Staring at the floor, I flinch as I hear the rattling of his belt buckle and then the slithering hiss of the leather as he pulls it through his pant loops.
I half expect the next sound to be the unzipping of his pants, but instead, Valentine cracks the belt between his hands as he begins to circle me. Suddenly, I realize there may be far worse punishments for me than I thought.
“Do you know what happens to those who disobey me?”
“You punish them,” I answer, my voice cracking slightly.
“Yes, too bad you didn’t think of that sooner,” he says, as he moves to stand behind me. “Grab the chair.”
“What?”
“Bend forward, and grab my chair.”
My heart is pounding in my chest as I obey, gripping tight to the sides of the leather chair. The whistle of leather cutting through the air is the only warning I have before it snaps across my butt.
I clench my jaw together to keep from crying out as yet another strikes me in exactly the same spot. This isn’t the first time I’ve been spanked in my life—my father was a firm believer in corporal punishment until I was nearly a teenager—but this is by far the most painful.
Valentine doesn’t hold back as he strikes me again, and I can’t stop myself from crying out in pain as I feel my skin break. The next blow isn’t nearly as hard, and I’m able to bite my tongue even as tears find their way down my cheeks.
Again, the belt strikes me. Hard enough to have my whole body tensing as I scream and cling to the chair. The next hit is softer again, and it finally clicks what Valentine wants from me as I let out a whimper of pain.
“Please,” I beg, “please, forgive me.”
Valentine pauses his punishment as I timidly glance up at him.
“Why should I?”
“I made a mistake,” I whisper, hating myself for the lie. “I should have listened. I should have obeyed.”
This seems to stroke Valentine’s ego as he tilts his head slightly to the side.
“Prove it.”
“Prove what?”
“Prove just how sorry you are for being disobedient.”
My mouth grows dry at this, my mind racing to figure out what I should do. What does he want from me?
“Anything,” I finally say, my voice barely audible as I lean back, careful not to touch my butt to my heels, my eyes trained on the floor.
“Anything,daddy,” Valentine corrects. I balk at this. No. God. Please, God, no. The last thing in the world I want to call this man is …that. “Say it, Evelyn.”
“Anything …daddy,” I repeat, struggling to keep the disgust from seeping into my tone.
“From now on, you’ll refer to me in this way. Is that understood?”
“Yes,” I answer, before quickly adding, “daddy.”
“Good,” he says, stepping around me to sit down in his chair. He leans forward to reach into his desk. Pulling out a cigarette, he lights it, inhaling deeply before blowing the smoke in my face. “Now, be a good girl and suck my cock.”
I grimace as he leans back, his legs spread wide as he arches his eyebrow in challenge.
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I shift forward as I fight the nausea building up within me. I’m having a hard time stopping myself from hyperventilating as I notice he’s already started to take shape within his pants.
I try to psych myself up as I think back to Dante.
I’ve done it once before. I can do it again.