Nickie wanted to argue about the no alcohol thing, but she didn’t. She often didn’t allow her slaves to drink around her because she wanted them sharp. It wasn’t the not drinking that bothered her, it was the high-handed way he let her know she couldn’t drink.

I’d rather we both be sober tonight wouldn’t have bothered her, but just informing her she wasn’t getting any… She sighed. Submissives don’t get to make rules. They get to form boundaries, but then the Dom gets to make the rules within those boundaries. She’d never even try to negotiate being able to drink during a scene. This wasn’t something she should be upset about, and yet… fuck.

She walked out onto the little balcony and breathed in the energy. The ancient hardwoods all around made it feel like a hot tub in a treehouse, a little isolated paradise. And yet, she didn’t want to strip and get in. She loved soaking in a hot tub. Why was she rebelling against orders she didn’t mind following? Bud had more than proved he’s capable of not just Topping her, but truly Dominating her.

She walked back in the house and took in his bedroom. His bed looked like a mix between a treehouse and a fancy four-poster bed. The canopy was made so one would feel as if they were looking up into the branches of a tree from below, and the posts holding it up looked like the trunks of a huge walnut tree, complete with the pattern on the bark. The rest of his house had been decorated with company in mind, but this was Bud’s den.

She was going to have to give one of her werewolves a bed like this.

There was no armoire, no dresser, no chest. All his things were probably in a huge walk-in closet somewhere. The room was dominated by the bed. A bench at the base of it was probably where he sat to lace his riding boots, and a laptop on the coffee table of a small seating area told her he likely worked from home in here sometimes. Or, maybe it was where he watched porn. The thoughts of him jacking off to kinky porn made her grin, and reminded her she was supposed to be getting naked.

Nickie’s clit thrummed to life as she removed her clothes and folded them on the bench. It was just the right height to kneel on and bend over the footboard for a spanking.

Her guards were supposed to have brought her bag earlier, when they scouted and worked out a game plan for emergencies, and she wondered where Bud had put it. She’d packed her toiletries, two changes of clothes, and her laptop.

She and Bud were taking a two-day vacation from work, though both understood they’d need to check in and handle shit for probably an hour a day. But for now, she was naked in Bud’s bedroom, and she figured he’d stowed the bag somewhere handy.

Walking outside without clothes felt naughty, but she trusted his word that it was okay. Some hot tubs weren’t configured for short people, but she happily found a seat a little higher than the others, so she could lean her head back and relax without her face being halfway in the water.

“Do I dare ask what you rounded up?” she asked as he stepped out on the little balcony a while later, totally nude. She sat up enough she could look him over from head to toe. She’d seen him naked before, but this was different. He was soft, they weren’t touching, and he was standing in the sunshine.

Overwhelmed by his sheer beauty, she could only stare. Bud was the most magnificent man she’d ever seen. Sculpted, sharp lean muscles wrapped over each other. Add to that the predatory way he walked and the intense look in his eyes… Nickie considered what it’d be like to try to Top such a man, but the idea didn’t appeal to her. She wanted Bud over her, dominating her and hurting her in the most marvelous ways.

He wouldn’t be Bud if he let her tell him what to do. Once you’ve tamed the wolf he becomes a pet. A dog. She liked him just the way he was, even if he sometimes annoyed her with his bossiness.

At a loss for what to say or where to look, she asked, “I didn’t see my bag when I came up. Is it still downstairs?”

“It’s locked in one of my gun cabinets, along with the clothes and shoes you just removed.” He settled the towels on a chair, sat on the edge of the hot tub, swung both legs around, and slid into the water to sit on one of the little seats across from her. “You’ll be my naked little brat until it’s time for you to go home. I’ll get your toothbrush and whatever else you need out of it, but you won’t get the whole thing until shortly before time for you to leave, day after tomorrow.”

Nickie was simultaneously ticked off and horny-as-fuck, and she sat on her right hand to keep from pressing her growing clit with it.

“I didn’t agree to that.”

“You agreed to be mine sexually, twenty-four seven, and you agreed to remain at my house until four o’clock the day after tomorrow, with the understanding you’ll only need an hour or two a day to handle stuff online unless your assistant calls you with something unexpected, and you’ll be mine the rest of the time. Is there a reason you need to be clothed to get online? Are you recording video while you’re here?”

She shook her head.

“Then we’re good.”

Not exactly, but there was no way to argue without sounding petty. Like a brat. She decided to change the conversation.

