Molly makes a dirty admission in this #SatSpanks

Take a peek at Connor and Molly in this #SatSpanks  and then rush over to Amazon and #OneClick Entwined, the conclusion of The Dark Necessities.

***

Connor swatted her again, pausing to admire the way the impact passed over her cheeks. “Do you need this spanking, kitten?” he demanded, noticing his voice had fallen to little more than a growl.

He didn’t know why he asked, having already determined for himself that the answer was yes, but somehow, there was always something so bloody satisfying about hearing it from Molly’s lips.

“Yes, Master,” she breathed as he landed a fourth strike, followed by another three in fast succession. “Yes, I need it.”

“Yes. You. Do.” Connor agreed, accentuating each word with a new swat. “Just think about how many months you’ve gone without my discipline.”

Connor landed another hard spank, conscious of his cock throbbing gloriously at the groan that left his kitten’s lips. “How many spankings have you needed?” he asked her. “How many have you missed?”

“Too many, Master,” she panted as he continued, spanking her gorgeous backside time and time again as if to reinforce the point.

“Yes, too many,” he agreed. “I know you, kitten, and naughty little pets like you need regular spankings to keep them in their place.”

He paused, watching as her hips rose of their own accord. It was as though Molly’s body was actually looking for his palm. “Don’t they?” he demanded.

“Yes!” She was almost screeching now, though Connor didn’t think he’d been very hard on her so far. Allowing his gaze to drink in the length of her body, he concluded with a wry smile that his pet’s desperation was more to do with her burgeoning arousal, than her pain threshold. He knew from experience that she was well-equipped to deal with a lot of pain. “Yes, Master. They do. I do!”

“Yes,” he agreed again, and as he spoke, Connor shifted his palm and aimed his next strike directly at her pussy.

Molly yelped at the new strike, but the sound morphed quickly into something of a moan.

“You like that, kitten,” he mused mockingly. “Don’t you?”

Her wide-kneed stance made it easy to access her wet seam, and even the swat he’d just delivered hadn’t made her legs close.

“Yes, Master,” she admitted, her voice a strangled sound which conveyed her very obvious misery on the subject.

“Tell me, then,” he commanded as he smacked the area again. “Tell your Master what you like, you naughty little pet.”

Molly moaned at the instruction, her hips grinding against his legs as he gave the order. Her body language was more than clear; Molly wanted more. Much, much more.

“I like it when you spank my pussy, Master,” she panted, pushing her face into the fabric of the cushion as she made the concession.

Connor smiled to himself. That wasn’t a bad first effort, but she’d have to do much better than that if she wanted her pleasure.


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Taken is now live!
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Entwined is LIVE!

It was the damndest thing.

The monster made her feel whole again.

The captivating conclusion to The Dark Necessities trilogy is now LIVE and ready for you! Find out how Molly and Connor find a balance in this tantalizing finale HERE on Amazon.

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Can a monster ever find redemption?

Free from her captor, author Molly Clary finds herself back at home, but she’s just as lost as ever. In the isolation of her new-found freedom, Molly makes a startling revelation; she can no longer function without Connor Reilly. She can’t write without him; she can’t live without him.

The admission leads Molly into the most intense and dangerous chapter of her twisted love affair yet, and by reaching out to Connor again, she must decide if she can really leave her old life behind to venture into the dark and mysterious confines of the organization known only as The Syndicate.

For a couple whose love is built on lust, and fear and submission, there should be no happy ending. But as Molly helps her kidnapper lay his ghosts to rest, the question beckons, can they forge their own brand of happiness regardless? Can Connor finally be delivered into a consensual union with his kitten, and will it be enough to satisfy both of their dark needs?

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“What do you want then?”

He’d barely ever asked her before, but now her desire seemed to matter more than anything else. It was more important to him than The Syndicate, or even his fucking liberty. It was critical to the next breath he was going to take.

She gazed at him with wide, watery eyes. “This is so fucked up,” she started, lowering her face at the admission.

“Hey,” he whispered. “I’ve got a PhD in fucked up; do you really think anything you can say will make things worse?”

