He pointed to the desk and I slowly lowered my body over, palms curled against the edge.
Dakota pulled my skirt up over my waist and smoothed a hand over my thighs, making me shiver.
“That’s ten,” he said. I could hear him tapping the cane on his hand. Once. Twice.
“Do you want me to count them?” I asked.
This was just a way for me to stall him. He knew this.
“No. Just stand still.”
And then he started.
The first three strokes landed on the middle of my ass. I was holding my breath, my leg flying up.
The fourth landed hard.
I squealed and my hand flew back to rub where I could feel a hot welt rising on the sit spot.
“Put your hand back. Now.”
“NO,” I said, continuing to rub.
Dakota pulled my arm away and I yanked away from him.
“Stop!” I said.
He yanked me up towards him. My eyes were watering as he held me sternly by the arm.
“Put your hands on the desk. If I have to tell you again, you’re going to regret it. And believe me, you don’t want to regret it.”
“FINE.” I turned away from him and rested my elbows back on the desk.
Dakota lifted my skirt.
“And drop the attitude, Suzy.”
“Okay,” I said, calming myself down a little, dropping my tone a little.
“How many was that?” he asked.
“You told me not to count. That was 5.”
A sharp stroke caught me by surprise, making me jump.
“You can say that without the smartass attitude.”
“Now how many was that?”
“And how did that feel?”
Strokes seven and eight hit the back of the thighs. My elbows rose but I was still clenching the edge tightly.
“Bend down. NOW.”
I whined loudly.
Stroke nine was noticeably lighter than the others. Stroke ten took my breath away. Immediately I stood, tears almost welling over.
Dakota whipped me around gracefully by the wrist and squeezed handfuls of my ass, as I hugged my body weight into him. He rubbed.
“That was too hard, D,” I said. “Don’t ever do that again. I mean it.”
“Mmm-hmmm, be a good girl, Suzy, and you won’t get spanked.”