Undercover Sir. Carolyn Faulkner

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      He surprised her by tapping her shoulder, and when she stood up, Daniel hugged her tightly, whispering, "I hope you know that I'm only doing this for your own good."

      Ia knew that an "I know" was expected from her, but she couldn't bring herself to say it. She did know that was what he believed, but it didn't help her come to grips with it at all. She pulled away first, assuming the position again without saying a word to him, even as her eyes fell on the sight of the belt that he had put on the bed before hugging her.

      She really didn't hear what he said; she was too fixated on that belt and what its presence on her bed meant. First, it meant that he'd seen to Taffy before her, because he hadn't taken it off; it was already off.

      Secondly, and much, much worse, it meant that he'd most likely been holding it in his hand as he travelled from their bedroom, through the living room, and down the hall to her bedroom, where anyone with any interest in the matter could have seen him doing so. Like the annoyingly amused Mr. Martin.

      And thirdly, as he picked it off the bed to place the folded length against her panty covered cheeks, it meant that there wasn't going to be a spanking beforehand. This time, it was all going to be all leather.

      "I'm not going to lecture you, because you know that I expect better behavior from you, especially as an adult."

      It was only a second or so later that she felt the thud-sting of it slicing down onto her behind. The horrible burning ache jolted an almost surprised, "Yeow!" out of her before she clamped her mouth shut against that happening again.

      And it continued to connect with her tender flesh in an unfailing rhythm that had reduced her to tears within only the first few slaps of that unforgiving leather—partly because of the pain, partly because of the embarrassment, and partly because, beneath it all, she hated the thought of disappointing him, even though she was grown and that shouldn't matter to her anymore, she thought. But it most definitely did.

      Ia wasn't sure if this time was worse than the last, but it certainly wasn't better! It was probably about the same, but for some reason, it seemed to hurt more—much more—than she remembered. Her butt—and the backs of her legs—were on fire. It was more than the original sting of each stroke. A deep ache settled in each time, before the next one fell, and she was utterly miserable long before it stopped.

      And, although she'd vowed to herself that she wouldn't cry out after that first one slipped past her, considering that they had company, Ia was completely unable to meet that goal. To her absolute horror, she was louder this time than last, she was very sure.

      As she imagined him sitting in the living room, Mr. Martin must've been getting quite a thrill.

      When that last, extra hard swathe was laid down on top of all of the others that decorated her rear in varying shades of red agony and she'd debased herself with a full-throated scream while drumming her feet in painful frustration, Ia held herself still and tense, waiting for the next one to fall.

      But Daniel was busy putting his belt back on; not that she noticed. He tapped her on the shoulder again.

      When she rose, he pulled her into a hug with no concern for whether or not she wanted one this time, not giving her a chance to decline it before he let her go so fast, she questioned whether it had actually happened and whether she had heard him whisper, with no small touch of sadness, "Try not to hate me for this too much more than you already do, huh?"

      He paused at the door before closing it. "Taffy is already cleaning the kitchen. I want you to come out in a few minutes and start on the living room. Don't make me come get you, Anna Maria," he warned.

      Ia closed her eyes at his rare use of her full first name, spoken in that scolding voice as she stood there weeping silently.

      "I want this house made spotless again. Once that's done to my specifications, then you are to go back to your room and stay in it for the rest of the day. You need to think long and hard about what you've done and why you're still getting yourself spanked at twenty-five."

      She whimpered once, softly, at that, biting her lip against making any further sounds.

      "But I expect you to be ready to go out to dinner with me, Taffy, and Mr. Martin at The Bella Roma this evening. Our reservations are for six, so be ready by five-thirty."

      Ia was still reeling from what he'd said—and done—to her, but she answered automatically, "Oh, I don't think I'll feel like—"

      Daniel's brows furrowed darkly as he cut her off, "I promised to take Douglas out for a nice meal with my family his first night here. And I think that, considering the condition of your bottom, it may be wise for you to be ready at five-fifteen, just in case."

      Going out to the living room was one of the hardest things she'd ever done in her young life, but she did it, rather than face more of Daniel's wrath. She could hear Taffy cleaning—and weeping softly—in the kitchen while she tackled the wreck of a living room.

      There was no sign of either of the men, until the sound of a deep male chuckle reached her ears and she discovered that they were on the deck, with the screen slider in place, as if Daniel felt the need to keep track of them.

      Ia sighed through her own unshed tears and resolutely began cleaning in earnest.

      She and Taffy were both ready and waiting in the living room by five o'clock. Neither of them was sitting down, though.

      She didn't know about Taffy, but Ia had spent the afternoon trying to come to grips with everything that had happened in the space of such a short time. The last thing she knew before she had fallen asleep on the couch at about three in the morning, was that they were having a great party and he wasn't anywhere near to coming home, or they definitely wouldn't have been doing that.

      Now she'd been rudely awakened, harshly scolded, paraded half naked in front of a stranger, to whom she was introduced after he heard a lot of very embarrassing things about her. Then she was strapped until she could barely stand it any longer, only to be informed that she wasn't allowed to leave her room after cleaning up her mess until he expected her to give some kind of command performance at dinner that evening.

      She didn't resent having to clean up in the least—they'd already discussed that last night—and had each agreed that they'd put their back into setting the place to rights after the excesses of their party.

      And the fact that she had been intending to sulk in her room all day anyway after her punishment did nothing to negate her resentment about having to be there because he'd said she had to.

      The thing that she had been mulling over from eleven to four, when she sighed in resignation and began to get ready—besides the intriguing stranger's presence in the house—was what her brother had said to her before he'd left.

      It tugged at her heartstrings that he would say something like that, especially in that forlorn tone. Daniel had never been that way around her. He met the world head on, took the bull by the horns and got stuff done.

      But she'd been nursing that grudge against him for a long time, and she'd never really considered how it made him feel. Frankly, what he'd done to her today should have made her even less inclined to let him off the hook, but, for some reason, it wasn't working out that way.

      And even though she'd been giving him the cold shoulder, she didn't hate him by any means, and it made her sad that he'd come to that conclusion, through no one's fault but her own.

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