The hand at her nape made small circles, applying just enough pressure to draw her body toward him.

“I think I want you,” she conceded in a long rush of breath. “I don’t know if it’s just the writing, or this thing between us, or what, but I think I’m bound to you, Connor.”

Bound to him? Fuck, that sounded wonderful, and his cock sprung to life at the prospect.

“What a delightful analogy,” he smirked, raising his left brow at her.

Molly smiled in response, although she was practically panting as his thumb stroked the side of her nape.

“So, you missed me?” he chuckled, pressing his body past the gear shift as he closed the distance between them.

“More than I should,” she agreed, watching his approach with expectant eyes.

Connor saw her pupils dilate as his face neared, and he sympathized. He felt it, too, the bond between them was stronger than anything he’d ever known.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he told her in a low sensual growl. “If you don’t want this, then tell me now. I’m not good at asking for permission, kitten. This might be all that you get.”

Molly was smiling as his words resonated, her head tipping as she took them in. “Let me answer you then.”

He’d barely registered her words when she came for him. Connor had never seen such speed in his pet before, but she was on him before he could take another breath. Crossing the small divide between them, she pounced, pressing her body against his, and knocking him backwards as her lips took what they wanted. Connor had to admit it, he never saw this coming, but as soon as their mouths collided, he reciprocated, kissing her back as eagerly as his new position would allow. Molly’s attack had caught him off guard, and he’d slumped back into the passenger seat, now pinioned by his passionate little pet. Of course, he could have fought her off. He’d have had her flat against the driver’s seat with ease if he’d wanted to, but the truth was he didn’t want to. This was a side of Molly he had never seen.

Because he’d never allowed it.

But he had to concede, the wild side of his kitten was making him hard.

Molly drew back from him, her arms either side of his chest propping her up. Her face was flushed with emotion, her eyes wild with fire. It was like she could barely believe what had just happened, what she’d just done.

“Is that a yes to the kiss, kitten?” he laughed as he questioned her, loving her the blush in her cheeks grew darker.

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Start the romance with Taken, book 1 of The Dark Necessities

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Continue the journey with Tamed, book 2 of The Dark Necessities

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Is it bad when Delia doesn’t even notice the spanks stop? Find out in this #SatSpanks

Check out how Delia reacts in this #SatSpanks edition, an exclusive excerpt from Duty Bound. Grab this hot anthology fast to find out what happens!

