Page 308 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 1

That was true. He had stopped exactly when she had panicked completely.

“I want to feel it again.” She was nuts. Certifiably crazy.

He pointed to his eyes and she met them, drawing in her breath as the fire returned to her backside.

“Are you ready to finish it?”

She noticed he didn't ask her if she wanted to finish it. Because she didn't. But she rolled over on his lap anyway. He pulled her back up to standing, though.

“Pull down your pants, Kate,” he said, the soft command in his voice sending a ripple of fear and delight through her whole body.

She unbuttoned her jean shorts, pulling them slowly down.

“Panties, too.”

She peeled her panties down, feeling completely exposed. For some reason, she covered her lady parts with her hand, though he was already intimately acquainted with that particular part of her body. Her belly was doing flip flops.

“Over my knee,” he said softly.

She bowed her head and awkwardly leaned over his knee, realizing that she'd greatly preferred when he had pulled her into position himself, rather than having her put herself there. There was something completely humiliating about it.

He started up again slowly, striking one cheek and then the other, and as he picked up speed and she felt the intensity of the burn increase she again started to struggle and panic, but he didn't even pause. If anything, it seemed he was striking her harder. It occurred to her that with his vampire strength, he would never need a whip or a paddle—his hand alone could probably easily bruise her if he wielded it with one ounce of his true strength. So he was using restraint—for him this was probably quite gentle, even though for her, the pain was so intense that tears were running down her face. That thought helped her calm down. But then, that meant it could get much worse if he wanted it to, didn't it? Oh God, she was an absolute wreck, and there was nothing she could do.

She tried to wriggle away, somehow dodge the punishing hand that kept spanking her over and over, but she was a complete captive—she couldn't get away from the pain and it wasn't going to stop until Dom decided it was over. She realized that there was nothing she could do but ride it out until it was over. The tears turned into full-fledged sobs and she wept—for the position in which she found herself, her mismanagement of her time, the stress of the paper looming over her head, the difficulties of navigating this new relationship with Dom—everything. And as she felt it all flowing out, even as his hand kept striking her blazing bare butt cheeks, she gave up the struggle and went limp, exhausted. At that moment, his hand paused, then he gave a few more cursory smacks before he started gently rubbing her bottom.

“You found it,” he said softly.

She had? She had. Her sobs took on a half-laughing sound. In spite of the tears and the pain, she did feel very different. She felt relieved, released. There was a glowing feeling—much stronger than a post-sex glow—much more vibrant. And now that Dom had pointed it out like an accomplishment, she felt absurdly proud of herself. Like she'd just won a marathon or something.

He started to pull her panties back up, but she reached back and stopped him, kicking her shorts and panties off.

“Aren't we going to—?” She was still a hiccuping, teary mess, but she wanted sex and she wanted it right then.

“Abso-lute-ly,” he said with enthusiasm, as if she'd just offered him a Christmas present. The fact that he hadn't been expecting to have sex with her made her realize with a jolt that she'd just had a punishment spanking. He lifted her off his lap and stood up partway, placing his shoulder at the crease of her hip so she folded over his shoulder in a fireman's hold. He carried her easily like that, rubbing and patting her sore bottom as he walked to the bedroom and laid her gently down. “How do you want it?” he asked fangily.

Seeing those fangs made her arch in anticipation—she loved seeing the physical manifestation of his arousal—it was so much more attractive than your average hard-on. She pulled off her shirt and watched him swiftly divest himself of clothing. He wanted to go slow, caressing and kissing, but after the intensity of the spanking she was interested in nothing less than full penetration. She pulled him off her nipple and shook her head. “Fast and hard. Please?”

A toothy grin. “Your wish is my command.”

Really? He'd just made sure she knew very well that he was in charge of her. But never mind—she wasn't going to over-think when she was two strokes from an orgasm. And indeed, Dom delivered. Multiple times.

“Are you still mad at me?” Dom asked, though he knew she wasn't.

Kate was tucked into his chest, hiding her face, which wasn't surprising. He'd just fed from her so he could feel all her emotions. There were waves of euphoria and love and peace coming off her. There was also a raw vulnerability. She would probably be feeling vulnerable for a few days after he brought her over the edge like that. And damned if he didn't feel fiercely protective of her. Logical or not, there was no way in hell anyone could convince him to walk away from this woman right now. She was his. She'd just given herself to him in a complete act of submission and trust. To give her anything less than his complete love and support was unthinkable.

She shook her head. He'd known she wasn't mad at him, but wanted to offer it up as an acknowledgment of what she'd just been through.

“Do you feel better?”

She nodded but still didn't show her face.

“I really do want to hear about your thesis. You don't have to tell me now, but when and if you feel like talking about it, I'd like to hear.” He stroked her back. “When you're ready, I'm taking you to my place. You're going to gather up everything you need to work on your thesis proposal and you're going to stay under my jurisdiction until it's finished. Kind of like house arrest.”

Kate's face popped up. “You're grounding me?” He could feel the mixture of giddy thrill and indignation from her.

His lips twisted into a smile. “Yes. You're grounded until the paper's finished. Any activity other than working on your thesis will have to be pre-approved by me.”

He sensed happiness from her. Relief. Joy. Excitement, even. He had lifted her burden by taking charge. He was relieved. It was always a gamble to take a woman in hand like that. She could just as easily have taken it as high-handed or bullying. And even though he was born at the turn of the sixteenth century, he had certainly adapted with the times to support the modern-day woman on her quest for equality. He was not so patronizing as to believe that he knew what was best for her. Well, maybe he did believe it, but that didn't mean he thought it was his right to impose it on her.

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