Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
“Hey,” I say to them, trying to sound casual and not entirely guilty.
“We could have just got candy in the morning,” Thorn says. “I know it’s good, but it’s not that good.”
“She almost got herself shot,” Krall says reproachfully as he emerges from behind me. “That woman was prepared to take her out.”
“Over some candy?” Thorn sounds incredulous.
“Over her livelihood being broken into and consumed, I imagine,” Krall replies. “You can’t steal just because it’s candy.”
“Can’t shoot people over it, either,” Thorn replies, casting a stormy look back at the shop.
“How did you get in?” Skor asks the question with a dangerous level of curiosity.
“What do you mean?” I play dumb.
“I mean the doors are locked. How did you get inside?”
“Oh. I went around the back,” I say cheerfully, as if that’s the answer, entirely and completely.
“And then?”
“And then I went inside.”
“So the door was open?”
“It was when I went through it.”
“More evasive than a politician,” Skor comments. “Did you use magic to open the door?”
“I’m not allowed to use magic,” I respond, avoiding the question again. He can’t get me. He won’t get me.
“Yes, but did you use it?”
“Alright, we need to get back to bed,” Krall says, interrupting the interrogation. I try not to smirk, and fail. Skor’s trying to work out what kind of magic I can do, and I am aware that it is best he has no idea. Krall leads his little pack as if they are all against magic, but it is obvious to me that Skor is a practitioner of some kind. Thorn is not interested at all, it doesn’t really register to him as far as I can tell.
I have better things to worry about, as it turns out. I am carried back to the stinky hotel room, where Krall sits down, scoops me up, and puts me over his lap. My attempt to escape is futile of course. Krall’s big hands and muscly arms easily overpower me, and my skirt is thrown up to bare my cheeks and thighs. Both are spanked soundly and swiftly. It’s not as hard as it has been before, though. Almost like he’s not trying to make an impression with pain as much as with presence. He feels different, and he makes me feel different too. Smaller, somehow. Less of a witch of the long dark night, and more…
“A naughty little girl sneaking out to steal candy will not be tolerated,” he growls.
“Ow!” I respond. “Isn’t it at least good I wasn’t trying to run away?”
“Acting like a little thief in public is not a good thing,” Krall lectures. “Your behavior reflects on us. Some people may know that we are a wolf pack, and it would be better if you did not act completely out of control.”
Every one of those words is punctuated with a swat that lands low on my ass and makes my hips jolt against his thigh. I can feel my clit grinding against the rough fabric of his pants. I can’t help but enjoy this on some level. There’s nothing about being punished that I really enjoy. It’s painful. It’s embarrassing. It’s a complete blow to the ego. In the mountains I lived under my father’s rule, but I was never punished like this there. I was allowed to do as I wished. The only thing I ever had to do was surrender myself to be given as a mate. I am regretting doing that quite a lot.
“Do you understand me, little girl?” he growls down at me, his palm resting on my hot ass.
“Yes,” I whimper, because saying anything else feels like I am inviting more pain and more trouble.
He rubs his hand over my stinging cheeks, then down between my legs, cupping my pussy tight.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes…”
“Daddy,” he growls down at me. “Naughty little girls get spanked by their daddies.”
I feel myself blushing violently.
I have a father. I never had a daddy. Paternal affection and discipline is sparing in the mountain where pups and whelps and even adult offspring are in danger of dying on almost any day. I have become proficient in my own survival. It’s very strange to have anybody else take any interest in it at all.
I find myself yelping and even moaning with something like pleasure. It doesn’t make sense that this should feel good, but my body doesn’t really care about what makes sense. I am used to existing in worlds where logic does not follow in a reasonable progression. Magic is not interested in making sense. It is interested in what works.
After a time, Krall growls again.
“You want a treat for your mouth? I’ll ensure you get one.”
I don’t know what that means at first, but I know he is sliding me off his lap and setting me down on my knees between his legs as he frees his cock. His hand fists in my hair and draws my mouth toward his crotch. My lips part as I try to ask a question, but it is answered when he pushes the head of his cock deep inside my mouth.