Page 157 of Daddy, Sir

“What?” I hollered as I scanned my brain for some clue as to what I'd done wrong. I’d been punished before dinner and nothing naughty had happened since then. But it must have, because while Zeke was very strict and had a ton of rules, he didn’t go looking for reasons to spank me. He didn’t have to. I gave him enough. Feeling defeated, I looked down at the floor. “Okay, Daddy,” I whispered, my eyes already filling with tears. I was still feeling raw from our earlier conversation, so it wouldn’t be hard to make me cry.

“Lola.” Zeke’s tone was sharp as he reached up and brushed a tear away. “Crying already, babygirl? That’s unusual.”

“I don’t know why I’m being punished,” I whispered. “But whatever it is, I’m already sorry.” Another tear fell, landing on the thick denim of his jeans.

“Oh, baby.” Zeke’s voice was softer now, the one he usually used during aftercare, or at night when he tucked me into bed. “You aren’t being punished. Not really. You’re getting a spanking, but that doesn’t always mean a punishment.”

“It doesn’t?” I narrowed my eyes and regarded him with cautious skepticism. Our conversation, the one we’d just had, wasn't supposed to change anything, but if I hadn’t done anything wrong and I wasn’t being punished, yet I was still getting spanked, hadn’t it?

“Think of it as an alternate form of therapy,” he said. “I told you on day one that if I ever heard you questioning your worth in any way, you’d get spanked for it.”

“Oh.” I did remember that, but I was still lost. “Did I do that?”

“You did.” He nodded gravely. “When you insinuated that I wasn’t getting anything out of this because I wasn’t getting sex. When you say that, it sounds like you think sex is all you have to offer, and when you start thinking like that again, we’re alwaysgoing to have a talk. And that talk is going to involve my hand and your ass.”

I squirmed under his firm hold and scrutinous gaze, but I didn’t deny it, because that was exactly what I’d been feeling. I was still confused about one thing, though. “But… I’m not in trouble?”

“No, baby.”

“But I’m still getting a spanking?”

He nodded. “I’m a big believer in the power of therapy spankings. Sometimes when people say things, it’s not enough to hear it. Sometimes you need to hear it with a little pain behind it to drive the message home.”

“That sounds like a punishment,” I griped, then immediately felt guilty because I knew Zeke’s heart was in the right place, and he really was just trying to help.

“It does, a little, I suppose,” he agreed. “But it shouldn’t feel the same.” He looked up and into my eyes, and gave a hopeful smile. “I know you’re confused and unsure, but I really think this is important. Will you just trust Daddy? Please?”

Ugh. I didn’t want another spanking, not when I could still feel the first one, but when he put it that way, how could I say no? Besides, I couldn’t help but be curious about this whole ‘therapy spanking’ thing. “Okay, Daddy,” I said sweetly. “I trust you.”

The pain in my ass would be worth it for the look in his eyes when I submitted to him. Every time, and this time was no exception.

He nodded, then eyed me shrewdly before standing up, further confusing me, and led me to the living room.

“W-what?” I stuttered as he walked us over to the couch.

He sat down and drew me between his legs once more, before explaining, “If it’s not a punishment, then I shouldn’t conduct itlike one. I want you to be more comfortable so you can relax and let go.”

“Oh. That makes sense. Thank you, Daddy.”

“You’re welcome, baby.” He placed his hands on my waist and tapped the band of my jeans. “These still need to come off, though.”

I sighed. This was still the worst part of a spanking. But he made me do it every time, and though I’d never admit it, I understood why. Sighing, I slid my jeans down and stepped out of them, then tugged my shirt over my head.

When I was standing there in just my panties and bra, Zeke took my hand and tipped me over his lap. I landed with an oomph across his hard thighs. And, as always happened, I had to remind myself to breathe because the nerves took over. This time, they were twofold. The usual nerves that I got from knowing it was going to hurt, and a new set because I was nervous about not knowing what to expect or how I’d react.

Fighting tears already, I scrunched my eyes shut when I felt Zeke’s large hand resting on my ass.

“Do you know why Daddy thinks you need this spanking, baby?”

I sucked in a breath, because I knew the routine by heart by now, and already things were different. Usually he’d ask “Why are you over Daddy’s lap getting your bare bottom spanked like a naughty girl?”

There was a fraction of humiliation in those words that always got me, but somehow, this was worse.

I swallowed hard, pushed out a breath, and forced myself to answer, recalling his explanation from earlier. “Because I said something that insinuated I didn't have worth aside from sex, and what I could give you that way.” My voice pitched up in a squeak and guilt filled me. He was right. That was exactly how I’d sounded, and I’d worked so hard on that reaction in therapy.But give me three weeks of close quarters contact with a sexy-as-sin man and apparently my thought processes reset.

That made me mad at myself, but it didn’t fill me with a hopeless despair like it would have at the start of my therapy journey. That was something, I supposed. My satisfaction at my progress only lasted a second, because the next one Zeke lifted his hand and delivered a swat that took my breath away. Then another, and another. He just kept going, each swat harder than the one before. There was no time to breathe or cry out between swats, and it felt more like a punishment than anything had.

Until finally, he stopped, his large hand resting on my now-warm bottom as I gasped for the air I hadn’t been able to get while he was spanking.

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