Four more swats followed, only seconds apart, barely giving her time to catch her breath.Crap on a cracker. That paddle hurt!
“Do I have your attention, Hayleigh?”
“Y-yes, sir.”
“Good. Now, the next time Sadie asks you to play a prank, are you going to make sure you know all the information before you decide whether or not to help her?”
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry. I really am!”
“I know, baby. But as I said, I want to make sure this lesson sticks.”
“It will. I promise!”
“Little girls always make promises they can’t keep when their bottoms are red and sore.”
Realizing she wasn’t getting off that easily, she squeezed her eyes shut and braced for the next round. Another five swats fell, each one building on the already unbearable burn in her backside. At number five, she jerked a hand away from the desk, but quickly put it back in place.
“Good girl. Are you going to lie to your teachers, or anyone else for that matter, again?”
“N-no, sir.” Her breath caught in her throat and she could feel the familiar tell-tale pressure in her chest. Nobody had spanked her to tears since she’d come to the Ranch, and she was equal parts thrilled and mortified at the idea of Chef being the first.
“Last set, baby. These are going to be a bit harder than the others.”
“Oh, no,” she moaned, dropping her head, and squeezing the desk as hard as she could.
The first swat ripped a short, high shriek from her. A bit harder? It felt like he was trying to send her to the moon with his paddle! Swat number two pushed her to her toes, and at number three she found her voice again.
“Sir, please! I’m sorry!” she wailed, drawing the last syllable out as the fourth swat blistered the curve of her bottom – where the tops of her thighs met her butt cheeks. She knew she’d feel this spanking long after they were done.
“Two more. You’re being so brave, baby. I’m proud of you.”
She didn’t feel brave, but knowing he was proud of her gave her the little boost of strength she needed to endure those final two burning swats.
“Hayleigh? Are you listening to me, little girl?”
“Yes, sir,” she whimpered.
“Are you going to play any more pranks that jeopardize the reputation of the Ranch, or the people who work here?”
Guilt swamped her, and the pressure in her chest finally cracked. Dropping her forehead to the desk, she choked out a sob, and the dam burst.
“Oh, baby. Come here.” Gathering her in his arms, Chef moved to an oversized armchair in the corner of his office and settled her on his lap. Without thinking, she curled into him, soaking his pristine chef’s coat with her tears.
“I’m r-really s-sorry.”
“I know you are. And now it’s all forgiven and we have a clean slate between us.”
Lifting her head and sniffling, she wiped at the wetness on her cheeks. “Promise?”
“Of course. That’s how this works. You did something naughty, but you’ve been punished and now we don’t ever have to talk about it again. Unless you let Sadie talk you into another prank,” he added, lifting a dark eyebrow.
“No, sir!” she assured him, shaking her head back and forth vehemently.
“Good girl. Now, what would you like for dinner tonight?”
It was so painfully stereotypical, but her stomach clenched at the idea of choosing their dinner. “I would like… not to have to pick.”
“Fair enough,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ll surprise you.”