Page 166 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 2

“Eight more of those to go, sweetheart. Now, why can’t you touch yourself?”

“Because I… I need your permission, Sir.”

“Indeed you do.”

I hear the swish of the cane through the air again, a fraction of a second before it lands just on my left cheek this time. “Ahhhh. Three, thank you, Sir.”

“Oh, you’re welcome. And why else can’t you touch yourself?”

My mind goes blank and, while I am trying to think, the cane strikes again. Right cheek this time. I jerk forward and almost collapse, my cheeks burning.

“Why, Abby?”

Again, the cane lands, left cheek, then right in quick succession.

“Oooh, Sir. Four, thank you, Sir. Five, th-thank you, Sir. S-six, thank you, Sir.”

“Come on, think. Why else?”

“B-because my body is yours.”

Another strike, across both cheeks.

“Seven, thank you, Sir.”

“That is the correct answer.” You gently rub my cheeks. “Three more to go. You can do this, Abby.”

Your hand has barely left my skin when another stroke hits hard in the same place and I howl in pain. “Count. How many?”

“Eight, thank you, Sir.”

“Whose is this body?”

“Yours, Sir.”

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

The ninth stroke lands across the back of my upper thighs.

“Ohhhh. Nine, nine, thank you, Sir.”

“Last one. Tell me again. Whose is this body?” You don’t even wait for me to answer before you take your arm right back for the hardest stroke of them all, right across the fullest part of my bottom. I scream and collapse onto my side.

“Whose is this body? Answer the question or there’ll be another one.”

“Yours, Master. Yours. Ten. Ohhh. Ten, thank you, Sir.”

“Good girl. Well done.”

Despite the pain, I beam up at you, glowing with pleasure. “Thank you, Sir.”

Those words mean so much to me. They mean everything. To know that I have done well makes it all worthwhile. The pain, the struggle to hold on, to do everything you ask of me… all of it is forgotten with the knowledge that you are pleased with me.

You lift me onto your lap and sit back in the chair. I wince as my sore bottom touches the fabric.

You wrap your arms around me and hold me close and I lean my head against your shoulder, wanting nothing more than to be right where I am. “I'm sorry, Sir.”

“Shush, it's all over. It’s done, and I’m so proud of you.”

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