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right.
    “When I say I’m offering you my services as a trainer, I’m not just talking about fitness, Tiffany. You said your life is out of control. And I don’t give a damn that I don’t know you; something about you has touched a place in me that wants to help. I’m talking about guiding you on a daily basis—giving you boundaries, limits. You need more than an exercise regimen. You need permission to be happy with yourself, to be happy with who you are. You need someone who is not just going to tell you that’s okay, but demand it of you—someone who’s going to make you accountable. Now, tell me you don’t want that and I’ll walk out the door.”
    “I don’t understand what you’re telling me,” she said, but he could tell from her expression—her look of mixed trepidation and need—that she did know. She just needed him to say it.
    “You need a minder,” he said. “An authority figure.”
    “Like a… father figure?”
    He paused. “Exactly like that.”
    “Exactly what will that entail?”
    “Full accountability from you,” he said. “And we can get to the details later. But we need to start with the first step.”
    “And what’s that?”
    “A spanking.”
    “A what?” She backed away, but not far, and when he took hold of her arm she did not pull away.
    “You almost got pancaked pulling out of my parking lot. Do you have any idea where you’d be now if that other driver had been going any faster? You’d be in the hospital, or possibly the morgue.”
    Lance didn’t wait for her reply. He was leading Tiffany down her hallway now, into the living room. He noted that she still wasn’t fighting as he guided her along.
    In the living room he stopped at the sofa, keeping a hold on her hand as he moved aside a chenille throw and a stuffed Winnie-the-Pooh. As he sat down, he pulled her between his spread knees, took her hands in his, and looked up at her.
    “Tiffany, why are you being spanked?”
    “Are you serious?”
    He ignored the question. “Damn right. You need someone to take control, to train you. I’m taking on that responsibility. Answer me. Why are you being spanked?”
    This time he turned her over his knee as he asked the question, deciding that she was likely to take him more seriously in the facedown position. Her tone was halting as she answered, her high voice even more charming edged with apprehension.
    “I pulled out in front of a car. But that doesn’t give you the right… ow! ”
    His hand came down on the seat of her sweatpants—hard—and she looked back in shock as her hand flew back reflexively. But rather than cover her bottom, Tiffany was moving to pull down the hem of the long shirt she wore. And Lance was having none of it.
    “Oh, no, young lady,” he said. “The shirt stays up. In fact, these pants are coming down, too.”
    It was as if those words broke whatever spell had been cast over her. Gone was the submissive woman who had allowed herself to be draped over his lap.
    “No!” Tiffany kicked out at him while trying to pull away and—when that failed—attempting to bite the hand wrapped around her wrist like an iron band.
    “Oh, no, you don’t.” He pulled her arm between his body and hers, telling himself that this spanking was necessary to establish the control he knew she wanted. With Tiffany successfully immobilized, he easily worked down the baggy pants and brought his hand down hard over her panties, eliciting a very adult reaction.
    “ Fuck! ” she cried, startled by the force and the pain.
    But as a steady volley of harder swats followed the initial smack, her curses turned to cries and then to sobs.
    “Let me go!” she wailed, trying to pull herself off his lap. But he was too strong—impossibly strong, and peppered the crest of her deliciously full bottom with heavy smacks.
    “ No! No! No! ”
    But Lance ignored her as he renewed his assault over her panties. Her bottom had begun to warm under his large, punishing hand as he