Page 54 of Loving Luna

Drake didn’t seem bothered by my tears as he moved his aim lower to my sit spots and the tops of my thighs. I instantly tensed, sucking in a breath as I braced myself.

“I’m crazy about you, Luna. I have wanted you for so long, and now that I have you, you best believe I’m going to work really hard not to mess it up. And you best believe I’m not going to let you mess it up either, babygirl. We have to communicate, we have to work hard to make a relationship work. Love is only the first part. It doesn’t stand alone without the hard work.”

He smacked the tops of my thighs ten times in quick succession, five swats on each side. “Tell me you understand, babygirl.”

“I do, Daddy,” I sobbed. “I’m so sorry!”

“Good.” He gave a couple more swats, then stopped, his hands rubbing my heated flesh. “Shhh, baby, it’s okay. Shhh. You took that like a good girl. We’re okay. You did the right thing coming home and talking to me, I know how hard that was.”

I nodded, unable to speak and longed to be cradled in his arms, letting him hold me while he stroked my hair and wiped my tears and told me everything was going to be okay. Instead, though, he patted my ass, and said, “C’mon, up you go. I promised you Daddy’s belt and that’s what you’re going to get.”

I grumbled as he helped me stand and guided me into position, but I knew myself well enough to know that if he didn’t follow through, I would eventually spin out and spiral. I needed a consistent Dom. Even on his worst days, Drake understood that about me.

Waiting was still the worst part. Drake left me there, bent over the bed, and opened the closet door behind us. I could hear him moving hangers and I knew exactly what he was doing: looking for the perfect belt. The one he was wearing to hold up his pants wasn’t going to cut it. Drake was one of the few Doms I knew who had “wearing” belts and “special spanking” belts.

After a few moments, the closet door closed, and Drake was behind me once more. I knew without looking exactly which belt he’d come back with, though he’d never used it on me. Secretly, I’d always wanted him to, but he’d always said it was special, that it was a belt he wanted to use on one submissive and one submissive only.

And he was using it now, a fact that simultaneously thrilled and terrified me.

“Do you know what belt I have in my hands?” Drake asked as if he could read my thoughts. He smacked the looped over leather against his hand, and my whole body clenched.

I nodded furiously.

“Use your words. What belt do I have?”

“Y-your special belt, Sir.”

“That’s right, and do you know why it's so special?”

I blinked, confused. I hadn’t been expecting to stop and play twenty questions. Thankfully, Drake answered his own question.

“It’s special because it’s Daddy’s belt. And I’ve only ever been Daddy to you. And god willing, I’ll only ever be Daddy to you. This belt is for you and me and you and me alone, babygirl. When you break a rule that could hurt us, like not communicating, or playing without permission, this is the belt I will use to punish you and to make my displeasure known. Do you understand?”

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Call me ten million kinds of fucked up but that little speech made me wetter than anything else ever had. My heart swelled with love. I felt cherished. All because somebody had saved an implement and designated it just for me to cement the significance of our relationship and that was the kind of exclusivity my little masochistic heart needed.

Or I thought it was, for about two seconds. Until the belt actually landed. The lash of leather across the center of my ass with expert precision was like someone held a lighter up to my butt and set my skin on fire. I felt the stripe rise up, I swore I did. I longed to reach back and feel it, but I knew doing so would be dangerous and potentially get me in trouble. I’d look in the mirror later.

“Owwww!” I cried when the second one landed. The shock and wonder had well worn off and all that I felt was pain.

And Drake, my wonderfully soft and understanding Daddy was deliciously stern, not swayed at all by my cries of pain, or the way I danced in place as if doing so could somehow lessen the pain. “This is what you’ll get when you break those kinds of rules. We’ll talk later about automatic emergency clearance for people like Maureen, but you will not play without my express permission again, babygirl. This ass belongs to Daddy, and to remind you of that, I’m going to light it up.”

And whoosh. My pussy actually gushed at his words. They were the most claiming, most committed, most forever thing I’d ever heard, and that had always been everything I thought I never wanted. But in this context, they were the hottest thing I’d ever heard, and they made the pain worth it.

Which was a good thing because after his speech, Drake shut up and let Daddy’s belt do the rest of his talking. The leather lashed across my inflamed backside again and again, each lash like a swarm of bees attacking. I was crying, dancing in place, throwing my hands back, begging him to stop and crying my apologies out between each one.

Normally, if I showed this much distress, Drake would stop. The fact that he didn’t only served to heighten my respect and arousal, even as he set my ass on fire.

My bottom throbbed with each lash of the leather against my skin, and just when I thought I couldn’t take any more, Drake finally paused. His hand rested on my lower back, and the other one rubbed my striped bottom.

“Oh, your ass is cherry-red, babygirl.” He let out a low whistle. “Are you getting the message?”

“Yes, Daddy! I promise I am!” My voice was breathy, nearly unrecognizable. The truth was, I’d probably taken plenty of spankings that were worse than this, but none of them had ever been so real. Somehow that made it hurt so, so good.

His hand moved from my lower back, and threaded through my hair, yanking my head back in that way he knew I loved. “Whose ass is this, babygirl? Who do you belong to?”

“It’s yours, Daddy!” I gasped. “I belong to you!”

“That’s right, babygirl. This ass is Daddy’s.” His voice lowered and hardened. “Daddy’s,” he growled. “Inside and out. Isn’t that right, babygirl?”

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