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“What’s that thing?”
“You know the material they use to make welcome mats? How it’s kind of scratchy so you can wipe your shoes on it?”
Wariness crept into her expression as she glanced from the seat up to him and back again. “Uh… yes?”
“I commissioned several pads made out of the same material to fit this chair. They are uncomfortable at the best of times, but I’ve been told they are ‘the worst things ever’ on a freshly spanked bottom.”
“You can’t be serious!”
“Oh, but I am, sweetheart.” Hurt swam in her eyes, but he steeled himself against it. “Sit, or I can go retrieve a paddle from that trunk over there. I can guarantee this will be even more uncomfortable after a few dozen swats with even the lightest paddle I own.”
“Yes, Da—Sir.”
With almost comical slowness, she lowered herself down until her bottom pressed against the scratchy material. She shifted a couple of times but seemed to catch on quickly to the fact that the less she moved, the more comfortable it would be.
“Open your notebook. Fifty times ‘I will not put myself or my friends in danger by contacting them behind Dean’s back’. I’ll be over there on the couch, so let me know when you’re done and I’ll come check your work. If you get up from this chair before all fifty lines are done, I will be getting that paddle and you’ll be starting over from scratch. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl.”
Her sigh was almost inaudible as she picked up her pen and bent her head to focus on her lines. Watching her, he wanted nothing more than to lean down and brush a kiss over her hair. Because it was far too tempting, he forced himself to return to the couch, where he could watch over her from a much safer distance.
* * *
If writinglines had sucked before, it sucked even more sitting on a sore bottom on the torture pad Dean had laid down.
Dean. Not Daddy. He’d made thatveryclear when she’d called him the latter. Which was still confusing, because if he didn’t want her to call him Daddy, why had he referred to himself that way?
The paper swam in front of her eyes and she furiously blinked back tears. This whole experience had been beyond humiliating, and not in the fun, sexy way like when Dean had bared her for her spanking. She shifted, just a little in her chair, but even that small movement caused the material to scratch her overly sensitized skin.
Cruel and unusual punishment, that’s what it was.
At this point, the only reason she hadn’t called her safeword was because she knew she deserved to be punished. If she’d realized that calling Olivia would have put her at risk, she never would have made the call. But the bottom line was, she’d been given a rule and she’d broken that rule without a second thought because… well, she supposed, because she was a selfish little bitch, just like mama had always said.
A sob bubbled up in her throat, but she forced herself to swallow it back. Crying now would just be seen as a bid for pity, and god only knew what he would do then. And though she couldn’t keep a few tears from slipping down and spilling onto the paper, she managed to keep the worst of it at bay while she finished all fifty neat little lines.
“I’m done.”
Rustling from behind her told her he was standing up, crossing the room. When he laid his hand on the back of her chair, the need for him to touch her, to hold her, was a physical ache inside of her.
“Good girl. You can get up now and come have a cuddle on the couch. We can watch a movie or something if you want.”
“No, thank you.” She wondered if her voice sounded as wooden and hollow to him as it felt to her. “I’d rather just go up to my room.”
“Sweetheart, you just went through a really big punishment. You need some aftercare.”
“No, thank you,” she repeated, praying silently he’d drop it. If he touched her now, she would lose her battle with the tears currently sticking in her throat, and that was the last thing she wanted. “I’ll see you later, Dean.”
Without waiting for permission, she bent and jerked her leggings up into position. The normally soft cotton of her underwear felt like sandpaper against her abraded skin, just another reminder of her humiliation.
She just barely caught herself before she slammed the door the way she so badly wanted to. But that would be inviting another spanking and she wasn’t sure she could endure another round without completely breaking.
Throwing herself face-down onto her bed, she finally gave in to the burgeoning tears, using her pillow to smother the sound of her cries as much as possible.
* * *
Fucking hell.He was the worst kind of asshole.
