Free Woman In Chains by Bridget Midway

your hands on the counter.”
    Rebekah stared at him, then at the counter. He heard her breathing increase to a hyper panting.
    “Now!” He knew he would have to do the punishment swiftly before she could process the idea.
    The more she thought about it, the more panic-stricken she would become.
    “I don’t have all night. At this point, you don’t want to make me repeat myself.” Dak stepped back to give her room.
    After long consideration, Rebekah approached him.
    “On the counter.” Dak moved behind her and waited.
    In the full-length horizontal mirror over the sink, he watched her chew her lower lip before assuming the position.
    “Your feet back.” He tapped her still-booted foot with his and waited for her to take a couple of steps backward, causing her ass to stick out.
    Although the baggy sweatpants did nothing for her figure, having her bend over did. Even through the unflattering garment, he saw the shape of her rounded ass. Dak’s heart pounded as though awakened after several years of nonuse.
    She flinched when he placed his hand on the small of her back. Dak didn’t want to scare her. He hadn’t intended to beat her into submission. He’d given her one rule to follow. She couldn’t call herself “This Slave” while in his presence. 
    “Five spanks.” Dak kept his gaze connected to hers in the mirror’s reflection.
    She glared at him as though he had no right to touch her. That look made him want to punish her even more.
    Rebekah acted like a wild horse that needed to be broken. With proper training, she could be amazing…for someone else.
    Dak landed the first smack. The soft fabric did nothing to hide the fact that underneath hid a well-toned body.
    “Count it down.” He pressed his hand harder on her back.
    Rebekah grunted, mumbled something under her breath, then said, “One.”
    “One what?”
    She shook her head. “You are not my master.”
    “Then ‘Sir’ will suffice.”
    She huffed in frustration. “One, Sir.”
    He reared his hand back and slapped the other cheek.
    “Two, Sir.”
    With the second hit, a gentle stirring churned inside of him. The dust that covered his latent BDSM needs had been blown off, showing off a shiny, new appreciation.
    Dak massaged her back even as he inflicted the third strike. God, he missed doing this. The power. The control. The trust, even guarded.
    “Three, Sir.” Rebekah uttered the phrase through gritted teeth.
    When Dak disciplined her, a surge of power zipped through his body. Punishment shouldn’t feel this good.
    “Four, Sir.”
    Dak heard Rebekah’s voice breaking, which made him stop for a moment to regard her. A tear streamed down her cheek. Seeing her tears made him question his methods. Had he spanked her too hard? Should he stop now?
    No. A weaker Dom would stop the punishment. For all he knew, Rebekah could have been tricking him again like she had before when she’d asked for a towel, then cleaned his clock with the lamp.
    At the last blow, Dak left his hand resting on her ass. He’d punished her hard, but a feeling deep inside of him screamed that she’d needed this for a long, long time.
    Dak moved in behind her. With one hand on her waist now and the other on top of her hand on the counter, he crowded her space. He knew after such a strict punishment that aftercare had to be administered. He had at least remembered that.
    “I’d like for you to sit down with me so that we can talk about what just happened.” He kept his tone low and even yet commanding.
    Rebekah’s breathing slowed to a steady rate. Then she glared at Dak’s reflection. Without a word, she slipped her hand from under his and moved away from him.
    “Don’t walk away from me.” Dak reached for her.
    Rebekah started to strip out of her clothes. In a blink, she shed her top and tossed it on the floor. Next to go were his clunky boots, which she left toppled in the middle of the floor. As much as Dak should have wanted to look away when she removed