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Oh yeah. She was supposed to be counting. “One, I will not run from Master.”
The next one hit right on her sit spot. “Ow! Two, I will not run from Master.”
He hit harder with each one, and her voice went up at least an octave by ten. The pain wasn’t so bad—she’d had worse with the strap and with canes. But for some reason, the counting and the lecturing and the fact that she’d upset him made it a hundred times worse. It felt like real punishment. When other Doms had “punished” her it was in fun or in role-play, not a real, deep down authentic punishment because she’d done something her Dom had disapproved of.
This felt real. With every hard smack, it sank in deeper. She’d hurt him and their relationship by running.
“Twelve, I will not run from Master.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. Her voice quavered, and her ass felt like it was on fire.
Whack.
A deep sob escaped her and her whole body shook. “I’m sorry,” she blurted in a small voice.
The brush dropped to the ground. “Good girl.” He smoothed a hand over her sore ass and whispered shushing sounds while she sobbed into the pillow.
It hurt, but not as much as she’d expected. The sobs were more about regret than pain.
He let her cry for a few minutes as he rubbed his hand down her thighs, over her ass, and even on her back. Then he lifted her so she was sitting upright on his lap. Unable to face him, she buried her head in his neck. His arms came around her, squeezing her against him.
“You took that very well,” he crooned in her ear. Stroking her hair, he whispered sweet things to her, and eventually her sobbing slowed to the occasional hiccup.
“A-are you . . .” She steadied her voice. “Are you still going to use the nipple clamps, Master?”
“No. You have a legitimate reason for me not to.” He chuckled and pulled her back so he could see her face. “I’m not cruel.”
She snorted. Her ass begged to differ.
“I never want to scare you or traumatize you. You’re too important to me for that.”
He hugged her again and an overwhelming feeling of warmth flooded her.
“How important?” she mumbled into his neck.
He sighed deeply before answering. “Very important.”
“Why?”
“Why? What kind of question is that?”
“A valid one.” She cuddled her face more into his neck, enjoying how his scent calmed her, even after he’d lit her ass on fire. But for some reason, punishment felt like love. What a weird, fucked-up relationship they had.
“Well . . . you’re important because . . .” He hesitated, making her whole body tense with anxiety.
Did he feel as strongly for her as she did for him? Was her puppy-dog infatuation one-sided?
“Because . . . I love you.”
She straightened then grinned at him. “I knew it!”
His brow creased. “Did you just manipulate me?”
“I had to know for sure.”
“Bad girl,” he said, chuckling.
“You can’t be mad at me.” She bit her lip, a knot forming in her gut.
“I can’t?”
