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“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl.”
I close my eyes. That praise right before correction. Completely unfair. The first swat lands. Bare skin against his bare palm, and the sound of it is obscene in the quiet room, sharper and louder than I expected, the sting blooming instantly instead of building.
I gasp. “Oh.”
Christopher’s palm immediately rests where it landed. Not soothing it away. Checking. “Color?”
“Green.”
Another. Then another, each one landing a little lower, a little closer to where sting starts bleeding into something else entirely, something that makes me shift against his thigh without meaning to.
“Still green?”
My voice comes out wrecked. “Green.”
The swats keep coming, steady, measured, his free hand flat against the small of my back the entire time, holding me in place, holding me together. The sting builds in waves now. Not unbearable. Enough that the jokes vanish from my head. Enough that I have to be here. Completely tuned in and present.
The same thing I love about flying. No distraction. Just consequence, and underneath the consequence, something hotter, something that has nothing to do with punishment and everything to do with his hand on my body and his voice above me.
“Why are you being disciplined?”
“Because I broke a rule.”
Another swat; this one lands really hard right below the fullness of my cheeks. I bite my lip to keep from crying out.
“And?”
“Because I tested you.”
Another. My breath catches on something that isn’t quite a sob.
“And what did you learn?”
I swallow. “That you meant it.”
His hand pauses. “Yes and that I won’t run away.”
The next swat brings tears to my eyes. Not because it’s dramatically harder. Because something emotional finally gives way, cracked open by heat and vulnerability and the particular intimacy of being bare over his lap.
I make a small sound. Christopher stops immediately.
“Yellow?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Talk to me.”
“I’m okay.”
His hand rubs slowly up my bare back, warm and steady. “What’s happening in that beautiful head of yours?”
I press my face against my folded arms. “I feel stupid.”
His whole body goes still. “Why?”
“For needing this.”