***

Delia’s breath caught in her throat, her anticipation building. The room was filled with a new energy, which seemed to pulse around her. Her belly knotted with anxious excitement. Why was he making her wait? This was too…
She never got to conclude that thought. In a flash, Turner’s hand had vanished from her body, and he had brought his palm crashing back down against her vulnerable arse. Delia yelped out of instinct, not because the swat was painful, but just because there had been one. He had finally spanked her, and despite her embarrassment and discomfort, she was glad of it.
“We will only use my palm.” Turner’s voice was like a soft, insistent thrum, the sound vibrating over her body to find her ears. “And for now, you may stay clothed, Delia. This is just a warm-up.”
There was a definite gasp at that, but he had already landed the second swat, and this was harder than before. A warm-up? Is that what he’d said? And what was that about clothing? Surely, he couldn’t think to strip her before she was spanked? That ignominy seemed too great for anyone to bear. Turner struck her upturned behind again, following with three fresh swats, all in fast succession. With each new spank, the sting intensified. She wasn’t sure if Turner was intentionally landing them harder, or if it was the cumulative effect of receiving one after the other, but by the time Delia had counted the tenth in her head, she could absolutely feel the weight of each impact.
As the cardinal settled into some sort of rhythm, the onslaught came harder and faster, until Delia reached a point where each new strike began to take her breath away. She squirmed over his lap as the swats rained down, instinctively reaching behind her and trying to protect her punished behind. His hand paused at once, one of those large palms catching her smaller wrist and holding it in place as Turner chastised her.
“No, thank you, young lady.” This time his voice was stern, reminding her of the way her father had once spoken to her before his untimely demise. “You shall not interfere with God’s work. You have confessed your sins, and come here for forgiveness. Now, you must endure your penance.”
“But, Cardinal!” she gasped. “Please.”
The hand which had trapped her wrist pulled it away from the curves of her behind, and drew it back towards her shoulders. Delia twisted awkwardly over his robes. The position wasn’t hurting her, but it was certainly less comfortable, and she instantly disliked the weight of his free arm against her back. As soon as her bottom was cleared of her self-imposed obstruction, his palm resumed, peppering her arse with cruel, loud swats which seemed to fill up the office like rolls of thunder. And still Delia resisted. It was like she couldn’t stop, as though she had temporarily lost control of her own body. The more he spanked her, the more her body rolled and countered him, her bottom searching for a way out of its penance. Yet the cardinal’s will was strong, perhaps even stronger than her own, and her wilful display did nothing to quell his ambition. The arm at her back held her steady, while his other hand worked relentlessly, spanking her over and over again.
The loss of control was maddening, but in her mind, the fight was not futile. Delia imagined herself, as Turner might see her, draped over his vestment; prone and exposed, and she despised the mental image. She hated how weak she was, and how vulnerable she felt. She resented the power these men held over her. Or at least, that’s what she told herself as she writhed over his body, that’s how she convinced herself that she wasn’t enjoying the surrender. But it wasn’t true, and if Cardinal Turner was right about God, then He would certainly know the deceit. The truth was it did hurt, and it was uncomfortable, and yet for all her protestations, Delia was secretly beginning to revel in it. The whole scenario was uniquely compelling. For the first time, she was being held to account for her actions, and it was all happening like this; she was being spanked by the gorgeous cardinal in the red robes with the mesmerising blue eyes.
As the realisation dawned over her, the fight left Delia’s body in an instant. She felt the miscellaneous energy rush from her body, and she slumped forward, panting as she finally began to understand. This was all part of the punishment. First the anticipation, then the resistance, and now, the resignation. And resigned she was, her eyes closing as she accepted the brunt of Turner’s palm as it punished her bottom over and over. At that moment of concession, her body relaxed, despite the wall of pain which was being built at her behind. At that moment, her mind was quiet, and as she slipped away from conscious thought, Delia realised it was perhaps the first time her head had ever been free. She no longer had to think. She no longer had to worry about what to wear, or do, or say. She no longer had control. She’d given that up to Turner, or to God, or whoever the hell was orchestrating this bizarre ritual, but whoever it was, Delia felt sure they could keep it. This quiet freedom was good. Better than anything she could have imagined, maybe even better than the simmering thrum of arousal which kept its insistent throb between her legs.
“Good girl, Delia,” crooned Turner from above her head. “There’s our good girl, brothers. She is finally capitulating, and submitting to the will of God.”
“Praise be His name,” murmured Cardinal Medlock from beyond her head.
The sound of their voices stirred her from the peculiar tranquillity Delia had found in the punishment, and she wished at once that she could return to its warm folds. But now another urge was coming to fore. The weight of sensation at her core was building, centring her, making her focus only the weight of the cardinal’s palm as it struck her jeans. She imagined the impact, envisioning the reverberations as they spread outwards, down towards her legs. Down between her thighs.
A small moan escaped her lips, and reflexively she raised her free hand to cover her lips at the sound. Delia swore she had not consciously meant to make it, but then she remembered, nothing about this act was conscious anymore. She’d had control at the start, when she consented to the penance, but since then; since she found herself draped over Turner’s vestments, Delia had none. There was no say over the timing or intensity of each swat, no ability to protect herself, and now, apparently, there was no control over her own body’s responses. A hot blush engulfed her face as she realised what she’d done, and yet it was already too late. She’d moaned gutturally over the Cardinal’s lap, and they must have heard her. At least Turner must have caught the sound, and probably Medlock and Brogan, too.
Oh, God…
It was then that she registered the change. The spanking had halted, and in her embarrassed state of mind, Delia hadn’t even noticed.


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Happy release day to me, Duty Bound is live!

Duty Bound is now Live and ready to steam up your kindle!

