“Whitney, don’t pout. It doesn’t become you,” said Jameson, trying to pacify his mate.

“I’m not pouting. I’m simply saying that it isn’t fair that you put the vineyard on lockdown as we she-wolves are pretty much confined to quarters. But you, Sam, Ian and your alpha buddies all get to go to Las Vegas.”

He turned to look at her. “Do you want to get the girls and come with us?”

“What? And interfere with your cigars, gambling and strippers? No, I’ll just…”

She had no time to finish her sentence before Jameson was in her space and allowing her to feel the anger rolling off him.

“Hands on the bed, feet shoulder width apart. Now,” he growled.

“You can’t spank me…”

“I would think by now you would know better than that. At the moment I’m just thinking more along the line of a stress relief spanking. But one more half-baked accusation, snarky comment or bratty word and your inability to sit down at our reception will be more about the state of your backside than the way you had your gown fitted.”

“I’m sorry, Jameson,” she said quietly, putting herself in position. She wasn’t really, but she didn’t want to be spanked.

She knew she was being unrealistic and completely out of line. Jameson had never given her cause to be jealous, never so much as looked at another woman… or she-wolf for that matter. He knew her far too well. The wedding was to be the day after tomorrow—a beautiful double ceremony with Ian and Laura getting married in the morning and she and Jameson at sunset. She was stressed to the max.

Before she could verbalize her rationale or even think, her thoughts were driven away by his hand connecting with her ass. She gasped and bit her lip to keep from crying out. Pain flared, spreading to a delicious warmth that she could feel deep inside. Jameson’s swats rained fire all across her backside.

She bit back tears of remorse. He deserved better from her and they both knew it. At a count of ten, he paused, allowing her to catch her breath and using his large, calloused hand to hold the heat against her skin. The wolf she loved knew how to give a spanking in all of its forms—erotic, maintenance, stress relief and discipline. Lately there had been a lot more of the latter two. Their connection was incendiary and every time he touched her, arousal spiked, and desire burned through her system. It didn’t matter if it was pain or pleasure, the effect was the same.

Jameson allowed her breathing to return to normal before resuming the spanking. This time instead of hard and fast, it was slower—his hand lingering over the spot, ensuring she felt both the strike and the resulting sting.

“I’ve had enough, Whitney. Do you understand me? We’re going to Vegas to gamble, smoke cigars and talk about how we’re the luckiest wolves on the face of the planet. We’ll probably get all morose and horny and come home early.”

The distinctive, and all too familiar, sound of him unbuttoning his Levi’s reached her ears at about the same time his cock parted the now swollen lips of her sex as he shoved himself in. He’d been so gentle with her earlier this morning, when he’d awakened her with soft, sultry kisses that had led to his knotting and tying her to him. God, she loved that. She smiled as she thought of all the things she would have missed had he not turned her and claimed her as his fated mate.

Jameson gripped her hips and began to pound into her. There was no finesse, no measured, languid lovemaking—just hard and fast thrusting. He filled her so profoundly and not just physically. He filled her heart, her mind and her soul. He hammered her sheath with his massive staff. She called out his name as she climaxed, but that didn’t seem to satisfy him. He merely tightened his hold to keep her from collapsing and continued to fuck her relentlessly. He would surge inside her, only to drag himself back and start the cycle over again.

“You are my everything,” he grunted as he slammed into her. “And those maintenance spankings you talked me out of will start the day we come out of seclusion. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, Jameson, truly.”

His hold eased up and she pushed back against him, matching his rhythm. Anticipation and need collided with sensation as he continued to thrust in and out repeatedly. She rocked up onto her toes from the fury of his onslaught. If her mate knew how to spank, he most definitely knew how to fuck. A second orgasm washed over her, making her shudder and almost sending her to her knees. Jameson gave a final harsh thrust and held himself against her punished backside as he spent himself in her. He slid out and stepped back, his strong arms hauling her against his chest.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he rumbled.

