The Point of it All

Jade Cary hit the nail on the head with “The Point of it All!”  This book definitely makes the short list of my favorite spanking novels of all time.

Dr. Diana Kenyon is sent to a seminar in Miami designed to promote self-awareness and self-defense in order to avoid kidnapping.  Thinking this is a huge waste of time for someone who spends their days doing reconstructive surgery, she skips the second half of the class and hits the pool.  Little did she know she would need these skills sooner rather than later as it was a solid six months before she would return home from that seminar…

Valerio Rios was struck by the woman in the back of the room who was acting more like a petulant child during his lecture than a renowned doctor.  When he discovers she goes missing soon after his seminar, he quickly begins to work to recover her from her captors.  Expecting gratitude instead of resistance, Val meets Diana's violence head on by baring her bottom and spanking her in front of his colleagues the night he finds her.  Val is unable to return his charge immediately and finds that sparks (and spanks) fly between them during their precious few weeks together.

One of the things I liked best about this book was the pre-spanking banter between Diane and Val.  Jade Cary delivered amazing dialogue that made me simultaneously giggle and shudder. 

“I spoke to your father this morning,” he began without preliminaries. Diana still couldn't get used to Jack being referred to as 'her father'. Val seemed to take to it right away. Something was up. “Oh?” “Yes. He called to ask how you were doing. I thought it odd, since you'd just spoken to him on Sunday.”

 

“Oh?” She swallowed hard.

 

“Uh huh. So, I reminded him that he spoke to you on Sunday, and that you were perfectly fine then. Want to know what he told me, querida?”

 

“I'm not sure I do,” she whispered.

 

“Well, I'm going to tell you. He told me you had a run-in with Billy Stevenson.”

 

“Oh, God.”

 

“Uh huh. I asked him to please define 'run-in', and to please repeat the name of the person who allegedly had this run-in, because it couldn't be my wife, since I told her implicitly to stay away from him.”

 

“Explicitly,” she said softly.

 

He cocked his head to one side, and his brows knitted together to form one long one that resembled a fuzzy caterpillar. “Mande?"

 

“Oh, God,” she whispered. She stared at the floor while he fumed. “You…you told me 'explicitly'.” She rubbed her now-aching head, wishing she had some duct tape-for her own mouth. “'Implicitly' means you were vague.”

 

“Was I? Vague?”

 

She shook her head.

 

“Words.”

 

“No.”

 

“I must have been, because apparently your 'run-in' was so 'explicit' that the police came!”

 

“I can explain.”

 

“I am certain that you can, and you will, querida. Believe me.”

 

He reached into the bag and pulled out something black. She couldn't make it out at first, then her mind simply shut down to the possibility of what it could be.

 

“What's that?”

 

“Oh…this?”

 

“Yes. That.” Dear God.

 

”Just a little something to help me be more 'explicit'. Clearly, my 'implicitness' was not 'explicit' enough.” It appeared to be a leather paddle, oval-shaped and just large enough to produce a sting-and he hadn't yet touched her. He never used anything other than his hand for discipline-until now. This was not good.

 

“Oh, God,” she repeated again, softly, hoping He would hear her, just this once.

 

“Bedroom. Now!”

 

“Val…”

 

He moved toward her, paddle raised. She ran down the hall to their bedroom. He came in after her and closed the door. They were alone, as always, but closing the bedroom door was part of the ritual-a ritual she was still getting used to. She stood in the middle of the room, her arms wrapped protectively around her middle. Val tossed the paddle on the bed, and sat.

 

“Ven aquí, inmediatamente!” His order could not be more 'explicit'. Come here at once. The segue into Spanish was never a good sign.

 

“Let me explain, please.”

 

“I'll give you plenty of time. Get over here now, jovencita, and I will not ask you again.”

 

Shit. She moved toward him knowing there was nothing she could say that would make any sense. She'd seen Billy Stevenson on the street. She should have walked away, but she didn't-far from it. A police car rolled by as they tussled-she the aggressor. They both told the police everything was fine. How the hell did Jack Stanton find out? No matter. She was dead. A dead duck. Dead duck soup. Dead, dressed, stuffed duck, skinned to perfection…

 

She was pulled out of her reverie when he grabbed the front of her jeans, pulled her between his knees, and began to unfasten her belt.

 

“Please,” she begged, grabbing onto his wrists.

 

“Where do your hands belong?” He stared into her eyes, into her soul, his voice low, controlled. Yet, she knew what lay under the surface.

 

She closed her eyes, and a single tear escaped. It wasn't the spanking-she knew it would be perfectly foul. It was his anger, his disappointment, the realization that he was going to do this, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. The die has been cast. The ship had sailed. She tried to cooperate when she knew her goose was cooked, but it was never easy.

 

“Get those hands where they belong, or I will put you over my knee now and paddle you hard, and I will not stop until I hear you ask me to take your pants down. Is that what you want?”

 

She slid her hands up to his shoulders as an answer.

 

“No warning next time.” He unbuckled her belt, then unsnapped and unzipped her jeans, then yanked her over his lap.

 

“Lift.” This was all part of the ritual, and it killed her.

 

She almost grabbed onto her jeans to stop their descent, then she remembered his warning. The last thing she wanted was a spanking before the spanking, then having to ask him to…she shuddered. Where the hell did he get these ideas? It was like he took lessons on exactly how to get inside her head and pith her smart brain into submission and obedience. It was maddening. She grabbed on to the down comforter on their bed instead and lifted her hips. He tugged her jeans to her knees.

 

“I ran into him on the street…I'm fine…nothing happened…” It all came out in one big run-on sentence. It sounded ridiculous, even to her.

 

“And you walked away as soon as you saw him.” Naturally, it wasn't a question.

 

She sighed. “Don't use the paddle. Please.”

 

“You took risks with your safety once. Obviously, I did not express my objections clearly enough the first time.”

 

“You did.”

 

“No. I will be more 'explicit' this time.”

 

“That's enough, Val. You've made your point,” she said, her tone resigned.

 

“Not yet.” Her flesh tingled as he took her panties off her bottom, leaving them to gather around her upper thighs just above her jeans.

 

“And thank you for correcting me on my English, Señora Rios. I am a better man for it.” He picked up the paddle.

 

“Shit,” she muttered.

 

And then the paddle fell.

My biggest concern with this novel was its first impression.  It was a little too ironic that Diana gets abducted after being forced, unwillingly, to attend a conference about kidnapping prevention that she griped about the whole time and eventually blew off.   This had me believe that the book would lack believability and end up being too predictable.  I’m certainly glad in the end that this wasn’t the case!

I thoroughly enjoyed reading “The Point of it All” and look forward to picking it up again some time.

For another glimpse at Jade Cary’s witty dialogue, check out the ‘Sweet Snippet’ posted on my blog.