Page 204 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 1

And right there, he’s won her over.

It turns out Stephan has money. Shockingly much. Inheritance plus years and years of hard labor and never barely spending a dime.

He asks where I want to live. I don’t hesitate.

“In the cabin.”

“But we could find—”

“Did I stutter?”

His jaw drops, then he barks out a laugh. “God damnit, woman. No, you most definitely didn’t.”

Mom lives with us until late that winter when we find her a small house. With a garden, a greenhouse, a fireplace, and a porch with a swing. Everything she’s always loved.

When she doesn’t poke around planting things, she sits on the porch and knits. It’s a new scarf. It’s getting damn long, too.

I’ve never seen my mom so content before, and I have a feeling that the carpenter who’s been helping her fix up things might have increased his range and moved on to some… plumbing work.

In a clearing by a cliff, with a view of a huge valley, we say our vows.

A few of Stephan’s friends are present, as well as a few of Mom’s and mine, all arriving from different parts of the country, and a priest who refuses to stand with his back to the drop.

And, funnily enough, the town carpenter.

My dress cost thirty bucks. It’s a loosely fitted, light pink and knee-length nineteen twenties dress I found in a thrift store. Mom redid my braids. They are filled with pink and gold beads and glitter as they whip around my face in the early spring wind. I’m covered in goosebumps, but I’ll be hot soon enough.

Stephan wears jeans and his black leather jacket. He asked if I wanted him to dress up, but I wanted him to be exactly the man I’ve come to know.

It takes a moment, then the warm jacket hangs around my shoulders instead.

Afterward, he takes me home. To our home. The place I’ve come to love.

“It’s been too long since I had you all to myself,” he murmurs, his lips against the sensitive skin on my neck, while he undoes one button after the other along my back. “I still haven’t punished you properly for your stint last fall.”

“No, you—” I squirm and try to get away.

Stephan grabs both my wrists and pushes my arms up, backing me against the wall. He tsks. “You’re my wife now, and I expect my wife to behave.” He spins me around and bends me forward, then pushes up the dress and pulls down my panties to bare my bottom. “I expect my wife to happily accept her punishment when she has misbehaved. When she hasn’t been treating herself right. When she has stayed out for too long, gotten cold, hasn’t eaten properly, hasn’t read her daily dose, hasn’t taken her vitamins.”

He slaps my butt. Once. Then cups my pussy. “I expect my wife to please me, and to expect me to please her.”

He smacks me again.

“I expect my wife to always call me out on my bullshit.”

Smack.

His hand moves in between my legs again. I quiver with need, but he’s far from done.

“I expect my wife to always expect the best from her husband, for him to always look to her needs before his own, to always better himself, learn from his mistakes, and fucking never let her or her loved ones down again.”

“Gotcha,” I whisper. “I’ll let her know.”

Stephan laughs. “Good girl.”

I wiggle my butt. “Baby, how many have I earned?”

“I’m a high school dropout, I can’t count that fucking far. We’ll begin with ten, then take it from there.”

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