Page 80 of Break Me, Daddy

“I just hate seeing you cry,” Lottie whispered, her own tears slipping down her cheeks.

“Come with me, Charlotte.” Holden’s words were firm, but not unkind as he stepped forward to cup Lottie’s elbow. “Trust your Daddy and Frankie to know their limits.”

Trust. That was what this whole thing came down to, wasn’t it? “I promise it’s not more than I can take, Lottie.”

Still looking unconvinced, Lottie nodded slowly and allowed herself to be led from the room. When she and Holden disappeared, Braden sighed again. “She loves you. And there is no punishment I can give her that will ever stop her from putting you first, nor would I ever want to stop her from loving as big as she does. I hope after tonight you won’t take advantage of the love she has for you again.”

Guilt gripped her, squeezing her chest so tight she wondered how she didn’t simply crumble to dust under the force of it. “I won’t. I’m so, so sorry, Braden.”

“I know you are, sweetheart. And I know the past few weeks have been incredibly difficult for you. But we all care about you, too much to let you put yourself at further risk with your lies. You are incredibly loved, Francesca. I wish I could make you see that.”

“It’s not… never mind.”

Two hard swats connected with her bottom, reigniting the ache. “None of that. Talk to me.”

Swallowing hard against a fresh wave of tears, she shook her head. “It’s not that I can’t see how loved I am. It’s just that it doesn’t really feel like I deserve it.”

“Being loved isn’t something you earn, Frankie. It’s something other people give you because they want to. All you have to do to be worthy of that love is to just exist. No other requirements. And this one issue aside, you’ve been an incredible friend to Lottie. I haven’t forgotten how you were there for her when she learned about her father’s gambling addiction.”

“That’s just being a good friend.”

“Exactly. You’re a great friend, Francesca Legare. And don’t you fucking forget it.”

His words helped to ease some of the guilt, if not all of it. “Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Now, that being said, we have a punishment to finish. I want you to stand up and go bend over the arm of the couch, keeping your bottom nice and high for me.”

“Yes, Sir.”

She scrambled up from his lap, eager not so much for what came next but for what she knew it would bring. Relief from the guilt still gnawing at her, and the comfort of her Daddy’s arms when it was all said and done.

The sound of Braden’s belt leaving the loops of his pants sent a shiver up her spine as she settled into position.

“You will not lie to the people who love you. And you will not put your friends in the position of choosing between honesty and protecting you. Am I understood, Francesca?”

“Y-yes, Sir.”

Thick leather snapped against her bottom a moment later, drawing a pained cry from her throat. But she didn’t move an inch out of place, didn’t even kick her feet up to try and block the next blow.

She’d earned this punishment and she was damn well going to take it.

Even with that resolve, she only made it halfway through before she cracked and she reached back to cover her bottom. “Please, Braden, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“We’re almost done, sweetheart. Six more and then the two extra you earned. Put your hand back where it belongs.”

Choking back a sob, she slowly pulled her hand away, pressing her palms into the couch cushion beneath her as the seventh stroke fell. Her entire backside and the tops of her thighs felt swollen, achy, and she had a feeling she wouldn’t be sitting comfortably any time soon.

But with every stroke of the belt across her aching nates, the pressure around her chest eased a little bit more. As if each lash was somehow cleansing her of her sins.

“That’s twelve,” Braden said at last, his tone surprisingly gentle. “These last two are because you know better than to talk to someone when you’re standing in the corner.”

They fell hard and fast, right along the sensitive crease where her ass met her thighs, and she couldn’t stop herself from crying out.

“It’s all done, sweetheart. You took that so well. I’m so proud of you.”

“So am I.”

Strong, familiar arms picked her up, cradled her close to an equally familiar chest as the last of her resolve shattered. Wrapping her arms around her Daddy’s neck, she sobbed out all the guilt and pain and ugliness she’d been carrying around with her.

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