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I could only nod, my arms wrapped around a throw pillow, my face already buried in it as tears of remorse fell even before he laid the first smack on my ass.
He hadn’t been lying and, oh God, did he prove that he was committed. I was bawling before twenty swats had landed. My hands flew back only to be captured by one of his and pinned to the small of my back.
“I’m sorry, Daddy!”
“That makes two of us,” he said, though his hand never stopped adding fuel to the fire he’d started. Despite my determination to accept my punishment, I was arching, bucking, and learned that kicking up had that horridly hard hand move to the back of my thighs.
“No! Please, Daddy! Not there!”
“If you don’t want your thighs spanked, put your legs down.”
It was only when I dug my toes into the gap between the cushion and the side of the couch that his palm returned to continue blistering my ass. I was sure I was about to self-combust by the time his hand splayed across my buttocks. How he could stand the burn that was surely singeing his palm, I had no idea. When he finally released my hands, I expected him to turn me over and pull me into his lap. Instead, he lifted me to stand on wobbly legs in front of him.
“Can…can’t I si… sit on your la…lap?” I choked out.
“We’re not done. Go into our bedroom. Get my belt and go bend over the bed. You’ve got six stripes coming for cussing.”
“I did… didn’t cuss.”
His eyebrow arched. “You didn’t say ‘fucking’ poker party?”
“I-I didn’t say… say it to you, Daddy.”
“I don’t care who you said it to. Cussing is disrespecting yourself. And you’ve got two more coming for comparing yourself to a ‘damn dog’. No one is allowed to demean my wife… and that includes you, babygirl. Now go. I want you bent over the foot of the bed, holding the belt behind you by the time I join you. Understand?”
“Ye-yes, Daddy.”
I was halfway across the room when he spoke again.
“Hannah?”
Turning my head, I looked back over my shoulder. “Yes, Daddy?”
“Is eight with my belt not enough?”
I knew my eyes had to look like saucers as I said, “No! I mean, eight… eight is enough, Daddy.”
“Then I suggest you stop rubbing.”
Immediately dropping my hands, I said, “Yes, Daddy,” and moved to obey his command.
I had to pull his belt from the loops of the jeans that he’d left on the bathroom floor. That alone reminded me how upset he’d been as he was not like me. He didn’t leave his clothes scattered around. I put his jeans and shirt in the hamper and then couldn’t help myself. I turned my back to the mirror and looked over my shoulder. My ass was not only hot; it was indeed crimson. Seeing the belt reflected where it hung from my hand, I remembered that my punishment was not yet done. Leaving the bathroom, I went to kneel over the foot of our bed, placing my torso on the mattress and folding my arms behind my back. The leather that would soon be welting my butt was heavy as it brushed across my flesh. Turning my head to the side, I didn’t feel rebellious. I wasn’t angry that he was going to take the leather from my hand and add stripes to my bottom. Call me crazy, but I was grateful. Thankful that I had a husband—a daddy—who knew that, though he’d already forgiven me, this was exactly what I needed to forgive myself.
When he gave a gentle tug, I released the belt but then felt it being laid across the small of my back. Lifting my head, I watched as Brett walked around my side.
“Give me your hand, baby.”
Stretching out my right arm, I saw the length of rope he’d brought with him. “These aren’t going to be light strokes like last week. I’m going to tie your hands because if you reached back and I struck them, it would hurt.”
As he wrapped the rope around my wrist, I wanted to say that the strokes hurt my ass, but didn’t think he’d appreciate my attempt at humor. Securing the other end of the rope to the post on the corner of the bed, he then repeated the sequence with my left wrist and then ran his finger between the rope and my wrists.
“You can pull on the rope if you need to.” Moving back behind me, he picked up the belt. “I’m not going to ask you to count these. I’m going to give you all eight hard and fast.”
“O-okay.”
“Why am I going to whip you, Hannah?”
“Because I cussed and demeaned myself,” I said instantly.
