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Sir, I’ve been a very bad girl and I need to be punished.
Checking the time and anxiously waiting for five long minutes, she stepped through the door—and caught her breath.
The spanking bench sat in the center of the room.
Marco, wearing only black slacks, stood beside it, his muscled arms crossed over his ripped torso. In one hand, he held the flogger, in the other, the switch.Lord High Executionerdanced through her head.
“There’s a blindfold on the bench. Put it in place and climb on. Rest your knees on either side as you did before, then reach out and grab the bar. Any questions?”
The way he’d signed the M at the bottom of his note popped into her mind.
“No, Master.”
“You guessed right. Don’t keep me waiting.”
Walking swiftly to the decadent piece of furniture, she slipped the black mask over her eyes, then carefully felt her way into position. The moment she settled, the wide belt tightened across the small of her back, and straps wrapped around her thighs.
“I won’t cuff your hands,” he declared, his voice stern, “but you will not let go of the bar. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Master.”
“This will also serve as a lesson in obedience. I’ll say it again. Don’t let go of the bar.”
“I won’t, Master.”
His hand suddenly blasted across the center of her cheeks.
She let out a shocked yelp.
The slap was quickly followed with a hard, fast spanking.
She had to fight not to throw her hands behind her.
Her breathing became ragged.
The force of his hand increased.
Though her fingers clenched the pole, she threw back her head in a loud wail.
He stopped.
The switch tapped.
“You will never,” he growled, landing the first stroke and swiftly sending the second, eliciting a wail, “put yourself at risk,” he added as he delivered the third, “like you did in the wine cellar,” he exclaimed, remitting the next and making her howl, “and on the bike,” he barked, switching her sit spot. “Any questions?” he demanded, striking again in the center of her backside, landing the switch between two red lines and evoking a loud cry.
“No, Master,” she gasped, close to tears. “I’m truly sorry.”
His hand rubbed with a comforting caress for several minutes, then slid between her legs and cupped her pussy. Letting out a long, low moan, she longed to move, but the straps over her back and thighs prevented even the tiniest twitch.
“I expect you to remember this next time you decide to take matters into your own hands,” he warned solemnly, abruptly thrusting his fingers in and out of her passage. “Take a few moments and consider how much could have gone horribly wrong.”
His hand fell away.
She let out a long breath.
He was right.
When she’d sneaked up on Stu in the wine cellar, he could have turned around and caught her. She wouldn’t have stood a chance. The thought made her quiver.
