Meg is mischievous young woman who meets her match when she discovers dentist, Jeremy Rawlings, has more than a passing interest in discipline. Megan grew on me as I wrote this book, she’s a bit of a prankster. As well as her fun side, she harbours an erotic fantasy, one she yearns to have fulfilled by the right man and when it is, it will take her into a deeper realm of fantasy than she’s ever envisaged. The question is… can Jeremy satisfy her cravings while not losing sight of his own need to be in control.
So what happens when Meg plays a practical joke on him? She’s switched the paint pots around and instead of painting one pale colour on his dining room wall, Jeremy has painted a different one. She can’t believe he didn’t notice…..
****
“I’m sorry. It was a bad joke.”
“Joke! My arm is aching and I’m sick of painting.” He snorts. “Right, go stand in the corner.”
“What!”
“Now, Megan.”
I huff my way over to the far end of the room where one corner is dry and free of clutter. The smell of paint is pervasive. I eye the brush strokes close up. Mine are better. He’s a good dentist, but not so good at decorating. I should probably offer to paint over the ivory.
The lid is banged back into place. “Where’s the other tin?”
“In the dining room.”
He returns a few seconds later. I wait to hear the sound of him prising off the lid, but instead there is a clatter of metal and clicking sound. I’m tempted to peek over my shoulder to see what he’s doing.
“Once my arm has rested, which will probably be another ten minutes or so, you will be spanked. Eyes front!”
I snatch a quick breath. There’s that weird moment of dichotomy when I both leap with excitement and cower with nerves. Only the idea of a spanking can mix up my emotions so successfully.
“Right, I’m going to have my coffee.” He leaves the room and I risk a glance. He’s moved the step stool into the room. Three plastic steps on a metal frame with a safety bar around the top. The upper step is about as high as my waist and on top of it rests a clean paint stirrer.
“Bloody hell,” I groan. The sight of the strip of wood sends shivers down my spine. It’s a foot long and has three holes drilled into the length of it, just like one of those heavy-hitting wooden paddles Alan has in his barn. I stand there, for what seems like ages, and wonder why I do these things. I stir up trouble for myself and it blows out of proportion. Yes, I crave the idea of discipline, but Jeremy isn’t a rent-a-spanker kind of bloke, he’s the real thing. If he spanks, he’s not acting a role. He is the dominant, the real McCoy. I chew my lip, sway and knock my head against the wall. Too late. I’ve already screwed up.
He clears his throat and I jump. “You can come out of the corner, now. My arm is quite rested.”
I hang my head and take little steps around the pile of furniture to his side of the room. He picks up the paint stirrer. “I want you to understand, I’m not spanking you for playing a joke on me. We all like a little fun and games while we’re doing a boring job. I’m going to spank you because you quite blatantly let me paint a good portion of the wall before you said anything.”
“I dropped hints, big hints!” I plead.
“Megan. You stood there and watched me paint the wall. I don’t call that hints. You left the room to make me coffee, then when I asked you to own up, you kept going ‘um.’”
“Colour-bl—”
“Do not mention the colour difference. It’s not obvious when your nose is to the wall. I couldn’t even see the magnolia out of the corner of my eye.”
My head hangs lower in shame. “I’m very sorry. I’ll repaint the wall.”
“Yes, you will. First, your spanking. Please take off all your clothes.”
I shoot a glance at his front window, which is open to the road. My lower lip trembles.
“I’ve no intention of having myself done for assault.” He moves over to the window and closes the venetian blinds. The room gets dimmer and the sun is cut off. The ivory does look less white with the light off it. I cringe at my stupidity. I should have told him earlier.
“Clothes, Megan.”
All right, I’m thinking, but I say nothing. I slip off my t-shirt and my old pair of jeans, which have paint splattered on them. I hesitate at the underwear and he clucks his tongue. I sigh, unfasten my bra, then peel down my panties. I leave my clothes on top of the dustsheets.
He pats the top step of the ladder. “Slide under the safety bar and bend right over, so you’re on the tips of your toes.”
I bend over and dip my head under the bar, wriggling forward until my hips rest against the top step.
“Keep your weight on this side, not the other. I don’t want you to tip over. In fact, those knees are just the right height. Kneel on the second step.”
The plastic is hard, not exactly the most comfortable of positions. I wince a lot and it convinces Jeremy I need something under my knees. He picks the towel we’ve been using to wipe our hands.
“Better?”
I lower my knees on the towel and it cushions the impact. “Yes, thank you.” The step stool is sturdy and I hold on to the back legs, letting my hair dangle over my face.
“I estimated I spent fifteen minutes working that ivory, so one smack per minute. You’ll count.”
I detest counting. I have a tendency to lose count or jump ahead accidently. I’m about to find out I detest something else: the paint stirrer. The first swipe lands in the middle of my sit spot and I jump. “Ow!” I squeal. It stings like crazy. “One!”
“Sir,” he corrects.
The next comes just below and is even worse. How can such a stick of wood hurt so much! “Two. Sir,” I squawk. I wriggle my butt from side to side as if I’m chasing away a swarm of bees, because that’s what it feels like—a nest of bee stings. I writhe and squirm my way through the next three, then he pauses to rub my bottom.
“Ooo,” I mutter, trying hard to appreciate the respite. “That thing is mean.”
“I shall keep that in mind. Always useful to have something mean to hand.”
I mutter again under my breath. “Oh, great. Thanks a bundle, Meg, you and your big mouth.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing, sir.”
He snorts. “Another five then.”
***
Life in a small town’s dental clinic is less about teeth and more about bare bottoms….
When Megan is rude to a troublesome patient at the dental clinic where she works, the man who catches her in the act is none other than the tall, dark, and handsome Dr. Jeremy Rawlings. After informing Megan that it is clear from her behaviour that she is in desperate need of discipline, Jeremy instructs her to remain at the office after work for a sound spanking.
Despite her embarrassment at the prospect of such a humiliating punishment, Megan finds herself doing as she is told. Once her panties are down and her bottom is properly bared, her spanking turns out to be firm, unyielding, and painfully thorough. But Jeremy’s manner during her chastisement is sincere and kind, and before she knows it she has promised to apologize sincerely for her rudeness.
Though his standards for her are exacting, Megan finds herself more aroused by Jeremy than she has been by any man before, and she doesn’t hesitate to agree when he asks her to be his submissive. But will her penchant for mischief and defiance mean that she spends most of her time with a red bottom?
Publisher’s Note: Mastering Meg is an erotic romance novel that includes spankings, sexual scenes, elements of BDSM, and more. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.
Review:
5* This was a quick, fun read for me! I read it straight through and thoroughly enjoyed it! Meg made me laugh and Jeremy is exactly what she needs in her life. Loved the romance that grows between them and the steamy journey they take to get there. Nicely done!
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Ooh, I wonder if she regrets playing that joke on him. Ouch! Great snippet Jaye. This is definitely on my TBR!
Hugs
Roz
Thanks, Roz.
Hi Jaye, I love this. They are wonderful together and Megan should have known better. It was great to read this, thank you for this snippet.
hugs
Nina
She should know when to stop playing a prank! especially with a man who likes to spank.