Happy Saturday, everyone! It’s finally the weekend again, and with it comes the awesome, #SatSpanks.
I’ve been busy editing all week, and am pleased to bring you another scintillating snippet from the new book…
There were no more warnings. Instead, Connor flicked the cane over her reddening bottom, landing it over her exposed cheeks. She sobbed quietly, but remained still, and based on the tension he could see in her shoulders, Connor could guess at the amount of effort that immobility took.
“Thank you, Master,” she squeaked, and he paused at her words, pleasantly surprised at them. So, the little pet was contrite then, or so it would seem, but it wouldn’t be enough o save her now. Her recent performance was already sufficient to condemn her to the cage once this penance was through.
Focusing on her bottom once more, Connor delivered the final four swats. He landed them so fast that Molly had little time to respond, let alone thank him, and as the cane branded her flesh for the final time he threw the implement onto the black tiled floor for dramatic effect.
“Your caning is over,” he concluded, assessing her as he spoke.
The release of tension was visible, and at the sound of his words, she broke down again, sobbing her heart out onto the bench. Connor sighed at the sight. Much though he appreciated her distress, she was going to make herself ill if she didn’t stop.
He left her bound body, and wandered to the left of the room, to the small, black refrigerator he’d had installed. Opening the door, he shone a bright light against the cold tiles as he reached inside for a bottle of water. Twisting the cap, he took a slug, and turned to assess his pet. She was clearly overwrought, and would need refreshment.
He opened the dark cupboard above his head, eyeing the collection of pet bowls and accessories which he’d prepared for this purpose. Choosing the one closest to him, he poured some of the cold water into the bowl, before striding back to where his pet was waiting.
“Time for a drink,” he told her, as he placed the dish on the tile by the side of the bench.
She turned her head, revealing a tangle of dark hair over burning red eyes.
“Are you going to behave yourself?” He asked her, crouching and edging closer to her perturbed expression.
Molly sniffed, and nodded as she answered him. “Yes, Master,” she promised, the relief evident in her tone.
Poor little pet. She clearly assumed that this part of her ordeal was over, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. “Good,” he continued, reaching for her left wrist and slowly releasing her limb from the strap.
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