Page 122 of Under Daddy's Spell

“Yeah, in your kangaroo court,” she snapped.

Hard fingers tightened around her arm. “After being caught in possession of cash and a costly diamond pendant that doesn’t belong to you, you don’t have the moral high ground here, missy.”

“Lippyanddisrespectful,” Morgan grumbled.

“And so badly in need of discipline,” the attorney added while smiling enthusiastically.

The judge ignored them all and concluded, “You’re free to take your chances with the legal system.”

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from saying more and expanding the gaping hole she was in any wider while silently weighing her options, which weren’t options at all.

“We’re wasting our time, George.” The sheriff’s low voice was very close to an impatient growl. “I’m taking her to the station and charging her. I’ll return within an hour, and we can discuss my other troubles this evening.”

He walked toward the door, pulling her along with him

“Wait!” she cried, digging in her heels until he came to a halt. She turned to the judge. “This sentence... I get a spanking downstairs and apologize to your group, then I’m free to go?”

A grunt of disbelief sounded near her ear. “Would you expect such a light sentence in criminal court for felony theft?”

“Sam’s right, I’m afraid,” the judge concurred. “You’ll not find it that easy. For such a charge, you’ll be handed over to a dominant for a period of thirty days. He’ll likely put you to work in some capacity, but for the duration of your time here, you’ll live under his roof, abide by his rules, and be subject to his discipline. At the end of your sentence, you’ll have paid your debt to Wanaker Landing society and will be free to go.”

She recoiled, taking an instinctive step back. This brought her up against the chest of the sheriff, which, for all the give it had, might as well have been a brick wall.

“Thirty days is too much. No,” she exclaimed. “In fact, hell no!”

“You’re not being smart, my dear,” the judge advised as he shook his head. “But if you prefer three years minimum in state prison and a criminal record that haunts you the rest of your life, so be it. Take her and have her charged,” he told Sam while he moved to the door. The other men followed, the young one for the first time having lost his smarmy grin, looking disappointed, instead.

“Wait!” she cried for the second time. “Don’t I get time to think about something so serious?”

They turned expectantly, glancing at the man holding her for some reason. When he nodded, the judge advised, “You may have sixty seconds.”

How generous. A whole minute to decide if she would hand herself over to a stranger who could do heaven only knew what kind of depraved things to her for a month.

“What kind of discipline are we talking about?”

“That’s up to the man who will be in charge of you,” the judge said.

“You saw what was going on downstairs?” the sheriff asked.

“If you’re referring to the floggers, crops, paddles, and restraints, yes.”

“Don’t forget the whips,” Geoffrey put in with a laugh.

“That’s quite enough, Kleinman,” Sam told the obnoxious attorney in a no-nonsense tone.

The younger man didn’t say another word, which Krista thought was the smartest thing he’d done since his arrival, but he didn’t do a very good job of hiding his scowl.

Sheriff Sam didn’t seem to notice, and, if he did, he plainly didn’t care.

“You will not be harmed,” he assured her. “But if you don’t behave during your time here, you can expect to experience much of what you saw. Except, instead of a play session like what you saw downstairs, your punishments will be real.”

Aka, painful.

“You might get lucky and get a judge who is lenient,” the owner of the necklace commented, drawing chuckles from the others who, once again, were the only ones amused by all of this.

“Why is that funny?” she asked in a high-pitched voice directing her question to the sheriff.

“Judge Peterson is one of two judges who hears cases on the island. Since he knows of this personally, I expect he’d recuse himself.”

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