Page 28 of Daddy's Naughty Bartender
The command in his voice has me on my feet before I can think.
"When's the last time you ate a real meal?"
"I... this morning?"
"Try again."
"Yesterday. Maybe."
His jaw clenches. "Water?"
I gesture vaguely at the cold coffee on my desk.
"Actual water, Karen."
"I've been busy?—"
"You've been self-destructing." He moves closer, and I can see the exhaustion in his own features. The worry. "Running yourself ragged because you don't know how to ask for help. Because you'd rather fall apart quietly than admit you need support."
"That's not…"
"Isn't it?" He cups my face, forcing me to meet his eyes. "You promised to take care of yourself. You lied to me about being fine. You're here at—" he checks his watch, "—one in the morning instead of sleeping. Tell me how that's taking care of yourself."
Tears spill over. "I'm sorry."
"I don't want apologies. I want honesty. I want you to stop this martyrdom complex and let people help you."
"I don't know how!"
"Then it's time you learned." He releases me, stepping back. "Bend over the desk."
"What?"
"You heard me." His voice is calm, implacable. "You've been reckless with your health. Dishonest with me. Breaking promises to yourself and everyone who cares about you. You disobeyed me when I sent you home to eat, bathe and sleep. That stops now."
"Jason, you can't!"
"I can and I will." He rolls up his sleeves with deliberate movements. "Unless you tell me no. Unless you use your safe word. But we both know you won't. You need this. Need someone to hold you accountable when you won't do it yourself."
He's right. God help me, he's right. I need boundaries. Structure. Someone who cares enough to call me on my self-destructive habits.
"What's your safe word, baby?"
"Manhattan." It comes out whispered. The conversation over choosing a safe word had been lighthearted, but now? When I might need to use it? It wasn’t light after all. It was heavy with responsibility.
"Good. And if you need me to slow down?"
"Yellow."
"Good girl." He moves behind me. "Now bend over the desk. Arms stretched out. Palms flat."
I obey on shaking legs, my heart hammering as I assume the position. The wood is cool under my cheek, grounding me even as anticipation makes me tremble. I’ve never been spanked before. It was a hidden kink I’d never shared with anyone before joining the Naughty Girl’s Book Club.
"Tell me why we're doing this." His hand rests on my lower back, warm through my wrinkled shirt.
"Because I didn't take care of myself."
"And?"
