Page 49 of Daddy's Reckoning

“Too late for that, little girl. I gave you plenty of warnings, and lots of chances.”

He lifted me into his arms, wrapping my legs around his wais,t and walked us across the room. He sat on the edge of the bed and flipped me face down across his lap, a position I'd been in dozens of times.

It felt different this time, for reasons I couldn’t explain, even to myself. I held my breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

He just… touched me. He ran his hand over my itchy, sore, irritated ass, and his fingers dipped between my legs, stroking my wet folds.

I mewled.

“Your ass is red, your pussy is dripping. And you still have to be sassy. When are you going to learn your lesson, babygirl?”

“All I said was I was supposed to be in bed.”

Fuck. Apparently, the answer to his question was “not anytime soon”.

I heard him sigh, then suddenly I was right side up, in his arms again as he stood and carried me to the head of the bed. I watched, perplexed, as he pulled back the covers and deposited me in the center of the mattress.

I smirked, but my smugness didn’t last long. I watched as he stomped around the room. He took my phone and book off the nightstand, as well as the remote that controlled the TV.

My mouth fell open as I realized what was happening. I’d won the battle but not the war.

“Wh-what are you doing? Give those back.”

He ignored me and stalked toward the door. When he had one hand on the knob, he turned to me with raised brows, my stuff still in his hand. “Babygirl, when are you going to stop making everything harder on yourself?”

The question was rhetorical, and my answer, a whispered, “I don’t know if I can,” fell on deaf ears. Or more accurately, no ears, because Theo had already gone, shutting the door behind him.

THEO

Jesus Christ. I’d even taken her book. What kind of asshole was I? Frustrated as hell, at both her and myself, I stomped to the living room, sat down on the couch, leaned my elbows on my knees, and buried my face in my hands.

I’d never gone so far as to take someone’s devices before. But with Erin, essentially grounding her had been the obvious choice. She’d pushed every single one of my buttons since we’d gotten home. And I didn’t plan to keep her captive without phone or TV for long, just long enough to get my point across.

If this was what Bas had meant by stepping up and being a Daddy, his advice sucked. I knew it wasn’t what he’d meant. None of us could have foreseen today’s events. If I could have, Erin wouldn’t have left my side.

I took a deep breath and reminded myself that she was okay. Under my supervision, once we’d gotten home, she’d called and quit her job, much to my relief. Not that it had happened without a fight, either. Life with Erin these days was two steps forward, one step back.

She wanted to be taken care of; I could see it in her eyes, but she couldn’t trust it. I had to keep fighting. I had to be her rock. For my own sake, for hers, and for the sake of our precious baby boy.

A baby boy, I remembered, heaving a breath. A stinging pain pricked my eyelids and I smiled. A son. I was having a son. My chest filled with pride.

Glancing at the clock, I contemplated how long to let her suffer in order to get my point across. It had to be a while, but not any actual serious amount of time. This was more of a warning than a real punishment. I would also never take all her privileges and leave her alone to suffer with her thoughts. Not only did it seem cruel, I didn’t feel like it would actually work in my favor.

Rising, I tiptoed down the hall and stood outside her door, listening for any sounds that would indicate she was spiraling, or at the very least, she was done being so stubborn. Nothing. Dead silence. I decided to give it an hour and to spend that time writing my own list of rules, as well as making her a nice, healthy lunch. After inspecting the contents of my fridge, freezer, and pantry, which were fuller these days than ever before, I decided on baked sweet potatoes, grilled beets, and glazed salmon in the air fryer. Thankfully, Erin was not a picky eater and actually had a very expansive palette.

I got everything cooking, then grabbed a notepad and sat down at the table to contemplate rules. I’d tried my best to include Erin in that conversation, but she hadn’t been cooperative, so now she wouldn’t have a say. Well, not a say during the process of coming up with them, anyway. She’d always have veto power, and I’d always value her input, but this was going to make the process so much easier for both of us.

Writing rules for Erin was harder than I’d anticipated. Outside of our play sessions at the club, the ones we’d had before were all basic and school-focused.

It was very tempting to hit the easy button and design a list of rules that were standard across most D/s relationships, but that wasn’t what Erin needed. It wasn’t what would help her flourish, and it certainly wouldn’t help make her mine.

Still, I wrote down what I considered the basic tenets of any full power exchange relationship. Disobedience, Dishonesty, Dangerous Behavior, and Disrespect.

I wrote a small note under each one to specify the sorts of things that would fall under its umbrella, and then moved on.

Normally, I wouldn’t consider giving a submissive who was not a Little a bedtime unless there was a problem with them getting up and going in the mornings. For Erin, being pregnant, good sleep was important for a different reason.

I also wanted to make sure she ate properly even when I wasn’t around to cook for her, so a nutrition log got added to my expectations. And then came the hard stuff. The stuff where it was going to get deep. Pressing hard on the pen, I wrote in my blocky chicken scratch handwriting, You must tell Daddy everything.

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