“I love your bed. I need to take a picture of it so I can describe it in a book. One of my werewolves needs that bed. Or maybe an owl shifter? Hmmm. Have to think on it, but someone is going to get your bed.”

“Not my bed exactly. It’s a one-of-a-kind, but you can go with the idea of it as long as you stay away from specifics.”

“I specifically wanted to use the walnut tree trunks holding the canopy up. Walnut is one of the hardest woods, and your wood gets incredibly hard.” She grinned at him, but he didn’t smile back. “I’ve already worked out some dialogue about it when she first sees it, but she’ll need to be some kind of plant person to recognize it, or maybe a park ranger for the national forest. I don’t know, I’ll have to figure that part out.”

“The bark is hand carved and then painted to look right. You can’t use an actual tree trunk with the bark still on it as furniture. You have to treat wood so it won’t rot. You aren’t a plant person, so how’d you know it’s made to look like four walnut trees?”

“My dad taught me how to identify trees by both bark and leaves.”

“I look forward to meeting your dad.”

“I don’t see him often. He retired from the military the first chance he got after mom died, and moved to Healy, Alaska. It takes days to reach him. The population of the town’s around three hundred people. It’s beautiful country, but he moved there to get away from the world. He wanted simple, slow, and easy for his retirement, and I’m thrilled he’s found it. At first, he insisted we mail letters back and forth. He knows how to use a computer, but refuses. When I visited him, I made friends with the local tech geek and got his email address, so I email a pdf to him and he prints it and delivers it to my dad for me. Eventually, dad gave up and now he writes his letters, takes them to one of the three little restaurants in town, where the owner’s teenage son scans them in and emails them to me.” She grinned. “Anything the kid doesn’t need to know, I either pick up the phone or send him a letter the old-fashioned way. Small towns are all about the gossip.”

They talked casually for at least an hour, but Bud seemed in no hurry to get started on the sexy fun. Nickie had teased his inner thigh with her toes until he’d pulled her in his lap, but he’d held her and kept talking.

“I thought we were gonna fool around.”

“We will.” He kissed the side of her neck from behind. “But on my timetable, not yours. I’m enjoying this — spending time and getting to know you. Just because I have the right to sex with you every minute doesn’t mean I’ll take it. I want to know what’s in your head, too.”

“Well, my food’s fully digested, so we’re good there.”

When he didn’t say anything, Nickie said, “Oh, maybe you can’t get a hard-on in the hot water? Maybe we should get out.”

“My dick’s fine, but I bet your nipples will firm up nice in a cold shower.”

“Probably, but your teeth would work just as well.”

His grin told her he was enjoying this. She reached for his cock, but he grabbed her wrist before she got to it. “You don’t have permission to do that just yet, Brat.”

Her left hand was on her thigh, and she slowly moved it to her pussy, separated her lips, and sank a finger inside. Water nearly always kept her from being slick, but the resistance just made her single finger have more of an impact. She leaned her head back on his shoulder and moaned as she spread herself with two fingers.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking care of myself.” She pressed a third finger in and closed her eyes in bliss.

Bud’s strength had taken her by surprise several times, but now she could only hold onto him in alarm and disbelief as he stood with her in his arms and stepped out of the hot tub as if he carried a towel.

“Where are you taking me!?”

“Cold shower. You need to cool off.”

“No! You need to warm up!”

“Mmmm.”

Nickie fought him for all she was worth, but he stood calmly under the same icy-cold spray she screamed through. He held her in his arms, strong and warm despite the cold, until she climbed him and wrapped herself around him. “I’m sorry! God, please make it stop!”

“Bud will do,” he chuckled, but he turned the water off. “What have we learned?”

“Playing with myself is apparently pushing too far.”

“Only if you don’t have permission.” He leaned in, nipped her lower lip with his teeth. “As it happens though, now that you’re all cold, I’m thinking it’s a good time for a hand spanking — they hurt so much more on cold, wet, skin.”

Nickie’s insides went molten and her legs turned weak — not just from the promise of a spanking, but the look in his eyes and the deep, sexy timbre of his voice. He wanted to hurt her. Not just wanted… needed.

She figured they’d dry off and go in the other room, but he sat on the side of the fancy tub next to the shower, pulled her down and over his knees, and gave her ten fast pops on her left ass cheek that had her screaming from the first powerful slap. A short pause to let her catch her breath, and he popped the same cheek ten more times in quick succession.

“Please don’t make me uneven! Fuck! I’m sorry I played with myself in the tub! Please even it out!”

“Mmmmm. We started on your timetable, so you don’t get it even. Bratting is fine as long as we’re both having fun, but don’t think you can force my hand without consequences.”