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When their uniforms come off…

Bossy, dedicated, overprotective, super complicated. A woman needs a man like that in her life like she needs a temporal lobe headache, right? Think again, because when the uniforms come off and the temperature skyrockets, it’s time to forget Hell and take a trip straight to Heaven.

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The three of them made their way through the narrow halls, Delia trapped between the leading figure of Brogan and the even taller Cardinal Turner, who seemed to tower over her. As they walked, Turner insisted on asking her a variety of inane questions, none of which had anything to do with the reasons she was actually here, or what in the hell they were planning to do with her.

Nervous butterflies stretched their wings as her mind considered what the options could be. Her uncle had been disappointed at her behaviour—angry even—but surely, he wouldn’t leave her in the care of men who would hurt her? And anyway, she reassured herself as Turner chatted on, there were laws against that. They couldn’t touch her, but they could intimidate, and if she was honest, they already had.

It was true, no overt threats had been made, but still there was something. Something imperceptible, something in the air here like a lingering scent. Delia could sense it instinctively, although she couldn’t give the sensation a name. The worst of it was though, it wasn’t just trepidation that the atmosphere produced in her tightly-wound body, it was also arousal. Delia hadn’t had that much experience with boys her own age. Uncle Nicholas had always made that prospect practically impossible, but she had dated a couple, breaking out of the house after hours when her aunt and uncle had believed she was sleeping.

Neither Timmy Blore, nor Steve Furst had been much to talk about. They had really just been fumbles in the dark, but the experiences had taught her one thing; she enjoyed a man taking control. And every time Brogan and Turner had stood up to her today, Delia had felt the tension in her core, and that hot, slick arousal which had collected at the apex of her thighs. The thought of whatever was about to transpire in Turner’s office made her feel giddy, though she realised that was stupid. Whatever was on the cards for her, these men were priests. They didn’t see her that way. No doubt she was little better than a naughty school-girl to them, although she’d been in college now for nearly three years.

“And you’re at college, Delia,” Turner asked. “Is that right?”

His question cut through her internal monologue, and she nodded, trying to compose herself before she answered the hot-looking priest with the astonishing blue eyes. He was older than Father Brogan, but every inch as tempting.

Stop it, she chastised herself. Stop thinking that way. This is the sort of shit that landed you in trouble in the first place. If you hadn’t been trying to impress Steve, then you’d never have stolen the damn cigarettes in the first place.

“Yes, Cardinal,” she replied, unable to meet his piercing gaze as it drilled into her. His eyes were like the colour of a tropical ocean, and were quite unlike anything Delia had ever seen before. “I had been thinking of going on to university.”

“So, you’re a bright young woman,” he responded, flashing her an absolutely devastating smile. “Pray tell, why it has taken you so long to complete your college course?” Delia grimaced. Perfect, now she had to admit yet more misdemeanours.

“I’ve had to retake one of the years,” she admitted, lowering her gaze to the floor.

“Why?” Turner asked in a knowing tone which made her wonder if he didn’t have the
answer from her uncle already.

“I didn’t take my studies seriously at first,” she conceded, the words falling from her
in one, long rush. “I was distracted.”

Delia lifted her chin, catching Turner’s haunting gaze still fixed on her.

“I see,” he replied. “Perhaps you have been in need of our guidance for a while,
Delia?”

She nodded, uncertain what she should say. She still didn’t want to be here, but there
was something disturbingly alluring about being around these men. If she was forced to endure this social isolation, then at least she could enjoy their company and easy-on-the-eye aesthetics.

“We’ll do our best to help you,” the cardinal assured her, “but you have to promise me one thing, Delia.”

The sound of her name on his lips made her gulp. It was like a reflex. “What’s that, Cardinal Turner?”

“You have to promise to be my good girl, Delia,” he told her in what sounded like a deliberately seductive tone. “No running, no fighting and no more speaking out of line. You will take your punishment, and then you’ll receive atonement.”

