Her breasts spilled out, big, pale, and extraordinary. Throughout his time working at their company, he had wondered what it would be like to have Clara in this position. He wanted her as his property, his animal and plaything to be used and teased and trained. He grew hard at the thought.
The expression she wore helped quite a bit. Anxiety mixed with a hint of defiance. She wanted to think of herself as a powerful young woman. Years of watching cartoons as a child and then dramas as an adult taught females such as Clara that they should be strong, resilient and independent. They looked back on previous decades where women donned the submissive façade of obedient daughter or wife with nothing but disdain. Well, Clara would learn.
How long before she truly understood what it meant to be owned?
Her lips moved again. He thought she had a sexy little mouth, and he couldn’t wait to feel what she could do for him. “Please, do I have to take off my panties?”
“Yes.”
“And the collar?” she asked with a hint of hope. Of course, it would have been wacky to have her remove it so soon.
He shook his head. “No. I want you naked.”
“But a collar is clothing,” she insisted even as she hooked her thumbs into her panties’ elastic waistband. She could be naked in front of this man. The thought made her want to run her front teeth along her lower lip while the flames of desire licked at the special spot between her legs. Yet the idea of remaining collared meant she really did belong to him in this moment. He would be the one fully dressed, the man who could order her about like a servant.
“No,” he said with the trace of a smile. “A collar isn’t clothing. It’s a sign of rank.”
Those simple words made her face flush with humiliation. “What is my rank?”
“Pet. A very special kind of pet,” he told her. But before she could ask what kind, he told her to roll onto her stomach.
Naked but for the collar ringing her neck, Clara followed his order. She got onto her stomach. “Grip the front legs,” he told her, and again she complied. With her ankles near the Ottoman’s feet, she tightened her fingers around the front pair.
“I’m going to spank you, first for being late, then for questioning my authority. And when I’m done, you’re going to thank me for teaching you a lesson.”
Spanked. The thought forced her to shut her eyes in a vain attempt to block out her embarrassment and shame. Clara faked a piece of information at work, yet she never thought that lie would bring her here.
Clara braced herself. She tried to remember how it felt when she had been a little girl spread out across someone’s lap. Back then, she didn’t have a choice. Somehow, knowing a single word could make this stop made the punishment more intense. She didn’t think she had been late, yet Clara didn’t dare contradict her Master.
Master.
In less than a day, he had gone from a coworker to the man who could make her strip naked and present herself for a spanking.
Clara kept expecting the blow to sting through her flesh. Each second coiled her tighter as she waited for it. The anticipation grated at her, forcing her to squirm a little. Instead though, he waited, savoring her flustered frustration as the poor animal waited impatiently. Unfortunately for her, Eric got to choose the moment of her punishment.
In fact, he decided to taunt her a little more by caressing the back of her thigh. But he didn’t stop there. He ran his fingers along the curves of her flesh. Each light graze made her shiver as electrical impulses darted through her nervous system. With her face pointed at the floor, Clara grimaced through each sensation. They felt heavenly, yet they were going to be replaced by the flat of his hand soon enough.
“What are you going to do when we’re done?”
Heart pounding, breath short, Clara answered fast, “I’ll apologize. I’ll thank you.”
“That’s right,” he said, only to begin her spanking.
The first blow landed. It thundered through her body like an earthquake. Clara managed to keep her lips sealed. She refused to let him know how much that heart. Little kids, when they got paddled, probably felt more humiliated and ashamed because someone in a position of authority insisted on reminding them how to behave. For Clara, she felt herself wiggle and shake, readying herself for the next spanking.
He smacked her bottom again, hard enough to make her flesh turn a bright shade of pink. Heat and pain reverberated through her flesh. It echoed and made her swallow back as her eyes started to tear up.
He struck twice more, alternating between her cheeks. He left handprints each time, and she was left to grip the Ottoman. “You know, you could just tell me to stop.”
“No, I won’t. I’ll do this,” she breathed, almost whimpering. “I’ll live up to my end of the bargain.” When Clara shook her head to strengthen her resolve, she heard the collar’s bells jingle as though she were some sort of cow.
“You realize this is just the beginning, right?”
(Get the rest of Now His Milk Cow from any major digital bookstore.)
Doctor's Orders (BDSM / Medical Play) Page 9