Page 36 of Doctoring Dolly

“What’s your safeword?”

“Melon, Sir.”

“Use it if you need a break. I’ll be right here.”

“Yes, Sir,” Dolly replied, tears already evident in her voice.

After brushing a kiss on her lips, Quincy straightened and took up a position behind the table. “She’s ready, Master Derek.”

CHAPTER 20

Dolly lay on the bench, growing more tense with each second that passed as she waited for the punishment to begin. Quincy had moved away and though he had just said so, she wondered if he would still want her when this evening was over.

She knew some writers did far more than get a serious spanking for their work, but right now, she was not sure she wanted to continue writing stories about sex, love, and BDSM.

She felt herself shaking hard enough that the bench was rocking but did not know how to stop herself. Then a large, warm hand touched her lower back.

“Settle, pet. I’m right here, remember? I’ll be right here every minute. Relax now or it’s going to hurt a lot worse.”

Quincy’s power-filled Dom voice flowed over her like warm liquid honey and she found herself able to breathe again.

Air currents wafted over her back as someone approached. Only from the footsteps she heard, it was not just one person, but many. She heard a murmur of a soft voice and then another and another as the people she had touched while at the Ranch checked in with Derek.

She was unprepared when the first stroke hit her left ass cheek. Her body registered the pain as a thud while her brain instantly associated it with the hairbrush she’d seen being offered as an option of implements. A few seconds later a smaller area was stung sharply and she thought of the wooden spoon. Before she could brace for another, a large slap smacked down in the center, the hand used large enough to cover a good portion of both cheeks.

She tried to count the strokes as they came, but quickly lost track as she worked to breathe through each added bit of pain. The fire on her ass spread to her upper thighs as each person seemed determined to strike untouched territory.

Tears filled her eyes and fell and then she was crying, once again shaking the bench she lay upon. The pain grew and grew, spiraling in a way that caused her to grow more tense, which then caused the next stroke to be even more painful.

And then, all at once, the pain bled away and she was no longer tied down, but floating high in the sky among glitter-covered pink and purple clouds.

“Pet? How are you doing? Give me a color.”

“Green, Sir. Glittery green and purple,” she said with a giggle.

“All right, then. Here come my ten,” he warned softly.

The lines of fire he overlaid on skin that was already burning told her he was using the crop. He spread the strokes out, working to not hit the same area twice.

And then everything ended.

“Breathe, pet,” Quincy said as he brushed hair out of her face.

She took a breath and then another, still flying high where nothing hurt, nothing burned, nothing could touch her.

“Flying, gliding, soaring,” she sang softly as a soft, fuzzy something covered her. A moment later, hands took the cuffs off her wrists and ankles.

“I’m sure you are, pet.” Quincy said as if he were laughing at her.

She hissed when he rolled her over and her super-tender ass pressed against the top of the bench. Perhaps it was her inexperience with punishment and sensation play, but even with the blanket cushioning her, the pain was sharp and more intense than she expected. It also sucked her out of subspace and back into her body.

“Owwie,” she yelped.

“Shh, pet. I’ve got you,” Quincy assured her as he lifted and carried her. Somewhere.

Forcing her eyes open, Dolly looked around and found they were sitting on a big chair in the middle of the bar area. The area was still crowded with all the people who had just smacked her ass in punishment.

She wiggled, trying to find the strength to rise and run. But her bones felt like wet noodles and her muscles refused to cooperate with her still discombobulated brain.

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