Page 66 of Saving Sophia

“Worse,” I squeaked out, squirming and kicking in earnest. I couldn’t help it.

“That’s right.”

He held me securely despite my wiggles, while he kept up his relentless, methodical assault on my tender flesh. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me. I can’t keep you safe if you keep secrets from me. And I can’t help you get free of your guilt if you don’t share your feelings with me.”

A helpless, whimpering cry clawed its way out of my throat, but worse than that, my heart cracked over his words. He was right. I should have told him. I shouldn’t have tried to hold it all inside.

“Please, Daddy, please,” I blurted out, my breath coming in shorter and shorter gasps. He extended his aim to the tender area across the tops of my thighs, and I squealed and wriggled against the sensation. My shorts and panties fell from my ankles onto the floor from my kicking as the flaming heat raged across my tender skin.

It burned everywhere. Worse, a different kind of heat rose between my legs, both delicious and confusing amidst the scorching sting on my poor, poor bottom. His length pressed hard and thick against my belly, and each punishing slap drove that point home.

Tears I didn’t know I’d been holding back broke through, and I let out a sob. The words poured out like a mantra between my jagged, tearful breaths. “I’m … sorry, Daddy … I won’t ever … keep secrets from you again.”

His hand stopped landing, and I lay limp across his lap. My bottom radiated heat like the sun. My forehead pressed against the side of his calf.

He stroked my back with the hand that had chastised me. “This is the right place for you to be sorry.” He pulled me up so carefully, turning and tucking me into the crook of his arm, letting my raging hot bottom stick out so no fabric or pressure touched it. “And now, baby, you can let that go.”

I rested my face against his chest and let my tears flow into his shirt, drinking in his scent to soothe my hitching breaths. He held me close, placing tender kisses along my forehead while murmuring things like “Good girl” and “You did so well” against my skin.

Time passed, and my tears slowed. My breathing regulated, leaving my head strangely clear. A new sense of peace wrapped around me, along with his arms, and I felt … lighter somehow.

“Tell me what you’re feeling,” he said gently after I’d clung to him in silence for a while.

“Better,” I said, marveling at the truth of it. “How can that be?”

He ran his fingers along my forehead, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “When you make the wrong choice, keeping secrets or breaking rules, your heart can get heavy.”

I nodded. “I felt alone.”

“Yes,” he continued. “And the best way to lighten your heart back up is to face that wrong choice. It’s my job to help you do that.”

I wanted to believe that so bad. But worry started to creep in. I touched the little letters engraved in my locket, feeling the scratch of them against my fingertips. “I don’t understand why you would?—”

“No.” He pulled my hand away, brought it to his lips and kissed each finger. “You deserve a light heart and a clean slate. You are worthy of forgiveness, and I want to help you feel it. That’s what Daddies do.”

He hadn’t dismissed me, hadn’t given up on me. I sobbed out my apology against the punishing strokes his hand doled out, and it worked—like it never had before. In all the years I tried, apologizing had never given me peace, never relieved any of the crippling, inescapable guilt. At his hand, the absolution I craved poured over me. I felt forgiven. My heart really was light.

“Thank you, Daddy.” I nestled deeper into his arms, my mind floaty and peaceful. He reached down and gently rubbed the painful heat on my bottom. I flinched at first, but he knew what he was doing, and the stinging eased a little.

The circles he rubbed drew my attention to the other heat building inside me. I carefully shifted on his lap. My body, naked from the waist down and completely exposed, grew slick and wet with excitement.

Part of me was embarrassed, but a bigger part was exhilarated. That part wanted him inside me, thrusting deep while he squeezed my burning bottom, melding the sting and the glorious friction into a sensation I wanted with every cell in my body.

Amber Jade beamed.

He wanted that too. I could feel him still diamond hard beneath me. Only the fabric of his pants separated us. I turned my face up to his, and our lips connected. The kiss intensified, filling my lower parts with an almost painful need. He shifted me easily, hands sliding along my body and pulling me against him, matching my growing hunger with his own.

“Daddy,” I whispered when we stopped to breathe.

“Yes, baby girl?”

“Did you … enjoy spanking me?”

He laughed, low and gravely, as he guided my hand onto the bulge that had been growing ever since I first lay across his lap. I shivered with excitement and gave him a squeeze that made him groan against my lips.

“Are we going to …”

He leaned his head back against the chair, watching me, his gray irises rimmed in warm gold. “Naughty little Sophie,” he purred. “Do you need to come?”

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