect extension of Beth herself – sleek but purposeful.
"Take off your pants, and then kneel on the bench." Beth indicated direction with her paddle.
Tim wasn't surprised by the instruction. Her pre-meeting questionnaire had asked for his comfort level regarding the removal of clothing. While Tim was perfectly happy keeping all of his clothes on, he didn't think that would be in the spirit of a meaningful punishment. In the end, he'd requested only that he never be completely naked. Still, in the moment, his hands shook as he fumbled with his belt and removed his khakis and socks.
Walking over to the bed, Tim glanced at Beth for reassurance before climbing onto the bench.
She nodded at him, and he knelt on the bench facing the bed, with his hands hanging awkwardly at his sides. Beth let him wait in position for several moments before moving beside him. Everything felt so slow compared to Gibbs, Tim thought. His boss did things swiftly and without a lot of time for pensive interludes. Setting the ambiance for Tim's punishment was not high on Gibbs's priority list before a spanking. Everything with Beth felt deliberate, but not staged. She was clearly responding to him in the moment, but if this was a dance, she was definitely leading.
"Bend forward, with your arms stretched out in front of you". Tim did as he was told, and shivered as he felt his boxers tighten across his ass. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with his head, so he tentatively laid it down with one cheek pressed into the comforter. Beth didn't correct him, so he sank further into the position.
Tim felt Beth place the paddle on his the left side of his behind, and he closed his eyes tightly in anticipation. She drew it away, and then brought it down sharply. He quietly flinched. The action was repeated on the opposite side. She started spanking him in a slow rhythm, adjusting where the paddle landed just enough to keep him from shifting in anticipation of the blows. She varied the force, too – while the wood usually landed with a firm thwack, occasionally she would lay a series of much softer strokes on his now-throbbing backside. Just as Tim began to feel a sense of relief, she would snap him out of his trance with a particularly sharp smack to his upper thighs.
As anticipated, it was hard to focus on anything but the pain while he was being spanked. Still, Tim tried to focus his mind by imagining that it was Gibbs raining down the blows, and while his boss was usually silent during a punishment, Tim thought it best to envision Gibbs lecturing him throughout. Tim willed himself to stay silent lest he lose his ability to hear a stern Gibbs reprimanding him in his mind.
"Where are you, Tim?" Beth's question broke through Tim's bubble. The spanking stopped momentarily.
"I'm here." Tim managed to whimper.
"Only in body. Tell me who's spanking you, Tim."
"You are."
"Not in your head, I'm not. Who's spanking you in your head?"
"My boss."
"Is that who you disappointed? Is he spanking you for letting him down? For failing him?"
Tim nodded as best he could with his head lying on the bed, but he couldn't get any words out. Beth resumed spanking him, but it seemed slower and more methodical now. Tim heard Beth's words reverberate with each blow – "disappointed", "failing", "letting him down". He'd done all these things. A disparaging voice berated Tim silently "If Gibbs only knew what you'd done..."
But then another, unfamiliar voice came into Tim's head to finish the thought. "...he'd have been mad, but he'd have protected you."
In spite of himself, Tim knew the second voice was right. Taking care of his team was what Gibbs thrived on. On a rational level Tim knew that he could have admitted to Gibbs at the start what he'd done, and Gibbs would certainly have been angry, but he would have flown into action to fix the situation, to keep Fornell out of it, to square things with the director. Tim could pretend all he wanted that his motive in hiding his own screw-up was to keep Gibbs from being dragged into a mess that wasn't his, but it just wasn't the truth. The high standards that Tim had failed to meet were not Gibbs's, but his own.
Ever since he could remember, Tim had felt like his successes had been accidental, or just pure luck. Getting a job at NCIS, and then getting to join Gibbs's team, were the best things that ever happened to him, as well as the pinnacle of his achievement flukes. Tim didn't know what gods he should thank for getting where he was, but he certainly wasn't going to screw it up. He knew right from his first day as a probie that he would never, ever let anyone down, least of all Gibbs. No one would ever regret hiring him, and he would never let himself become a burden to Gibbs. Until the FBI incident, Tim had been able to maintain the facade, painting over every crack before anyone else could notice. But when he screwed this up, the wall had started to crumble. It took three days of work and every ounce of Tim's being to keep it together without Gibbs – or anyone else – seeing. When all was said and done, Tim had fixed it, but he was furious with himself for letting everyone get so perilously close to seeing the truth about him. That was never, ever supposed to happen. Tim let out a low, involuntary moan as the anguish coalesced in his mind.
