I tried. Managed something that was half breath, half whimper.
His fingers found the hem of my pink sweater. Lifted it slightly. Not removing it—just pushing it up enough to expose the waistband of my black leggings.
"These need to come down," he said. His voice was still calm. Still controlled. But there was an edge to it now. Command that expected obedience. "Just to your thighs. I want you to feel this properly, but I'm not humiliating you. Do you understand?"
I nodded against the chair arm. My throat was too tight to speak.
"Words, Sophie."
"Yes. I understand."
His fingers hooked in the waistband of my leggings. "Lift up."
I lifted my hips. The movement made my core clench. Made me hyperaware of how wet I was, how my body was responding to this with arousal instead of just fear.
He pulled the leggings down slowly. Past my hips, over my ass, down to mid-thigh. The fabric bunched there, holding my legs together, restricting my movement.
The air in the study was cool against my exposed skin. I was wearing the panties he'd provided—soft white cotton with tiny flowers. Simple. Almost childlike. The realization made my face burn hotter.
His hand settled on my lower back again. "I'm not taking these off," he said quietly. "You'll stay covered. But you'll feel every spank through the fabric. That's part of your consequence—feeling what you've earned."
Earned. The word made something flutter in my stomach.
"We're using the count method," he continued. His voice had dropped into that commanding register that made my brain go fuzzy. "Twenty spanks. You'll count each one out loud. You'll thank me after each count. If you lose count or forget to thank me, we start over from one. Do you understand?"
Twenty. That seemed like so many. But I'd agreed to this. Had asked for discipline when I broke rules.
"Yes," I whispered.
"Yes, what?"
The title rose to my lips automatically. Naturally. "Yes, Daddy."
His hand went still on my back. The silence stretched. I'd said it without thinking—just let it slip out like it belonged there.
"Good girl," he murmured finally. His voice had gone rough. "Such a good girl for Daddy."
The praise made warmth bloom in my chest despite my vulnerable position. Made me feel safe even though I was draped over his lap waiting for punishment.
His hand left my back. I tensed. Held my breath. Waited.
The first spank landed on my right cheek. Not gentle. Firm. The sting bloomed sharp and hot through the thin cotton of my panties.
I gasped. "One. Thank you, Daddy."
My voice wavered on the words.
The second spank landed on my left cheek immediately. Same force. Same sharp sting.
"Two. Thank you, Daddy."
Third spank. Right side again. The heat was building now. Layering.
"Three. Thank you, Daddy."
He kept going and I kept thanking him.
By the sixth spank, my bottom was burning. The heat had spread from sharp stings to a deeper ache. Each impact made me jerk slightly. Made small sounds escape my throat.
