| Author: | Anna Austin | ISBN: | 9781370058433 |
| Publisher: | Boruma Publishing, LLC | Publication: | February 13, 2017 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords | Language: | English |
| Author: | Anna Austin |
| ISBN: | 9781370058433 |
| Publisher: | Boruma Publishing, LLC |
| Publication: | February 13, 2017 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords |
| Language: | English |
Leticia is a spoiled, wild child. She cannot be tamed, and she laughs in the face of propriety. Her family are in despair—and Leticia doesn't give a damn.
So they send her for discipline elsewhere, to an institution that specializes in making naughty young ladies see the error of their ways. Leticia is defiant, and finds herself in the office—and then bent over the knees—of the stern headmaster. He will teach her a special kind of discipline—and awaken in her a desire that she never thought possible…
~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~
"One…" the Headmaster began calmly, expecting her response.
When none came, another smack rang through the air, in the same place as before and this time it was harder to write it off. The sting of the original still hummed but she stifled her yell.
"One…" the Headmaster repeated, and she cursed aloud. The man had every intention of making her count, regardless of how long it took to get there. Still, she refused to do so without making her mark back.
"I am sorry, Sir." She responded, the disdain of the last word sliding off her tongue like she'd eaten bad meat.
However, it seemed to satisfy him, as the next strike came with progression.
"Two." He counted, the flat of his palm finding the same spot again. The pain was palpable this time, and the sting immediate. She felt the prickle of tears burning behind her eyes, but still she held true to her convictions.
"I am sorry, Sir." She'd said it with a surprisingly strong tone, like a mother chastising her child, but the second it left her lips another strike came, again on her right buttock.
The undignified squeal she made was louder than his calm count of three, and the breath had been knocked thoroughly from her, the singeing throb almost unbearable.
"I am sorry, Sir!" she continued, barely able to catch the break to say the words. She wasn't proud of the way they came out, and she could feel her resolve slipping.
When the fourth blow came, her knees almost gave out from under her were it not for the support of the leg that had trapped her. Her response was croaked more than spoken and when the fifth came, she thought for a moment that she had forgotten to feel pain, up until the point his other hand, cold from the chill, pressed against the harshly reddened flesh of her rump.
Leticia is a spoiled, wild child. She cannot be tamed, and she laughs in the face of propriety. Her family are in despair—and Leticia doesn't give a damn.
So they send her for discipline elsewhere, to an institution that specializes in making naughty young ladies see the error of their ways. Leticia is defiant, and finds herself in the office—and then bent over the knees—of the stern headmaster. He will teach her a special kind of discipline—and awaken in her a desire that she never thought possible…
~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~
"One…" the Headmaster began calmly, expecting her response.
When none came, another smack rang through the air, in the same place as before and this time it was harder to write it off. The sting of the original still hummed but she stifled her yell.
"One…" the Headmaster repeated, and she cursed aloud. The man had every intention of making her count, regardless of how long it took to get there. Still, she refused to do so without making her mark back.
"I am sorry, Sir." She responded, the disdain of the last word sliding off her tongue like she'd eaten bad meat.
However, it seemed to satisfy him, as the next strike came with progression.
"Two." He counted, the flat of his palm finding the same spot again. The pain was palpable this time, and the sting immediate. She felt the prickle of tears burning behind her eyes, but still she held true to her convictions.
"I am sorry, Sir." She'd said it with a surprisingly strong tone, like a mother chastising her child, but the second it left her lips another strike came, again on her right buttock.
The undignified squeal she made was louder than his calm count of three, and the breath had been knocked thoroughly from her, the singeing throb almost unbearable.
"I am sorry, Sir!" she continued, barely able to catch the break to say the words. She wasn't proud of the way they came out, and she could feel her resolve slipping.
When the fourth blow came, her knees almost gave out from under her were it not for the support of the leg that had trapped her. Her response was croaked more than spoken and when the fifth came, she thought for a moment that she had forgotten to feel pain, up until the point his other hand, cold from the chill, pressed against the harshly reddened flesh of her rump.
