Page 85 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 2

The next lash landed on the lower half of my cheeks and the top of my thighs. I screamed. Then burst out into tears. “I am sorry, Master Clay, for my naughty behavior,” I got out through my sobbing.

And I wasn’t lying as I spoke the prescribed words. I felt it deep in my soul. And when the next lash landed, I accepted it, letting the burn penetrate, silently thanking the dungeon gods that provided me with these unparalleled feelings of rightness.

By the time we got to twenty, I was a changed woman, deep in my soul. I understood that so much of my behavior was built on survival and that here, in a dungeon, I could let go of all the fear and resentment and be free.

As I uttered my last, “I am sorry, Master Clay, for my naughty behavior,” I poured feeling into every word and hoped that he heard the sincerity behind them.

“Good girl, Melody, I see your inner submissive, and she is beautiful and so very sincere.”

I hummed with pleasure. Meeting his expectations was my gift for the one he’d given me. The tears still tracked down my face even with the punishment over, but they were not from the spanking now; they were from the emotional freedom.

Clay carefully released me from my bonds and held me in his muscular arms. He wrapped me up in a blanket and fed me chocolate and water. I snuggled against his strong body, enjoying his heat.

Time passed, and I wove in and out of consciousness, unconcerned for the first time with how I must have looked. No doubt I had mascara tracks and red smudges from my lipstick. None of that mattered. This connection was not based on how anything looked. It was based on the D/s dynamic, and I’d finally experienced it.

I held up my hand. Clay chuckled. “Are you asking for permission to speak?”

I nodded my head vigorously.

“You are free to speak.”

“That was crazy amazing,” I said enthusiastically. My subspace had worn off enough now for me to communicate with my usual enthusiasm.

“I am glad, but we are not done. That was round one.”

I felt my eyes round in shock. Could my body take any more punishment?

“It’s not what you think, but we have two holes that still require punishment.”

“Uh-oh. Do I want to know?”

Clay smiled at me, the sternness a little softer than when we had begun. Before I could stop myself, I commented on that very thing. “You know, I thought you would be the easy brother. Imagine my surprise to find out how wrong I was.”

“Many people make that mistake. Derrick has his own specialties and one of them is breath play which requires a slightly different mindset. I was a lucky recipient of training with Loki and love whipping naughty little subs.”

A fit of unreasonable jealousy overtook me that any sub other than me got to have this with him. Then something very uncharacteristic happened. I let it go and instead was thankful that I’d chosen wisely when I picked Clay.

“Go to the bathroom and pee. When you come back, I want you on that bed on your hands and knees.”

I knew better than to ask why, but really hoped it included me having an orgasm. Standing, my first few steps were tentative before I moved on slightly wobbly legs to the bathroom, happy to see they’d fully equipped it with anything a girl could need. I went to pee and wiped myself with a warm cloth and then washed my face, removing all the makeup. Since Clay had removed the clip, my hair was a tangled mess. I brushed my long locks, which fell nearly to my waist until they were silky again.

Done, I opened the bathroom door to see Clay standing by the bed wearing nothing but a condom. I hesitated, almost tripping over my own feet at how hot he was. His eyes gave away a hint of heat when he took in my long locks and cleanly scrubbed face. My look seemed to please him, and I figured Clay was a man who so appreciated his own artwork. He didn’t like competition, even if it was from makeup.

I moved onto my hands and knees on the bed, my hair falling down like parted curtains. He moved me a little back to the end of the bed and pressed my chest down into the mattress. Clay clasped my wrists in one of his large hands with ease. Cold gel was smeared in and around my back entrance.

His cockhead pressed against my opening, and I cried out at the invasion. “Relax, you’re stretched and ready for this, Melody. Come on and relax for me.” His voice had its usual effect, and I completely surrendered.

“Good girl,” he crooned.

He slowly slid his cock in until he was fully seated inside of me. Holy hell, he was big! He released my hands so he could grip my hips.

“This is for my pleasure, little one, not yours. Remember, this is part of your punishment and denied orgasms. If you come, there will be consequences.”

The warning in his tone was enough for me.

“Yes, Master Clay.”

He held my hips in his firm grip, pulling his cock halfway out, and then slammed it back in. Holy hell! I clawed the bedspread as I took my newest punishment. Like the wide strap he’d used for my last twenty strokes, I focused in on the punishing strokes of his cock and the freedom from self-persecution that came with each stroke.

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