Page 110 of Redline Baby

He looks me over as I approach.

“Come here first.”

I stop in front of him. Soren’s hands settle briefly at my hips, and he turns me enough to check the marks from last night. His touch is careful, clinical for all of ten seconds, which somehow makes the entire situation worse.

“Sore?”

“Yes.”

“Too sore?”

I check honestly.

“No.”

He looks up at me. “And you’re still comfortable with the second part of the consequence?”

My stomach flips.

“Yes, Daddy.”

He lifts the paddle slightly.

“This okay?”

I stare at it.

Fuck.

When he makes me say it, I get so hard it’s hard to breathe.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good boy.”

Then he pats his thigh.

Fuck.

I push my sweatpants down and step out of them. The morning air is cool against my skin as I lower myself over his lap, and his hand comes to rest at the small of my back the way it always does.

He holds me there for a moment, letting me breathe.

Then the paddle lands.

My entire body jumps. My exhale punches out of me on impact. My fingers drive into the bedding as the soreness left from last night ignites all over again.

“Oh, fuck.”

The second stroke follows after just enough time for me to understand exactly how much I hated the first one.

Soren doesn’t rush. My toes curl. My knees press together. Somewhere around the fourth, the involuntary noises begin—short, bitten-off sounds I can’t quite suppress no matter how determined I am to suffer with dignity.

“Daddy, please, I’m already so sore.”

His hand remains warm against my back.

“I know, baby.”