“Red is fine, Sir.” My voice barely sounded like my own.
He guided my hands behind my back and secured them with the tie. It wasn’t tight enough to hurt, but firm enough that I couldn’t get free. I tested the restraint instinctively, and he placed a calming hand on my lower back.
“Easy, little one. No marking those delicate wrists. Breathe for me.”
I did, trying to process what was happening. He lifted the back of my robe, exposing me to the cool air of the room. I was acutely aware of how vulnerable I was, how wet I’d become from nothing more than his proximity and his voice. The way he dominated the space and assumed control. It didn’t leave room for sass.
“What are you doing?” I asked, looking over my shoulder.
“See, you have a problem with saying ‘Sir,’ answering my questions, and following instructions. I think it’s time I showed you the consequences of those actions. All are very valuable tools for training and communication, don’t you agree?”
“Yes.” I attempted to stand, but his palm pressed firmly against my lower back, keeping me in place. Then I remembered that I hadn’t said Sir. “Yes, Sir.”
“Nice catch, but it won’t save you. What’s your safe word, little one?”
“Red.”
“Do you need to use it?”
Did I? My body was screaming yes and no at the same time, fear and anticipation warring with each other.
“No, Sir,” I whispered.
“Good girl.” His hand caressed my exposed skin, gentle and appreciative. “So soft. You’ll count for me, won’t you, little one?”
“What am I counting, Sir?”
Before I could process his lack of answer, his hand connected with my ass in a sharp smack. The sting was immediate and shocking, making me gasp and squirm. But his other hand held steady on my back, grounding me.
He waited.
“Whenever you’re ready,” he said calmly.
I took a shaky breath, trying to understand what he wanted.
“This would go so much faster if you counted.”
“What am I counting, Sir?” Frustration crept into my voice.
Three swift smacks followed, each one building on the heat of the last.
“How many was that?” he asked.
Shit. He wanted me to count the spanks.
“Three! Three, Sir!”
“Much better. Thank you, beautiful.”
The praise settled over me like a balm, making the sting more bearable.
“Take a deep breath,” he warned.
I barely had time to comply before ten sharp smacks landed in quick succession, covering different areas, each one stoking the fire building under my skin. Then five more.
“Fifteen that time!” I gasped, tears streaming down my face. The pain was intense, but underneath it was something else. It felt like a release breaking through a barrier I hadn’t known was there.
“For a total of?” His tone was almost hopeful, like he wanted to see if I’d been paying attention.
