Page 314 of The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The Second Collection
“Good. I know it hurts, but I also know you can do it.” He squeezes me gently. “In the meanwhile, we’ll find somewhere that does high resolution prints, so you have something for your clients to look at.”
“That’s a good idea. Thanks.” I take a deep breath and let it out. “I’m sorry I was an asshole, Sir.”
“Apology accepted, sweetheart.”
“I just ... it’s my business, Sir. It’s different.”
“No, Bren, it’s not. I’m not trying to control your business. I’m controlling you. Do you understand the difference?”
Now that he says it, I do. I nod into his neck.
“Words, girl.”
“Yes, Sir, I understand the difference.”
He rubs his hand up and down my back. “Good girl. That gets you T-Relief, because you are going to have some bruises.”
I can believe it. “My thighs are on fire, Sir.”
“I bet they are, you little leather-ass. I had to tell you to let go about a hundred times before you actually did.”
“It wasn’t even a dozen times,” I grumble.
Mac chuckles. “You are such a hard-case sometimes, Bren. You’re not getting out of a punishment, either.”
“What?” I try to sit up straight but Mac clamps the back of my neck and holds me in place.
“I said,cuddle.”
“You punished me already!” I protest but nuzzle back into his neck.
“That wasn’t a punishment, girl. That was for your benefit. You needed to open up and let me help you deal with what’s happening. Punishment’s a separate beast. And I’ll give you a hint, it’s not going to involve impact.”
What? Punishment’s always impact. Or riding a damn wooden horse, if it’s Ten.
“I don’t understand.”
“If you’re getting punished, it’s because you’ve defied me. Punishment’s about our power-exchange. Expect me to make you submit in ways I haven’t before and that deepen our relationship.”
“Oh.” I swallow hard. “Okay.”
“Okay? That’s all you’ve got? ‘Cause that’d be a first, my little sammie.”
“I’m not a smart-assed masochist,” I grumble.
“Sure.” Mac’s laughter bounces me on his barrel chest. “Seriously, how are you doing now?”
“I’m okay ... I’m good, actually, except that my thighs hurt.” I reach back and rub. “Any chance of that T-Relief now, Sir?”
“Yes, girl. How about a bath and some cream and then you can draw this design for Nicky so it’s not hanging over you. Then, if you can stay this open with me, we’ll have a nice fuck before you write me a five-hundred-word essay on toxic independence.”
“Toxic independence!” I huff.
“You heard me.”
“I can’t— I mean, I’m not very good at writing things. That’s, um, the reason I didn’t end up going to college. My high school math and science grades were okay. But I had trouble with English, history, social studies, anything where I needed to write. Guidance counsellors said college probably wasn’t forme because I struggled with essays. My personal statement on college applications wasn’t even good enough.”
Mac rubs my back quietly for a long moment. “I understand what you’re saying to me, girl. I understand why this might be hard for you, but I’m not going to change the punishment. I told you being with me might not always be easy and that I’d push you outside your comfort zone. I want you to do this for me. There won’t be a time limit on it. I want you to work on it for an hour each day until you’ve got something to show me. Doesn’t have to be perfect. I’m not giving you a grade. I just want you to think and be honest with me. That’s all I’m asking of you.”
