“So that’s it?” I tried to sound nonchalant, even though I wanted to beg him to take me to the bedroom and ravish me.
He nodded. “Most discipline will hurt but won’t mark you, though I intend to give you a good paddling for stealing. You’ll think twice before doing it ever again.”
I shifted from foot to foot, thinking.
He stilled me. “Just relax, and trust me. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“This is all very strange,” I blurted.
“Unorthodox. But it’s the way things are going to be, unless you want the law involved.”
“I don’t want the law involved,” I said absently. My hand went to rub my bottom and he caught it, and gave me a chastising look.
“Okay. I don’t have a job any more, so what am I going to be doing all day? Will I be able to see my mom?”
“You will have set times to see your mom. I’m not going to keep you from her, obviously, but I think you need some time away from her, and you won’t allow yourself to take it. So, I’m ordering you to do it. You’ll have no choice.” His fingers curled around my hip. “Same with keeping to a healthy sleeping and eating schedule.”
“Okay. What else?”
“Counseling for starters. There’s a group that meets Mondays in the church.”
“I know you don’t believe me, but I don’t drink or smoke pot on a regular basis.” I tensed. “I don’t need counseling.”
“It’s not for addiction. It’s for caregivers.”
I pulled my hand out of his. “Cole?—”
“This is non-negotiable.” His words may as well have been carved in stone. “You’ll also spend a set amount of time volunteering. A way of paying your debt to society. I’ll put some thought to where.”
“The police station?”
“Not there, or any place I have jurisdiction over. You’ll be spending a lot of time over here, and people will assume favoritism.”
“They’d be right. What am I going to do here?”
“Whatever I want.” His other hand grasped my hip. My pussy started throbbing.
“What do you want?” I whispered.
“A maid for one. And three square meals a day. You can cook, right?”
My mouth dropped open.
“If not, I can get some cookbooks from the library. If you mess up, I’ll spank you. That should be good incentive.” A smile played around his mouth, I knew he was joking. About the spanking at least.
“I can cook.” I brushed his hands away. “You sexist pig, if you think?—”
He turned me to the table and delivered three quick swats to my ass. I yelped. He turned me back to face him and continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted.
“I’m glad you can cook. I expect at least a sandwich for lunch and something hot for dinner. You may end up putting one or two of my meals in the fridge. I work long hours. You’ll be making food for yourself, too.”
“This is unbelievable. You expect me to cook for you?—”
“And clean. I assume you know how to do that. If not, you’ll have to learn quick.”
“This isn’t punishment…this is slavery!”
“A little bit. I could get used to having you as my slave, naughty one.” He pinched my bottom.
