Page 12 of A Little Love

“Can I take my hands off the wall?” she asked in a very small voice.

“Yes.” He expected her to turn around then, so he could draw her into his arms, kiss her brow, murmur how proud he was that she had taken her punishment like a big girl—all the little things that his Daddy-Dom side so loved to do once discipline was done, but she didn’t. She bent instead. Picking up the clothespin, she put it back on her tongue.

They both of them knew damn well what had been on this floor.

Then she began to cry.

“Don’t.” He tried to take the clothespin from her, but she turned away from him. Cupping her shoulders, he brought her gently back around, but she averted her face. “Hey.”

It was definitely not okay, and he knew it the instant he tried to catch her chin, only to have her turn that much further from him. And when he finally did manage to catch her jaw and gently force her gaze back to his, her shoulders slumped and then she covered her face with both hands. All he could see of her now was that silly clothespin, sticking out between her palms. He took it off, tucking it into his pocket to keep her from trying to put it back on her tongue.

Pulling her in close, he folded his arms around her. He didn’t know if it was his touch or the spanking, or perhaps even a combination of the two, but it broke her.

“I’m sorry!” she wailed, dissolving into tears.

Taking her arm, Nolan tossed the hairbrush into the top of his duffel bag on his way past it. He headed for the antique chair that had, up until only minutes ago, been hidden behind the wall. It creaked when he sat, but it held him. It creaked even more ominously when he pulled her down to sit on his lap, but itheld her, too. She offered absolutely no resistance when he drew her to lie against his chest, her head upon his shoulder. With her face tucked right up into the crook of his neck and chin, he could feel each shaky exhale as she alternately sucked for air, swallowed hard, and tried to calm down.

“I don’t like the hairbrush,” she eventually quavered.

“I know.” He had already decided it would take some major misbehavior before he dared use it on her again. “But you should know, baby girl, I don’t like being ignored when I tell you something. Sometimes, it’s not about what you like or want; it’s what you need that matters the most. When you’re with me, you’ll get what I think you need and you’ll get it—unless you use your safeword—whether you want it or not. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“You’re going to spank me with the hairbrush even if I say no,” she sniffled, paraphrasing back to show she understood.

“Unless you use your safeword,” he repeated. “I don’t care how many times you say no, or how hard you kick, fuss or cry. The only thing I pay attention to is making sure your needs get met. But if it makes you feel better, I’ve decided to only use the hairbrush when something particularly severe is required. From here on out, I think my hand should be enough.”

Sniffling, she scrubbed her wrist across her eyes and began to play with the hem of his t-shirt. She wiggled, as if she could feel his next spanking already. For all her tears though, he noticed she was not shifting to put distance between them. Rather, she was wriggling closer.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she whispered.

“Of course.” He brushed a kiss on the top of her head.

“Promise you won’t tell?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” he assured.

She stared at her fingers, still playing with the neck of his t-shirt. “I-I…” She stole a quick peek up at him before gushing out, “I used to fantasize about that.”

He let his fingers play upon her back, much the way hers were under his chin. “About getting spanked with the Bad Girl Brush?”

“No.” She shook her head, but stopped and thought about it for a moment. “Well… yes. B-but that’s not what I meant.”

She looked so cute when she stammered like that and tucked her chin. She wasn’t playing coy and she wasn’t acting. There was a confusion and worry and a helluva lot of insecurity haunting the stormy depths of her eyes. Nolan continued to caress her back, his fingers trailing up and down, up and down along her spine.

“What did you mean?” he coaxed, his tone as soft and non-judgmental as he could make it.

“Sometimes…” Her breath hitched, a soft puff of frustration as she tried to find a way to explain herself. “Sometimes I think about how it would b-be to have a… a Daddy who…” Another soft puff and peek at him stolen up through the dark of her eyelashes. She steadied herself with a deep breath, her nervous fingers at last falling still as she said, “Who would spank me—but not just that,” she rushed to explain. “I mean, spank me hard. Without even caring if I kicked and screamed and cried and pleaded with him to stop. He’d just keep on doing it. Not just until I was done, but untilhedecided I was done.” She suddenly sat up straight, fingers plucking and worrying at her bottom lip the way she’d plucked and worried at his shirt. “Am I bad for wanting that?”

“No,” he replied, tone firm enough to put such fears permanently to rest. Or so he would have thought, but if anything, her eyes grew even more concerned.

“Am I weird?”

Nolan leaned in to press another soft kiss to her forehead. Her skin there was very soft. Very smooth. She smelled of dust and basement and ever so faintly of baby powder. His lips came away tingling from the effort it took not to dip in lower for a taste of her quivering mouth. Once he started doing that, he wasn’t sure he’d have the strength or will to stop.

“You’re not weird,” he assured her, bending to brush another soft kiss against her cheek. He tasted the saltiness of her drying tears. Beneath his hand, her hair felt as soft as silk. He couldn’t stop touching it.

“How do you know?” she whispered

“Because,” he said, slipping his hand beneath her hair to cup the warm, wondrous heat at the nape of her slender neck. His touch made her eyes drift closed; he loved seeing that. He loved feeling it—the heat of her body in his hand, the heat of her spanking burning into his lap.

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