Page 107 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 2

If he hadn’t been so intent on the mind fuck he might have told her, but decided to let it be a surprise. Still, he’d have to be careful. Despite its innocent appearance, the tail packed a vicious sting.

Speaking of sting… He opened the minibar fridge and found the sealed plastic bag holding his secret weapon. He’d used ginger on Kendra before, but not as part of a punishment. Hell, he’d never punished her before to begin with.

Maybe that was part of their problem. If he’d put his foot down weeks ago, they might not have gotten to this point. He hated seeing how thin she was, and the gauntness in her face worried him sick.

He gave her a few minutes to allow her nerves to take hold, then followed her into the torture chamber.

Kendra

Mark had truly outdone himself on this suite. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have sworn she was in a real torture chamber. Even the temperature was set several degrees cooler than the bedroom, and she imagined she heard the slow drip of water that might have been present in a Medieval cellar.

The only thing missing was a brazier to heat the branding irons hung on the wall, surrounded by terrifying instruments of pain and disfigurement. Logically, she knew they were probably reproductions, but that didn’t ease her apprehension. Of course, keeping her on edge was always Mark’s goal.

Some sadists, like Sierra, enjoyed giving physical pain to willing partners. Mark was different. He didn’t shy away from that aspect of his craft, but he adored messing with people’s heads.

Given her background with an ex-husband who had spent ten years gaslighting her, she and Mark shouldn’t have ended up together. Mark was different though, and she was coming to recognize just how much.

Kendra knew she’d lost weight. Although she didn’t step on the scale every morning anymore, it was evident in the way her clothes fit. Her ex would have still called her fat, but Mark?

Her amazing husband-to-be set up an entire weekend for them because he worried about her. He cared about her health more than his business.

Maybe she needed the daily reminder that someone loved her. Domestic discipline was more Ryan’s thing, meaning Mark was going out of his comfort zone for her. She sniffed back a few tears and smiled.

He was pushing her out of her comfort zone too. The ridiculous apron was a costume meant to put her in a different headspace. In her suits, she could be vice-president, but in the frilly pink horror of lace and ruffles… She was his disobedient wife in need of chastisement.

And somehow, it helped to know he was separating those aspects of their life together. He, in his sadistic way, was teaching her she could be both.

She held no illusions it wouldn’t hurt. After this weekend, it was going to be hard to sit down for days, but it would be worth it.

Then again… She gave the pillory a sideways glance. Formed of unfinished lumber and iron fittings, it was starkly threatening, yet it also had the only evidence of softness in the room. The holes for her neck and wrists were thickly padded with fleece.

The door to the bedroom shut, making her flinch as Mark entered the torture chamber. His boots were loud on the granite tiles meant to resemble a stone floor, and she shivered as the noise echoed. There were no soft furnishings in the room to mute sound. No windows to provide natural light. Wall sconces cast dimmed illumination yet created too many shadows.

To her surprise, he carried a bottle of water and her shoes.

After putting her shoes on the floor in front of her, he moved close and pulled her into a tight hug, then kissed her. She melted into his arms and traced his lower lip with the tip of her tongue to encourage him, yet he pulled away too quickly.

“Drink this, sweetheart. I want you fully hydrated.”

“Thank you.” She took the water and uncapped it, then drank. When she finished, he took the empty bottle and threw it in a wastebasket.

“You’ll drink another when we finish, then we’ll have lunch.”

“It’s a little early for lunch. Besides, I already had a sandwich.”

He arched a brow and took the whip she’d chosen from her hand. “Dry ham and cheese. I know. You ate it between meetings, then threw half of it away.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he was right. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” He kissed her forehead, then turned her to face the pillory. “Put on your shoes.”

As she did so, he opened the top of the pillory, making her swallow hard. When he locked her into that thing, she’d be completely immobilized with all her tenderest parts on display. The heels wouldn’t help either. They’d force her into tipping her hips up to expose even more.

And the bastard knew it.

Despite her fear, her core pulsed and heated arousal trickled from her pussy. She resisted the urge to press her thighs together to ease the tension, knowing it wouldn’t help.

He laid a gentle hand on the back of her neck to encourage her to bend forward and place her wrists and neck into the openings, then closed the top. Metal clicked as he locked it in place. It felt almost claustrophobic, but she wasn’t uncomfortable. Still, she didn’t want to stay there forever.

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