Read excerpt: As She's Told by Anneke Jacob

BDSM eBook

Winner Of The National Leather Association's 2008  Pauline Reage Novel Award!

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"Since I can't trust you to be honest, I've put a child minder on there. I'll be able to tell from now what sites you've been on and for how long. What else?"

I set aside the humiliation of ‘child minder' for the time being, and thought frantically about what else I might have done wrong. I  had been feeling guilty about Sunday; it was almost a relief to tell him, but nothing else came to mind.

"I - I can't think of anything else, sir."

He looked at me a long moment. "All right. Turn around." I felt my hands pulled behind me and quickly tied with a strap of some sort. I started to breathe very hard - fear, arousal, who knows? Real bondage at last, and I was too scared to savour it. A moment later there was a leather collar around my throat. A click, and a leash was clipped to the ring in front. The sound of my breathing and my heart's pounding seemed to reverberate off the walls. A yank on the leash startled me; I got up as bidden. A second later the top half of me was face down over the table, the leash stretched under my face. I craned my neck and saw him crouched down, fastening the leash somewhere out of sight. I experimented with raising my head, and found I couldn't.

Then he was behind me. My hands twisted helplessly, and I could hear a little whimper rising in my throat.

"Frightened, bad girl?" came the low, accented voice from behind me.

I nodded in an attenuated way and whispered, "Yes, sir."

There was a pause that went on just long enough for my fear to edge into panic. Then the sound of something slicing through the air and a crack, and pain, pain, pain. A second, and then a third. I could feel my cries against the collar at my throat.

"Why are you being punished, girl?"

That voice! The train roaring into the station at last. I tried to get my breath, and another blow forced a wail out of me.

"Why?" he demanded harshly

I managed a confused enumeration of my recent sins, wailing and then sobbing away about jeans, laundry, time wasted, while the blows fell and my body writhed helplessly.

"What else?"

He hit a spot for a second time and I screamed, and tears streamed from my eyes. I couldn't think at all. How could I answer him when all I could think of was the pain and the next blow coming?

But the time in the corner came to my aid, all that time stewing in my pit of guilt and shame. "I didn't tell you... and I thought... if you didn't find out..." Another blow, another. They snatched away my breath, and the whip fell twice more before I could force out, "I thought it wouldn't matter! Aah! Please, sir, please, I'm sorry!"

"You thought it wouldn't matter," he growled. A harder stripe. "Disobedience. Deceit, concealment. Games." The whip fell again, and I lost it; lost all connection to mind, past, future; there was just the eternal, dreadful now, my existence as a bad girl sealed in anguish.

When at last he stopped he stroked the whip threateningly across my burning ass. "Well, girl?"

Please, no more! No more! Out of my mouth spilled apologies, promises, stumbling pleas for mercy. But the voice and the whip weren't satisfied; still they threatened. What now? Be grateful, stupid girl! I choked out my thanks for the punishment. As I said the words I knew I actually meant them, and something about this made tears burst forth from me again.

Then he was there in front of me, releasing the leash, using it to turn me off the table and onto my knees between his legs. I got no chance to see if he had forgiven me, or obey my impulse to throw myself at his feet. He held the leash very short with one hand, and thrust his cock into my mouth with the other. This time he showed no patience with my mistakes. My sore ass was smacked several times, till I was sucking and sobbing simultaneously.

He led me upstairs to the kitchen after that without a word, except, "Into that corner, bad girl," and a gesture to the far wall behind the table. I limped stiffly over and paused a moment. Should I kneel? He hadn't told me to. I pressed myself into the corner, standing, feeling my flesh cringe in case another blow was coming. Again my ass was on display, but now it throbbed and I could feel the air moving over each painful welt. I was back in the dimness, still miserably in disgrace.

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