Page 52 of Wings
"Good. Now we talk." He sat beside me, close but not touching. "First—you didn't ruin anything. Our night was perfect becausewe were together. That doesn't change because some asshole showed up."
"But—"
"Second," he continued firmly, "you are not responsible for your past. For Alex or his associates or the fear they created. That's not baggage—that's survival, and I'm proud of you for getting through it."
Fresh tears threatened. "Then why do I feel so bad?"
"Because you lied to me." His voice gentled but remained firm. "Not about something small, but about being afraid. That's exactly when you need to tell me the truth most. When you're scared or triggered or panicking—that's when honesty matters most."
"I know." I twisted my hands in my lap. "I just . . . I wanted to protect the night."
"That's my job." He tipped my chin up, making me meet his eyes. "I protect you. I protect our nights and our days and everything in between. Your job is to be honest so I can do mine effectively."
The logic of it, the simple truth, made my chest ache. "I'm sorry, Daddy."
"I know you are." He studied my face, thumb brushing away a stray tear. "And I forgive you. But baby girl, a rule was broken. A very important one."
My stomach dropped even as I nodded. I knew this was coming. Had agreed to it, even wanted it on some level. Consequences meant the rules mattered. Meant I mattered enough to be held accountable.
"What happens now?" I asked in a small voice.
"Now we deal with it, and then it's over. Clean slate, like always." He stood, moving to the center of the room. "But this wasn't a forgotten meal or staying up past bedtime. Thiswas dishonesty about safety. That requires something more significant than corner time."
My breath caught. We'd discussed this possibility, but facing it was different.
"A spanking," I whispered.
"Yes." He sat in the reading chair, looking every inch the Daddy who loved me enough to follow through. "But first, I need you to tell me why. Not to shame you, but so you understand. Why are you being punished?"
I stood on shaky legs, moving closer but not all the way. "Because I lied when you asked what was wrong. Because I hid being afraid instead of trusting you to handle it."
"And why does that matter?"
"Because . . ." I thought about it, really thought beyond the surface. "Because you can't keep me safe if I don't tell you when I'm scared. Because hiding things breaks the trust between us. Because I matter enough to be honest about my needs."
"Good girl." The praise in the midst of impending punishment made my head spin. "That's exactly right. Now, I want you to go change into your pajamas. The yellow ones with the ducks. Then come back here."
The specificity of it—choosing what I'd wear for my punishment—made everything more real. More intimate. This wasn't just discipline; it was care wrapped in consequences.
Chapter 10
Wings
HereIwas,aboutto make my baby girl cry, and the nursery insisted on looking like a goddamn fairy tale.
The butterfly comforter lay smooth and innocent on the bed. The stuffed animals watched from their shelves with glassy, judgment-free eyes. Even the air smelled sweet—honey scent from the diffuser Ki had added last week, something about calming properties. Nothing about this moment felt calm.
She'd lied to me.
Not about something small, not a white lie to spare feelings. She'd looked me in the eye while fear ate her alive and told me she was fine. Just tired. The memory of it sat like glass in my chest—her face at the restaurant, the way her whole body had locked up when she'd seen whoever it was. Connor, she'd said through tears. One of Alex's ‘associates’.
And instead of trusting me to handle it, she'd swallowed that fear whole.
The rule existed for exactly this reason. Honesty, always, especially about being scared or triggered. Because how the hell could I protect her from threats I didn't know existed? How could I keep her safe when she hid behind pleasant lies and forced smiles?
My hands flexed against the armrests. This wasn't about my ego or control. This was about the foundation of everything we were building. Without trust, without complete honesty, the whole structure would collapse. She'd fall back into survival mode—hiding, running, managing everything alone until it broke her.
The Dom blogs I'd studied talked about this moment—the necessary cruelty of loving discipline. How it wasn't really about the physical sensation but the emotional release, the reestablishment of boundaries that made the submissive feel safe. Clinical words for something that felt anything but clinical.
