Page 8 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 2

“Because this is my birthday, and I can’t think of anything I want more than to keep you just on the edge of coming for the rest of the night.”

Asshole. Sadist. A dozen vile names ran through her mind, but she was terrified if she voiced any of them, he’d keep her in this painful state of orgasm limbo and she’d never get to experience the full extent of the pleasure just that brief touch had promised.

“Don’t forget to count, brat.”

It was all the warning he gave her before the paddle crashed into her tender backside again. “Eleven, Happy Birthday Daddy!”

Another ten, and she was gasping and whimpering over his knee when he stopped again. Her ass was on fire. That damn paddle hurt more than she’d given it credit for.

And to think, she could have had a sweet, easy birthday spanking if she’d just used his title instead of his name. In retrospect, it had been a terrible miscalculation on her part, but how was she supposed to have known good old Sheriff Clarke, small-town hero, had such a sadistic streak in him?

“You make the most beautiful little noises, Izzy. My favorite so far might be this one.”

The paddle snapped against her ass again, and she squealed before shakily voicing her count. “Twenty-one, Happy Birthday Daddy!”

“Actually, I think my favorite is this.”

Strong, sure fingers dipped inside of her again, stroking and teasing a low moan from her.

“Please…” Rocking her hips, she tried to force his touch where she needed it most. At this point it wouldn’t take more than a flick of her clit to send her screaming over the edge.

“Naughty girl,” he scolded, withdrawing from her. “What did I tell you? Disobedient little brats don’t get to come during their spankings.”

“Daddy, please!” Her voice pitched up to a whine she barely recognized as her own. Any semblance of pride she’d had before this moment had been stripped from her. It didn’t matter that they had an audience watching her wiggle and writhe, listening to her beg. All she wanted in that moment was the pleasure he was keeping just out of reach.

“I was wrong.” His chuckle vibrated against her side. “Hearing you beg is by far my favorite sound. I plan to hear it a good bit more before we’re done here.”

She was going to die, right there over his knee. Because there was no way she could survive another second of this torture.

The paddle fell again, snapping her out of her pity party. God, that thing burned. And it wasn’t just a surface burn, no, this felt like it went all the way down into her muscles. Her entire ass ached like a bad tooth and she was certain she would have bruises in the morning.

A thrill raced up her spine at the idea of his mark on her, even if it only lasted a day or two.

By the time she cried out, “Thirty-five, Happy Birthday Daddy!”, she was drained. And still, her body demanded his touch, craved the release his skilled fingers had promised.

“Stand up for me, baby girl.”

Guided by his gentle hands, she managed to push her trembling body upright. Ethan stood with her before scooping her up and striding across the room to a discreet door off to the side. Behind the door was a small bedroom. He placed her on the bed, then turned to retrieve a bottle of water from the mini fridge beside the bed. After twisting off the top and handing it to her, he wrapped a blanket around her and climbed into the bed, drawing her into his arms.

“You were incredible, Izzy.”

His soft praise washed over her, and she tilted her head back to grin at him. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely. Drink.”

“You’re bossy,” she complained, but did as she was told and sipped from the bottle.

His eyes were dark and unreadable as he stroked the hair from her face. “Come home with me tonight.”

If it had been anyone else, she might have hesitated or tried to play hard to get. But this was everything she’d ever wanted being offered to her on a silver platter and she wasn’t about to risk having it taken away.

“Your car or mine?”

Chapter Three

It took much longer than she wanted for them to be on their way. Ethan had insisted she finish her water before even allowing her out of the bed. When she’d protested that she was fine, he’d given her still-throbbing ass a hard squeeze and threatened to drop her off at home if she kept arguing.

The ache in her painfully neglected pussy convinced her not to push him too far.

---