Page 192 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 1

He rips off my panties. “I told you to sleep naked with me. You will always sleep naked.”

His voice is an animalistic growl, as if he’s manifested the huge wolf that covers most of his back. The sound booms through me, making me instantly wet.

A large palm between my shoulder blades, his other hand descends on my butt.

I jerk from the sudden sting.

“Count for me, bunny.”

“One,” I gasp.

Smack. Hard.

“Two!”

At the next slap, I squeal again and gasp out a three. I’m soaked, desperate for his hand somewhere else, for his cock to push inside, for his punishing pace when he takes me.

“How many?” I whimper.

“Ten.” He strikes again.

“Four!”

“And ten more for questioning me.”

“Five! God!”

“No god here, little one.”

“Six! Please!”

I already burn hot, and God or no God, but Stephan delivers, and it’s not only my butt that burns when I count the ten.

He stops then and strokes down my butt, in between my ass cheeks, fingers my labia and my aching clit. Wordlessly, I beg him for more, squirming, arching, spreading my legs for him.

He hears my silent prayer and slips a finger inside my tight channel. I moan shamelessly into the pillow. More. Please.

“Such a horny little bunny, so needy for me.”

He strokes in and out. I get wetter, impossibly hot, every patch of skin wanting his touch, his embrace, whether it be hard or tender.

I whimper in disappointment when he pulls out.

“Get up. Stand and give your ass to me. Forearms on the mattress. Say ‘please, Master, give me ten more.”

I scramble up, chewing on my lip as I fight the instinct to try to run and hide instead. My butt cheeks sting badly already. I don’t know how I can take ten more.

I take up the position, my heart in my throat. Then I chicken out, and the primitive side of my brain takes over. I dart up and throw myself toward the door opening. The door stands ajar, and I shove it open and dash toward the bathroom. If I can lock myself inside, we can negotiate this. Ten more of his hard spanks… I…

He catches me right outside and pushes me up against the wall, face first, his hard thigh between my trembling legs, his forearm on the back of my neck, hard enough I won’t be able to run again. The position is the same as when he caught me the first day. This will hurt.

“Bunnies run,” he whispers in my ear, “but they’re no match to wolves.”

I jerk as he smacks my butt again. “Count!” he growls. “Count, my bunny.” His hand is faster this time. Nine more rapid smacks. I count as I whimper, almost out of breath.

The last one delivered, he spins me around, lifts me, my back against the wall, his hands under my aching butt, and pushes inside in one rough thrust.

I cry out in surprise but accommodate fast. I rock up on every hard instroke, pinned between his chest and the wall.

---