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“You let one slip while thinking of Abby.”

“Stop calling her Abby!”

“Hands on the dresser, pintura.”

She backed up, protectively pressing her burning backside into the wooden drawers. “No.”

“You agreed to this.”

“I agreed to try. I kept my word. I tried. You can’t expect me to break a lifetime of bad habits in one day.”

“And I told you there would be consequences.” He turned her shoulders, guiding her hands back to the surface of the dresser. “We’ll see to this and be done with it.”

His hand came down again and her body stiffened. “What the—heck?” She spun and scowled at him, rubbing her sore…keister.

“Seems to be working already.”

She clenched her teeth. “Hit me again, and I’ll hit you back.”

“That’s not how this works.”

She backed away from him, careless of her nudity. “You’re Amish. Aren’t you supposed to be a pacifist?”

“We are pacifists, but we also believe in discipline. You’re not finished.”

“Oh, yes, I am.” Keeping her back to the wall, she circled away from him, using the copper bathtub to secure a safe distance.

“This is for your own good, pintura. The ache will remind you to mind your tongue.”

“Why do I need that when I have you reminding me every minute of the day. I already have one pain in the ass. I don’t need another.”

“That’s another one.”

“Christian, you’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to let you hit me.”

“You’ll feel at rest once it’s done.” He circled the tub and she mirrored his steps, never letting him get close enough to reach her.

She snatched the basket of dresses off the bed and threw it at him. “Stop following me!”

“Stop trying to outrun the consequences of your actions. It’s best to face these things head-on. You entrusted me to show you our ways. This is our way.”

“I was talking about the immortal stuff, and you know it. I draw the line at Amish thrashings.”

“Domestic discipline is a common practice and nothing to fear. In many cases it can bring a couple closer to each other and God.”

“Says the one with the sore palm.” She side-stepped the pile of dresses on the floor and backed up a step. “No!” He reached and almost caught her.

“Think of it as me helping you. Self-control is a virtue. You must tame your tongue.”

“That’s not what you said last night when my mouth was wrapped around your cock.”

His nostrils flared. “That’s another.”

“They’re just words, Christian.” She circled the tub, a little dizzy and fatigued from the chase.

“If they were just words, there would be no strength behind them. You use your words as weapons, Delilah. You’ve tried to hurt me and others. Don’t pretend they have no power.”

A cramp pinched at her side. “Okay. Okay.” Holding up her hands, she kept moving on account of his endless pursuit. She knew he could catch her if he exerted the slightest effort, but that wasn’t what he wanted. This was about her submission.

He wasn’t going to let her out of this room until she willingly took her medicine. He wanted her to stand still and submit to his will, like a good little Amish wife.

She couldn’t do it. Well, she could, but she had to find the nerve. No one willingly volunteered to get spanked. At least not in this capacity.

“So, how does this work?” she asked, winded from circling the room. “You swat my butt a few times and we move on? What about you? Who spanks you?”

“I’m the head of the house.”

She dropped her chin and stared at him. “You’re kidding, right? You own a home so you’re somehow infallible? You hear how stupid that sounds, right?”

“Discipline comes with governance. It is my duty to rule my home as I see fit.”

“Not if you want me in your home.”

“Delilah, you made a promise to me. You’ll keep it if you expect me to hold up my end of the bargain.”

She paused and stared at him. He was really serious. She either let him spank her or their truce was over. “No. I’m leaving.” She turned to the open door and it slammed shut.

“You’re nude.”

She spun and glared at him. “Well, I tried to get dressed and you hit me. I thought we were going to be honest with each other. Isn’t that what we agreed?”

“I am being honest. This is how I believe my house should be run.”

“You mean me. You keep saying house, but I’m pretty sure you’re talking about governing me.”

“Fine. Your foul language is a monstrosity that must be corrected if you wish to socialize with the others.”

“I told you I’d try.”

“You need to try harder.”

“Spanking me is not going to make me curse any less. If anything, it’ll probably make me curse more.”

“This is the way it has to be.”

She laughed without humor. “Why don’t you just admit you get off on it?”

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