It all falls away, this illusory game we’re playing.
She’s not Jane.
She’s not Louisa, either.
She’s just her. A young woman who’s never known love. Who’s never known what it feels like to be cared for.
And that’s what she wants from me.
She wants love. Not just kinky daddy play, or a new phone, or a daily call at lunchtime. She wants love. Actual love, as an actual young woman with someone who treats her right.
“Talk to me,” she whispers. “Please.”
I don’t know where to start.
She takes a step closer and her eyes are so eager for reassurance. “Please talk to me.”
“I was scared,” I tell her. “So scared I couldn’t think straight.”
She nods. “I was scared too. Scared because I knew how scared you’d be. Scared because I’d hurt you so bad.” Her lip trembles. “Scared because I thought I’d lost everything, all for the sake of someone who never even gave a shit about me. Scared I’d ruined the only good thing I’ve ever had.”
Her words pang. “You haven’t lost anything, Laine. I’m still right here. I’m just fucking angry.”
She nods. “Angry because of me. Scared because of me.”
“Scared because of that stupid selfish bitch Kelly Anne more specifically.”
She shrugs. “I should have stopped her. Should have checked.”
“Yes,” I agree. “You should have.”
“It’ll never happen again…” she says.
“No,” I tell her. “It won’t.”
She sips at her juice, and she’s thinking, her gaze darting around the room as she tussles with some course of action or another. “You could punish me,” she says. “Like your father did, with the belt. I deserve it, Daddy. I deserve everything.”
I feel the beast stir, taking advantage of the adrenaline. It’s so easy to want that. So easy to seek out control in the way I learned from my father and he learned from his. The belt is hanging on the hook behind the study door, in the same place he used to keep it.
The prospect of tanning Laine’s pretty little backside and making her suffer for her recklessness is so fucking tempting.
“Never angry,” I tell her. “My father never disciplined me in anger, Laine.”
“But your father never lost anyone,” she whispers. “Not like you did.”
That’s true enough.
“I don’t mind,” she says. “Really, Daddy, I don’t mind.”
Her eyes are so adoring, so eager to make it all better. Maybe the belt would do that, forge a bond of respect that no silly little bitch like Kelly Anne will ever stand a chance of breaking.
“It’ll hurt,” I tell her, and she nods.
“I know it will, Daddy.”
“You don’t,” I say. “You don’t know at all.”
“I don’t care,” she says.
I down the rest of my whisky.
“Go through to the study,” I tell her.LaineMy nerves are on fire, tummy churning so bad I feel like I could throw up, but I make my way along the hallway and open the door to the study without a single moment’s hesitation.
I want this. I want to please Nick and make him feel better. I want to make him feel safe. I want him to know I really am a good girl.
I want him to know that I really am sorry.
He isn’t far behind, and my breath catches as he closes the door behind us. The belt swishes on the hook as it slams, and I wonder if I’m really ready for this.
“Over the desk,” he tells me. “On your front.”
I lower myself so carefully, pressing my cheek to the leather inlay. It smells rich and woody, like old books and scotch.
I imagine Nick here, in this very same position. I wonder if his heart used to race like mine is now.
He lifts my dress, and tugs down my leggings and my knickers without saying a word.
The air feels cold. My skin feels prickly.
My mouth feels so dry I can hardly swallow.
“Six,” he says. “I’m going to give you six. Not because I’m angry, but because you deserve it.”
“Naughty girls need discipline,” I whisper.
“Discipline shows care, Laine.”
“I know,” I tell him. “I know, Daddy Nick.”
“I love you, Laine,” he tells me and I’m so sad for what I’ve done that it hurts more than his belt ever could.
“I love you too, Daddy.”
“Six,” he repeats. “And you’ll learn your lesson.”
I’ve already learned it, but that doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but us. Nothing matters but loving Nick and him loving me back. Nothing matters but making sure I never hurt him again.
I gasp as the leather glides across my ass cheeks. “This is going to hurt,” he says. He gives me a tap, and the leather feels so smooth against my bare skin.
I wonder how many times it’s been used for this.
I hold my breath. Grip the edge of the desk so tightly.
And then I wait.
Silence.
One long empty silence.
“I love you so much, sweetheart,” he whispers.
And then he hits me.
I squeal and jolt forward on the desk, and my breath catches.