Page 22 of Wanted
Pony looked at the floor.
“You either safeword,” he ordered, “or you get your ass in position. Right now, or I start adding strokes.”
She bent over. Widening her stance, she propped her shaking hands on equally shaky knees and did her best to brace herself. The swirling heat and gushing wetness only got worse as he sentenced her.
“Six strokes, one for each minute you were late. Two more for the deliberate disrespect you showed me. Count them.”
There was almost no time at all between the end of his brief lecture and the fall of that first mighty swat. It cracked into the seat of her sweats, catching both bottom cheeks dead center, almost knocking her off her feet and jolting her all the way up on tiptoes. Pony shouted, grabbing the backs of her knees to keep from clapping her hands on her wildly smarting ass.
She immediately got back into position, her wide eyes staring desperately at the floor. Her shaky breath nearly choked her as she struggled to keep her voice menagerie girl calm as she dutifully said, “One, Sir.”
It hurt. Oh, it hurt.
He swung the paddle again, landing the second swat every bit as hard as before and in the exact same place.
Although better prepared for the impact, Pony still bounded up. This time she did grab her ass, rubbing fiercely with both hands and bouncing in place.
She was appalled at herself, even as she begged him, “W-wait, please wait!”
Tapping the paddle impatiently against his leg, Marcus stared back at her, utterly without sympathy. “That’s two. You’ve got six more. Want to start over from the beginning?”
Her clit rejoiced at the severity, but her clit was crazy. Her ass stung furiously, igniting into the worst kind of fire. The sort that hurt so much she could barely stand to be in her own skin.
He arched an eyebrow. “Safeword?”
She turned around. In took every ounce of courage she possessed, but she bent down, cringingly offering her ass for the next stroke.
“Three, Sir!” she shouted as the paddle whacked sharply—that same damn spot—throwing ‘hurt’ into a realm of bonfire pain she couldn’t remember ever suffering the likes of before. The next crack took the fire even higher and it was everything she had not to jump up again. “Four, Sir! God!”
“Is this what you were looking for this morning, when you made the decision to disrespect me and my time in my own house?” Marcus asked.
“No, Sir!” she cried, her voice shaking every bit as badly as her legs.
The crack of the paddle was merciless. She broke down, sobbing, shoving hard on her knees to keep from dropping to the floor. It was the only place she could go, because if she stood up again, they’d start over.
“Count,” he reminded.
“Five, Sir!” she wept, tears pouring from her. Heat scalding her. Her pussy throbbing in time with the furious pain eating her up alive.
Six walloped her, knocking her half a step forward. She made herself get back into position. Why, oh why had she taken so long in the bathroom?
“Count,” he sternly reminded a second time.
“Six! Six, Sir, please!”
The seventh was merciless, striking exactly where the other six had already bitten in. Her flesh was throbbing, scalded, hurting more than any spanking Ethen had ever given. Mostly because, he never gave spankings. He’d beaten, whipped and caned, and every time he’d done it, he’d done so to satisfy himself. He’d never bothered to lecture. Never in all the years she’d been with him.
She bawled. “Seven, Sir!”
The eighth and last stroke hewed into her, hard, but no harder than any of the strokes that had come before it. She barely kept from collapsing to the floor. She had to grab the backs of her knees again to keep from grabbing her bottom.
“Eight, Sir!” She wept, grateful that it was over and sorry to the depths of her soul for whatever broken thing inside her had made her disobey him in the first place. She hung her head, sobbing and waiting, determined to hold her position until he gave her permission to rise.
He didn’t. Instead, in the same stern lecturing voice, Marcus said, “Did you weigh this morning?”
Scrubbing the back of her hand across her cheeks, she wiped away her tears. “Yes, Sir.”
“Were you up, down or the same?”
