by Maggie Ryan
“Yes, prove that you love me. Prove that you forgive me. Prove it to me, Daddy.”
The moment the address was said, his expression changed. Hesitancy slipped from his eyes to be replaced by a look so loving that I began to tremble. He stepped forward and enveloped me in his arms, pulling me into him so tight that I could barely breathe but I didn’t care. When he released me, I knew that we would be okay.
Taking my hand, he led me to the couch and I instantly stepped between his legs when he spread them.
“Tell me why instead of the gentle spanking you’d have received tonight, I’m going to turn your ass crimson.”
His words didn’t scare me. I knew that no matter how crimson or how much my ass burned when it was done, that he’d never truly harm me. “I left home without asking or telling you where I was going.”
“Why?”
This was the hard part, admitting that I’d thrown a tantrum. “I was disappointed you weren’t coming home, and then the pizza guy said he’d delivered a bunch of pizzas to you. I-I heard someone say they had the cards and the guys were waiting to kick your ass.”
“So, you assumed that meant that you weren’t important, that instead of taking my beautiful wife on a date, I ditched you for a poker game?”
I was surprised that he was using the same words I’d used earlier but when I thought about who I’d said those words to, I knew there was no way he’d know that’s what I’d said unless… “You talked to Stephanie.”
“I did. And while I’d normally be adding swats to your spanking for forgetting your phone, I’m going to forego those extras because that is the only way I found you. Have you ever met Gary?”
I shook my head.
“Well, you did tonight. He’s the guy who came with me to find you.”
“Thank you—”
He chuckled and shook his head even as he interrupted me. “Don’t thank me, babygirl. Daddy is still going to blister your ass. When was the last time I ever played poker?”
“Um… I-I don’t know.”
“That’s right, because I don’t. I’ve seen too many men lose their paychecks in a game.”
“I… I just thought. I mean, someone did say ‘cards’ and well, my father used to play all the time.”
“I’m not your father, Hannah. The cards you heard referred to weren’t those of a regular deck. They have the faces and information about the terrorists who were responsible for the attack on our soldiers over in Libya. The men were ready to kick some ass because we lost two men today. They were both from Carter’s team.”
“Oh… oh, God,” I said, my heart instantly aching for the wives… the families of the men.
“Yeah, it was bad. Something went wrong and we had to scramble to keep it from getting worse.”
I felt awful. I’d jumped to the wrong conclusion, hadn’t trusted this man who I now knew had needed me at home. He’d needed me to wrap my arms around him, to hold him, to grieve with him. And what had I done instead? I’d dressed up and went to ‘party’. And worse, I’d drawn Stephanie and her husband into this when I now knew that he was also grieving.
“I-I’m so sorry. God, I-I don’t know how to tell you…”
As if knowing I had no words, he reached out and took my arm, guiding me to his side. He sat back on the couch, his legs drawing together before he pulled me down. Unlike last week, my head wasn’t hanging down, my toes weren’t scrabbling to touch the floor. My entire body was supported.
“This isn’t going to be easy, baby. I’m hoping that by the time I’m done, you’ll know that there is never a time when you can’t trust me. Never a day when you need to wonder if you are important to me. Never have to ask me to prove how committed I am to you, to us. You are the most important thing in my life. And though I’m going to spank you soundly, I want you to know that I will never stop loving you.”
I could only nod, my arms wrapped around a throw pillow, my face already buried in it as tears of remorse fell even before he laid the first smack on my ass.
He hadn’t been lying and, oh God, did he prove that he was committed. I was bawling before twenty swats had landed. My hands flew back only to be captured by one of his and pinned to the small of my back.
“I’m sorry, Daddy!”
“That makes two of us,” he said, though his hand never stopped adding fuel to the fire he’d started. Despite my determination to accept my punishment, I was arching, bucking, and learned that kicking up had that horridly hard hand move to the back of my thighs.
“No! Please, Daddy! Not there!”
“If you don’t want your thighs spanked, put your legs down.”
