Page 109 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 2

He gave her the second bottle of water and waited for her to finish before asking, “Red, yellow, or green, honey?”

She sniffed, then hiccupped on a sob as she rested her face against his chest. “G-green, sir. Will you take out the ginger?”

“Not yet.” With an arm around her waist for support, he walked her to the corner, then helped her fold her arms behind her back. “You have corner time coming so you can think about what you’ve done.”

“But—”

“Or we can continue and take care of a few of your missed meals.”

“Yes, sir.” Her shoulders slumped, but she turned to face the wall.

Once she was in position, he washed the ginger off his hands, then texted Jake to have him deliver their lunch. A small, truly evil part of him wanted to keep her in the corner and let Jake see her, but he wouldn’t undermine her authority like that, nor would he abuse her trust.

No, she’d be safely tucked away in the bedroom.

Still, the sight of Kendra Hall standing in the corner with her punished bottom surrounded by lace was a sight to behold, and his cock hardened at the thought of bending her over and fucking her hard. Unfortunately, this was a punishment, and he wasn’t about to reward her.

Not yet anyway. Still, there was something he could do to keep that memory forever.

“One last thing, and then your corner time is done,” he said, moving where she could see.

“What?”

When he held up the camera, she paled and shook her head. “Oh, hell no. You are not taking pictures of me. Remember every celebrity who has ever taken pictures of their junk, like ever?”

“Instant camera,” he replied. “It will print the photograph but has no internet access. Face the wall, please. I want a picture of your bright red posterior for posterity.”

“Fuck’s sake.” She huffed and regained her position but lowered her head to make sure he didn’t catch her face.

He smirked then snapped a picture, careful to keep her distinctive shoes out of the frame. She was the only woman on the property who consistently wore heels with those iconic red soles. As much as he loved them, anyone who saw the photo would know immediately who the scarlet bottom belonged to.

“All done.” The camera whirred and produced the photo, but it would take a couple of minutes to develop. “Go into the bedroom, please. Stand by the table while our lunch is delivered.”

“What then?”

“Then you’ll play domestic goddess and serve our meals.” He winked, then added, “I’m sure there will be a corkscrew involved.”

“And the ginger? It’s really starting to—”

“We’ll take that out after lunch, and before your nap.”

She scowled, but a loud knock sent her scurrying into the bedroom. He bit back a laugh, then opened the door.

“How’s it going?” Jake whispered as he pushed the meal cart into the room.

“Thirty down, eight hundred and sixty-five to go.”

Wincing, Jake pulled a corkscrew from the pocket of his chef’s jacket and opened their wine. “Ouch.”

“Yeah.” Mark rubbed his hands together and inhaled the scent of bacon and something else wonderful emanating from the covered plates. “They won’t all happen this weekend, but we’ll get them eventually.”

“I have limoncello pound cake too. Make sure she eats everything.”

“Every goddamned bite,” Mark promised. “I’m fucking tired of watching her work herself to the bone. Did you remember to put both servings on one plate?”

“Yeah. You want supper at seven, right?”

“Please. That’ll give her plenty of time for a nap.”

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