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He noted it with satisfaction. Submission was one thing, but to do it even while afraid was another thing entirely. He’d thought he admired her before, but his respect for her only grew. Especially when he took her by the arm and led her over to the bench Chandler had created with the two chairs.

Releasing his hold on her upper arm, he sat down in the chair. Chandler followed his example and they sat with their knees touching.

Chyanne eyed the two of them nervously, wringing her hands and shifting, almost as if she didn’t know what they wanted her to do, but was afraid to ask.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chandler open his mouth to speak, but he shook his head, ever so slightly. She needed to ask.

She cleared her throat, and then, her voice tremulous, Chyanne asked, “How is this going to work?”

“You’re going to lie over our laps.” Aaron patted his knee.

Her eyes flitted between them and then she nodded, resigned. She drew her breath in sharply, then took tiny shuffles forward until she was close enough. Without a word, she lowered herself over their knees.

* * *

Chyanne

It couldn’t escape her notice that she had been spanked and punished in various humiliating ways since she’d stepped foot on Discipline Ranch. If anyone was keeping tally or giving out awards for the most out-of-the-box type of spanking, this one would surely take the medal.

But Chyanne forced such thoughts out of her head as she lowered herself over their laps. She tried to swallow the panic she felt, and only partially succeeded.

She hated being spanked. Everything about it—the agonizing act of presenting herself for punishment, the way it felt for her bottom to be bared while she tried as hard as she could not to squirm or cringe. Those were almost as bad—but not quite—as the feel of the blistering heat of punishing hands. And now, unless she missed her guess, she was going to feel both of these big, strong doms punish her at once.

It was too much.

And yet, somehow at the same time it was just right. The appropriate punishment to pay them back for all her naughtiness and make things right between them again. She wanted that desperately, but that didn’t mean she liked what it took to get there.

Fortunately—sort of—she was only wrapped in a towel. Which made the unveiling faster, at least, but on the other hand, it meant that the spanking part would happen faster.

Chyanne felt it as the towel was lifted. It wasn’t yanked away, as she’d expected, but rather the fluffy cotton was shifted inch by inch until her bottom was crawling with anticipation. The cool wind caressed her skin—gently, but with a warning of what was to come. Still, they waited, making her tense with anticipation and her face flush hot with embarrassment.

“We all know why you’re here,” Aaron began at last, his voice grave and serious. “But why don’t you remind us?”

“Because… because I was bad,” she near-whispered.

“You aren’tbad,” Chandler spoke up, his large hand gently squeezing her right shoulder. “But you did choose poorly.”

“Elaborate on that for us,” Aaron put in.

Even though she knew they couldn’t see her, she squeezed her eyes shut. It was almost worse, because she could see the two of them in her mind’s eye, gazing at her with solemn, disappointed faces.

“I… I skipped out on my lesson yesterday.” Somehow, she expected them to say something, but silence was her only reply. “I came here instead and I… when you… I kinda lost it when you came home.” Her throat was tightening and her eyes were rapidly filling with tears behind her eyelids.

If I could take it back… but I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t… I don’t know how to act like the good girl they want me to be, because no matter how many times they punish me, or how much they spank me, I’m not her.

“That’s one way to put it,” Aaron remarked mildly. “Why don’t you tell us exactly what you did wrong?”

“You… you already know, sir,” she whispered, not a trace of disrespect in her voice.

“I know. But we need to knowyouknow.”

Nodding miserably, Chyanne let her mind go back to yesterday, to hearing that familiar, terrible voice and all of her poor decisions that followed. “I… I yelled. I… threw a tantrum.” She swallowed hard, her hand aching at the memory. “And I threw rice.”

It was Chandler’s voice she heard this time. “Do you want to explain yourself?”

“Why?” It popped out before she could stop herself. “Will it make a difference? Will you change your mind about punishing me?”

“We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s going on.”