Page 16 of Daddy's Justice

Chapter Five

Morrigan

I must have made some terrible mistakes in my life to end up with my belly pressed against the beautiful, cold marble of an expensive sink counter, having my bare ass paddled by Thor.

No,I mentally corrected myself, Thor’s nephew.

This wasn’t at all how I’d imagined receiving my first spanking at the hands of a sexy man would be. I’d imagined a lot of foreplay; a couple quick swats to my behind before being tossed onto a bed and being ridden to an amazing orgasm. Never, not in a million years, could I have imagined being bent over, staring at myself in the mirror, about to have my ass paddled with the taste of soap still fresh in my mouth.

A second after giving the command, Forseti’s arm swung back. It was surreal seeing each movement clearly behind me. The sword landed in the mirror before I felt it, but I did feel it. Raising up on my tiptoes, I bit down on my lip, tasting blood, willing myself not to cry out.

“Do you see yourself, Morrigan? Do you really see yourself? You aren’t a human, and I think you have always known that. Deep inside of you, you’ve known you were different.”

He wasn’t wrong. I searched my eyes in the mirror, weirded out by the woman staring back at me. The sword fell again and again. I felt it bite into my behind. The impact, the thud, stung like the dickens. The pain was building to an unbearable level.

I had always longed to feel pain and now that I was feeling it, I realized how ridiculous I was for wanting it.

The sword hit right below my cheeks, causing the first cry to fall from my lips. It was the first time I had ever made a sound like that, the first time a low, guttural whimper was drawn from my lips. I writhed in pain, grasping the counter tighter, causing my knuckles to whiten.

“That is it, my sweet goddess, allow yourself to feel.”

The crack of the paddle against my upper thighs ripped another whimper from my throat and then another. The whimpers turned to cries and the cries turned to wails as he swung it high and hard, over and over again. I saw my life flash before my eyes. The beautiful childhood I had, all the questions I asked, the answers I had accepted from my mother, the woman who gave birth to me. All of it was all a lie. I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that his words were true. I wasn’t human. I hadn’t wanted to admit it because to admit it meant recognizing that my past was all one giant ball of deception.

“Daddy, please.” I lifted my eyes from my own reflection and met his in the mirror. He had been watching me intently, waiting for something.

“Who are you, Morrigan?”

“I am…” My voice caught in my throat. I knew the answer, but could I say it out loud? It would be real if I did. Saying it took it even further than thinking it. I wouldn’t be able to deny it anymore. The sword fell again, once more. This swat was the hardest of them all, hitting the tender underside of my cheeks, pushing me forward. I let go of the edge, my arms flailing. “I am Morrigan, demigod and valkyrie, conceived on Asgard and raised on Earth by my adopted family. I am who you say I am.” I dropped my head to my arms and wept.

“I say”—the sword fell with a thud to the floor—“that you are mine, Morrigan.”

I felt his strong arms around me, pulling me from the counter. He scooped me up and I wrapped my arms around his thick neck, nestling my face into it. I sobbed, for the first time in my life, gut wrenching, ear-coveringly-loud, sobs. The tears were salty on my lips mingling with the soap taste that lingered in my mouth. It was as if I were a toddler; there were so many first times happening.

Forseti carried me back to the living room and to the couch, settling me onto his lap. He held me in his strong arms, brushed my hair back and whispered promises into the air. “It will be alright, Morrigan. Everything will be alright. Everything. I’ve got you.”

He let me cry for a minute and then, as he had done earlier, laid his palm flat between my shoulder blades. It was as if a cool breeze entered my body, a calming air. My lungs felt like they were taking in more oxygen, my heartbeat slowed down and, the chaotic emotional storm that had been brewing, halted. I had heard of people having a calming presence around them, but this was a bit much.

“How do you do that?” I asked, finally able to speak through my tears.

“It is one of my powers. Often, when people are seeking out justice, there is a sense of emotional chaos. The offender carries defensiveness, guilt and oftentimes anger. The victim is also normally very mad, hurt and anxious. Being overly emotional will never produce a logical reaction. Emotions are necessary but having control over your emotions is important. I’ve let you feel and now I need you to vocalize and try to make sense out of some of those emotions. What are you thinking, little goddess?”

It took me a second to arrange my thoughts in such a way that I could tell him.

“I feel… abandoned, which doesn’t make sense. I was raised by a beautiful family, I wanted for nothing. I had the best education. My brothers adore me. I never knew I was adopted; I never knew we didn’t all share the same DNA. Yet, now, knowing all of this, I feel like I was abandoned, and I don’t understand these warring emotions. You keep saying, ‘your mother’ and ‘your father’ but to me, they are no more than biological tissue donors. I don’t know these strangers and, when you speak like this, my thoughts go to my human family.”

“I am a firm believer that a family is made up of more than just blood. I have had quite a bit of drama in my own family. I know what it is like to feel betrayed.”

“Oh, God!” I yelled out loud as the class I had taken on Norse gods came back to me. I knew exactly who Forseti was.

“I’m not sure I will ever get used to you saying that,” he said. “The God of Mankind is very different than the gods above. I am often amused by the human belief in one god. I mean, the thought that one god would be enough to rule all of the universe…”

I laughed at his tone. I had never been religious, although I had grown up attending church every Sunday.

“I was remembering my classes on Norse history. If you are who you say you are—” I started.

“Are we back to that again?”

“I guess not.”

---