Page 158 of Daddy, Sir

“You have worth.”

Three words. Spoken with a conviction that would have taken my breath away if I had any left. More profound than anything my therapist had said, or any self-help pearl of wisdom I’d consumed. Their simplicity delivered. He could have stopped right there, but he didn’t. His hands moved to my lower back and he rubbed slow circles as he spoke in firm, yet somehow soothing tones.

“You are worthy. Of love, of compassion. Of attention, of respect. Of everything. Period. There’s no ‘if’, there’s no ‘but’. There’s just that simple truth. You have so much more to offer than just your body and what you can do or be for men, in and out of a relationship. Honestly, when I see how much those teachings have hurt you, how much damage they’ve done, I want to hunt down every single person who perpetuated that belief and kick them in the balls.”

I couldn’t stifle my laugh when his tender, sweet declarations ended with threats of violence. “They don’t all have balls!” I cried, laughing.

“That’s honestly even worse,” he grumbled. “But you know what I mean.”

“Mmm-hmm,” I murmured, closing my eyes, letting the laughter fade, focusing on his hand on my ass, and his sweet words. Relishing the simple truths in them.

More than the words, the man they were coming from was vindicating. And though I knew now not to judge my worth on a man’s opinions of me, the fact that this man in particular cared for me, without the promise of sex, without being waited on hand and foot, with him caring for me more than I cared for him, that meant something.

I was marinating in those feelings when his hand came off my lower back and hovered just above my hot bottom.

“You are more than a warm body,” he told me a second before his hand exploded across my sit-spots. “You were not put on this earth to serve a man. Your purpose is not to keep them happy. It’s not to be seen and not heard, it’s not to stay in the kitchen barefoot and pregnant, or whatever lies you’ve been told.”

“Yes, Daddy.” The whisper was thick and breathy as my throat was clogged with emotion. My face felt hot, and my eyes were wet, though tears weren’t falling freely quite yet.

“Say it,” he commanded.

“I… What?” My body went stiff as I twisted back to look at him over my shoulder.

“I want you to say those things while I spank you. Until you really believe them down into the depths of your soul.”

He’d made me count a few times, and answer ‘yes, Daddy’ when he asked questions during a spanking, but this was different. It felt different. But then, he’d promised me that a therapy spanking would feel different than a punishment spanking. I hadn’t believed him at the time, but now I was starting to get it.

“Ready?” he asked.

I wasn’t. Not at all.

But his hand crashed hard against the fleshiest part of my bottom, anyway, and then he paused like he was waiting for something.

I swallowed hard, my cheeks heating, tears pricking the corners of my eyelids. I wasn’t sure what he wanted. A certain order and exact iteration? He hadn’t said anything like that, so I just said the first thing that popped into my head.

“I am more than just a warm body!”

“Good girl.” His soothing affirmation was more powerful than the statement itself. Not because it came from him, a man, but because I was being praised specifically for refuting those horrible self-beliefs. It made me want to do it again, and I got the chance because as soon as he spoke, his hand crashed down across the opposite cheek, hard and unforgiving. But there was something powerful in the pain. Something that hadn’t been there before. It wasn’t just absolution, it was… freedom.

“I am worthy of love!” That one rushed out on a gasp, like I had to get it out fast before someone could come up behind and tell me it wasn’t true.

“Yes, baby, you are.” He affirmed my declaration, then let his hand fall hard twice, once on each aching ass cheek.

“I have a purpose!” I didn’t add ‘aside from keeping men happy’ but it was implied. He knew it was there, just as I did, but the statement felt more impactful without it.

“A beautiful, wonderful purpose,” he agreed, a split second before spanking again.

We went on like that for a while, him spanking and me following with some iteration of the beautiful truths he’d spoken to me. After a dozen swats or so, I’d run out of things to repeat, but it didn’t matter. I came up with my own. Every awful lie, every stupid thing that had been spoken in order to keep medown and in my place fell from my lips. I was crying hard, with big, sloppy tears falling down my face, my body shaking with sobs, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.

The process was so cleansing, so affirming, so…therapeuticthat I just kept going until finally, it was Zeke that stopped, rubbing my numb bottom, then pulling me onto his lap where he cuddled me against his massive chest, held me tightly, and wiped my tears. All the while he whispered what a good girl I was, what a strong and beautiful woman, how the people that had broken me down were the scum of the earth. I clung to him, crying harder with each beautiful, eye opening truth.

But no matter how wonderful the truths felt to speak out loud, or how much Zeke’s praise healed my broken heart, it was the next words he spoke that hit me right in the feels.

“I’m so lucky to know you, Lola,” he said as he snuggled me close and dropped a chaste kiss on my forehead. “And so thankful for this time with you. Thank you for letting me be your Daddy, baby.”

I’d been told my whole life to make myself into a person that a man would be lucky to have.To have. But Zeke felt lucky just to know me. And I wasn’t giving him any of the things I’d been told added to my value. Not sex, not my body. I wasn’t serving him in any way, and if anything, it was quite honestly the other way around. And still, he felt lucky just to know me.

That hit the hardest. Harder than any spanking or any of the spoken truths. Those were the words soothing my soul as I wrapped my arms around his neck, buried my head in his chest, and just wept.

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