“You are not bad,” he whispers. “You are my good girl. You made a mistake. You’ll take your punishment, we’ll get through it together, and then it’s over. No shame. No guilt. We won’tspeak of it again. That’s what we agreed on. That’s what I promised you.”
I nod, tears falling freely now as his hands cradle my hips like I’m something breakable and precious.
“Do you trust me, princess?”
“Always,” I breathe.
“And do you understand why this is happening?”
I sniffle and whisper, “Because I broke the rules. And rules keep me safe.”
A soft smile pulls at his lips, and he kisses my knee. “Good girl.”
And even as nerves twist in my stomach, there’s a kind of peace too—because Elijah isn’t punishing me to hurt me. He’s showing me that I’m still safe. Still seen. Still his.
Especially when I need it most. More tears slip down my cheek. He kisses them away.
“Stand up,” he says gently. “Go to the bedroom. Pajamas off. Kneel at the end of the bed. We’re going to correct this. Then it’s over.”
My whole body flushes with nerves—but also relief. I don’t have to carry guilt. He’ll carry it with me.
I do as I’m told. I strip out of my pajamas with shaky hands and kneel at the foot of the bed. I take a deep breath and that's when he enters the room. His presence fills the room, thick as smoke, leaving no space for air or thought.
He lowers himself onto the armchair in the corner of the bedroom, legs spread wide, hands pressing flat against the armrests.
“Remember your safe word, baby?” His voice is low, deliberate, the kind of voice that makes my hair stand on end, as if my body knows what’s coming before my mind does.
“Yes, Daddy.” I answer without hesitation, my throat tight with anticipation.
Elijah hums softly, a sound like a promise as his gaze locks onto mine. “Look me in the eyes.”
I raise my head, meeting his stare, and the heat in those eyes is overwhelming—dark, hungry, full of something that makes my knees go weak.
“Give me your word,” he demands.
“Marshmallow.” The word slips out, light and steady, but it carries weight between us.
He nods approvingly, his voice smooth as silk. “That's my good girl. Now crawl to me.”
His command catches me off guard—he’s never asked me to crawl before. But the thought ignites something wild inside me. My thighs squeeze together tightly, and I bite down on my tongue to stop a moan from escaping.
Still, Elijah notices. The edges of his mouth curl into that wicked, knowing grin—the one that melts me every single time.
The room seems to shrink around us, the tension crackling, and I’m helpless to his pull, ready to give him everything he asks for.
I feel the cool fabric of the carpet beneath my hands as I shift forward, every nerve alive, every breath shallow.
Crawling toward him feels vulnerable but thrilling—like giving him a piece of myself I don’t show anyone else.
His eyes darken further as I reach him and settle between his legs, and he slides one hand from the armrest to lightly pet my hair, steadying me, grounding me.
“You're being such a good girl for me,” he whispers, voice thick with approval. “You’re my perfect princess.”
The weight of his gaze, the warmth of his hand, and the slow, steady beat of my heart all blend together, pulling me deeper into the moment. I’m his—completely, utterly his—and the thought makes my breath hitch.
Elijah’s hand moves with gentle authority, sliding up to cup the back of my head, his fingers threading softly through my hair. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down my spine. I tilt my head up, offering myself to him, every part of me open and waiting.
He leans in slowly, his breath warm against my skin. His lips brush the sensitive spot just below my ear, and I swallow hard, my body responding to the smallest touch.
