“Do you trust me, princess?” he murmurs, voice low and thick with something fierce.
“Yes, Daddy,” I whisper, voice barely more than a breath.
His lips find mine, soft at first, testing, then deepening with a hunger that makes my knees tremble. The world narrows until it’s just us, the quiet room, the electricity crackling between our skin.
I feel his hand tighten slightly in my hair, not rough, but possessive, reminding me that this moment belongs to him—and that I belong to him too.
He pulls back just enough to look into my eyes again, the fire still blazing there. “You’re my good girl,” he says softly. “Always.”
I smile, a shaky, happy thing, the warmth of his praise wrapping around me like a shield. Here, in his presence, I can let go of all the chaos outside—the fear, the worries, the danger.
For now, there’s only him. Only this.
“I’m going to spank you five times tonight,” he says quietly. “Not too hard. Just enough to remind you that when I give you structure, I mean it.”
I nod, eyes burning. “Yes, Daddy.”
He guides me over his lap and settles his hand over the curve of my ass. Warm. Possessive.
Then the first smack lands. Firm. Sharp, but not cruel.
“I told you lights out at ten.”
Smack.
“I told you to trust me.”
Smack.
“I love you enough to hold the line when you can’t.”
Smack.
It’s not about pain. It’s about presence.
Smack. Smack.
My breathing is shaky, but I’m calm. Centered.
After the last spank, Elijah pauses, his palm resting on the curve of my ass, heat radiating from my skin to his touch.
I’m still trembling, my breath shaky, heart pounding. The sting lingers, sharp and humming, but beneath it is something else—need, thick and warm and impossible to ignore.
He leans forward, his chest brushing against my back as he presses a kiss between my shoulder blades.
Then his hands begin to move—slowly, reverently. He caresses the punished flesh, his touch gentle where his palm had been firm. Up and down, tracing each curve, each swell, as though he’s memorizing me all over again.
“You did so good for me, princess,” he murmurs, voice low and threaded with heat. “You took your punishment so well.”
I whimper, too raw to speak. His praise wraps around me like a blanket, softening the ache.
His fingers drift lower, exploring with purpose now. He cups the heat between my thighs, and we both feel it—slick and undeniable.
He groans softly, more breath than sound. “You’re soaked,” he says, almost in awe. “Look what that did to you.”
I can’t look at him. My face burns hotter than my skin.
“I didn’t mean to—” I begin, voice breaking.
