“While you’re living under my roof, you do as I say.” I lean over her, my voice laced with disappointment. “You’ve been a bad girl. And bad girls need to be punished.”
She swallows hard, her breathing speeds up.
With my leather belt free, I fold it in half. “I don’t want to do this, but you left me no choice when you disobeyed me.” With a flick of my wrist, the leather strap slaps against the back of her thighs with a light crack.
She jolts under my hand, but doesn’t make a sound, just glares at me with fire in her eyes.
“I had one rule,” I growl as I yank her dress up to strike the flesh of her ass, but pause. She’s bare. I suck in a sharp breath. Soft pink cheeks hold my focus, my fingers itching to caress the smooth skin, not imprint it with my belt. “You went to that party commando?” The words come out hoarse, coated in jealousy.
“No. I left my knickers in the truck. You didn’t exactly give me time to gather my shit.”
My hand moves before my mind catches up and whips the leather over her cheek with a stinging smack, leaving a red mark.
Her body flinches with a yelp.
“You let him touch you?” I crack her again, the sound making Belle bark. Up to this point, I’d hoped his confession was a lie to provoke me.
“Yes,” she says in a breathy voice that only my cock hears. She grinds against the wooden table, wiggling her ass. “I was going to let him fuck me.” She tenses her cheeks for another blow.
With jealousy clouding my head, I strike her ass harder this time, but she doesn’t flinch. “Did he fuck you?” My words come out fast and harsh, but I try to remain calm, even though I’m hanging on by a thread.
As much as I want to kill the motherfucker for having the audacity to think he can touch my girl, I’m not that person anymore, though it’s taking every ounce of strength I have to keep the monster at bay. Another time I wouldn’t have hesitated in ripping his fucking head off.
“No,” she cries out.
A long breath leaves my lungs along with all the pent up rage. “What did he do?” I need to know, even though I don’t want to hear it.
“Touched me.” She tenses, bracing herself as I mark her skin again with a slap to her flesh. Her backside’s red raw from my punishment.
“Where?” I growl.
“Down there.”
I run the leather between her thighs, wanting to erase every touch of his hand and brand her as mine with each laceration on her skin. Lifting the belt coated in her scent, a slick trail shines on the leather under the kitchen light, causing my dick to stir. “Is this turning you on?”
“No.” Her chin sticks out as she grinds her jaw. “Is it you?”
“Believe me, I don’t want to hurt you, but you left me no choice. You need to learn your lesson.” I strike her other cheek and she yelps.
“All right, I’m sorry, you sick fuck.” Her breathy voice pants out the words.
“Language.” I strike her ass again for her potty mouth.
Her eyes plead with me. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
My heart stutters against my chest. Fuck. Hearing those words from her mouth has my cock stirring to life.
She bites her lip, gazing at me. Does she know what she’s doing to me? I’m no longer holding her down. She’s free to move, but she lies against the table in the same position I had her pinned. She pushes back, pressing her ass against my palm, tempting me, but for what, I’m unsure. Another strike of the belt, my hand, my dick?
Tempted to squeeze, I take a step back. One more move of my hand, and I’ll dive into her heat and eradicate every touch from that motherfucker, branding her with my own hand, marking her with my scent, and devouring every crevice with my tongue.
“Get upstairs and take a fucking shower. Make sure you scrub every inch of your body that you let him touch. I don’t want to see you for the rest of the night.” I gently pull her dress down over the marks I’ve left on her cheeks.
Shame gnaws at my face, and I look away, facing the kitchen window before she sees my remorse. I’ve never struck a woman before. I’ve never dealt with a bratty teenager before. Pa would always take the belt to me. Tough love, he called it. But it’s guilt I’m feeling now at how I handled the situation. If only she would fucking listen.
I wanted to break her, beat that sass out of her so she would obey and understand that I know what’s good for her, but in doing so, I’ve fractured myself. Now it’s just something else I need to repent for.
The kitchen door slams before footsteps bound up the stairs and another door bangs shut in the distance. I drag a hand over my weary face and stare at my reflection in the dark kitchen window, telling myself this is for her own good and it’s the only tough love I know. And Lord knows I love her and want to do right by her. Ever since she was born, I’ve wanted to atone for my actions.
