Page 49 of Chasing Amber

He rubs my already heated bottom. “If I’m going to spank you harder than before, you need to use safewords, baby.”

“Okay.”

“Red, yellow, and green?”

“Yes, Sir.” I’m aware of safewords. I’ve been to Surrender enough to know the basics, but I’ve never been in a situation that would require one. This is new to me.

“Give me your hands, baby. Tuck them behind you.”

I arch my chest and reach back, setting my cheek on the couch cushion.

Daddy clasps both wrists with one hand at the small of my back. “I don’t want to risk you reaching back while I’m spanking you, Amber. I could hurt you if you did.”

“Okay, Daddy.” I’m straddling the line between my Little and my adult. I’m both at once. It’s easier to get spanked in my Little space. I can justify it better in my head. But my adult is allowed to ask for a spanking, and she did. That’s okay, too.

It doesn’t matter if I’m Little or not right now. Daddy doesn’t care. He’s going to take care of me no matter what. He has always taken care of me even when I didn’t recognize I had a Little.

“Ready, baby?”

“Yes, Sir.”

The first swat takes me a bit by surprise. It stings more than earlier because my ass is hot and tender. Plus, he swatted me harder this time. I wince and force myself to take a deep breath. On my exhale, he starts spanking me in earnest.

I focus on breathing. In. Out. Absorbing the pain.

Daddy swats me at least a dozen times before pausing. “Color, baby?”

“Green,” I whimper. I don’t want him to stop. I want to really feel it. I’m sliding into my head with every spank, escaping. I don’t know whether this is healthy or not, but I don’t care right now. I want to escape myself.

Daddy strokes my hair away from my face and tucks it behind my ear before he continues. The next slap sounds loud, reverberating in the room. Another and another. I think he’s cupping his hand differently. The pain is deeper. More…solid. I can’t describe it. It doesn’t matter.

I lose track of how many times he spanks me. A lot. I’m lulled by the rhythm and the expectation. My ass is on fire, and it feels so good.

Suddenly, he gives me one swat that spans both cheeks. It’s harder, and I gasp as the pain flows through me. The dam finally breaks, and I cry out before I start sobbing. A deep emotional rush bursts out of me, and I can’t stop it.

Daddy releases my wrists and rubs my bottom, but after a moment, he lifts me to roll me over. He cradles me, holding me tightly, being careful not to let my bottom touch anything. My ass is suspended between his legs as he rocks me, kissing my temple and whispering to me.

“Such a good girl… I’m so proud of you… Let it all out, baby.”

I keep crying, big tears running down my cheeks. I can’t stop the outburst, and I don’t want to. I need this. I haven’t cried like this in my life. I don’t recall even doing so as a child.

Even when I was rescued from that dank basement, I did not cry. I put on a brave front, mostly for my brother. He was a mess, distraught and out of his mind. I didn’t want his life to be ruined because I was kidnapped, so I stuffed all the feelings deep down and held back my emotions.

I didn’t have any privacy for a long time after my rescue. My brother had all my belongings moved out of the dorm and into his house. He set me up in a spare bedroom without a word andwatched over me like a hawk. He hired Ben to protect both of us. Days and weeks went by before I realized I never had a chance to freak out. It seemed too late. Why bother?

This is the dam that’s breaking. I’m falling apart because I didn’t do so ten years ago. The trigger was Jacob’s release, but that doesn’t matter. Something would have eventually caused me to let loose.

I cry and cry and cry. Daddy keeps encouraging me to let it all out. He never suggests I should stop. I’m grateful.

I don’t know how long I sob before I finally manage to take a full breath and reduce my crying to sniffles. I’m limp and exhausted.

Daddy lifts me in his arms and carries me to my bathroom. He manages to hold me with one arm while he wets a washcloth, and then he carefully wipes my face.

He even grabs a pile of tissues and encourages me to blow my nose. That makes me giggle. “Daddy…”

“Blow, baby,” he demands again, so I do.

After carrying me back into the bedroom, he pulls the covers back and gently lowers me onto the cool sheets.

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