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)
“Please,” I sobbed, testing the bonds and finding them absolutely secure. “Please, I’ll tell you everything, just don’t paddle me. I can’t take it.”
“You certainly will tell me everything,” Ryan agreed, his voice calm and implacable. “After I give you the discipline I should have given you a long time ago.”
I shook like a leaf against the leather bench, my entire body trembling as Ryan moved behind me. The restraints held me completely immobile, but I couldn’t stop the involuntary shivering that coursed through my limbs.
“Please,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Please be merciful. I know I’ve made mistakes, but—”
“You’re only getting what you need and deserve, Heather,” Ryan interrupted, his voice carrying that new authority that both terrified and aroused me. “What I should have given you months ago.”
Desperation clawed at my chest as I heard him pick up the paddle, the wood making a soft sound as he tested its weight. I turned my head as much as the restraints would allow, catching sight of Dr. Hamelin standing near the wall with his tablet.
“Dr. Hamelin,” I pleaded, my voice cracking. “Please, tell him this isn’t necessary. I’ve learned my lesson already. I’ll be honest from now on, I promise.”
Dr. Hamelin adjusted his glasses and studied me with the detachment that made my stomach crawl. “Actually, Heather, Ryan is more assertive than most of the other husbands who enroll their wives in Selecta Solutions. You should feel grateful that he’s decided to take over your training personally.”
CHAPTER 16
Heather
The doctor’s words hit me like a physical blow. Grateful? I was bound helplessly over a bench, about to be paddled by my own husband while strangers watched, and I was supposed to feel grateful?
Before I could process that fully, I felt Ryan’s hands at my hips, his fingers hooking into the thin straps of the red thong. My breath caught in my throat as he began to slowly peel the lace down over my curves.
“I want you to think about something, Heather,” Ryan said, his voice taking on an almost conversational tone as he worked the panties down my thighs. “This little thong wouldn’t have gotten in the way of the paddle at all. I could have disciplined this naughty bottom with your new panties still in place.”
The cool air moved inside the furrow between my ass cheeks, and over my pussy. The sensation, together with Ryan’s voice, made me shiver. I felt more vulnerable than I ever had in my life, my most intimate parts on display for these men while I lay helplessly restrained.
“But after what you’ve put me through,” Ryan continued, settling the thong just above my knees, “I’m convinced that a submissive wife needs to have her panties taken down by her husband regularly. It helps her understand her place and her duties.”
I whimpered at his words, at the casual way he spoke about my place as if I were property to be managed. But underneath the humiliation, I felt that treacherous heat building again, my body responding to his dominance despite my fear.
Ryan stepped back. I tried to crane my face back over my shoulder to look at him, hoping the woeful look on my face would at least evoke some pity in the man whose love I doubted even less than I had the day before, despite everything that had happened—despite even the hard look in his gorgeous eyes.
“Eyes front,” he said sternly. “I’ll tell you when I want to see that pretty, lying face again. You may feel sorry now, but you’re going to feel a lot sorrier in just a little while.”
I felt his warm hand settle on my waist, his palm steady and sure against my trembling skin. The touch felt both comforting and terrifying—this was my husband, the man who loved me… but he was about to hurt me in ways I’d never imagined he could.
The first blow came without warning. I sensed a puff of air, and then the paddle connected with my bare bottom. A sharp crack echoed through the training room, and I gasped at the immediate sting. The pain bloomed across my flesh like fire, but Ryan didn’t follow it immediately with another swat. Instead, he waited, letting the burn build and intensify until I was squirming against the restraints.
Only then did the paddle fall again, landing on the other cheek with the same deliberate precision. I bit my lip, determined not to give them the satisfaction of hearing me cry out. I could handle this. I was stronger than they thought. I wouldn’t let them break me.
Ryan said nothing as he continued the slow, methodical punishment. Each blow was calculated, timed to let the previous one reach its peak of agony before adding to it. The silence was almost worse than if he’d been lecturing me—there was something coldly professional about his approach that reminded me uncomfortably of Master Paul’s techniques.