Levi slowly peeled the three blankets from around her. Once he’d tossed them aside, he patted his thigh. “Come here, little miss.”
Her breath hitched as Levi guided her gently over his lap. The room felt so quiet now, the ticking of the old clock on the wall loud in the stillness. Her heart thudded hard, her fingers clutching at the couch cushion beneath her.
His arm came around her waist, firm and sure, holding her just tight enough to make her feel safe, held,his.
“Babygirl,” he said softly, one large hand resting on her lower back. “This is going to hurt, because it needs to. Because I need you to remember. But I’m right here the whole time. And when it’s done, it’s done. You understand me?”
She nodded.
“Use your words, Sydney.”
“Yes, Daddy. I understand.”
“Good girl,” he praised. “And if at any time, if what we’re doing is too much, all you have to do is tell me ‘red,’ okay?”
Sydney took a deep breath before looking directly at him. Her Daddy. “Yes, Daddy. Red for stop. I can do this.”
There was a pause, the kind that made her body hum with anticipation, with dread, with want, and then his hand left her back.
The first smack landed on the curve of her bottom, and even through the denim, it startled a gasp from her. A sharp stingbloomed across her skin, and before she could catch her breath, the next swat fell, a little lower, firm and precise.
Her legs kicked just a little, an involuntary reaction, but Levi’s arm held her steady. His hand came down again, and again, methodical, covering every inch of her bottom.
The heat built quickly, spreading out from each point where his palm met her flesh, the layers of cloth doing little to dull the growing burn.
She whimpered, shifting on his lap, but he didn’t pause. The rhythm of his hand stayed steady. His movements weren’t rushed or harsh, just unrelenting.
Every smack echoed in the small room, blending with the sound of her own soft cries.
And then the feelings started to well up, hot and tangled and too big for her chest.
I scared him.
I scared myself.
What was I thinking?
Why does it feel so good to let him do this?
Her tears came before she realized they would, slipping down her cheeks, hot against the cold that had clung to her skin outside.
His hand paused only long enough to rub over the heated fabric of her jeans, a comforting stroke that both soothed and reminded her who was in control.
“You’re doing good, babygirl,” he murmured. His voice made her want to cry harder. “Let it out. Daddy’s got you.”
And then his hand started again, slower now but harder. Enough that she felt the difference, enough that she gasped and sobbed his name without meaning to. “Daddy! Please, I’m sorry!”
Her bottom burned, the sting sinking deeper, but she didn’t fight it. Couldn’t. This was what she’d dreamed of, what she’dached for. Not the pain, exactly, but the surrender. The knowing someone cared enough to stop her when she couldn’t stop herself.
By the time he stopped, she was a mess. Her bottom throbbed, her jeans tight against the heat. Her body shook with sobs she couldn’t hold back.
Levi shifted, lifting her into his lap, wrapping her in those strong arms, the warmth of him more comforting than any blanket could be.
“That’s it, baby,” he soothed, rocking her gently. “It’s over. You’re safe. I’m so proud of you.”
She buried her face against his chest, breathing him in, clinging to him as the storm inside her began to quiet at last.
Then her Daddy helped her out of her jeans, into one of his soft tracksuit bottoms, and then into the bed he shared with Roland.