Beth stopped immediately.
"What just happened?"
"Nothing." Tim tried to focus on Beth again. "I'm OK."
"Don't lie to me, Tim."
"It's not Gibbs."
"Go on." Beth prompted.
"I think I know why I'm being punished now."
"That's good, Tim."
Tim thought she would say more, but nothing was offered, so he continued. "Should I tell you?"
"If it's something that you need to do. But it's not necessary. You decide what you need."
Tim hadn't expected that reaction, and he thought it over for a minute before responding.
"I think..." Tim started tentatively. "I think it's enough just for me to know."
"That's fine. I'm proud of you for being honest about what you need. And I think you're ready to take your punishment now."
Startled, Tim blurted out, "Isn't that what I've been doing?"
"No. What's happened up till now is me giving you the opportunity – and the motivation – to focus your thoughts. When you arrived this evening you were all scattered about, and you were too fraught with anxiety over being here with me to really get what you needed from a spanking."
"So none of this counts? You're starting from scratch?" Tim was starting to panic – the clarity of his epiphany began to fade as the reality of his smarting ass sunk in, along with the prospect of having the paddling happen all over again.
"Will you trust me to give you what you need?"
Tim turned and really looked at Beth. In a strange way, she'd been taking care of him all evening. There was no reason to run away from her now.
A bit timidly, Tim replied, "Yes."
"I'll try not to let you down, Tim."
Once again Tim was surprised by this woman that he'd hired from an ad on the internet. There was something completely remarkable about her and the way she understood him.
Tim's thoughts of admiration were abruptly cut short as Beth retrieved a leather strap from the desk drawer.
"Step back off the bench."
Gingerly, Tim placed his feet back onto the floor and eased his sore body upright. His gaze stayed fixed on the strap throughout.
"I want you to take your boxers down for this part." Tim cringed at the instruction, but if Beth noticed, she didn't let on. "Push them down to your ankles, and then brace yourself against the edge of the bed."
Tim pulled the elastic away from his skin so that there was no friction as he lowered his shorts down his legs. Spreading his feet wider for balance, Tim leaned forward and steadied himself with his hands against the mattress.
On rare occasions, Tim had been put in a similar position by Gibbs. And the heavy strap was certainly closer to Gibbs's style than the small, round paddle had been. But Tim interrupted these thoughts. This wasn't about Gibbs anymore. It never had been, and Tim had to stop pretending that this was an act of contrition for the sake of his superior. Tim was asking for a punishment for his own reasons, and he was using Beth to get what he desperately needed. There was no pretense about their arrangement, no awkward role playing, no expectations. Beth wasn't sternly telling him that he was a "naughty boy who needed to be taught a lesson", and Tim wasn't putting on a production of vocal reactions to let her know that he was feeling suitably and painfully chastised. In a twisted way, Tim felt like this was the most free that he'd ever been to just be himself.
"I'm going to start now."
There was a pause, and then Tim heard the stiff leather land against his skin. A fresh blaze of pain radiated through him, and Tim cried out. In contrast to the silence that he'd maintained through the paddling, this time Tim let his natural responses take over. Later on Tim would realize that the whipping itself had not lasted very long, and he would be fairly certain that he'd taken fewer than ten strokes. But right now the torrent of emotions completely overwhelmed him. He was still sobbing when he realized that not only had Beth finished strapping him, but that she was standing beside him with one hand on his back, and the other offering him a glass of water.
"Slowly, Tim," she cautioned, as he pushed himself to a standing position and then carefully pulled up his shorts. He gratefully took the water and took a large sip, trying to pull himself together, but his breath was still coming in gasps and gulps. Tim coughed and spluttered. Feeling embarrassed, he started to apologize, but Beth interrupted, reiterating her comforting instruction, "Slowly."
Tim suddenly felt shy in Beth's presence. Without making eye contact he admitted, "I'm not sure what to say."
"Did it help?" Beth asked.
Tim realized how much his body hurt, and how badly he was going to ache tomorrow. Tim was pretty sure that even standing still was going to be painful, and for the first time after a punishment, Gibbs wouldn't know why Tim was acting so strangely around chairs and hard surfaces. Undoubtedly, the next few days were going to be agonizing.
Tim smiled.
"Yeah," he said with conviction. "It helped."