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“You don’t have to use that,” I pleaded.
“Put your hand behind your back, babygirl.”
His voice was firm, and I knew there would be no getting out of this. Reluctantly, I shifted my weight and reached back, only to have him pin my hand behind my back again.
“You’re not going to be able to keep still for this next part, so I’ll do it for you,” he replied gently.
Even in my fear, I could tell that he cared. After that session with his belt some time ago, I understood what he meant. I could reach back, and the hairbrush could clip my fingers, which could really hurt me. A sore bottom would go away in a day or two, but a broken finger would take much longer to mend.
“I want this to be the first, last, and only time I must remind you of this, my beautiful bride. In order to survive in my world, we will present as a united front, no matter what. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” I whimpered quietly.
“Are you ready?”
“I’m sorry I put us in danger,” I tried once more.
“I know, sweetheart. I took care of everything,” he assured me.
I slumped over his lap, worrying my lip.
“You know how much I love you, don’t you?”
“I do,” I answered quietly.
“Then I think it’s time we get this part over with, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” I whispered, my voice hardly audible.
He tapped the brush against my already stinging cheeks. I’d been so caught up with the new implement that I’d forgotten that my bottom was already a little sore, which probably meant that this was going to be even worse than I thought it would be.
I expected it to be terrible.
It was worse.
From the very first swat, the hairbrush took my breath away. Unlike his hand or his belt, the stinging that came with it was centered all in one place, rather than spread out across my skin. He had been right to hold me because I tried to reach back by the third spank. My hips jackknifed, trying to avoid the agonizing sting, but there was no escaping it.
After the brush started falling, there was nothing else in the world that mattered.
I cried. I begged. I pleaded, but the brush didn’t stop.
I didn’t expect it too either.
A flurry of terrible swats bit into the lower curve of my bottom, painting every inch of my bare, vulnerable flesh with stinging fire.
The back of the hairbrush was vicious, and I vowed I would do everything in my power to never earn it again. I squeezed my eyes shut, overwhelmed almost immediately. When he moved down to my upper thighs, my eyes grew misty. I blinked, trying not to cry but I knew that was pointless too.
I didn’t know why I tried to fight it. I knew this wasn’t going to end before I gave in. I struggled for several more moments, and then the paddle bit into my bare cheeks a little deeper. My breath caught in the back of my throat, and before I could do anything to stop it, a tear rolled down my cheek. Another followed, and then suddenly a waterfall of tears sprang forth. The hairbrush continued to fall, and I sobbed as my body slumped over his knee.
The swats slowed, each one somehow sinking deeper as I cried. I didn’t count how many more followed. I wouldn’t have even been remotely capable of it if I’d tried.
I sobbed as he threw the brush aside. He lifted me off his lap, pulling me into the safety of his arms without even a second’s pause. I threw my arms around him and clutched at his chest as he kissed the top of my head over and over.
“I love you so much, my Natasha, my babygirl,” he declared.
I kissed his chest through my tears as he held me.
We sat there together like that for a long time.
