Page 47 of Brave
She danced, and cried, and bounced, writhing and sobbing through the pain, while he waited patiently, flexing the cane between his hands until she lowered herself back into position.
“Last one.”
She nodded, sniffling.
“It’s going to be the hardest, so you let me know when you’re ready.”
“I’m ready, Sir,” she shakily replied, bracing her feet a little further apart and tightening her grip on the edge of his desk.
“I am worth everything to my Sir,” Carlson said, feeding her the last line.
Pressing her forehead to the desk, she hesitated only a second before lifting her head and clearly repeating, “I am worth everything to my Sir, and I’m very sorry.”
He didn’t have it in him to make this final stroke harder than the rest. Judging by her reaction, she felt it like that anyway. Catching her arm before she crumpled all the way to the floor, he tossed the cane away so he could hold her instead.
“I’m sorry,” she wept, clinging to herself while he clung to her.
“There’s nothing left to be sorry for.” He held her close, rubbing her back and smoothing her hair out of her eyes before it could stick to her flush face. “It’s over and done with and will only be brought up again if you lie to me again.”
“I won’t,” she promised.
He smiled, but he knew better. She’d come to him with wounds that ran deeper than anyone he’d ever met. Healing from that took time, and mistakes would be inevitable. So long as she kept trying, he was determined to be both patient and forgiving.
Breathing hitching in shuddery hiccups, she swiped her eyes with her fingers, clutched her hands to her chest again, and whispered, “I’m sorry I took it so badly. I don’t know why this happened. I’ll do better next time, I promise.”
“Cynthia,” he gently corrected. “You didn’t take it badly. I am very proud that you did your best throughout what was a very difficult disciplinary caning.”
She sniffled. “But… I cried.”
“It’s okay to cry. Sometimes it’s what’s needed to help let the stress out.”
“But…” She flexed her fingers. “I didn’t hold still. I’m supposed to hold still.”
“According to who?” he reminded.
“Someone who doesn’t matter.”
“Good girl.” He brushed a kiss upon the top of her head, content to hold her for however long she needed it.
“Is it okay if I hug you back?” she whispered, almost too soft for him to hear.
“Please do.” He kissed her brow again, breathing in the scent of her hair, liking the way she fit against him. “Doms need hugs too. Especially after punishment is done. Believe it or not, we don’t like giving them.”
Most doms, anyway, he silently amended, and then immediately shut Ethen out of his thoughts. He much preferred to focus on Puppy and the way she timidly unfolded her arms and wrapped them around him instead. She curled in close. This, he told himself, was worth everything, right here. It was all he’d ever wanted since before he knew it was missing from his life.
It was progress.
And most of all, it was a complete and utter figment of his imagination that tickled at the back of his head, whispering that it was every bit as fragile and unstable as she was.
Ethen was in prison now, but he wouldn’t always be. Eventually, he would be getting out and when he did…
When he did, he’d find out his web of ties binding Puppy to him were nowhere near as strong as they might once have been.
She wasn’t Ethen’s anymore.
She was his.
Holding her that much tighter, he shut his eyes and shut out the voice.
