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Anna doesn’t waste time arguing—she’s saving her breath for squirming and struggling.
“Do you know what they used to use woodsheds for?” I ask her as I carry her inside, carefully ducking so I don’t hit her head on the low doorframe. “That’s where they used to take naughty children when they misbehaved. And baby girl . . . you’ve been very naughty.”
As soon as I set her down she tries to run again, but I was expecting that. I seize her by the hands, then take off my belt and wrap it around her wrists. I pass the end of the belt all the way through the buckle, cinching it tight, then I hoist her arms up over her head and tie the other end around the rafter.
“Let go of me!” Anna demands, her cheeks already flaming pink and her eyes brilliant blue in the gloom.
“I don’t know why you always have to poke the bear…” I walk around her slowly as she stands on tiptoe in the center of the woodshed. Anna can stand in that position for a very long time. “I think you like to see how wild the bear really is . . .”
Anna bites back a smile. She’s enjoying this a little too much. I’m going to have to punish her harder than usual. She’s too tough—she’ll barely feel it otherwise.
I grab the front of her shirt and I tear it open, baring her chest. She isn’t wearing a bra. Her nipples instantly stiffen up as if in defense of what I’m about to do.
“That was my favorite shirt!” Anna cries.
“Keep quiet or I’ll have to gag you.”
When Anna opens her mouth to retort, I use the remains of her t-shirt as a gag, tying it tight behind her head. The outrage at this occasion causes many muffled shrieks.
“That’s probably better anyway,” I say. “Your dad already wants to kill me. Imagine if he heard you screaming off in the woods . . .”
I run my tongue over Anna’s helpless lips, spread apart and held open by the gag. Anna twists and squirms, rotating on the end of the belt. I grab her nipple and pinch it hard, making her shriek at a much higher frequency.
“Can you tell me baby . . .” I say. “Why do you love this so much?”
I shove my hand down the front of her jeans, dipping my middle finger inside her soft, tight pussy. When I pull it out, my finger is soaked all the way up the second knuckle. I hold it up to show her.
Anna narrows her pale blue eyes, passing over from fear to rage. That’s all part of it—part of making her feel every last acute sensation blended with her arousal.
I know what my girl needs. She’s no common princess, wanting to be stroked and pampered. Anna is a mafia queen. That means she would never tolerate a civilian or a soldier. She only submits to the motherfucking king.
She needs the boss of bosses.
The only man who can tame her.
She needs me.
“Do you know what a switch is?” I ask her.
She watches me silently through those narrowed eyes, refusing to nod or shake her head.
I take the switch down from the wall. I cut it off a birch tree and stripped the bark off it. It’s long and flexible, with just the right amount of whip.
I slowly slide my fingers down its length, testing its flexibility. Then I bring it down sharply on my palm, making a loud cracking sound that makes Anna flinch.
“When someone needs to be punished, you take them to the woodshed and you fetch the switch,” I say to Anna, softly. “Baby girl . . . you need to be punished.”
I walk around her again, trailing the switch lightly across her bare back. Her flesh trembles and her fists tighten in the loop of my belt.
Swiftly, I reach around her and unbuckle her jeans, yanking them down around her knees. Her underwear comes with them. Now I can see the smooth twin globes of her ass, flawless and unmarked.
Not for long.
I bring the switch down hard on her ass. It leaves a thin red line, right across both cheeks. Anna’s muffled scream is the highest yet.
I whip her again and again, until her ass is striped with red lines, and both cheeks are glowing pink, no hint of creamy skin left.
She stops shrieking, but her body still flinches with each hit. Her nipples are so hard that they stand out an inch from her chest.
