Mastering Inga (Service & Submission Book 2) by Megan Michaels Page B

texted or called me. You knew what you were supposed to do. You’re testing me, wanting to know where the boundaries are and how I’ll react when a boundary is crossed. Well, my dear, you’ll find out tonight. I don’t set boundaries to have them ignored. To give you something to think about while you wait for your punishment, unzip those shorts and pull down both the shorts and panties.”
    “N-now?” She looked toward the hallway. “The kids could come in any second.”
    “Master. Say ‘Master.’”
    “Master, the kids could come in any second.”
    “They won’t. They’re busy watching TV, and if they do, I’ll take care of distracting them. Your job is to obey, no questions asked.”
    He was serious. Dead serious. She undid her jean shorts, pulling them and her panties down in one move, widening her legs to keep her clothes from hitting the floor. He bent her over and wrapped his left arm around her waist, wasting no time in swatting her bottom five times — hard.
    Her shorts hit the floor as she bent her knees, gasping in pain, the burn blooming across her bottom. How did someone hit this hard with only his hand?
    “Oh, God! That hurts.” She rubbed her bottom. “Jävel! Skitsnacket!”
    Garrett chuckled. “What did you just say?”
    “I said, ‘son of a bitch’ and ‘bullshit’. I’m sorry. But God, you spank so hard!” She continued to rub her bottom.
    “Pull your pants up. You’ll have them rubbing on your sore bottom during dinner as a reminder. After the kids are in bed, we’ll deal with your punishment.
    She pulled them up, hissing as the fabric scraped over her injured backside.
    * * *
     
    G arrett tucked Liam into his crib, then made his way to the kitchen. Time to deal with his naughty nanny.
    As soon as he entered the kitchen, he said, “Pull your shorts and panties down to mid-thigh.”
    Her eyes widened and she stared at him with a deer-in-the-headlights look.
    “Now, Inga.”
    She pulled them down and stood with her bare little pussy exposed.
    Christ, even her pussy is pretty—small, narrow, and smoothly shaven.
    Pretty.
    “You’ll stand like this while I lecture you. Spread your legs so your pants stay up, and so I can see your clit peeking through your labia.”
    She widened her stance and a pretty blush rose on her pale skin. She looked embarrassed and a little frightened. A great combination.
    “I make rules to be followed — followed by the slave in the house. You asked to be trained as a slave. If I remember correctly, you begged me to be trained as a slave. Slaves do as they’re told. It isn’t a difficult rule. You wear dresses with a thong so your bottom is available for discipline or sex” At the mention of her bottom being available his cock stirred. “If you need to wear pants or shorts, you’re to contact me. You didn’t contact me. Didn’t even try to contact me. It’s defiance, pure and simple. Clear-cut. And you deserve punishment for the disobedience. Do you agree?”
    The blood drained from her face and with a bit of hesitation she responded. “Yes, Master. I agree. I didn’t call you. I remembered… and I didn’t do it. Didn’t even try. I thought I’d be able to put a dress on before you came home.”
    Her nether lips were glistening with the excess of her juices. He needed to distract himself. He adjusted his pants, making room for his growing cock. “So how often have you done this?”
    “N-never. I promise. I don’t usually mind wearing dresses.”
    “Again, we discussed this before, but let me stress it again. Whether you like the rule or not, you obey it. You obey it because it pleases me. Period. If you disobey, you’re punished. End of story.”
    He walked over to the kitchen counter, opening a drawer and pulling out a pad of paper and a pen. “I want you to write lines tonight — after a small spanking. Then when you’re done, you’ll get another small spanking. The spanking isn’t the punishment — writing the lines is