Turner’s words washed over her like a wave, sending her thoughts scattering.
Punishment? Had he just said punishment? Sure, Uncle Nicholas had inferred there would be consequences; he’d said that was what she needed, but what the fuck did that mean? She was a grown woman, for God’s sake! What were they going to do to her? Throw her in the dungeon? A shiver ran down her spine at the prospect, its resonance connecting with her sex in the most delicious way. Delia didn’t know what was wrong with her, but somehow the idea sounded magnificent.

“Delia?” Those blue eyes were boring into her again. “Delia, can you do that? Can you be my good girl?”

She turned her head to see Turner’s perfect gaze again. Fuck. How can you resist temptation like that, she wondered? He might be dressed like a priest, but she bet under that robe was all the equipment she wanted.

“Yes, Cardinal.” Oh God, she was practically panting now. What must he think of her? “I can try.”

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You know the rules… #SatSpanks

Tamed is LIVE and I am so excited! Book 2 of The Dark Necessities is my baby and I am so happy the reviews are loving it. For this edition of #SatSpanks, Molly is recalling rules!

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Connor’s hand touched her face in the darkness, those digits finding the hot tears which she had barely even realised were falling. Her own fingers fell from his jaw at the weight of his caress. As though they were acting on some type of reflex, they found his chest, and she pressed her small palms against his shirt. Drawing her hair back, his hand rested at her nape, holding her in place as he continued. “There were only ever two rules, pet. Do you remember them?”

He was close now. Molly knew that, even though her eyes had fallen closed at the sensation of his fingers. She could feel his breath against her face, the heat reminding her of the way he’d claimed her body just last night. Her eyes blinked open as she tried to compose herself. This was not the time for sensual memories, Molly, she rebuked herself. You’re about to get taken – again – by this monster. You need to do something. You need to kick, run, throw a punch… And yet, she already knew it was too late. She was falling deeper into his trap, even now as he spoke. It wasn’t his body holding her in place, but his mesmerising ability to capture her with his words.

“Pet?” He repeated, his tone expectant. “The rules?”

“To obey you, Master,” she parroted, as though she was answering a school test. “And to write for you.”

“There’s my good girl,” he purred, the hand at her neck drawing her face even closer to his body. “I knew you hadn’t forgotten.”

His tone was soft, but patronising, and a part of her wanted to raise her hand and slap him for mocking her. But that part was small and insignificant now, a remnant of the woman she used to be, before Connor Reilly crashed into her life. Now that same tone was all sexy and dominant. The voice of the man who commanded her. The voice of her Master.

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Tamed is LIVE!!

I am so excited, Tamed is LIVE! Book two of my dark trilogy The Dark Necessities is finally released and I can’t wait for you to go on the journey with Molly and Connor as they fall down their path together.

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He took her, he caged her, but can he truly tame her?

Lost in the woods, author Molly Clary is running for her life. After being trapped in the torrid dark world of Connor Reilly, Molly has made a desperate escape from the tantalising torment, but little does she know what fate awaits her.

Connor is both a man and a monster, and in the depths of his depravity, something scintillating will bloom between them. Molly finds that she is falling for the sadist, a dangerous attraction that will take her right to the brink.

So, now it’s Molly’s choice. Can she manage the monster in order to lure the love of the man? A man who has already demonstrated just how cruel his sadistic streak can be? And when the truth is finally revealed, Molly will need to decide. Where do her true loyalties lie?

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“I hope it was good for you, pet,” he snarled as the scratch at his face stung in the cool night air. “Because that was the last time you’re ever going to strike me.”

She screamed at his words, but the sound coming from her lips sounded more like frustration, than terror. “But, it’s alright for you to strike me?” she snapped back, her head twisting toward him as he forced her a few meters back toward the waiting sedan.

“Of course,” he told her in a mocking tone. “You belong to me, pet. Remember? I will strike you when the need arises. To punish you, to train you. We’ve been all through this already, or at least I thought we had.”

“No!” she yelled, resisting his retreat as much as her bare feet would allow on the road. “Stop it, you fucker. I don’t want this!”

“Oh really?” he asked calmly as his back reached the edge of the car. “You don’t want this. Are you sure? That wasn’t what you were telling me in bed last night. You recall that, right? The time you practically begged to join me in bed, after you begged me to fuck you?”