“Nothing…” she said, fighting back tears.

He nuzzled her neck just below her ear. “Do I need to wash your mouth out with soap, or would you like to amend that answer?”

“I’m scared.”

He turned her around, cradling her close. “Of what?”

“The celebration. What if I fuck it up?”

“You have planned and perfectly executed events a thousand times this size. Riley is handling all the food and you say Austin is doing a great job. Who knew the big lug would be such an outstanding assistant? These are our friends and family. They wouldn’t care if we served hotdogs on a stick at a bonfire on the beach.”

He let her cry, just holding her and crooning to her until she calmed down.

“The ceremony is in three days. We’ll all be back the day before. If you need to hire or co-opt more staff, do it. I’ll only be a phone call away.”

He kissed her and held her close.

“I need to go. Vegas is a crowded airport. If we miss our scheduled entry time, we’ll have to circle until they can squeeze us in. I want you to behave yourself. Lights out by ten, you don’t get up before six, and I’d better not hear about any more missed meals. Clear?”

“Yes, Jameson.”

He wrapped his arm around her and together they descended the staircase and walked outside to the waiting golf carts that would take him and his friends to their private plane. She waved as he drove up to the landing strip.

Grace Steele put her arm around her as the plane took off. “We are way ahead of schedule, Whitney. You are a master organizer. If you’re interested, I’d like to talk to you about coordinating some events for the club and the hotel.”

“I always wanted to go to Torch Light. The whole BDSM thing intrigues me. I just never had the guts, and I don’t think Jameson is interested. Besides which we have the whole D/s thing going as it is.”

Grace laughed. “Tell me about it. I’ve played at some of the best clubs in the world, and although I would admit a bit of prejudice, I think Torch Light is the best. Say,” Grace said with an evil spark lighting her eyes. “Since we’re such a small group, what if we hold your bachelorette party at the club?”

“I wish. Jameson has put the vineyard on lockdown and she-wolves aren’t allowed anywhere but the main compound without his or Ian’s permission.”

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them and I say while the cat’s away…”

Whitney spun and looked at Grace, whose eyes were dancing mischievously. “Do you really think we could?”

“Do you think we could do what?” asked Laura as she joined them.

“Sneak out of here and go to Torch Light,” answered Grace.

“Oh, my God, do you think we could?”

“I think we couldn’t do any scenes ourselves, but we could watch some and you could see how a dungeon operates. I can get them to rope off part of the bar. We’ll have a blast,” said Grace.

“But how will we get there?” asked Whitney, warming to the idea.

“We’re just two hours from there and there are only six of us. We can easily fit into an SUV,” said Laura. “I say let’s do it.”

Whitney nodded and they began to plan, with Grace being in charge of getting the club set up and the rest collaborating on how to escape the short leash their respective alphas thought they’d put them on. Having Riley Nichols with them proved to be a boon, as getting away from overly protective alpha wolves was the Irish she-wolf’s stated specialty.

Before the sun had set the following day, they were winding up the Pacific Coast Highway and pulling into Torch Light’s valet parking.

“Good to see you again Mrs. Steele. We have a table reserved for you up in the lounge. Will Linc be joining you?”

Grace grinned. “Nope. And I hope you and Nic managed to keep our visit to yourselves.”

The valet grinned. “Yes ma’am.”

He opened the door and ushered them all into the building. Grace led them to the submissives’ salon.

“The club keeps a variety of clothing options in various sizes available for approved visitors. Whitney and Laura, since both of you ordered custom under garments for your wedding dresses, I had something special made for each of you. Come on.”

The area containing lockers for the submissives was gorgeous. Lockers was something of a misnomer. They were small, skinny cabinets that could hold a variety of clothing, toiletries, shoes and a bag of some kind. Laura and Whitney were thrilled with what Grace had arranged. It was obvious she was proud of the club and eager to show it off.

