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“Okay.” Her voice trembled. He was right. She should’ve just told him her nipples were sore and she was afraid of the clamps today. Ru
“I’m going to punish you sometimes if I feel like you need it. Do you understand that?”
She nodded.
“I expect you to accept your punishment. If you don’t think you deserve it, we can talk about it. But today, you need to be punished before you get your orgasms.”
Unable to look at him, she stared at the ground again.
“Do you agree you need to be punished?”
Nodding again, she grimaced.
“Excuse me?”
“Yes, Master.”
Gently, he pulled her over his lap. She braced herself for the pain the hairbrush would bring, especially on her already sore ass from the hot tub spanking.
He must have noticed her tense, because he smoothed a hand over her sensitive skin and said, “Relax. We’re just going to talk for now.”
Oh God. Here? Over his knee? She wasn’t feeling very conversational. “Again? Just get my punishment over with, Master.”
“I decide those things, Everly. Do you really want to be getting yourself into more trouble right now?”
“No, Master.” She sounded sulky, even to her own ears.
“Then shut your bratty mouth.”
Sighing heavily earned her a stinging swat. Then he smoothed his hand over it. “Who do you belong to?”
Ugh. So he was going to embarrass her with questions. “You, Master.”
“Who does this ass belong to?”
“You, Master.”
“And your nipples?”
She hesitated, not liking where this was going. Was he going to force the clamps on as part of her punishment? “You, Master.”
“Why didn’t you want me to use the clamps? You seemed to like them the first time.”
“I . . . I don’t know really. My nipples are really sore right after my period, and I was afraid you’d force me.”
“You were afraid of anal before. Did I force you and hurt you, or did I ease you into it so you liked it?”
He had a point. “The second one, Master.”
While he spoke, he stroked her ass and thighs. Was he trying to relax her or turn her on? Or just keep her from getting bored, face shoved into the couch, answering his silly questions?
“So next time you’re afraid or uncomfortable with something, what are you going to do?”
God, the lecturing was worse than any pain he could give her. Couldn’t he just spank her and get it over with? “Talk to you, Master.”
“Good girl.”
His approval felt good, despite the trepidation the hairbrush was causing. The wood glided across her skin, making her flinch.
“I want you to count,” he said. “‘One, I will not run from Master.’ Like that, okay?”
“Yes, Master.” But what if she couldn’t breathe? “How many?”
He paused, making her wonder if he hadn’t thought it through and if that meant worse for her. “Until I think you’re really sorry.”
But I am now!
Whack.
“Ouch!” She flailed, unprepared for the first hit to be so hard. “Don’t I get a warm-up?”
“Not for a punishment,” he answered then tightened his grip on her waist. “Besides, wasn’t the hot tub warm enough?”
Ugh. Dom sarcasm.
Smack.
She grunted.
“Start at one,” he said.
Oh yeah. She was supposed to be counting. “One, I will not run from Master.”
The next one hit right on her sit spot. “Ow! Two, I will not run from Master.”
He hit harder with each one, and her voice went up at least an octave by ten. The pain wasn’t so bad—she’d had worse with the strap and with canes. But for some reason, the counting and the lecturing and the fact that she’d upset him made it a hundred times worse. It felt like real punishment. When other Doms had “punished” her it was in fun or in role-play, not a real, deep down authentic punishment because she’d done something her Dom had disapproved of.
This felt real. With every hard smack, it sank in deeper. She’d hurt him and their relationship by ru
“Twelve, I will not run from Master.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. Her voice quavered, and her ass felt like it was on fire.
Whack.
A deep sob escaped her and her whole body shook. “I’m sorry,” she blurted in a small voice.
The brush dropped to the ground. “Good girl.” He smoothed a hand over her sore ass and whispered shushing sounds while she sobbed into the pillow.
It hurt, but not as much as she’d expected. The sobs were more about regret than pain.
He let her cry for a few minutes as he rubbed his hand down her thighs, over her ass, and even on her back. Then he lifted her so she was sitting upright on his lap. Unable to face him, she buried her head in his neck. His arms came around her, squeezing her against him.
“You took that very well,” he crooned in her ear. Stroking her hair, he whispered sweet things to her, and eventually her sobbing slowed to the occasional hiccup.
“A-are you . . .” She steadied her voice. “Are you still going to use the nipple clamps, Master?”
“No. You have a legitimate reason for me not to.” He chuckled and pulled her back so he could see her face. “I’m not cruel.”
She snorted. Her ass begged to differ.
“I never want to scare you or traumatize you. You’re too important to me for that.”
He hugged her again and an overwhelming feeling of warmth flooded her.
“How important?” she mumbled into his neck.
He sighed deeply before answering. “Very important.”
“Why?”
“Why? What kind of question is that?”
“A valid one.” She cuddled her face more into his neck, enjoying how his scent calmed her, even after he’d lit her ass on fire. But for some reason, punishment felt like love. What a weird, fucked-up relationship they had.
“Well . . . you’re important because . . .” He hesitated, making her whole body tense with anxiety.
Did he feel as strongly for her as she did for him? Was her puppy-dog infatuation one-sided?
“Because . . . I love you.”
She straightened then gri
His brow creased. “Did you just manipulate me?”
“I had to know for sure.”
“Bad girl,” he said, chuckling.
“You can’t be mad at me.” She bit her lip, a knot forming in her gut.
“I can’t?”
“No. Because . . .” With a deep breath, she said it. “I love you too.”
Ambrose gri
He traced his finger over her bottom lip, his gaze never leaving her face. How could it be that his soft touches aroused her as much as the spankings and the sex?
Before she had time to seriously contemplate that, he was brushing his lips against hers, taking her mouth as though it belonged to him. For a long while he did nothing but kiss her, and it was somehow as magical as she always thought a kiss should be.
“You already knew I loved you?” he whispered against her mouth, sounding amused.
“Only because you’ve been showing me that you do for weeks. You make me feel like you love me, which is more important than pretty words.”
Ambrose smiled and stroked her hair. “That’s because it’s true, and sometimes true things are easier to show than say.” He kissed her again, briefly, then set her on her feet. “Now, I need you to hang on to all of those warm, fuzzy feelings, and try your best to remember I love you.” He got to his feet and started to lead her down the hall, back toward the pool area. When they got to the stairs they descended.