Another ten strikes to her left ass cheek and she was ready to offer just about anything to keep him from whaling on one cheek all night.

Five more sets of ten to the same cheek and she heard herself shouting, “What can I do to get you to even me up? Please, Bud!”

“Nothing, Brat. You’re getting your spanking, but you’ll get it my way. Thank me for it.”

No way in hell was she going to thank him for an uneven damned spanking.

He didn’t stop at ten the next time, and he went too fast for her to count. His hand landed harder and harder until she could barely breathe between screams, and when she could take no more she managed to belt out a garbled “Thank you!” He stopped immediately, though she wasn’t sure how he’d understood her because she wasn’t sure she would’ve.

He held her to him and rubbed her back until her sobs stopped, but didn’t say a word. Finally, he said, “You’ll find a hairdryer hanging to the right just inside the bathroom closet. I assume you’ll need a brush and toothbrush from your overnight bag. What else?”

“Just bring the whole thing and I’ll pull out what I need.”

“So, just the brush and toothbrush then.” He stood with her, planted her on her feet, and let go slowly. “You good?”

“No, some asshole just gave me a lopsided spanking!”

“Mmmm.” Bud turned and walked away, and she quickly added, “There’s a little toiletry bag inside, with makeup and stuff. Also, some hair clips and ponytail holders are in the inside pocket.”

He returned with everything she’d asked for, and she thanked him.

“You’re welcome, but what are you thanking me for?”

“My things.”

“Not the spankin’?”

She could see the twinkle in his eye, so she shrugged. “You didn’t seem like the type of guy to half-assed do things, guess I was wrong about you.”

He grinned, Nickie grinned, and then they both cracked up. “Okay, Brat. Get your hair dry. I’m going to step out on the balcony and make a phone call. Come to the bedroom when you’re ready.”

Nickie dried her hair and pulled it into a messy bun on top of her head — ponytails can be a pain when you’re lying flat on your back. No eyeliner or mascara because that shit looks bad when it runs, but a touch of eyeshadow and contouring made her feel a little pulled together.

Bud was wrapping duct tape around alligator clamps when she came into the bedroom, and her nipples shrank to hard pebbles while her clit demanded attention and her left ass cheek throbbed with the memory of his hand. Every cell in her body pulsed with need. The clamps would be even tighter with all that tape around each side, but they wouldn’t dig into her nipples and make them bleed.

“Cat got your tongue?”

She hadn’t realized she’d frozen in the doorway, and she took a cautious step into the room, her eyes locked on his hands — those deft, strong fingers holding tools to hurt her with.

“Five modified alligator clamps. Nipples, clit, and pussy lips, most likely,” she guessed. “You’ve already told me what you use the electrical cord for, and since I detest loopy johnnies I’m sure I’ll hate it as well, which should make you happy.” Her heart sped and her stomach somersaulted as she immediately understood the best use for the straightened wire clothes hanger and the car antenna, but she didn’t mention them.

“No bondage tonight unless you prove not to have any self-control.”

She sighed, disappointed. “I’ve never been trained like that. I’m not telling you what to do, just making sure you understand I’ve never been expected to hold still on my own. I’m bound and beaten in BDSM clubs, easy-peasy, just stand or lie there and take it because moving away from the pain isn’t possible. I’ve submitted to a few men here and there, and I want to submit to you, but don’t expect me to be all trained and shit.”

She’d also molded and reprogrammed plenty of little slave boys to be what she wanted, and she knew what was involved in the process. She’d never wanted to be trained before, but the idea of Bud taking her in hand and making her his in every way had her pulse fluttering and her insides clenching.

“Well then, let’s get started training you.” He pointed to a white sheet of paper on the floor in between his seating area and bed. Nothing special, just a piece of copy paper. Nickie noted he’d moved a chair in the seating area closer to the sofa to give a bigger space, and she figured that meant he intended to use the antenna or coat hanger.

“On the paper and stand on your toes. Hands to the back of your head. Place your feet carefully when you step on. If you step off, if your heels touch the ground, or if you rip the paper, there’ll be consequences. If you rip it, I have more paper and we can try again. Also, if your hands come down, there’ll be consequences. Maybe not right away, but they’ll happen.”

“You can’t hit my hands. I write and type for a living, that’s a hard limit.”

“Noted.” He lifted a doctored alligator clamp. “Where are you supposed to be?”

“On the paper.”

