Page 158 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 1

“I’m taking no chances with you after this escapade,” he growled.

“Jake, I’m sorry, but you have to let me go!” she wailed.

“I’ll do no such thing. You’re my wife. I’m taking you home where you belong.”

“But...”

“That’s enough. We’ll discuss this back at the ranch.”

Leaning back against him, Verity felt fury emanating from him in waves. Yet she appreciated his gentle touch and protection.

He rode back home, taking them directly into the barn. The sky was showing the first streaks of dawn as they dismounted. Moments later her own horse trotted in, having found his own way back. Jake tethered the horses and turned to her.

“You’ll never, I repeat, never, ever do such a dangerous thing again, Mrs. Calhoun. You might have been dragged for miles with your foot caught in the stirrup. The girth wasn’t tight enough and your saddle slipped, a greenhorn error. I need to show you how to tack a horse properly.”

“But Jake...”

“No, you don’t get to talk. Leaving in the dead of night was both cowardly and dangerous in equal measures. I’m going to punish you, wife. I mean to make an impression upon you. In future you’ll always think twice before doing something so rash. Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to ride a horse so poorly tacked? You might have been dragged for miles, or killed outright,” he scolded.

She watched his hands drop to his waist. Deft fingers unbuckled his belt.

“Jake?” she queried, tremulous.

“Turnabout, and bend over the straw bale.”

She glanced behind her and saw where he meant. “Jake, please,” Verity pleaded.

“There will never be compromise where your safety is concerned, Verity. Do as I say. Obey me as your husband.” His tone held no compromise.

Twirling a finger, he indicated she should turnabout.

One look at his features so sternly set, Verity reluctantly did as he instructed. Obediently placing herself bent over the prickly straw.

Jake lifted her gown and petticoats, and tucked them around her waist. His hand reached about her waist to tug on the ribbon at the front of her drawers, once loosened; he eased the garment down over her hips, where they dropped to her knees.

She whimpered as his hand caressed her naked buttocks.

“I didn’t think I would ever need to take my belt to you, Verity. As a school teacher, I credited you with more sense.”

A sob caught in her throat at his tone of disappointment. “I’m sorry.” There seemed to be nothing else she could say to mitigate her circumstances.

“I’m giving you ten strikes for running away, and another ten for ignoring me when I told you to stop.”

She gripped the rope that held the straw in the bale, and prepared for the first blow. A snap of leather, a whoosh, a crack, and searing pain flared across her naked skin. Verity howled and leapt up clutching her buttock cheeks.

“Get back in position,” he growled. “Or I’ll add another ten to the tally.”

She whined that he was an utter beast, but did as he directed.

Another, then another fell; after that they landed one after the other in quick succession. She stamped her feet and cursed.

“Mrs. Calhoun, even though these spanking hurts, I will not countenance my wife cussing. One more strike will be added to the tally every time you swear, young lady.”

She wailed her distress; the last note of her cry rose in a crescendo as pain flared from the stinging welt.

“I’m sorry!” she cried.

“Sure, you are.”

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