Eddie nods and takes my hand as I hold it out for him. His cock is semi-hard and bobs delightfully as we walk. Damn. It looks good enough to eat… but maybe that’s something for later. Right now, I want this damned boy to think about what he’s done without any distractions.
And together, we walk toward the kitchen and some much needed ice and cooling cream. Eddie keeps his head down as he walks. He’s quiet, hopefully learning his lesson. The boy tried torun, I caught him, and he was given a suitable punishment. And now I’ll help him get over the pain.
But thiscannothappen again.
And if it does, it might be the devil that comes out of me rather than the Daddy…
Chapter 9
Eddie
We reach the kitchen, and Viktor finally releases my hand to guide me inside. He doesn't say a word as he helps me fully step out of my tangled clothes, his touch clinical and careful, avoiding anything that might make this moment feel more intimate than it already is.
As before, Viktor knows what he’s doing when it comes to aftercare. His hands are equally as capable of softness and care as they are of dishing out a spanking, or worse. Once I’m all done, Viktor takes a step back and his hungry eyes take in the sight of my red butt one last time.
“Okay, we’re done,” Viktor says. “Good boy.”
I stand there, half-naked and vulnerable, as he pulls my briefs and jeans back on, fastening them with a gentleness that clashes with the sternness in his eyes. "Sit," he says quietly, pointing to a stool at the island. But instead of obeying immediately, I hesitate, my bottom protesting at the thought of hard wood.
Viktor notices and softens just a fraction. He grabs a soft cushion from one of the chairs and places it on the stool.
"Better?"
“Yup,” I nod, easing myself down gingerly. The cushion helps, but the sting is still there—a constant pulse that makes it impossible to forget what just happened.
Viktor moves to the freezer, pulling out an ice pack and wrapping it in a towel before handing it to me. "Sit on this. Ten minutes should do."
I do as he says, the cold seeping through the fabric and numbing the heat. It's a strange kind of relief, and as I sit there, I watch him rummage in a drawer. His movements are efficient, almost tender, and it hits me again how contradictory he is—this man who can spank me until I cry and then care for me like I'm something precious.
When the ten minutes are up, he takes the ice pack away and swiftly re-applies the cooling cream himself as I once again present my naked ass, his fingers cool and light on my skin.
I bite my lip, trying not to react to the intimacy of it all.
"There," he says finally, stepping back. "Now, nap time."
"Nap?" I echo, surprised. "I might be a Little. But I'm not ababy."
Viktor’s expression doesn't change. "You need rest. And I need to keep an eye on you. It’s not a request."
He takes my hand again, leading me out of the kitchen and down the hall to the study. The room is warm, with a large couch positioned near an open fire that's crackling softly, flames dancing in the hearth. Bookshelves line the walls, filled with leather-bound volumes that look old and important, and his desk sits in the corner, papers scattered across it like he's been working through the night.
Viktor guides me to the couch, helping me lie down on my side to avoid putting pressure on my sore bottom. He grabs a thick, soft blanket from a nearby chair and drapes it over me, tucking the edges in carefully.
I clutch Goldie tighter, burying my face in his mane for comfort.
The fire's warmth seeps into my bones, and despite everything, exhaustion starts to pull at me—the adrenaline crash from the run, the punishment, the emotional whirlwind.
"Sleep," Viktor says, his voice low and commanding but not unkind. He sits on the edge of the couch for a moment, adjusting the blanket one last time.
I look up at him, my eyes heavy. "Will you...stay?"
Viktor pauses, considers something, then nods.
"Right here," he says, a hint of a smile on his face.
To my surprise, he begins to hum a melody—soft at first, then turning into words. It's an old Russian lullaby, his voice deep and rumbling, carrying a melody that's both haunting and soothing.
"Bayu-bayushki-bayu," he sings quietly, the words foreign but the tone universal.
