Page 12 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 1

Sage looked down. The ottoman was large and for her to be in such a position would mean she’d be spread out like a starfish.

“Why don’t I just kneel beside it and bend over it?”

“This isn’t a negotiation, Miss Lovett. Either you take the position, or I will plant myself on the stool and pull you over my lap and go all old school on you. Believe me, you’ll be begging for this paddle rather than my hand on your bare bottom within the first five slaps.”

The tremors of dread that she was feeling, ignited into full-blown erotic alarms that sparked through her mind as he held up a wooden paddle. It was a little larger than a brush but in his huge paw, the imminent danger it presented to her soft buttocks was monumental.

There she was. No one was coming to the rescue. The shock that the moment had finally arrived, so stunned her, she became speechless. She got herself into this position. If she was brutally honest with herself, the excitement that had surfed through her when watching the spanking videos, now threatened to drown her. For once, she wanted to feel what it felt like to be sexually dominated; to fully hand over control to a man who knew exactly how to tap into the submissive part of her. That same part needing to just relax, feel, and not have to think about what it was that her partner wanted from her.

Being the hard-ass FBI Special Agent was a full-time job. Unfortunately, it led to all her sexual partners to date expecting the same from her in bed. They wanted the aggression, the demanding woman she was in her day-to-day career. It was tiring, particularly since the end result was that she was the one doing all the work and never truly found the sexual satisfaction she craved—to have her needs put first, to be cuddled, cared for, and her emotions protected.

Perhaps it was time to acknowledge she needed the one thing she had been shying away from the moment she had started investigating the BDSM lifestyle—that she craved to be a submissive. Her eyes flickered as she looked at Kaden, surprised that he stood waiting patiently.

If this was how a Daddy treated his Babygirl, with strictness and control, yet with patience and care, perhaps this was exactly what she secretly yearned for.

Chapter Six

“Very well. Let it be known that I’m not one to run away from being accountable for my actions.”

“Such bravery,” Kaden chuckled.

With a cautious eye toward her inquisitor, Sage rose hesitantly from the ottoman. There was a dark undertone to the amused quality in his laugh that suggested she might have misconstrued the severity of the impending punishment.

“No, leave on the spikes... just the panties,” he said as she started removing her shoes.

“Why is it that men have such a fixation with stilettos?” she said as she hooked her fingers under her panties but refrained from pulling them off. For the first time she was glad she had decided to wear a corset dress and not shorts, otherwise she’d be even more hesitant. Maybe she was delaying the inevitable, or possibly, it was just feeling apprehensive about baring her luscious bits to a stranger. Not that she, in any shape or form, feared this particular one, but she had never let her clothes come off without the proper amount of foreplay.

What foreplay? Your ass is about to be blistered. This is punishment, Patty Cakes, not some sexy frolicking where you get to end up squirting for the first time in your life.

Oh, shut up!

“It’s twofold,” Kaden said. “There’s the way a woman’s legs move on those spikes. How her calves flex with every step that, and this is the big one, scream out, fuck me silly.” His smile turned Cheshire-like. “But I imagine you already know that much, otherwise, why else wear them?” He snapped his fingers. “Enough dilly-dallying. Get those panties off and lie down.”

He waited quietly as she shimmied out of her panties and gingerly lowered herself onto the ottoman. At first, she laid flat like an ironing board—body stiff with arms and legs stretched out straight. He was standing behind her and the thought of the view he would have once she spread her legs, brought a blush that first appeared on her neck then bloomed over her body.

“I’m a very patient man, Patty Cakes, but I find you have a knack to stretch mine very thin. I suggest you stop these delaying tactics and get into position.”

“Just wait! Okay! I’m… I need to… shit.” She ran her tongue over her suddenly dry lips. This man was just too much. Surely, he realized he was the cause of her distress. “Please just move over to the side. I can’t open my legs with you watching me like an X-Ray machine eager to flash its first image of my hoo-ha!”

“For every five seconds I have to wait, the initial twelve strikes will escalate by two. We’re on fourteen, Patty Cakes. Want to push for twenty?” There was no mistaking the effort he put into not laughing at her response, but the mirth filtered through the deep voice floating toward her. It irked her… seriously pissed her off!

“That’s not fair. I’m not… it’s not… you’re not—”

“Sixteen.”

“Oh, for shit’s sake,” she muttered and before the bravado triggered by irritation trotted off again, she spread her legs, and grabbed hold of the bottom edge of the ottoman. Eyes aglow, she shot him a debilitating look over her shoulder. “Don’t think I won’t remember this, Master Alpha. I’ll be sure to give you tit for tat.”

“Hmm, eighteen.”

“Like hell it is! There was no five-second delay,” she protested vehemently.

“Twenty.” The smile he offered was one of pure evil pleasure. “I warned you about disrespect, Patty Cakes. For every threat, or insult, I’ll keep adding two strikes.”

“That’s not—”

“Not fair? Of course, it is, especially since you were warned.”

“Well, you could at least have reminded me of that warning, since you had so much else to say in between,” she snapped.

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