Another swat strikes the opposite cheek and my legs instinctively try to kick up, but they’re trapped between his, rendering my struggles completely ineffective. “Two, I will be on time, Sir.”
Three. Four. Five. I will be on time, Sir.
Number six lands right on my sit-spot and tears well in my eyes. As much as I don’t want him to see me cry, my voice is thick with them when I give my count. “S-six. I will be on t-time, Sir.”
“There we go,” he murmurs before snapping the paddle against my other cheek in that same spot. “I do love it when you cry for me, Camilla. Don’t hold back, little one.”
Little one.In all our months together, he’s never called me that. Never anything but Camilla or Ms. Hamilton. Why is he suddenly calling me “little one”?
The cool wood rubs over my scorched flesh. “Camilla. What’s your count?”
Crap, crap, crap. What is my count? “Um. S-seven, Sir?”
“Are you asking me or telling me, Camilla?”
I’m fairly certain I have it right. Please, god, let me have it right. “Seven, I will be on time, Sir.”
“Good girl.”
How many times have I heard those words from him? Not as many as I would like, certainly, but enough that they shouldn’t hit me in the gut the way they do now.
But there’s something about his tone, the low, growly way he praises me that sends my heart racing.
Before I can think too hard about it, however, the paddle lands again, and the tears I’ve been fighting so hard to hold back burst out of me on a sob. “Eight! I will b-be on time, Sir!”
“So close, little one. Just two more. You can take two more, can’t you, my sweet, brave Camilla?”
Sweet? Brave?
Who the hell are you and what have you done with Doctor D?
I struggle my way through nine and ten with his odd praise ringing in my ears. And when it’s done, I collapse over his knee, sobbing so hard I can barely breathe. It’s not even that the spanking hurt all that much. I’ve certainly had worse. But hisbehavior, the encouraging words and gentle touches, it all has me so twisted up inside I can’t think straight.
“Up you go, little one. Let’s get you changed into something more appropriate.”
Sweeping me up in his arms, which is a thrill I never expected to experience for too many reasons to name, he carries me into a small changing room and lays me out on the cushioned table. I’m feeling far more Little with him than I’ve ever felt with anyone, and rather than the joy I’d always hoped to feel when I finally let myself go this far, all I can manage is a bone-deep terror.
But when I try to hug Cobie to my chest for comfort, I realize my arms are empty.
“Where’s Cobie?” Fresh tears well in my eyes as panic claws at my stomach. “I need Cobie!”
“Cobie?” Under different circumstances, I might have been able to enjoy the sight of Doctor D looking so thoroughly confused. “Who’s Cobie?”
“M-my dr-dragon,” I sob out. I try to roll off the table to find him, but Donovan stops me with one hand.
“Stay right there, little girl. I don’t want you hurting yourself,” he scolds as he uses his free hand to fasten a leather strap around my waist.
“I want Cobie!” Kicking my feet, I reach for the strap to unfasten myself, but I’m stopped cold by a sudden stinging on the top of my hand.
Did he just—Did he justsmack my hand?
Why, of everything he’s ever done to methatshould be the thing that makes me feel the Littlest of all, I’m not sure. All I know is I feel very, very small as I look up at him, my bottom lip quivering from his impromptu discipline.
“Do not touch that strap, Camilla Joy. I will go get your dragon, but if you move from that table before I get back you will be a very sorry Little girl. Am I understood?”
I’m already a very sorry Little girl, but I know all too well how easily he can make me regret even the smallest act of defiance, so I keep that thought inside where it belongs. “Y-yes, Sir.”
“Good girl. I’ll be right back.”
