Page 240 of The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The Second Collection
“We’ll do that for two weeks, sweetheart. You can say ‘tuxedo’ to me, and I’ll know that you’re struggling. After those two weeks, we’ll drop the trigger word and you’ll just talk to me. Can you do that?”
“I’ll try, sir. Tuxedo?”
“The times I’ve felt the most vulnerable in my life were when I was wearing a tuxedo.”
That makes me smile into the covers. “Okay. Tuxedo it is.”
“Good girl. Now that you’re nice and relaxed, I’m going to give you five with my belt. This is not a punishment, Bren. It’sjust to bring us back to where we should be. It’s a reset, so we can go forward. Do you consent to five licks from my belt?”
It’s never felt so easy, so right, to agree to pain.
“Yes, sir.”
“I know your natural impulse will be to kick. I want those feet flat on the bed. Remember the honor bondage.”
I haven’t forgotten, and I won’t.
“Yes, sir.”
He runs his hand up and down my back before bringing it down on my ass in an oily slap. I wince against the sting, which is sharper with my skin slicked up and my nerves stimulated from the massage. He peppers my ass with slaps, and I know what he’s doing: warming me up before he gives me the belt. I’m grateful, even while I wince.
When he finishes and rubs in the sting, I murmur, “Thank you, sir.”
“Good girl. Lift your ass. Show me you want these.”
My back arches almost of its own accord.
“Here we go.” I hear the hiss of leather as he runs it between his hands, then I jolt as the first line of fire licks across my ass. I wrap the bed rungs in a death grip and count to five before I relax back onto the bed. I think my feet might have shifted on the quilt, but they didn’t lift off it.
“One, sir,” I murmur.
He rubs my back again. “Thatta girl. I didn’t tell you to count, but I like that. Four more.”
He spaces them out, giving me time to recover and count, rubbing my back between each lick. They still break me the hell down and by the time he gives me the fifth stroke, I’m teary, not so much from pain, although he hasn’t taken it easy on me and my ass is on fire, but from the release of emotional tension.
The bed creaks as he stretches out beside me. “Very good, Bren. Relax your hands and feet. Honor bondage is over, andyou’ve earned a reward before bed. When you’re ready, move on top of me until you’re comfortable. I want to hug you for a while.”
He does? I quickly flex my hands and feet and then freeze when I get an all-mighty head-rush. What the hell?
“Bren, you okay?”
“Head-rush, sir.”
“Give yourself a minute.”
I do, stretching out as long as I can, the way I’ve been taught after a big kickboxing session, then wiggling my fingers and toes to get my circulation flowing again. After a big stretch, I feel more with it and climb on top of him without worrying that I’m about to black out.
He shuffles me around, until my face is resting in the crook of his neck and my legs are cradled between his. When he has me where he wants me, he wraps his arms around me and holds me close. He’s got a semi-stiffy that presses against my groin, but it’s not raging, and I don’t wiggle against him to provoke it. He said he wanted to hug me and fuck if a hug doesn’t sound like the best thing in the world right now, even with my flaming ass stuck in the air.
“Tell me what you’re thinking, bold girl,” he says softly.
“Isn’t that a girl line, sir?”
He chuckles. “Probably. Tell me anyway.”
“I’m glad you belted me. I mean, I’m not glad-glad, because my ass is on fire, but you said it was a reset and that’s how I feel. Like we’ve started over from a good place. I’m not mad anymore. I’m not hurt. I feel ... peaceful. Except my ass hurts.”
Mac chuckles. He works his hands up and down my back a few times, finally edging down onto the weals his belt has left, and when I don’t flinch or whimper, he rubs. There’s a knack to rubbing in the sting, and Mac has it.
