Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 64452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
“Stay still,” he commanded, his voice cutting through my desperate cries. “We’re not done yet.”
The third stroke landed lower, across the sensitive curve where my bottom met my thighs, and I felt something break inside me. Not physically, but mentally—some last wall of resistance crumbling as I submitted completely to his authority. My struggles became less frantic, more like the helpless writhing of someone who had finally accepted their fate.
The fourth, fifth, and sixth strokes rained down in relentless succession, each one perfectly placed to maximize the burning agony. I was sobbing so hard I could barely breathe, my entire world consumed by the fire across my flesh and Ryan’s masterful control.
When it finally stopped, I couldn’t move. I lay there sobbing against the comforter, my whole body shaking with the aftermath of such devastating punishment. The pain was beyond description—a blazing fire that consumed every nerve ending in my bottom and seemed to radiate through my entire being.
I felt Ryan’s weight settle on the bed beside me, his large hands gentle now as they stroked my back and shoulders. The contrast between his tender touch and the brutal discipline he’d just administered made me cry harder, overwhelmed by the complexity of what he was giving me.
“There,” he murmured, his voice soft with satisfaction. “That’s my good girl. You took your punishment so well.”
The praise hit me like a physical caress, and I felt something deep inside my chest crack open with gratitude. Even through the agony blazing across my bottom, I felt proud that I’d pleased him, that I’d submitted to his authority the way he needed me to.
“I’m sorry,” I sobbed against the comforter, my voice hoarse and broken. “I’m so sorry I touched myself without permission, sir. I won’t do it again.”
“I know you won’t,” Ryan said with quiet certainty, his fingers continuing their soothing strokes along my spine. “Because now you understand what happens when you forget who you belong to.”
His words sent a shiver through me that had nothing to do with the pain. I did belong to him—completely, utterly, in ways I was still learning to accept. This punishment had burned that truth into my flesh in a way that would stay with me for days.
“Can you kneel up for me, ass girl?” Ryan asked gently, his hands helping to support my weight as I struggled to push myself up from the pillows.
I whimpered as I tried to move, every shift sending fresh waves of agony through my punished flesh. My bottom felt swollen and impossibly tender, the skin stretched tight with what I knew must be vivid bruises. Ryan’s strong arms came around me, lifting me carefully until I was kneeling beside him on the bed.
“Look at me,” he commanded softly, his fingers tilting my chin up until our eyes met.
I gazed up at him through my tears, seeing the same man I’d fallen in love with, but understanding him so much more completely now. His blue eyes were warm with affection, but underneath that gentleness was steel—the unwavering authority that would guide me for the rest of our marriage.
“I love you,” he said simply, his thumb brushing away the tears on my cheeks. “All of you, including the parts that need such firm handling.”
“I love you too,” I whispered, my voice catching on the words. “Thank you for… for giving me what I need, even when I can’t ask for it properly.”
Ryan smiled, and I felt my heart flutter at the warmth in his expression. “That’s what husbands are for, sweetheart. To take care of their wives in every way they need it.”
My heart swelled at his words, even as my bottom throbbed with the evidence of how thoroughly he’d just demonstrated that care. I wanted to collapse against his chest, to let him hold me while the fire across my flesh slowly faded, but I could see in his eyes that he wasn’t finished with me yet.
“Now,” Ryan said, his voice taking on that commanding tone that made my stomach flutter with nervous anticipation, “I think you need to show me how grateful you are for your correction.”
I blinked up at him, my mind still foggy from the intensity of my punishment. “How, sir?”
His hands moved to his belt, and I felt my breath catch as I understood what he wanted. Even through the haze of pain, my body responded with that shameful heat I could never control. He was going to use me, claim me while my bottom blazed with the consequences of my disobedience.
“I want you on your hands and knees,” Ryan commanded, his fingers working at his zipper. “Turn around and present yourself for me the way a wife should when it’s time for her husband to use her.”
I whimpered as I tried to position myself, my punished flesh screaming in protest as I shifted on the bed. Getting on my hands and knees sent fresh agony through my bottom, but I forced myself to obey, spreading my thighs wide as I offered myself for his use.