Master of Two: Nascent Love by Derek, Verity Ant

Ami? Do you realize how
angry you made me?”
    Amiko’s voice was shaky and she cleared her
throat before speaking. “Yes, sir.” Her eyes went to the paddle in
his hand, then back up to his face.
    “I plan to tan your behind with this paddle,
girl. I plan to make sure that for the next few days you remember
how pissed off I can be.” He slapped his palm with the paddle
again; it hurt his calloused hand, but it would be much worse on
Amiko’s tender fanny. “And, I am going to throw out that vibrator.
Do you have any others?”
    She shook her head.
    “Good.” Marc moved to sit on the edge of the
bed and patted his thighs. “Come here.”
    * * *
    Amiko didn’t want to go to him, and yet she
wanted to pay the price for her disobedience. Once she’d been
punished, it would be over and they could go on as they’d done
before. His anger would be gone, the tears would dry, and she would
be returned to his affections. She crawled to him and then rose to
spread herself over his lap. He’d spanked her before, though he’d
always used just his hand. That had been bad enough, but that
paddle looked and sounded much, much worse.
    “Count.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    The first strike came swiftly, before she
could tense in preparation. It stung terribly on her left butt
cheek.
    “One, sir,” she said on a gasp.
    Another stroke of the paddle and her right
butt cheek got hot. “Two, sir!”
    The third smack made her jump as it landed
on the underside and middle of her bottom, spanning that tender
flesh cruelly. She began to sob.
    “Count, Amiko, or I’ll start over.”
    “Three, sir!”
    By twelve, she was crying fully; by fifteen
she began to beg him to stop. Her butt was on fire. She felt as
though the tender skin had been flayed from her behind, that she
was raw, every nerve screaming as she wished she could do.
    At the end of the twentieth stroke, he put
the paddle down and pushed her off his lap.
    “Go to your bed.”
    No cuddling. No warm post-spanking embrace.
No forgiveness offered. It was the most cruel thing he could have
done. The pain of her tortured flesh was nothing in comparison to
the pain in her heart.
    “I’m sorry, sir,” she sobbed. “Please
forgive me.”
    “You are forgiven, but I’m tired. We will
talk about this more tomorrow, Amiko. Now go to your bed.”
    * * *
    Three days later, she was transferred to
another man. She went willingly, realizing that she needed the
imposed discipline of a dominant male. Too, she knew that she was
still naïve, and she trusted Marc to find her the right situation
and the right person to shift her obedience to. Over the next year,
she was with two more dominant men; men who considered her precious
property, and in many ways she was spoiled and cosseted. Her formal
training was nearly complete, her spirit unbroken when she met the
Master, Kevin Watson. He took her breath away.
    * * *
    Renee considered her own training
experiences, so different from Amiko’s and yet leading to the same
place, the same man. She was attracted to the younger woman both
sexually and as a person. Having Amiko around was going to be an
adjustment for each of them, but perhaps something particularly
special could come of it. She trusted their Master to find the
way.
     

 
    A Man of
Discipline
    Sweat runs down my bare chest and back as I
finish my workout, and I'll have a bruise or two on my ribs
tomorrow, but I've been boxing since my early college days and it's
a sport that makes me more comfortable in my own skin. Now, at
forty-two, it is harder to do what I did as a twenty-year-old, but
I am also more savvy, wily, and just plain stubborn. As in other
aspects of my life, I take control of the situation and turn it to
my advantage more often than not.
    Some people call me a "control freak" and I
admit, there is some truth to that. I've been that way for a long
time and seem to have a natural tendency toward taking charge of
chaotic systems and ordering them, changing them into