Page 13 of Daddy's Justice

And… I felt it. It hurt.

I couldn’t hold still. Pain wasn’t something I was used to. The clap of his hand on my butt hurt, and I didn’t understand why. I had been dealt hard blows before that had barely even registered but Forseti’s large, god-sized hand was raining down his own justice on my ass, and I could feel it. I could feel every swat. He was covering every inch of my behind with hard, steady slaps of burning heat.

I didn’t like it. Not one bit. What was this feeling? It… stung. It felt like a fire was being built and my butt was the fireplace. How? How was this possible? It didn’t matter how, what mattered was that it hurt and with every fall of his hand, the pain compounded. I didn’t have to fake my pleas like I had planned. They spilled with lusty authenticity from my lips each and every time his hand connected with my ass. I wanted it to stop, and we were only a dozen swats in.

“Please, Forseti! It hurts!”

“Every time a woman is facedown over my lap, she says that,” he joked. “It is supposed to hurt. It wouldn’t be an efficient punishment if it didn’t.” His voice was calm and steady.

His hand seared my upper thighs with an especially hard swat. I could feel the tears building. What a weird sensation. The burning behind my eyelids startled me; I also never cried. Another slap to my thigh had my fight or flight instinct up and going. With one, powerful thrust, I tossed myself off of his lap and onto the floor.

“Morrigan!” Forseti scolded, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling at me. “You get yourself back over my lap right now. If I have to put you there, you aren’t going to like what comes next.”

“What comes next?” I questioned, parroting him. What could possibly be worse than the pain building in my butt? I rubbed fervently, surprised at the heat radiating from my globes.

“What comes next, little goddess, is the feel of the broadside of my sword on your bare behind.”

“Your sword?” I looked up at him from the floor, still cupping my poor, abused buttocks.

“The statue of Lady Justice, blindfolded, with her scales in balance and a sword in her other hand. The laws of Midgard are based on Asgardian courts from long ago. As such, I have fashioned”—he held out his hand and a sword appeared—“my Sword of Justice.”

I closed my eyes, then opened them again. That ‘sword’ was still there, a paddle made of wood and shaped like the weapon he called it.

“When my hand isn’t enough, my sword finishes the task.”

He held it up and I stared in awe. It was a beautiful piece of striking rosewood with a lighter contrast finish decorating its pommel and guard. Forseti’s hand wrapped around the contoured grip. As beautiful as it was, it was not something I wanted applied to my already hot behind.

Making it clear that I didn’t have a choice in the matter, Forseti reached his free hand down to help me stand. For a brief second, I contemplated running. Looking up into his stern gaze I decided against it. It would be better to bide my time for escape when he least expected it.

“Now, since this is your first spanking, I won’t hold that mini act of rebellion against you. I will give you a chance to rectify your actions by placing yourself back over my lap. I will excuse your rubbing as well, just this once. In the future, however, when I paint your bottom red, it is to remain that way until the effects have naturally subsided. There will be no rubbing. Do you understand me?”

Sighing, I nodded. I understood. I didn’t like it, but I understood. He looked at me, an eyebrow cocked, but didn’t say a word. He sighed as I returned, slowly and gently, back over his massively hard thighs.

“You stay on my lap this time. We are done when you have paid the consequences for your actions and not a second sooner.” He flipped my skirt up again, but this time, I felt his fingers go for the top of my panties.

“No, please!”

“Yes, Morrigan. You need to feel the palm of my hand on the naked skin of your behind. You’ve earned a bare bottom spanking, and a bare bottom spanking is what you are going to get.” He pulled my panties down to my ankles.

I had thought the first set of swats hurt, but they were nothing in comparison to these. The feel of his skin on mine added a level of intimacy to the spanking and, boy, was he punishing me. The force of each blow jolted me forward. The pain quickly had me bucking. Forseti placed his other hand on the small of my back, holding me still.

“You need to stop fighting and accept who you are, Morrigan. It would make life easier on all of us if you would remove whatever it is blocking you from seeing the truth of your situation. I can’t keep you safe if you fight me every step of the way. I am in charge here, little goddess, the sooner you accept that, the better for your butt. We can’t move forward until you acknowledge the truth of who you are.”

He smacked my ass over and over again, and for the first time in my life, I wished I couldn’t feel the pain. Why now? Why did my pain sensors suddenly have to work?

His hand cracked over and over on my butt, from the bottom of my lower back down the underside curve. He left no spot uncovered. When he paused, I was sure he was finally done. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I steeled myself so that I wouldn’t cry.

Forseti lifted his knee, shifting me upwards and began to attack the crest between my butt and my thighs. I keened at the new sensation of pain, even more intense than what had built on my cheeks and threw my hands back to protect myself. He captured them in the hand resting on the small of my back and held them there.

“You don’t block the Hand of Justice from delivering its punishment.” The disapproval was clear in his tone. I now questioned every single character in my books. I had longed for a relationship like they had, to be over a lap receiving a disciplinary spanking for being naughty. Now I knew I had romanticized the pain. It hurt a lot more than I had ever imagined it would… and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

For the first time in my life, I wasn’t in control. I couldn’t move off his lap, I couldn’t put my now trapped hands back to protect myself. All I could do was lie there and feel. I felt helpless as the swats continued to come down. He moved just a bit to the top of my thighs, and I lost the fight; the dam broke. Tears spilled over my cheeks, and I sobbed. His hand continued to blister my thighs. That’s when it happened. The words came rushing out, like my tears, unexpected and uncontrolled.

“Please, Daddy. Stop!”

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