Something in his questions seemed to resonate and for the first time since he’d pounced, Molly stopped fighting. Her body sagged against him, the rage inside her small frame apparently dissolving right in front of him.

“That was different,” she mumbled into her chest. “You were different.”

Connor glanced down at his little pet, surveying her as best he could in the darkness. Perhaps her accusation was accurate. He probably had seemed different the night he’d pleasured and fucked her. Certainly, he had felt different. But Molly didn’t understand the plan. Her captivity wasn’t just about pleasure – it couldn’t be. It was about training her, taming her, and making her into the thing he wanted. A pretty little pet who would suck his cock on command, right after she’d written their prose.

“The man who took you out here was the same guy who licked your sweet pussy, pet,” he informed her flatly. “Both men are me, and both are your Master.”

Molly threw her head back, slumping against his chest as though he’d just walloped her. “Please,” she begged. “Please, I can’t go back there with you. I can’t do this.”

She sounded distraught.

Broken.

The notion pleased him, although she really had no idea what it meant to be broken. Not yet. But she would.

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Felicity Brandon is a top 100 Amazon bestselling author.

She loves the darker side of romance, and writes sexy, suspenseful stories, with strong themes of bondage and submission.

You’ll find her either at her laptop, at the gym, or rocking out to her favourite music.

Find Felicity here:

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Molly finally understands what happens when she disobeys in this #SatSpanks

It is Saturday so it is time for #SatSpanks and you can finally see what Molly and Connor have been up to. Grab Taken now and dive into the dark trilogy!

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His new pet had the most stunning behind. It was pert, round and perfectly formed, without a doubt designed for his large palms to correct. That right palm rose from her flesh, before coming crashing back down against her. He relished the impact, watching as the strike reverberated over her flawless cheeks. There was no noise from her, not even a gasp, and the lack of response spurred him on. Delivering the second spank, he intentionally aimed for the same spot, this time observing her face as best he could as the impact vibrated around her body. Molly squeezed her eyes shut, but still there was no gasp, no yelp, nothing to suggest pain. Steeling himself, Connor delivered a further five swats in fast succession, and all the time he watched her even expression. His pet was stoic and strong, and a bizarre sense of pride filled him, but still, this was a punishment, and he wouldn’t be happy until she was overwhelmed with the sting of his palm.

“Why are you being spanked, pet?” he growled, peppering her cheeks with hard smacks as he spoke.

She opened her eyes, his voice apparently bringing her back to the here and now. “I didn’t finish my hot chocolate, Sir,” she replied, breathlessly.

Connor nodded at her admission, but his palm did not relent. Instead, it continued to spank her, lowering its intensity toward the sensitive flesh at the top of her thighs. As his hand connected to this new target, a small whimper left her delicate lips. His cock throbbed furiously at the sound, his gaze assessing her face as he shifted to the next thigh.

“More specifically,” he demanded, “tell me where your hot chocolate was when you failed to finish it as requested.”

Molly gasped, her eyes flying back to meet his as his palm spanked her again, alternating between her pale thighs. Connor gazed at her coolly. Now he was really enjoying himself. Not only was he getting to discipline his gorgeous little pet, but even better, he had found a weak spot. Having her thighs spanked obviously hurt, and as his gaze flitted back to her upturned bottom, he could see the flesh there beginning to color wonderfully.

“I didn’t finish the chocolate in my bowl, Sir” she answered him, her face flushing as she forced the words out.

Connor’s palm stilled, pressing into the heat of her punished bottom. She’d said the words out loud, just as he’d wanted. “That’s right,” he told her, ensuring his gaze drilled into the exposed area of her pretty face. “You’re going to have to get used to lapping from that bowl, pet, because that’s the only way you’ll be drinking from now on. Got it?” As he spoke his hand rose a few inches and swatted her upturned cheeks hard.

“Yes, Sir,” Molly gasped, eyeing him wildly.

“Good,” he replied, landing another three strikes against her now pink cheeks. “Bad pets who disobey me are punished, do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered again.

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