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“Good. I do not want to have to repeat this lesson, little girl. Now, say the phrase I gave you or that one doesn’t count.”
“M-My Mommy and Daddy l-love me, exactly as I-I am.”
“Again.”
I swing the paddle a second time, drawing another pained cry from my Little girl while my wife clutches both of Kerry’s hands in her lap.
“My Mommy and D-Daddy love me, exactly as I-I-I am.”
“That’s our sweet girl,” Celeste murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of Kerry’s head. “Three more. You’re doing so well, angel.”
Three more times, I paddle my babygirl, and by the time I’m finished her bottom is an angry mix of red and pink, with some darker splotches peeking through that will likely bruise. My cock twitches at the thought of my marks lingering on her skin. At the thought of my Little one wincing every time she sits down for the next few days, remembering how thoroughly she was punished.
And how deeply she is loved.
Kerry’s shoulders are shaking with sobs when Celeste and I switch places and I settle on the couch beside her. “Look at me, angel.”
It’s an order, firm but as gentle as I can manage it with my entire body feeling like a live wire about to snap, thanks to the need coursing through me. And when our little angel lifts her head for me to see her streaming eyes, I nearly embarrass myself in my pants right then and there.
“Our beautiful girl,” I murmur, gripping her chin and running the pad of my thumb over her quivering bottom lip. “You’re being so brave. Which is another thing we love about you.”
“I’m n-not b-brave.”
A loud crack echoes through the room, and Kerry jumps in surprise as I look up at my wife. Fucking hell, she’s gorgeous, with her eyes blazing with fiery determination.
“If you keep lying about my angel like that, I will march you out of here and wash your mouth out with soap before we finish your paddling, Kerry Addison.”
“Mommy, no!”
“Then I suggest you bite your tongue the next time you’re tempted to say something so blatantly untrue about our babygirl. It takes bravery to leave your home and fly all around the world, to get up every day and work toward the life you want. You are brave and kind and perfect, do you hear me, little girl?”
“Yes, Mommy. I’m sorry. It's just, I don’t feel very brave.” Kerry’s voice trails off to a whisper, and I watch my ferocious wife soften instantly.
“Oh, angel. Nobody feels brave all of the time. But that's what makes you brave. Even when you’re scared, you do what needs to be done anyway. So for your final five, that’s what I want you to say. ‘I am brave, and I am worthy of love.”
Kerry’s hands flex in mine and I squeeze them tightly in return. “Yes, Mommy.”
Celeste swings the paddle, possibly even harder than I did, and Kerry’s cries echo throughout the room as tears pour down her cheeks. “I am b-brave, and I am w-worthy of love.”
“Good girl,” Celeste praises, pride practically shining from her pores. “Again.”
“Owie! Mommy, it hurts!”
“I know, angel. But this is too important for us not to follow through. What was your phrase?”
It takes Kerry a few shuddering breaths to say the words again, but eventually she pushes through. “I-I am brave, and I am worthy of love.”
My heart clenches at the tremble in her tone. “That’s right, angel,” I tell her, brushing a kiss over her hair. “You are so very brave. We’re almost done and then Mommy and Daddy have a surprise for you.”
I glance up, catching Celeste’s eye, and I see my own hunger reflected there. “Number three, angel,” she says, her voice strained with need.
“Ow! I am brave and I am worthy of love!”
Kerry is all but shouting now, her voice rising with every word. The heavy wood of the paddle cracks against her bottom a fourth time and she yells out her phrase again, her hands clenching mine so tightly I wince at the bites of pain from my fingers grinding together.
“Last one, angel. You can do this. You’re our good, brave Little girl.”
At the final swat, Kerry screams the phrase Celeste gave her. “I am brave and I am worthy of love!”
