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Alastair crossed his arms. “And why, my dear, is that?”
“Because I… my…” Tears welled in her eyes. “What if you think I look gross.”
“Gross?” He shook his head. “Is that really what you think of yourself? And of me?”
“I don’t look like the others. I don’t look like Maribel.”
“If I wanted Maribel over my desk, I’d have her. She’s all but offered herself up on a silver platter more times than I can count. But she’s not my type, Dora. You are and I can assure you that the only challenge your shapely bottom will present is as a sensual distraction.” He tapped the desk again. “Now, your self-deprecation just added five strokes to your first punishment, I fear. Let’s get on with it.”
Dora wanted to believe him, but her negative self-perception still suffused her with doubt and trepidation as she felt the hem of her skirt being lifted and bunched up at the small of her back. As he hooked his fingers in the waistband of her cotton panties, she squeezed her eyes shut tightly, praying that he wouldn’t see her as she had been conditioned to see herself.
The cool air of the room caressed her skin. She felt the warmth of his hand skim her right buttock from top to base, ending in a possessive squeeze that sent a little surge of pleasure rippling through her core.
“Dora, do you know why you are being punished?” The intimate tone was replaced by one that was decidedly no-nonsense and stern.
“I lied to you,” she said, her voice small.
“And?”
“I… spoke badly of myself?”
“Yes. Neither is allowed. Both will earn you correction.” He put the cane down on the desk beside her. His hand returned to her bottom.
Dora held her breath. There was no warning for the impact of the first smack. The sound of it echoed throughout the empty classroom. Dora yelped more from shock than pain. He gave her no time to recover from the first spank before leveling another on the opposite cheek; it was forceful enough to bring Dora up on her tiptoes.
The blows left a burning sting that deepened as the spanks continued. When she wriggled, Alastair wrapped a long arm around her waist, holding her fast. On later reflection, Dora would remember being held like this as intimate, sensual. But in the moment, restraining Dora allowed Alastair to better target her bottom with smacks that increased in force and speed until tears stung her eyes and her cries turned to wails.
Still, when he halted, there was something of a disappointment, then increased dread when she realized he wasn’t done. Alastair had picked up the cane and pressed it against her stinging cheeks. He told her this would not be at all pleasant, that the cane was an implement of punishment, that he wanted her to remember the cost of lying to him.
She reaffirmed that she understood and held her breath. Alastair ordered her to relax. It took all of her effort to release the tension that comes with fearful expectation, but she did. When the cane fell for the first of what would be six strokes, Dora screamed in surprise and stood, clasping her burning cheeks.
“Do I need to start over?” he tapped the desk.
Dora laid herself back across the surface, tears trailing down her face. She bit her bottom lip, steeling herself for next blow. She cried out when it fell but didn’t move.
“Good girl,” Alastair said, and his praise felt like balm that eased the hurt. He praised her after each blow, telling her how brave she was, how strong, how proud he was. Through each line of fire that wrung tears from her eyes came a corresponding surge of unbidden arousal. By the time she’d weathered all six strokes, she was sore and soaked, her face flushed.
She stood, but before she could pull her panties back up, Alastair told her she’d have to first stand in the corner. She moved at an awkward gait; her panties were around her knees. In the corner, he tucked the hem of her skirt into the waistband, and she stood with her nose pressed where the walls joined, aware of his presence, aware that her pink and striped bottom was on full display.
She’d been spanked like a naughty little girl. She felt like a naughty little girl. His naughty little girl. His Little. Her burning bottom and slick inner thighs confirmed that she was wholly submissive, and wholly suited to the role she’d found here at Rawhide Ranch.
“Has my Little girl learned her lesson?” Alastair appeared at her side.
“Yes,” she said.
“Try again.”
She knew what he wanted, and it thrilled her to give him the answer. “Yes, Daddy,” she said.
“I feel like the luckiest man alive, you know.” He turned her toward him. Their lips met and Dora melted into him. When his hands moved down her back to palm her sore cheeks, she realized she’d not pulled her panties back up. Then his hand moved to the front and slid between her thighs. “You’re wet,” he said into her ear, and she felt a shiver of delight go through her.
“Yes,” she said, acknowledging her arousal, reveling in it, owning it. “Yes.”
Chapter 10
“Alastair! What a surprise!” Sadie opened the door to the comfortable house she shared with Derek. A worried look came to her face then. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. Thank you. I just wanted to see if you and Derek could spare a moment. I know this is rather inopportune, me dropping by like this, but I wanted to speak to both of you before I lost my nerve.”