It was only when I dug my toes into the gap between the cushion and the side of the couch that his palm returned to continue blistering my ass. I was sure I was about to self-combust by the time his hand splayed across my buttocks. How he could stand the burn that was surely singeing his palm, I had no idea. When he finally released my hands, I expected him to turn me over and pull me into his lap. Instead, he lifted me to stand on wobbly legs in front of him.
“Can…can’t I si… sit on your la…lap?” I choked out.
“We’re not done. Go into our bedroom. Get my belt and go bend over the bed. You’ve got six stripes coming for cussing.”
“I did… didn’t cuss.”
His eyebrow arched. “You didn’t say ‘fucking’ poker party?”
“I-I didn’t say… say it to you, Daddy.”
“I don’t care who you said it to. Cussing is disrespecting yourself. And you’ve got two more coming for comparing yourself to a ‘damn dog’. No one is allowed to demean my wife… and that includes you, babygirl. Now go. I want you bent over the foot of the bed, holding the belt behind you by the time I join you. Understand?”
“Ye-yes, Daddy.”
I was halfway across the room when he spoke again.
“Hannah?”
Turning my head, I looked back over my shoulder. “Yes, Daddy?”
“Is eight with my belt not enough?”
I knew my eyes had to look like saucers as I said, “No! I mean, eight… eight is enough, Daddy.”
“Then I suggest you stop rubbing.”
Immediately dropping my hands, I said, “Yes, Daddy,” and moved to obey his command.
I had to pull his belt from the loops of the jeans that he’d left on the bathroom floor. That alone reminded me how upset he’d been as he was not like me. He didn’t leave his clothes scattered around. I put his jeans and shirt in the hamper and then couldn’t help myself. I turned my back to the mirror and looked over my shoulder. My ass was not only hot; it was indeed crimson. Seeing the belt reflected where it hung from my hand, I remembered that my punishment was not yet done. Leaving the bathroom, I went to kneel over the foot of our bed, placing my torso on the mattress and folding my arms behind my back. The leather that would soon be welting my butt was heavy as it brushed across my flesh. Turning my head to the side, I didn’t feel rebellious. I wasn’t angry that he was going to take the leather from my hand and add stripes to my bottom. Call me crazy, but I was grateful. Thankful that I had a husband—a daddy—who knew that, though he’d already forgiven me, this was exactly what I needed to forgive myself.
When he gave a gentle tug, I released the belt but then felt it being laid across the small of my back. Lifting my head, I watched as Brett walked around my side.
“Give me your hand, baby.”
Stretching out my right arm, I saw the length of rope he’d brought with him. “These aren’t going to be light strokes like last week. I’m going to tie your hands because if you reached back and I struck them, it would hurt.”
As he wrapped the rope around my wrist, I wanted to say that the strokes hurt my ass, but didn’t think he’d appreciate my attempt at humor. Securing the other end of the rope to the post on the corner of the bed, he then repeated the sequence with my left wrist and then ran his finger between the rope and my wrists.
“You can pull on the rope if y
ou need to.” Moving back behind me, he picked up the belt. “I’m not going to ask you to count these. I’m going to give you all eight hard and fast.”
“O-okay.”
“Why am I going to whip you, Hannah?”
“Because I cussed and demeaned myself,” I said instantly.
“That’s right. Are you ready?”
Taking a deep breath and then exhaling slowly, I said, “Yes, Daddy.”
I was yanking on the ropes as hard as I could before the second strike of his belt bit into my flesh. It was awful. The whoosh of the belt filled the air a second before the leather connected to brand my ass with another line of pure agony. I wasn’t quiet. I screamed and begged, but the belt kept falling, licking flames lower and lower as he moved from the center of my ass, delivering each stroke beneath the one above. The quilt was soaked beneath my cheek by the time the last welt was rising across the spot where my bottom met my thighs. I didn’t even realize he’d untied my wrists until he pulled me up and hugged me to him before he took a seat on the bed, propped against the headboard and settled me on his lap.
