Page 62 of M!lked For His Pleasure

“Then you have until the count of three to get in position. One.”

He didn’t even get to ‘Two’ before she was up on all fours on the bed. Pride swelled in his chest at the sight of her, naked and submitting herself to his discipline with her full breasts swaying beneath her.

“Lower your teats to the bed so your bottom is nice and high for me.”

Moaning with embarrassment, she did as she was told, pushing her ass high in the air, silently begging for her punishment whether she meant to or not.

“That’s a good little cow. Ten for your misbehavior this morning, plus the two for not getting into position when youwere told. Do not move out of position or we will start over again. Understood?”

“Y-yes, Uncle Luke.”

“Good girl.”

Stepping back a bit, he raised the strap and brought it down across both cheeks. Dottie’s cries filled the room, making his cock jump at the sound. He took a moment to admire the redness blossoming on her skin before delivering the second stroke.

“You have a bad habit of disrespecting people in authority as well as people who are trying to help you, Dottie. And my staff happen to fall into both those categories. This lesson isn’t just about how I expect you to treat them, but how I expect you to treateveryonein your life, even after you’ve left the program. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Uncle Luke! I’m sorry!”

“I know, darlin’. But you’re going to be a lot sorrier by the time I’m through with you.”

Oh, god. If she’d thought his hand had hurt, it was nothing compared to the deep burn of leather as he brought it crashing down across her ass a third time. Her bottom instinctively clenched against the pain, reminding her forcefully of the tail still lodged inside her. Everything was on fire and she was in agony.

But it wasn’t just the pain of the strapping that had tears springing to her eyes. There was a pressure in her chest, growing heavier and heavier with every word he spoke.

It took her longer than it probably should have to recognize it as guilt.

Guilt for the way she’d treated her parents. Guilt for the way she’d treated their staff. Guilt for the things she’d stolen, the trouble she’d caused. Guilt for the way she’d lashed out at Helen this morning, all because she wasn’t getting her way.

No wonder her parents didn’t want her around anymore.

“You are a good person, Dottie. I’ve known you for your entire life and I know damn well you aren’t the spoiled little brat you seem to want everyone to think you are.”

A fifth stroke of the leather caught the bottom curve of her ass, the edge of the strap digging into the sensitive spot where her butt met her thighs and the tears slipped free. “I’m not a good person,” she whispered.

“Oh, my sweet cow. Of course, you are.”

“No I’m not!” she screamed, her words thick with the tears now running freely down her cheeks. “I wouldn’t be here if I was a good person!”

Twice more the leather connected with her ass, driving the tail deeper inside her, the burn in her bottom inside and out a constant reminder of the punishment she’d earned. Not just the strapping, but being sent to Uncle Luke’s ranch in the first place.

“Is that really what you think?” Uncle Luke asked, his voice surprisingly gentle.

What the hell else was she supposed to think? She’d been so awful her parents had sent her away, sent her to a place where she was stripped naked and humiliated, all for the purpose of teaching her how to be a decent human being.

But she couldn’t actually get the words out. When she opened her mouth to explain, all she could manage was a choking sob.

Then she was being swept up into a pair of strong, familiar arms. Clinging to him, she wept into his neck as he carried her out of the room.

“Poor little cow,” he murmured as they walked. “You go ahead and cry it all out. Daddy’s got you.”

Daddy. Unlike before, the word was a comfort now, a balm to her soul. She clung to it mentally the way she clung to his neck, desperate for some kind of anchor to keep her from drowning in the sea of her own guilt and despair. She was vaguely aware of their movement through the hallways of the barn, then outside and to another building, but she was weeping too hard to pay much attention.

Eventually, the tears ebbed, and she lifted her head, blinking at their surroundings. Instead of the barn, they were in a large room filled with heavy wood furniture. The scent of leather and cigar smoke filled her nostrils as she sniffled back more tears. “Where are we?”

“My office. I wanted some privacy for us to talk.”

“For you to send me away?” It was the only reason she could think of for him to bring her here, away from the others. To save her the humiliation of being the first person to ever get kicked out of the program.

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