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“Yes. Exactly.”
One of his hands catches me by the jaw in the moonlight and directs my face up to him.
“You are my pet, Tessie.You are mine.I have explained this to you many times, but you insist on forgetting it as soon as you have the chance.”
“I…”
“No,” he growls firmly, cutting me off. “I don’t want to hear any words. I want you downstairs now, and over the bed.”
“You mean in bed.”
“I mean over the bed,” he says, his tone suddenly very stern indeed.
It occurs to me that I have gotten myself into trouble somehow, and that feeling is, well, delicious. I am a little bit scared, and a little bit excited. Mostly, I am relieved. I have all the dependents I need in Obigor, and I have no plans whatsoever to become a mom anytime soon. Or maybe ever.
“Go on,” he says, sternly. “Downstairs. Now.”
“Okay, but I need my phone back.”
“Now,” he repeats in quieter, but much more steely tones.
* * *
Everybody else has gone to bed in the various little bedding rooms when we get back down to the vault. Order marches me into our suite, a room with a green theme that is so retro it’s almost modern again. There’s no time to appreciate the decor though, for I am being lectured.
“I did not think, given our many previous discussions and what you have been privy to this evening, that I would need to remind you of the need for secrecy.”
“I can’t just go fucking missing.”
“Don’t swear at me, pet.”
I narrow my eyes at him, partially out of genuine irritation, and partly because I really want to see how far he will go with this whole pet thing.
“Shit, I’m sorry.”
Order grabs me in four hands and picks me up, lifting me so I am not only dangling in his grasp, but eye to eye with all his eyes. It’s very intimidating, and somewhat like being forcefully stared at by four annoyed people who all happen to be the same massive, powerful male.
“You are testing me,” he says, a simple statement of fact. “And you will regret it.”
I regret it far more quickly than I imagined. Order sits down on the bed, puts me over his knee, and locks me in place with five out of six hands. The sixth hand is put to work whipping my ass.
He spanks me hard. I mean really fucking hard. He spanks me like a brat finally getting the punishment she’s deserved for years. I don’t think I am that kind of brat, but maybe I am. Maybe getting shot and getting stuck with the cane and becoming the girl with the dog distracted me from all the other things I am, like a complete brat.
Like almost all brats, I have a secret: I don’t mind pain. In fact, there’s part of me that kind of likes it.
This spanking doesn’t even feel bad. It’s supposed to hurt, I think, his big hands slapping down across my cheeks in a four-step time. The sharp and tingling feelings are growing hotter and hotter. I squirm and wriggle, attempting to not so much get away as maybe completely bask in the sensation.
“Justice and I talked about the two of you when we first met you,” he says, taking a break. “You seemed like you were the quiet one, the broken one. You seemed the easier of the two to control.”
“And now?”
“And now I know why you’re mine,” he says simply. “You need a firm hand.”
And that’s when the spanking becomes even more intense, where the tingle and sting turns to a sharp sensation. The heat starts to rise and the ache sets in and suddenly I feel something like sorry. It’s a weird feeling, because I haven’t done anything wrong. All I did was try to call my boss, which is the responsible thing to do. I guess it’s my attitude I’m being punished for, for testing the boundaries he’s trying to establish.For being a bad little pet.
That last thought sends a bolt of excitement through me and thoroughly neutralizes the pain all over again. The spanking doesn’t have to hurt. The spanking can feel good and can even reinforce my rebellion if I handle it right. Order has no idea how much pain I can take, or how much humiliation I have already endured in my life.
I can translate pain into something even more than pleasure. I can turn it into fuel. So I don’t just come while he spanks me damn near to the point of tears. I comehard, my ass burning as much as my pride, pure heat flashing through my body as I scream not in pain, but in orgasm. I’d flail all the way off his lap if not for how tightly he’s holding me.