Burying my face in his neck, I sobbed and clung to him as he gently rocked me, holding me at an angle that kept most of my weight off my ravaged bottom. I couldn’t speak, but the silence wasn’t the same as it had been before. I knew he was here, knew I was forgiven, knew that I’d paid the price and all was good between us again. Finally, when I was sniffling and hiccupping, he set me back a bit. The hand that had been stroking down my back now cupped my face.
“I love you, babygirl.”
“I love you so much, Daddy.”
He kissed my forehead and then reached to the nightstand and pulled a tissue from the box. After I blew my nose, he lifted me off his lap. I couldn’t help but whimper a bit.
“Shh, I’ll be right back,” he said, climbing off the bed.
He returned with a damp washcloth and a bottle of water. After washing my face, he uncapped the bottle. “Drink, baby.”
I took a swallow then another and another until most of the bottle was gone before I paused to take a breath. Smiling, I said, “I guess I was thirsty.”
He chuckled. “I guess you were.”
I finished the bottle and he tossed it into the trash before lifting me again to pull back the quilt and sheet, sliding me beneath them. I immediately turned onto my side to watch him strip off his sweatpants and climb in on the other side. My ass burned and throbbed something awful, but the moment he reached for me, I went to him, my pussy pulsing with need. When he moved to lay over me, I winced and he instantly rolled to his back, reaching to pull me on top of his body. I shook my head.
“No. Please. I needed my daddy to punish me hard, but now, I want to feel that punishment as my husband loves me even harder.” With a smile, he rolled me back and moved to cover me again. I shivered as his weight pressed my punished ass against the sheets. “I need you to take me… all of me. Claim me and remind me that no matter how much I mess up, you’ll always be there to help me get back in line.”
Chapter Twelve
Brett
I’d been surprised to find Hannah wasn’t in bed after I’d spent an hour pummeling the bag. Finding her in the living room, nude and waiting in the position I’d commanded she take last week, I’d been floored. But to hear her words, to listen to her demand that I prove my commitment had filled me with a pride that I couldn’t measure. Not for myself, but for her. Her actions, her expression, her requests told me that she was as dedicated to our new vows as I was. Hell, she’d proven she was more determined as I had been ready to forego maintenance night altogether. But as she’d cried, bucked, wiggled, and pleaded through the punishment that had roasted her ass, she’d never once begged me to stop. With every sweep of my belt, she’d cried out, tugged on the ropes I’d used to keep her hands safe, but after every single one, she’d pushed her bottom up to receive the next bite of the leather.
Pressing my lips to hers, it was like we were starving for the touch of each other. Her hands roamed my back, pulling me to her as I plunged my tongue into her mouth, tangling it with hers. When she captured it, sucking hard, I felt the jolt shoot through me to settle in my cock, which was already a steel rod. I took command, pulling my tongue free and taking a nip of her bottom lip as I pulled away. The sound of her mewl told me how much she needed this connection. But it was the look in her eyes that told me how very much she craved to be claimed.
I kissed along her neck, licked behind her ear, feeling her nipples attempt to bore through my chest. Drawing the tight bud into my mouth, I didn’t lick it gently. I suckled hard and then took it between my teeth and bit down.
“Oh, God!” she cried, her body jerking.
Pulling my head back elongated the sensitive flesh. When she arched up, attempting to relieve the pressure, I shook my head, the nipple captured in my teeth having no choice but to follow the movement. My right hand slapped her right breast… once, then again until she got the message and laid back. Only then did I release her left nipple, which was red and swollen, slick with my saliva and, I knew, tender from my bite.
She shuddered as I moved to her other breast, caught her bottom lip between her teeth, anticipating what was coming.
“Your tits belong to me, Hannah. They are mine and the only person to see them, touch them, kiss and bite these beautiful nipples is me.”
We both knew that she hadn’t offered her breast to that bastard, but I knew she needed to hear that I owned her. She’d learn that I owned every inch of her.
