"Are you asking for discipline, little one?" He tilted his head slightly, and something about the gesture was purely predatory. "Because there are better ways to request it than bratting."
"I'm not asking for anything." My pulse hammered in my throat, but I kept my voice steady. "Just stating an opinion. Which I'm allowed to do, right? Or is that against the rules too?"
His eyes darkened, pupils dilating as the challenge registered fully. He stood slowly, and the movement was all controlled power, centuries of dominance condensed into the simple act of rising from a chair.
"Opinions are always welcome." He moved around the desk with that predatory grace I was learning to recognize, each step deliberate, eating the distance between us. "Testing my authority to see if I'll follow through? That has consequences."
I forced myself to meet his gaze, to not back down even though everything in me was screaming that I'd poked something dangerous and it was waking up. "I don't know what you mean. I'm just having a conversation about rules that seem unnecessary—"
"Stop." The single word cut through my deflection like a blade through silk. He was standing in front of my chair now, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. "I can feel your intent through the bond, Wren. You're not confused about the rules. You're testing them. Testing me. Seeing if I meant what I said about discipline and enforcement."
Heat flooded my cheeks, spreading down my neck and across my chest. Called out so directly, I couldn't maintain the pretense of casual conversation.
"And what if I am?" The words came out more breathless than I'd intended. "What if I need to know that you'll actually follow through? That the boundaries aren't just pretty words you wrote in a contract?"
"Then you're about to find out exactly how serious I am." His hand came down to cup my chin, tilting my face up so I couldn't look away. His touch was gentle but absolutely firm, allowing no resistance. "You broke a rule deliberately. Announced your intention to ignore my authority. That earns correction, little one. Real correction, not play."
My breath caught. Through the bond, I felt his determination mixing with heat, with the kind of anticipation that said he'd been waiting for this—waiting for me to push so he could show me what happened when I did.
"What kind of correction?" I managed to ask.
"The kind that reminds you why the rules exist. The kind that helps you feel secure in the boundaries you're testing." His thumb traced my lower lip, and the contact sent sparks racing down my spine. "The kind that leaves you in no doubt that I meant every word of what I promised."
I should have been scared. Should have backed down, apologized, found a way out of the consequences I'd deliberately provoked. But I wasn't scared. I was aroused, anticipation coiling low in my belly, making me shift in my chair.
"Maybe I don't need correction," I tried one more time, even though we both knew I was lying. "Maybe I was just—"
"Wren." My name in his mouth was command and caress all at once. "Do you remember your safewords?"
The question cut through my deflection, made everything real. We weren't playing anymore—weren't having a theoretical discussion about discipline. This was happening. Right now.
"Red to stop," I said, my voice gone breathless. "Yellow to pause. Green to continue."
"Good girl." His approval made something warm bloom in my chest. "Color?"
I took a breath, checked in with myself. Nervous? Yes. Unsure what would happen? Absolutely. But underneath all that was need—the desperate desire to know he would follow through, would enforce what he'd promised, would be strong enough to handle me when I pushed.
"Green," I whispered.
His smile was equal parts tender and dangerous. "Then come with me, little one. It's time you learned what happens when you test Daddy's rules."
Thedisciplinechamberwasadjacent to the Nursery, accessible through a door I'd glimpsed during my tour but never entered. Caelus led me inside, and I had just a moment to take in the space before my brain short-circuited trying to process everything at once.
Beautiful was the first word that came to mind, followed immediately by intimidating. The room managed to be both—all pale wood and soft lighting, with furniture that looked like art until you understood its purpose. A padded bench at the perfect height for bending over. A spanking chair with strategic armrests. A St. Andrew's cross mounted on the wall, its leather cuffs waiting with patient menace. Cabinets lined one wall, their contents hidden behind frosted glass that suggested implements I wasn't ready to think about yet.
But it wasn't cold or clinical. Plants hung from the ceiling, trailing green into the corners. The carpet was thick enough to kneel on comfortably. A chaise by the window was piled with soft blankets, clearly meant for aftercare. Everything said this spacewas for care as much as correction, for intimacy as much as discipline.
"Over the bench," Caelus said, guiding me forward with a hand on the small of my back. "Hips elevated, feet on the floor."
I moved without thinking, my body already learning to respond to that particular tone in his voice. The bench was padded leather, warm against my stomach as I bent over it. The position left me exposed in a way that made arousal spike sharp and immediate—ass raised, legs spread for balance, hands gripping the far edge because I needed something to hold onto.
"You broke a rule deliberately," he said, moving to stand behind me where I couldn't see him. His hand rested on my waist, steadying, claiming. "Testing to see if I'd enforce what I said I would. That earns ten with my hand. Count them."
The first smack landed on my fabric-covered bottom, and it wasn't painful—more surprising than anything, a sharp sensation that bloomed into warmth. The sound echoed in the quiet chamber, impossibly loud.
"One," I gasped, my fingers tightening on the bench.
The second came before I'd fully processed the first. "Two."
