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)
CHAPTER 25
Heather
The question slammed into me like another blow from the paddle, even though he hadn’t touched me. I pressed my face harder into the comforter, my entire body trembling as I tried to process what he was asking. Had I wanted this? Had some twisted part of me deliberately disobeyed him, knowing exactly what would happen when I was caught?
“I… I don’t know,” I sobbed, my voice muffled against the fabric. “I couldn’t stop myself, sir. I tried, but I needed it so badly.”
“That’s not what I asked,” Ryan said, his voice so full of patient authority that to my horror my pussy clenched. “I asked if you wanted me to paddle you. If you touched yourself hoping I would catch you and punish you for it.”
The truth hit hard. I felt my face burn with shame even as my bottom throbbed with agony. Deep down, in the part of myself I was still learning to acknowledge, I had wanted this. Not consciously, sure, but some primal part of me had craved the structure, the consequence, the proof of his dominance over my body.
“Yes,” I whispered, the admission torn from my throat. “Yes, sir. I think… I think I wanted you to catch me.”
“Good girl,” Ryan murmured, his free hand stroking my hair with surprising tenderness. “It’s so important that you’re honest with yourself about what you need.”
Before I could process the praise, the paddle cracked down again, this stroke even harder than the previous ones. I screamed into the comforter, my entire body convulsing as fresh fire bloomed across my already burning flesh. Then, just as he’d done at the beginning, Ryan paddled me again, and again, until another scream ripped itself from my throat. The pain was beyond anything I’d experienced, worse even than the punishment at the facility because of the quick repetition.
Up to that point, I suddenly realized, I had been sure, somewhere deep in my rational mind, that this new, dominant Ryan was only an act. That he couldn’t actually have kept this side of himself hidden from me—that my husband must truly be a weak man who had managed to pretend to be dominant when people like Mrs. Chen, Dr. Hamelin, and Master Paul made him feel lacking as a husband.
Something about the way he kept paddling me even as my throat began to feel sore from screaming changed that. I still knew that Ryan was a wonderful, kind, chivalrous man. I also knew, with absolute certainty, that he was a dominant man, a firm man, the kind of husband who from this point on would take me in hand the way I so desperately needed.
I sobbed against the comforter, my entire body shaking with the realization that had just crashed over me. This wasn’t pretend. This wasn’t Ryan trying to be something he wasn’t. This was my husband—all of him—and I needed every terrifying, overwhelming piece of what he was giving me.
The paddle stopped again, and I felt his hand lift from my back. The sudden absence of contact made me whimper, my bottom blazing with such intensity that I could barely think straight. I lay there gasping, waiting, my entire world narrowed to the fire consuming my flesh and the anticipation of what came next.
“I’m going to give you a few seconds to catch your breath,” Ryan said, his voice steady and controlled while I writhed in agony. “And then I’m going to finish your punishment with the hardest swats yet. These will be the ones you remember every time you think about touching what belongs to me without permission.”
“No,” I sobbed desperately, my voice raw from screaming. “Please, sir, I can’t take any more. I’ve learned my lesson, I promise. I’ll never touch myself without permission again.”
But even as the words left my mouth, I felt that twisted sense of satisfaction deep in my core. He wasn’t going to listen to my pleas. He wasn’t going to show mercy just because I begged. This was the Ryan I’d needed without even knowing it—the man who would give me exactly what I earned regardless of what I thought I wanted.
“You’ll take what I give you,” Ryan said firmly, and I felt both his huge hand settle more firmly on my back, pressing me down over the pillows with unmistakable authority. “Hold still, ass girl. Don’t make this worse for yourself.”
The first stroke of this final series landed like lightning, harder than anything that had come before. I screamed so loudly my throat felt torn, my entire body bucking against his restraining hands as agony exploded across my bottom. But Ryan held me firmly in place, his strength overwhelming as I tried instinctively to escape.
The second blow fell immediately after, catching the same tender spot with devastating precision. I thrashed against the pillows, my hands clawing at the comforter as I fought to process the intensity. My legs kicked helplessly, but Ryan’s grip never wavered.