He crossed his arms and they locked gazes until she felt as if she were challenging a wolf for dominance. Nickie never looked away for anyone, but she couldn’t help but drop her eyes for Bud. The memory of the sofa in her office versus the sofa in her bedroom came back to her, and the left side of her ass throbbed while the right side felt nothing. With a sigh, Nickie kept her eyes to the ground and walked to the paper.

“Good girl. As a reward, you can move your hands to the top of your head when your arms get tired. Start with them at the back, though. Lace your fingers and brace them.”

Nickie spread her feet as wide as possible on the paper because she’d need as much help balancing as possible, and went to her toes. She lifted her left foot, resituated it, and when she felt secure she looked up and into Bud’s penetrating, dark emerald-green eyes once again.

She often wrote of men who were so tuned into the woman they loved, they were aware of every emotion, every problem, every joy. Real men weren’t like that though, which was what made the fantasy so perfect. Bud blew that out of the water with his way-too-perceptive eyes.

Nickie looked at his forehead to break the spell, and managed to tell him, “I’m good for a few minutes, but I’m not sure how long I can hold it.”

He walked to her with two of the clamps. “Of course. Fair warning though, if I have to tie you to keep you still, it won’t be comfortable, and you’ll wish with every fiber of your being that you’d dug deeper for self-control.”

Nickie believed him, and she made micro-adjustments to her spine and hips to settle into the pose better.

So casually, he kneaded and twisted her right nipple, held it with one hand, and tenderly secured the alligator clamp so it didn’t snap closed, but firmed around it slowly. Nickie’s eyes watered and she breathed through it without screaming or whining.

She’d been right about it being tighter. Fuck, that mother-fucking hurt like a mother-fucker.

Her left nipple received the same attention, and he used his thumb to wipe the sole tear on her cheek as he leaned down to kiss her, his lips branding hers with their intensity, his tongue invading. Even on tiptoes, Bud was a good bit taller than her, and Nickie squeezed her hands hard at the back of her head as she opened to Bud’s insistent, dominating lips and tongue. He settled his hands on her waist to help balance her while he ravished her mouth, and she went even higher on tiptoe to try to chase him when he pulled away.

His gaze was molten as it swept over her from head to toe from three feet away. “Fuck, you’re beautiful like this. Can’t wait to mark your skin again.”

Nickie had noted that morning how the bruises from their first night had faded. He’d spanked her since, but hadn’t bruised her again.

He stepped to the sofa, retrieved the antenna, and whipped it through the air a few times for effect before he returned to her. “Unless you’ve felt an old car antenna before, this is gonna hurt worse than anything you’ve been caned or whipped with. I expect you to stand and take it. We’ll go slow, but you’ll get six of my best, and if you take a step, come down off your toes, or move your hands, it won’t count.”

His eyes were dark, his expression grim, and Nickie was suddenly unsure. Her hands and feet wanted to move, but she forced herself to be still, and asked, “Have I pissed you off?”

His eyes went soft and he cupped her cheek in the warmth of his hand. “No, Brat. I just want to hurt you. Sometimes I like tying someone and beating them, so they have no choice but to take it, and that’s how punishments will usually go — fast and hard, and impossible to be still through. Tonight though, I want you to show me you want the pain. I want you to fight for it, to stand for it.”

“Okay, but in my world, pain without a warmup is for punishments.”

He grinned. “Warmed the left side of your ass — want me to stick to just that side?”

“Fuck no, and for the record, there’s being sadistic, and then there’s being a sadistic fucking asshole. Wanna guess where you landed with that trick?”

He chuckled again. “Always been a sadistic fucking asshole. No need to change now.” His eyes went serious again but stayed warm. “Gonna hurt you now. Like I said, we’ll take our time. No hurry, but you’ll take six of these without moving before we graduate to the next step. If I reach twelve and you aren’t at least halfway through your six, I’ll tie you up and they’ll come fast and hard to finish. I won’t mind it coming to that, but I don’t think you want it to go there.”

Nickie had been caned with everything she could think of, including straightened wire coat hangers, which were the second most painful torture tool. The most painful was this Delrin cane someone had used on her, as big around as a man’s thumb but flexible enough it kinda molded to your skin as it struck. It was both sting and thud, and it had hurt so bad she’d bought one to use as a punishment tool for her slaves.

She’d called the Delrin cane a twenty-five on a scale of one to ten, but if that were the case then the antenna was a three thousand on the same scale.

Fire blazed through the skin, muscles, and nerves of her butt cheeks like she’d been caned with a lightning bolt, and she took about ten steps forward, fell onto the bed, curled into a ball, and tried not to wet herself. Tears flowed from her eyes and her nose filled with snot.

