The Dom's Dungeon Read Free Page A

and
he knew he'd locked it before he left. In fact, he'd even checked it before
leaving. Anger unfurled inside him, growing hard and fast. The terms of the
vacation trade were spelled out clearly in the contract, including the locking
of nonessential rooms. She'd deliberately broken in.
    He
couldn't hear anything inside, but he'd soundproofed the room years ago.
    Placing a
hand on the door, he silently pushed it open. Not difficult to spot her. She'd
draped herself over the spanking bench, head hanging down on one side, legs on
the other, with her ass—a pretty, round ass—up in the air.
    Well, well . A trickle of humor dampened
the anger. Now wasn't that an appropriate position for someone richly deserving
punishment?
    He'd enjoy
turning those cheeks a nice pink.
    He walked
over silently. Before she could move, he set his hand on the back of her neck,
holding her firmly across the horse. She gave a yelp of surprise. Her thick,
wavy golden hair hung almost to the floor, concealing her face. Maybe five-five
or so, she had a nicely toned body.
    Since he'd
adjusted the horse for Cynthia's taller body, this smaller woman's arms and
legs dangled, giving her no leverage to struggle. Although
she was certainly trying.
    He didn't
bother to listen to the sputtering and cursing coming from the submissive under
his hands. And that she was submissive, he had no doubt. Someone might have
played on the spanking horse, possibly, but the way she'd positioned herself so
carefully, and the tiny wiggle she'd given when finally in position, spoke of a
person imagining herself helpless and being excited at
the idea.
    A Dom had
a duty to give a submissive what she needed, not always what she wanted…and to
administer punishment as required.
    “I locked
this room before I left. You broke in.” A sub always needed to know the reason
for the punishment. He gave her a hard swat, precisely placed on the fullest
part of her buttocks.
     
    What is the owner doing home? A
second later, the man's hand hit Mac's bottom, the stinging pain almost
extinguished by her shock. He hit me! She struggled furiously, but his large hand gripped her neck and pressed down
unyieldingly.
    Naked and caught . Humiliation swept through her in a hot wave. “Let me go!”
    He didn't
respond to her struggles or shouts, as if what she said was meaningless. His
voice deep and controlled, he said slowly, “I trusted you with my house and my
dog. Rather than respecting that, you break into a locked room and make
yourself at home. Your punishment is five swats.” His hand slammed across her
bottom again.
    And
again.
    The
burning pain swamped her mind. The fiery sensations on her bare skin hit each
time in the same spot. At the fourth blow, her eyes filled with tears. His hand
felt hot against her neck as his grip on it eased slightly. From deep inside
her, guilt and shame welled up, choking off her yells. She shouldn't have
opened a locked door; she'd betrayed an agreement, a trust.
    But
spanking? No one had ever spanked her. Ever. Foster
children got time-outs; children who belonged got spanked.
    As he gave
the final swat, a shudder ran through her, leaving her trembling inside and
out.
    He still
held her firmly with one hand; now the other stroked down her back, a firm,
knowing touch. Not sexual but…assessing. When the hand reached her stinging
bottom, she hissed with the increased pain.
    “I want
you to remain in this position—what was your name?—ah, MacKensie .
Is that clear?”
    “Yes.” She
couldn't manage more than a whisper as the magnitude of her terrible blunder
struck her harder than his blows. Oh God,
what have I done? She'd not only broken the Exchanges contract, but more…
Her neurotic need to open doors had destroyed her new start. How could she get
a job as a vet out here if he turned her into the police? Or he could do
something worse…
    After
Exchanges sent Fontaine's bio, she'd checked him out on the Net. He was not
only richer than God, but he