Fire burns across my ass and I cry out, realizing that it’s started. It hurts more than I thought it would, even though his hand is rubbing the sting away. I think I was momentarily blind, and when I blink open my eyes again, a see my hands are balled into fists, straining at the cuffs. “I’m waiting,” he says softly.
“Thank you, Sir.” I say the words even though I don’t mean them.
Another blow. This one in a different place than the last. It burns like wildfire and my cry is louder this time. I grit my teeth and grind out the words, “Thank you, Sir.”
Again his hand falls, on the skin at the top of my waist and my eyes burn. “Thank you, Sir.”
We sink into a rhythm, his blows landing slow and steady, with enough time for me to absorb the impact and the pain and work my voice through the thanks, and then again, and again. I don’t know how many times, it ceases to matter. Shame and embarrassment well up in me until my eyes burn, and I’m fighting the tears. I know he can hear it in my voice, but he doesn’t stop.
Just like he said, there’s nothing in the blows of his hand that’s angry. If anything, I feel his reluctance as one hand alternately rubs my back and holds me still as he spanks me. If I had just been good this wouldn’t have happened. I knew that knocking over that stupid cup of pens would make him angry and I did it anyway. A tear slips out of my eye and I choke on my thanks, but I get it out. Even if it’s more sob than words, I get it out.
There’s a voice in my head now—not Matthew’s—and it’s saying things that I’ve heard before. Why aren’t you ever good like other girls? I swear, any other girl would appreciate what I’m trying to do. I don’t know why you think you know better than I do—I know what’s best for you.
Another blow, and I can only gasp, sobs wracking my body now. “Thank you, Sir.” But I’m not even aware, because his voice is echoing in my head. You never listen. You never learn. If you’re not going to, I’ll find someone who will. Someone who will listen and be good for me.
Pain explodes through my skin, and I can’t hold it back anymore. “I’m sorry,” I cry. “I’ll be good. I will, please don’t leave.”
“Last ones, Emma.” Quick, fiery slaps to each side of my ass and one blow across them that makes me cry even harder. My chest aches just like it did that day, and I know that I’m not going to come back from it this time. “Please don’t leave,” I say through my tears. “Please don’t leave. I promise I’ll listen. I’ll be good.”
I’m in Matthew’s arms and I cling to him. I can’t control my breathing, and it feels like the sobs are being ripped from my chest and I don’t think I could stop even if I tried. I don’t have enough energy to try. He lays me down, and pulls me closer to his chest, and pulls a blanket over our bodies. He doesn’t try to stop me, doesn’t try to find out why, doesn’t do anything but hold me. And I cry until I don’t feel like I can anymore, and then a little bit more.
I feel him wiping the tears from my cheeks as I fade into sleep.
Twelve
When I open my eyes I feel clear. There’s no grogginess, I just come into awareness, and slowly, the memory of what happened comes back.
I’m in a room that I don’t recognize, but is clearly a bedroom. It’s decorated in shades of deep blue, with dark wood and a simplicity that reminds me of Matthew. This has to be his private room. I didn’t see it on the tour of the house, and he must have carried me here after I lost it in the play room. Lamps are casting soft and clear light through the room. It’s dark outside, but I don’t think that much time has passed. A glance at the clock confirms that it’s not that late.
I hear a sound and a door to my left opens to reveal Matthew in nothing but boxer briefs. If I didn’t know what he looked like without those, I think this would be my favorite view. “You’re awake,” he says, a soft smile playing on his lips.
He slides under the blankets of his bed with me, and I gasp as his skin touches mine. I’m still naked, cuffs still gracing my wrists and ankles. “I don’t know what happened,” I say. “I don’t know where that came from.”
Reaching out, Matthew runs a hand through my hair. The gesture is soothing, and I arch into it. I love it when people play with my hair. It’s been so long since someone did it that I’d all but forgotten how good it feels. No wonder I like it when he guides me using his fingers in my hair. He smiles, repeating the movement, and my eyes almost flutter closed. He could do that for hours and I’d be happy. “Believe it or not, what happened isn’t all that uncommon. Especially with someone as new to submission as you are.”