“Don’t worry about men coming in here. I think Linc and Nic would attach cement overshoes to their feet and toss them into the harbor if they even tried. We can change in here and then head upstairs. The lounge is up there and overlooks the dungeon floor. You can get a real birds’ eye view of what’s going on. If there’s something you want to see or have questions, just ask.”

Shasta Rhodes grinned. “We don’t get up here as often as we’d like, but Torch Light is the best—a few too many spanking horses for my liking…”

“Sp..spanking horses?” said Laura. “I don’t need Ian getting any ideas.”

“Yeah, all different kinds. Damian says they have to have so many because the subs are so bratty, the Doms would either have to stand in line or set up an electronic numbering system,” said Kinzie with amusement.

They all laughed, changed and headed out, throwing open the enormous double doors only to be confronted by seven angry alpha male wolves. The very sight of the seven men standing in a semi-circle was enough to intimidate anyone… even without the presence of the angry, alpha waves rolling off them.

Each man was dressed typically for a Dom in a high-end club—leather pants, open leather vest, no shirt and boots of some kind. Whitney had to bite the inside of her cheek—Linc, Damian, Cameron, Hudson, Sam, Ian and Jameson—Torch Light’s own Magnificent Seven. But none so magnificent in her eyes as Jameson. He was all male alpha wolf—broad shoulders, cut chest, eight pack abs, trim waist, deep notches that focused your attention on what lay below. There were still times she looked at him and couldn’t believe he’d fallen for her.

“Ladies,” said Lincoln eyeing Grace.

“Nic! You rat! I’ll get even with you,” she snarled at the Resident Dom.

“Hey, I’m a lot more afraid of him than I am of you.”

“Besides, before I’m through with her, she’s going to apologize to you for trying to draw you into this latest piece of naughtiness,” said Linc.

“How many spanking horses did you say you have?” drawled Cameron, Riley’s mate.

“Five. Impact play is high on a lot of people’s lists,” explained Damian, quirking his eyebrow at his mate, Kinzie. “There are only six of them. The club is opening late to accommodate our little surprise, so they’ll all be free. I won’t be using a spanking horse.”

“Good to know,” quipped Kinzie.

“Not really. You and I will be going up to one of the private play spaces where I have an interesting evening planned for you including a butt plug, a crop, restraints, the violet wand and a spreader bar.” Kinzie gulped. “This way, my beautiful, wayward mate,” he said, leading her upstairs.

“Cameron?” said Riley, her brogue thickening.

“We’ll be taking one of the spanking horses. Didn’t you tell me there was one made especially for pregnant she-wolves?” Cameron asked Linc.

“Yes, it’s in the far back room. Nic would you show Cam? Make sure he has his choice of implements. Unfortunately, some of our friends don’t have kits.”

“Happy to do it,” said Nic. “And I got the St. Andrew’s Cross on the main stage set up for you and Grace.”

Before she could protest, Linc growled. “I am quite sure you masterminded this whole little rebellion, so you and my single tail are going to have a nice long session to remind you how I deal with you when you act out because I’m not with you. I expect you to go the main stage, strip and face the cross. I’ll attend to you shortly.”

“Linc, I’d like to use the X-wheel,” said Hudson Rhodes, whose mate Shasta, had the good sense to go pale.

The X-wheel was a new piece of equipment. It consisted of a huge open circle that had an X crisscrossing it. Where the two sides met in the middle to form the X, it could be adjusted so that it fit between and framed a sub’s breasts. It could also be made stationary or set up to rotate and/or spin in various ways.

Hudson held out his hand to Shasta, who sighed and took it, allowing him to lead her away reluctantly.

“That leaves our brides to be and their grooms,” said Linc.

“It’s been too long since I last wielded a flogger, so I think I’ll take a spanking horse, the more private the better and a leather paddle,” said Ian.

