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When the rule left my lips, the crop fell with a vengeance. It hit over and over again, faster than I could count, each new sting taking my breath away. And I welcomed the pain, more than I had the first couple times. There was something about the crop that felt so deliciously forbidden, that made me feel like Bain and I were the only ones in the room, even though I could hear the sounds of the club and feel the movement all around me.
"Little one." For the first time the endearment didn't feel strange to me. It felt empowering. It felt right.
I was focused on the beauty of the pain until Bain's strong, stern voice cut through my reverie.
"Baby girl. You have to trust your Daddy. You need to remember that it's okay to mess up, and Daddy doesn't punish you because he's mad. He does it to help you move past and move forward. To help you forgive yourself. I think that's something you struggle with, isn't it?"
He was doing it again. Speaking as if he could see straight into my soul and read the scars I tried so hard to keep hidden. He followed his gentle reminder with two sharp smacks of the leather square to the undercurve of my ass, and I broke. Fast, hot, relentless tears came running down my cheeks like a dam had burst inside me. Like everything I'd failed to forgive myself for was on display for the world to see, and for me to finally heal from. I cried for Henry, and for the fact that it wasn't him here with me, for all the times I had the opportunities to tell him what he'd meant to me, and hadn't. I cried from the guilt of my forbidden night with Bain in the months following his death. For the first time I saw myself not as the desperate hussy I'd felt like at the time, but for what I'd really been: sad, lonely, drunk and desperate for connection. Tears kept falling when I thought about my kids and how long it had taken me to recover, and the guilt I felt for not being the mom they'd needed. I thought about how even after I'd picked myself up, I still hadn't. Not really. Not until Rent-A-Daddy and Bain had come into my life. And then the tears and guilt came full circle, because it all came back to Bain. Always. Every damn time. In a short time, the span of barely more than a week, the man had changed my life. And as much as I'd promised and swore and even pleaded with myself to keep my emotions out of it, my worst fear had come true, and I hadn't been able to.
I had feelings for Augustus Weston Bainbridge the Third.
The realization brought a fresh wave of body-wracking sobs. I didn't even realize the punishment was over until Bain was undoing my restraints and gathering my shaking body into his arms.
I must have made quite a scene, because as soon as he lifted me up, Lennon and Archer flocked us, offering a blanket and a bottle of water.
"Take her to the lounge," Archer commanded, his tone firmer than I'd ever heard it.
"Yeah, we'll make sure it stays clear. No one will disturb you." I heard Lennon's voice making stringent promises, and then they were gone, faded into the distance as Bain whisked me to the back of the club.
Bain
It was hard not to worry with the way Jasmine's whole body shook as she cried, long mournful wails and tears that soaked my shirt as I carried her to the private lounge. But I knew the tears were not about me. Nor were they about the punishment or the pain or even that we were here, at The Penthouse, the place where she'd met Henry, and until recently had only come to with him.
No, these were soul-searching, redemptive tears. The tears that came when years of built-up guilt and the weight of one's perceived failings built up finally had an outlet for release. When the bad thoughts inside one's head were finally exposed for the lies that they were.
Unfortunately, that meant these were the kind of tears I was powerless to fix, and the effect of them might not be known for several days. It meant that Jasmine would likely experience sub drop, and that it would be intense.
For now, all I could do was be her Daddy. Hold her tightly and rub her back, whispering encouraging words while she cried until she could cry no more. Ply her with chocolate, and feed her tiny sips of water until her body started to rehydrate.
I was happy to do all of those things.
When we reached the lounge, I reached in my pocket and fumbled for my key, only to have Bas run up behind me and wave his own key card over the lock, holding the door open for me as I rushed in, sinking down onto the oversized leather couch, holding tightly to a still-crying Jasmine.
His eyes met mine over the top of her head and I could see the questions there.
But Bas didn't push for answers—not now, anyway. He simply quirked a concerned brow at me in a way that seemed to ask "Hey man, you good?" and when I nodded, he left, closing the door behind him.
Jasmine's cries had evolved from mournful wails to gut wrenching sobs, and her hands gripped my collar as she continued to soak my shirt, which was now drenched with her tears and sticking to my skin.
"Baby girl. Jasmine. Oh honey. Shhh. Shhh. It's okay. It's gonna be okay," I whispered as I slowly and gently pried her fingers from my collar, shifting her in my arms until I was cradling her like a baby. I pulled the blanket Archer had given her around her tightly, then opened the water bottle, lifting it to her lips.
She shook her head, crying too hard to really drink, but I persisted. "You need to hydrate, baby girl. Replace some of that water you lost."
Her eyes popped open and met mine, as if she only then realized how hard she'd been crying. Her cheeks flushed and her lips moved as she tried to choke out an unnecessary apology. I shushed her again.
"It's okay, baby. Nothing to be sorry about. But can you try to calm down for me for just a sec? Here, have a sip."
Again I lifted the bottle to her lips, and this time she took the offering, parting her lips just enough to let the cool liquid trickle down her throat. I fed her small sip after small sip, wiping her tears with my knuckles between them. Finally, she grabbed the bottle from me, holding it with both hands and gulping it down like she was in a desert about to die from thirst. Tears still trickled down her face as she drank.
When the bottle was empty, she held it out to me. Setting it on the couch beside us, I wrapped her tighter in my arms and watched her closely as the tears began to subside.
"There you are, little one. Good girl. You took your punishment so well, and I'm so proud of you."
The praise seemed to have the opposite effect than I'd intended. "Took it well? Were you even in the same room as I was?" she scoffed, her eyes lighting with anger. "Are you even now?" I didn't understand the flash of unfettered fury I saw on her face as she pushed to her feet. "I'm okay. Thank you for the water. Tell Lennon and Archer thank you, as well." She looked around the room, her eyes narrowed in concentration as she seemed to search for something.
I wasn't sure what. "What's wrong, baby girl?"
She scowled. "Stop calling me baby girl. And where are my clothes? You know what? It doesn't even matter. Take me home, Bain." She pulled herself to her full five foot four inches and straightened her back, squaring her shoulders as if preparing for a fight. That was good, because she was about to get one.
