“Fine, Daddy,” I snap, irritated.
His reaction is instant.
Aaron grabs me, pulling me over his knees. He pushes my skirt up and instantly starts smacking me on the bottom. This time, there’s no sweet talk. This time, he doesn’t go slow and he doesn’t tease me. There’s no working up to the this. He smacks me hard and fast and long, and it doesn’t take much before I’m crying over his lap. Shit. I hope this room is soundproof becau
se I’m embarrassed as fuck.
My cheeks flush with humiliation as he reigns spankings down on me. Over and over again, he spanks my bottom, punishing my ass, and by the time he finishes, I know that my makeup is gone and my mascara is smeared. I’m a mess, and I feel like a mess, but I know that I was being shitty to him.
That’s why he spanked me.
I was being terrible.
He stops spanking me.
“Mallory.”
I don’t say anything. I bite my tongue and shake my head. I’m not ready. I’m not ready to speak to him or to anyone. Not about this. Not yet.
He sighs, and he tries again.
“Mallory.”
Still nothing.
I won’t speak to him.
Not yet.
“Mallory, answer me or I’m going to have to spank you again.”
My ass hurts.
It like, really hurts. I don’t know if I can handle another spanking right now, but I also don’t want to apologize. I wanted him to finish the fucking book, and damn if I don’t think it’s such a big deal that I get what I want once in awhile.
I squeeze my lips closed, tensing my entire body because I know what’s coming next.
I just don’t care.
“Okay,” he says, his voice lower. He sounds almost...sad. “But I want you to remember that I gave you a chance to speak to me.”
“Fuck you,” I snap, irritated.
“Oh, sweetie.” I can practically hear him shaking his head. “Wrong choice.”
He spanks me again. This time, it’s even harder, faster. He’s more relentless than he was before, and I don’t get a moment of reprieve before I’m crying out and wiggling against his damn lap. Shit! This fucking hurts!
Harder and harder he smacks me until I’m trying to escape from him. I have a damn safe word. The safe word at the club is “red,” and I know I can use it at any time, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to need to. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction.
How messed up is that?
I don’t even think it would satisfy him. I just don’t want him to think that I can’t handle this.
So instead of being a big girl and telling him that I’m done, I cry instead.
I cry because he didn’t finish reading me the story I wanted him to read me.
I cry because he doesn’t know my secret.