“Put your hands on the rail and keep them there,” I commanded. Once her fingers gripped the headboard slats, I lowered my head. Though she knew what was coming, knew the flare of pain to expect, her nipple was puckered into a tight little flower. A few swipes of my tongue had it glistening, a hard, deep suckle had it tightening further, and when I bit down, she cried out again. Lifting my eyes to hers, her flesh between my teeth, I gave her a silent warning as I began to draw back my head. The flesh pulled, and perhaps because she felt she deserved the additional pain, or maybe she craved it to wipe away the memory of another man’s touch, she again arched to relieve the strain. I’d used a cloth to wash her breasts in the shower. Now, I used my hand to slap at the rounded globe, causing it to wobble, her to cry out and yet she didn’t relax, didn’t yet surrender.
“More, please… more.”
I released the nipple in my mouth and sat back to straddle her hips. Her chest was heaving, her nipples red and swollen, a slight flush of color on each breast, but that wasn’t enough to free her.
“Ten each,” I said. “You are not to arch or roll. You will lie still, push up your breasts to receive each single stroke. Understand?”
“Ye… yes, sir.”
I slapped the outside of each breast, the sound not as loud as when I smacked her ass, but still sharp and followed by her soft moans. Again and again, I punished each one in an ever decreasing circle, my fingers leaving marks on flesh that had once been pale. With only two strokes left, I leaned forward, took her left nipple in my teeth again, pulling and biting until she was writhing. Releasing it, I gave it the final two slaps. Repeating the process on her right breast, she had tears in her eyes yet there was also a look of gratitude. Bending forward, I kissed her softly.
“Good girl. Spread your legs.”
My cock had been leaking pre-cum all throughout the process of punishing her breasts, her belly slick with the sticky fluid as I changed position to kneel between her splayed thighs that glistened with her own arousal. I ran my fingers up the seam of her sex, spreading her labia lips open, exposing the soft pink inner ones and watching as even more of her cream oozed out.
“This pussy belongs to me. I’m the only one who is allowed to touch it, to lick it, to kiss it, to fuck it. Not even you are allowed to touch without permission. You don’t come without asking. And, Hannah, you don’t ever again leave this house in a dress that has every man want to rip it off you.”
“I-I�
�m so sorry,” she said.
Again we both knew she hadn’t truly gone looking to hook up with anyone. But, again, that wasn’t what this moment was about. Though I’d wed her a year earlier, tonight I was staking a claim in a way that would leave no doubt that she belonged to one person—me. Sliding my finger up and down her sex, watching her clit swell even more, seeing it turn darker with the blood that was rushing to fill it, I could see it pulse with her heartbeat.
Gliding my fingers up to slowly circle it, I slid my eyes up to hers. “Keep your legs open. Keep your ass on the bed. Let these remind you that this”—I paused and cupped her entire sex, squeezing hard enough that she mewled loudly, one hand coming free to reach down, only to instantly return to the post as I gave her cunt a twist—“belongs to me. A dozen. The two extras are because you released the rail. Ready?”
“Ye-yes, sir.”
“Pull your knees up and plant your feet wide.”
The first slap drew nothing more than a quick inhalation of breath and a look of surprise. I hadn’t spanked her pussy, but her inner left thigh. Her right thigh immediately received its own slap.
“I said wide, Hannah. I want every inch of your cunt displayed before I spank it.”
Her feet moved until her thighs shook a bit with the strain, but she’d opened herself beautifully.
“Good girl.”
This time, the first slap earned the sound of her cry and a jerk of her hips as her knees bent inward. Shaking my head, I said, “Who owns this pussy, Hannah?”
“You… you do, sir.”
“Who has the right to fuck it or spank it?”
“You, sir.”
“Then get those legs open and do not attempt to keep me from what is mine.” I purposefully barked out the command and she instantly obeyed.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Prove it by counting each stroke and asking for the next.” I slapped her sex, the sound followed by her voice.
“One, may I have another, sir?”
Again and again, I granted her request, watching as her cunt reddened, felt her flesh heating, saw her clit swell larger than I’d ever seen it before. Her thighs trembled, her toes dug into the quilt, her belly quivered, but every single slap was followed by the correct count and her request for another. When the last of the dozen was delivered, she changed the mantra.