Damon Salvatore.

6.

⚠️Warning! This book is for 16 and older so if your under 16 and reading this don't report this i gave a warning and told you not to read it. Everything in the book is consensual not real and should not be read by kids 16 and under⚠️

The morning light filtered through the curtains as I stirred awake, nestled against Damon's chest. The warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his breathing made me feel safe, but there was an underlying tension in the air, a reminder of the new dynamic we had embraced.

Damon was already awake, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on my back. "Good morning, Mya," he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep.

"Morning," I replied, snuggling closer to him, savoring the calm before the day began.

But as the reality of our new arrangement set in, I couldn't help the mischievous thought that crossed my mind. I wanted to test the boundaries, to see how strict Damon could really be. So, when he asked me to get up and start the day, I did something that I normally wouldn't have dared—I rolled my eyes at him.

It was a small, almost playful gesture, but the effect was immediate. Damon's hand stilled on my back, and when I looked up, I saw a flicker of something dark and authoritative in his eyes.

"Mya," he said, his tone firm but calm, "what did I tell you about showing respect?"

I felt a thrill of nervous anticipation run through me. "I was just playing around," I said, trying to sound casual, but I could see that Damon wasn't having any of it.

He sat up, his expression serious. "We agreed on this, Mya. If you're going to be my submissive, you need to follow the rules. And one of those rules is showing respect."

I swallowed, suddenly feeling a little out of my depth. "I didn't mean to—"

But he cut me off with a look, his voice taking on a stern edge. "I'm going to give you a choice. You can apologize and promise to behave, or you can take your punishment."

My heart skipped a beat at the word "punishment." It was one thing to talk about it in theory, but now that it was a real possibility, I wasn't sure how I felt. Part of me wanted to back down, to apologize and end it there. But another part of me, the part that had been drawn to this dynamic in the first place, wanted to see what would happen if I didn't.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. "I'll take the punishment," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Damon's eyes darkened with something that was equal parts approval and resolve. "Alright then. Over my knee."

My stomach flipped as I processed his words. This was really happening. With a shaky breath, I slowly positioned myself across his lap, my heart pounding in my chest. The vulnerability of the position made me feel exposed, but there was also a strange sense of security in knowing that Damon was in control.

"Ten spanks," he said, his hand resting on my lower back. "You'll count each one out loud."

I nodded, too nervous to speak.

The first spank was firm but not too hard, more of a warning than anything else. "One," I managed to say, my voice trembling.

The second was harder, the sting of it making me gasp. "Two."

By the third, my skin was already starting to feel tender, and I bit my lip to keep from making too much noise. "Three."

Damon didn't ease up. Each spank was deliberate, measured, designed to remind me that this was what I had agreed to, what I had chosen. As the count went on, the sting turned into a burning heat that spread across my skin, making it harder and harder to focus on anything but the sensation.

"Eight," I whispered, my voice shaky.

The ninth spank brought tears to my eyes, and I had to bite down on a whimper as I counted it out. "Nine."

The final spank was the hardest of all, a sharp crack that sent a jolt through my entire body. "Ten," I gasped, my voice barely audible.

Damon's hand rested gently on my back as he leaned down to speak softly in my ear. "Good girl, Mya. You did well."

Despite the pain, his praise sent a wave of warmth through me, and I felt a strange mix of emotions—relief, pride, and a lingering sense of vulnerability.

He helped me up, guiding me to sit beside him on the bed. The moment I made contact with the mattress, I winced, the soreness from the spanking making it almost unbearable to sit. Damon noticed immediately, his expression softening.

"You're okay," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. "But let this be a lesson. When I say something, I mean it."

I nodded, feeling a bit dazed from the whole experience. "I understand."

Damon kissed my forehead gently, his tone returning to its usual warmth. "Now, get ready for class. I don't want you to be late."

I managed a small smile, but as I got up and tried to pull on my jeans, the reality of my situation hit me—sitting through a lecture was going to be a special kind of torture. Every movement reminded me of the punishment, the soreness a constant reminder of the consequences of my actions.

By the time I made it to class, the discomfort was evident in the way I moved, and I found myself shifting uncomfortably in my seat, trying to find a position that didn't make me wince.

It was a long, agonizing hour, made worse by the knowledge that I had brought this on myself. But underneath the physical discomfort, there was a strange sense of satisfaction. I had pushed the boundaries, and Damon had responded exactly as he said he would. There was no ambiguity, no uncertainty—just the clear, undeniable understanding that I had chosen this, and that he would hold me to it.

As the lecture finally ended, I gathered my things and headed out, wincing slightly with each step. I knew that the rest of the day would be a constant reminder of what had happened, but as I made my way across campus, I couldn't help but feel a deep, growing connection to Damon—a bond that was built not just on attraction, but on trust, respect, and the shared understanding of what it meant to be in this together.