“It’s time to begin your punishment. Count, kitten. Count and beg me for more.”
Four
Present Day
Daphne
He’s infuriating. Why am I going along with this? If he’d just listen to me!
Thwack.
“Ow!” I screech and look back at Logan furiously. He just spanked me. With his belt. And he has the gall to glare at me.
“Count. And then say, may I please have another, Sir?”
He’s stoic. Furious. But not out of control. And underneath it, or maybe I’m imagining it, but underneath all of that, do I glimpse a glimmer of hurt?
What must it have been like, seeing me on TV like that? With Adam of all people, the man Logan considers his mortal enemy? Getting engaged?
Logan’s not the sort of man to be able to listen until he feels like he has a measure of control back. And this was how we’ve always been able to connect—this lightning shortcut to intimacy that made two weeks feel like a lifetime.
And I trust him. Even in his ice-cold anger. He might not trust me right now, but damn him, I trust him and I’m going to show him.
So, even though my ass is on fire, I don’t drop his gaze as I say, “One. May I please have another, Sir?”
His arm moves back and he releases another smack.
Motherfu— My fingers dig into the fabric of the couch and I clench my stinging ass cheeks.
“Count,” he demands ruthlessly.
“Two. May I please have another, Sir?”
The third follows before I’d barely gotten the words out. I dance in place at the pain. Ow! Fuck. How many of these does he have planned?
“Look how pretty your little ass is when it turns so pink. And it jiggles so good every time I smack it.” He sounds mesmerized, then his voice turns dark. “Count for your Master. Count because I own you. Count because you’re mine and I own this little pink ass. It’s mine. Count for me.”
I nod and for some reason, I don’t think it’s the pain, tears start to course down my cheeks. He’s hurt and I’m hurt. I am his but everything got all messed up and there’s nothing I can do to fix it. Nothing except count and beg for this punishment.
“Four. M- May I p- please have another, Sir?”
There’s a pause, and then another thwack, up higher this time, not in the same spot as before. My breath hitches and I blurt out, “Five. May I please have another, Sir?”
But then comes the touch of his large hand, hot but not harsh. He probes my no doubt pink flesh. I start to turn my head to look over my shoulder but he orders, “Eyes forward.”
I obey, dipping my head down to the arm of the couch, feeling more completely exposed than I ever have before in my life. Logan could destroy me if he wants. He always could.
But his touch...he’s caressing me. Why is he caressing me?
“You’re doing so well, kitten. Taking your punishment so well. Just five more. You’re going to give me five more. Tell me you understand.”
My lip trembles, but I nod and then manage a watery, “Yes, sir.”
“Feel your Master’s touch. Memorize it.” His fingers move from the heated flesh of my ass cheeks down, down, down between my legs. In between. Skirting by my asshole, massaging as he goes. My breath hitches as he begins to tease at my sex.
He lingers, his fingers rubbing along my lips, whispering against my clit and making my sex clench and spasm around nothing, missing his cock. “Please,” I whisper, not knowing what I’m asking for. More of his touch? His forgiveness?
But my words have the opposite effect. He snatches his hand away. “Count.” His voice is ice cold again, and then comes the pain ripping across my ass as another blow lands.
“Six!” I screech. “May I have another, Sir?”
Another two land, one after another, never in the same spot twice, so I don’t know where to brace to expect it. I dance on my toes at the burning heat that feels like it’s searing through my flesh.
But that’s when it hits me, clear as day: There’s nothing to do other than to give myself over to it. To stop fighting. To give myself to him, in spite of his anger.
Because this is Logan. My Logan. In spite of everything, I have to still believe, underneath, I haven’t broken what we have—Daphne and Logan. He’s not a beast, in spite of what I once thought. He’s not using the full weight of his strength in these blows. He’s being the Master, still caring for me even as he doles out punishment.
And to Logan, my Logan, I can trust and abandon myself over to whatever he has to give. My entire body relaxes as I give in.
When the next spank comes, it reverberates throughout my body. It still hurts. It hurts a hell of a lot. But I allow myself to feel the sting, the heat, and to ride it. To ride it all the way through my body and out again until a strange euphoria settles over me.
“Eight,” I gasp. “May I please have another, Sir?”
Hesitation, and then the next comes. There’s the pain, no less sharp for the euphoria, but while my feet are planted on the ground, I’m also floating. Floating so high. My breathing slows, my grip on the couch flexes and then releases.
“Nine, may I please have another, Sir,” I manage in a rush, anticipating the last, all fear and confusion gone.
And when the last blow comes, it makes my body sing. For one shining moment, I feel so alive, my body electric, the world and all its worries a million miles away. I’m floating above it all. Safe like a cloud.
And then comes his touch. Hot where it already burns but then slipping between my legs and stoking another kind of fire. My face drops to the side of the couch. I’ll go wherever he leads me. My body is pliant. I’m warm wax to be molded. “Thank you, Sir,” I breathe.
“Damn you,” he hisses. “Damn you.”
His warm heat disappears from behind me. I blink in confusion, still spiraling down. When I look over my shoulder, all I see is him disappearing up the stairs.
What? Usually he never leaves my side after we— After a—
I swallow and stand up, wincing at the sting in my ass. My hands immediately go to my backside, but every touch hurts. I want to sit down. I feel woozy. I’m overwhelmed. I want to be in Logan’s arms.
But he’s not here. Why isn’t he here?
Then there are footsteps on the stairs and my eyes fly up to see Logan coming back down, jar of salve in his hands. My entire body relaxes at the sight. He is going to take care of me. Tears spring to my eyes but I blink them back.
But then the jar of salve comes flying through the air at me and I lift my hands and catch it barely in time.
“I’ve called you a taxi.” Logan’s voice is low and arctic, his face blank of all emotion.
“I- I don’t understand.” And I don’t. Everything still feels fuzzy after the places he just took my body. “This is my house.”
Emotion lights his face now, but it’s not one I like. A cruel smile curls his lips. “Your house. But kitten, your father sold me this property, too. All that was once yours is now mine. I own you.”
His words snap me out of my daze. “Dad would never sell Thornhill! My mother is—!!” My eyes shoot to the window. I can’t see my mother’s resting place from here, but it’s right out there. My mom is here, forever. All our memories are here. Dad wouldn’t— He couldn’t—