"Okay. But we're going to do this right." He shifts me so I'm standing. "Take off your panties."
My hands shake as I comply.
"Good girl. Back over my knee."
This time, when I'm positioned, there's no barrier between his hand and my skin.
"I'm going to give you twenty," he says. "Count them for me. If you lose count, we start over. If you need to stop, use your safe word. Understood?"
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
The title falls from my lips before I can think. "Yes, Daddy."
He groans softly. "That's my good girl."
The first spank lands hard enough to take my breath away.
"One," I gasp.
"Why are we doing this?" he asks.
"Because I need to take better care of myself."
Another spank.
"Two."
"And who's going to make sure you do?"
"You are."
Spank.
"Three."
We continue like this, each impact punctuated by questions that force me to articulate why this matters, why I need this structure and why I'm choosing to submit.
By fifteen, I'm crying freely. Not from pain, even though my ass is truly on fire, but from the sheer emotional release of it all.
"You're doing so well," Ethan murmurs. "Five more, baby. You can do this."
Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen.
"Almost there. Show me how strong you are."
Nineteen.
The last one lands hardest, and I sob out "Twenty!" with a mixture of relief and pride.
Immediately, Ethan pulls me into his arms, cradling me against his chest.
"You did so well," he murmurs, pressing kisses to my hair. "I'm so proud of you. So damn proud."
I'm shaking, tears streaming down my face, but there's this lightness in my chest I've never felt before. My shoulders have come down from next to my ears and I can breathe. It’s like I’ve let go of a heavy weight.
"How do you feel?" he asks gently.
