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"Yes, Daddy! I'm sorry, please stop!"
"Not yet, little one." After two more painful swats to the spot where her bottom met her thighs, she felt something cool and hard tap against her burning skin. The spoon, how could she have forgotten about that damn spoon?
"Little girls who tell people to shut up and swear at the people who love them don't get off with a few little love pats."
Love pats? An emotion akin to fear had the butterflies in her stomach going crazy. It wasn't true fear; she knew true fear. She knew the slick coat of ice over her insides, the vice around her lungs making it hard to breathe. Even though she knew he was about to light her bottom on fire, she didn't feel anything close to true fear.
"Ready, little one?"
The question quieted her racing mind. And because she didn't feel anything close to real, true fear, she nodded. "Yes, Daddy."
It was awful. Every stroke of the spoon was a dozen little bees stinging her skin all at the same time. Over and over, until every inch of her skin felt like he was spanking the skin right off her bottom.
"Daddy, please! I'm sorry!"
"Are you going to be respectful to the people you love?" The swats moved lower, focusing on the place where her bottom met her thighs, and she howled at the fresh, bright pain.
"Yes, yes! Just stop, please!"
"Almost, little one. You're still holding back."
"Wh-what?"
"Let go, Evie." His voice had gentled, no longer stern and scolding. "You're scared and upset. Let it out, little one."
The spoon continued to fall, building the burn in her bottom until it was unbearable. As much as she tried to fight, he held her in position, forcing her to accept every, single, punishing stroke. The pressure in her chest grew heavier and tighter until it finally cracked. A sob burst out of her, and she slumped over his knee, weeping.
"Tesoro." As soon as the dam broke, he lifted her into his arms. Despite him being the one who'd lit her ass on fire, she craved his comfort.
"I'm s-sorry!"
"I know. And it's all forgiven."
Forgiven. Had she ever heard that word from the people who claimed to love her? Her parents had never said it, even after she'd worked to gain their approval after whatever little slip up she'd committed. Branson had begged for forgiveness plenty in the early days, when he'd still bothered to pretend he wasn't a monster. But he'd never extended so much as the pretense of forgiveness to her.
A weight she'd never realized she was carrying lifted. Her heavy sobs slowed to sniffles, and she let herself relax into Jason's embrace with a sigh. "Thank you."
His chest vibrated beneath her. "What are you thanking me for, little one?"
"I feel better. For months now, I've felt on edge and like a wire about to snap. I don't feel like that anymore."
"I'm glad." She smiled when he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "And I'm happy to repeat the process any time you're feeling that way."
Her bottom tingled at the promise, but it didn't dim the glow she felt, curled in his arms. "You won't need to, Daddy. I learned my lesson."
"We'll see about that,tesoro."
"I'm a fast learner," she pressed, wiggling so she was sitting up straighter, facing him. "Promise."
The humor she so loved about him sparkled in his eyes. "I'm sure you are. But you also have a temper."
She couldn't argue with that, so she settled for pouting and was rewarded with a slow, deep kiss that scrambled her brain and made her forget what she was pouting about in the first place.
"We should go back to the kitchen," Jason said when they broke the kiss.
"Oh my God!" Heat flooded her cheeks, and she curled back into him, burying her face in his neck. "I can't go in there! They all heard!"
"They did. But you can't hide from them forever."