“Do you want one of the upstairs playrooms? There’s a spanking horse in one of them and I know it isn’t the one Damian was going to use.”

“That would work nicely.”

“Larry, show Ian to the room with the spanking horse.”

The staff member nodded, and Ian tossed a protesting Laura over his shoulder.

Turning to Jameson, Linc said. “What, beside your beautiful intended, is your pleasure?”

Without missing a beat, Jameson said, “Spanking horse in the most public area and a leather tawse.”

“Nice choice.”

Nic joined them. “I’ve got the Nichols set up in the back. That girl can cuss a blue streak. From the way he swatted her, my guess is before he’s done, her pretty backside will be a mosaic of black and blue.”

Linc grinned. “Jamie? Might I suggest enhancing Whitney’s punishment by having Nic settle her on the spanking horse for you? I find Grace hates it when I have someone other than me prepare her for a scene.”

Jameson nodded and turned to Whitney, “One word and instead of the tawse, I’ll take a crop to your fetching behind. Nic, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to take Linc up on his offer to have you secure her. Whitney, you’re to go with Nic and will hand him your clothing when you get there.”

“Excellent,” pronounced Linc. “Let’s you and I go have a beer and then we can take care of our naughty mates.”

Whitney was too stunned to offer any kind of protest. Nic led her into a large, airy space with what appeared to be a pommel horse from gymnastics. It was covered with soft, black leather. She turned her back on him and removed her clothes. She knew Jameson was furious and knew he intended most likely to welt her ass as he’d been threatening to do it for the past week. He’d refrained as they would be going into seclusion after their bonding ceremony. Apparently, going to a BDSM club was a bridge too far. No, that wasn’t it. Leaving the safety of the vineyard was what had put him over the edge, and she knew it.

Nic helped her up so she was positioned comfortably, with her ass being the highest portion of her body. He knelt in front of her, buckling her wrists in matching black leather padded handcuffs. Once she was secure in front, he locked her ankles into a spreader apparatus and tied that down as well.

She wasn’t blindfolded, but she might as well have been. Nic’s footsteps retreated across the concrete floor and then after what seemed like a very long time, but was probably only a few minutes, she could hear Jameson. She was tied in a way that didn’t allow her to look behind her at all, but she knew both the sound of his footsteps and could feel the rolling anger and lust he directed at her.

“Jame…”

The rest morphed into a wail as pain flared across her ass. With no warning and no warm-up, Jameson brought the leather tawse down across the whole of her backside. There was no delicious warmth from the strike. The tawse removed the intimacy of his hand. He landed another five blows in quick succession, each one a little harder than the last.

Whitney cried out and the tears began to fall. No amount of stoicism or biting her lip would stop them. The pain from the tawse lashed out and increased exponentially.

“I warned you it wouldn’t be the dress that kept you from sitting,” he growled.

Whitney was glad the club was closed, but in an odd way was happy to be put on display for Jameson. When she thought about it, he hadn’t asked her to do something awful, just stay safe so he could enjoy a little time with some of his closest friends—friends he rarely got to see. He liked seeing her naked and loved seeing her pussy pulse and drip with either her own need or his cum.  Well, she wouldn’t disappoint with the former.

She realized she’d scared Jameson and as he was not given to fear, it was a new and unnatural thing for him. She’d also usurped his control and at a time he needed it badly. Not only did he have a new mate, but the Hunters had struck again and badly injured one of their older pack members.

Whitney relaxed into the pain, allowing the tears to fall freely. A deep peace settled over her as he struck the fullest part of her ass, the backs of her thighs and the soft curve where buttock met leg. His last strike wasn’t nearly as hard, but was on her pussy, causing her to scream.

She let go of her anger and insecurity. She could give him what he needed. He gave her so much more. Finally, when he’d struck her for the last time, she could feel the emotion rolling off him had very little anger and a whole lot of lust. She was happy about that… she could give him what he needed for that too.