Bud didn’t say a word about her moving. He climbed onto the bed, pulled her to him, and held her. When she sniffled, he reached to the side table and retrieved a tissue. She took it from him, blew her nose, and set the tissue to the side to throw away later.

“Fuck, I’m never going to be able to stand still for that. You may as well tie me up and give me all six now.”

His hand continued stroking her back, and he kissed the top of her head. “Tell me how your pussy feels?”

“Empty,” she admitted. “I need to be fucked in the worst sort of way.”

“Love your honesty. The endorphins should be kickin’ in about now. Ready to give it another try on the paper?”

Nickie took stock of her body and realized he was right. Her ass still fucking hurt worse than it should from a single strike of anything, but she felt the throbbing and heat more than the pain, which meant her body had manufactured whatever drugs it was so good at making. She hoped the chemists never figured out how to make them, because she’d become a junkie if she could buy this shit.

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Let me help you walk. You’re a little shaky.”

“Gee, I wonder why the fuck that is.”

“C’mon, Brat. Let’s get you standing on the paper again.”

He worked with her until she had her balance, and didn’t make her wait long for the strike. She barely yelped the first time, but she let loose a blood-curdling scream she was sure neighbors must’ve heard for miles around when the awful metal cut into the cheeks of her ass to deliver scorched hellfire and torment — the strike felt as if it seared the outer skin while the weight of it penetrated deep into her muscles. Sting, pressure, pain, heat. It was a slice of agony, but this time she absorbed the pain and stood her ground.

Intense. So fucking intense. She ached all the way to her bones. Her clit and nipples throbbed, but her bottom felt as if it swelled around the two welts she knew lined her cheeks.

“Good girl.” He was back in front of her, his hands at her hips, helping her balance. “Permission to go down onto your heels and put your hands behind your back as a reward. Also…” He waited until she was down before he let go of one hip and reached for the clips. “Let’s let a little circulation into your nipples.” He put his thumb and forefinger around the handles of both clips and met her gaze. “Ready?”

“No, but do it anyway. I’ll never be ready for it.”

The pain hit in both nipples simultaneously as the blood streamed back to feed oxygen-starved cells and raw nerve endings, and he wrapped both arms around her and held her to the front of his body as she squealed and tried to breathe through it.

“This is a trial for me, too. Want to order you to your knees to blow me ’cause my dick is taking on a life of its own. Not going to. Not yet, anyway.”

It took five more strikes to get through three that actually counted, but she felt as if she were out of the woods once they were at four and she was more than halfway through. Two more. She’d survived seven so far, and despite the endorphins now flowing through her body, she wasn’t looking forward to more.

He’d surpassed the limits of her masochism, and yet no way in hell would she consider safewording to make it stop. He’d turned this into some kind of fucked-up bonding exercise, where he coached her through standing still for it and then comforted her through the pain. She might not want the damned antenna again, but she wanted his voice, his hands, his orders, his energy.

The nipple clamps had gone back on and come off again, and the agony had been so much worse the second time. She wasn’t sure she could handle a third time, and yet she knew she would if he asked her to. No, if he expected her to. There was no asking, with Bud.

He checked her paper again to make sure it wasn’t torn — she was on her third sheet — and then coached her through going back onto her toes and preparing to stand for the next slice from the brutal, unbearable antenna.

She knew what to expect now: the impact, followed quickly by the initial pain, and then a few seconds later the deeper nerves screamed to life and she had to convince her feet they were sunk in concrete and couldn’t move. A count of seven in her head, and then Bud was there, supporting her and holding her and letting her come off her toes. Her arms went around his neck and he walked to the sofa with her and cradled her in his lap this time.

“Such a good girl. So strong. So fierce.” He kissed her forehead and rocked her a little. “And mine. My brat. My good girl.”

“Are we done?”

“No. One more, but you aren’t ready yet. It’ll be the worst yet. Relax and let me hold you a few minutes.”

Several long moments later, he nuzzled her neck with his mouth, kissing and licking until goosebumps rose on her entire body.

“You didn’t have the location of the clamps quite right,” he muttered between kisses. “Two on your clit. One snugged up behind the head, another on the clit hood.”

Her clit pulsed and her insides quaked, but she didn’t ask him not to. Once he made up his mind, it was going to happen. “And the fifth?”

“Your tongue.”

She absorbed what that meant and dug for a smart-ass response, but her inner SAM had left the building.

“Yes, Sir.”