Page 18 of Slash
Slash’s eyes darkened. “You do now.”
“I don’t do relationships.”
“You do now.”
“I don’t–”
“You do. Tell me to stop and I will. But if you don’t, things change. They change now, little girl. I’m Daddy and you’re mycherished woman who I not only protect, but I show how good belonging to me can feel. Yes or no, Baby?”
“Yes. Oh, god. Yes.” Was she consenting to a spanking or sex? Or both?
In one swift motion, he pulled her down over his lap.
“Wait!” she yelped, struggling instinctively. She needed more time.
“Settle,” he ordered, one broad hand pressed firmly against her back. “You’re safe. But you’re getting punished for breaking Daddy’s rules.”
Her breath came fast and shallow as he tugged her pajama shorts down to mid-thigh. Cool air kissed her skin, followed a heartbeat later by the hot sting of his palm.
Smack.
She gasped.
Smack.
Her body jolted, a mix of shame, anger, and something she couldn’t name flooding her veins.
“Count,” he growled.
Her eyes widened. “W-what?”
“You heard me, little girl. You count. I need you to focus on this. Focus on us. Don’t think about anything or anyone else. Focus on the fact that I am not mad at you, this isn’t out of anger. This is what good control looks like, little girl. Now count.”
Her voice shook. “One.”
Smack.
“Two.”
Smack.
“Three—ah!” That one hurt. The swat landed below the curve of her cheek. Her yelp filled the room, sharp and relentless. Her cheeks burned, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes as the sting built into something overwhelming.
By ten, she was trembling. By fifteen, tears slid down her face. Not as much from the pain, but from the emotional connection. This was different. It stung but it didn’t hurt, not like Brock had done. She didn’t feel helpless across Slash’s lap. She felt empowered. She knew if she told him to stop, he would. That was the most freeing realization she’d ever felt. And then the tears came and she was sobbing.
Slash’s hand slowed, rubbing her lower back, grounding her. “That’s it. All done, sweetheart.” He lifted her, settling her carefully in his lap, cradling her against his chest. One big hand cupped the back of her head, the other stroking her arm.
“You’re safe,” he murmured, voice rough but gentle now. “You follow Daddy’s rules, and nobody will hurt you. Not even you.”
She cried against him, shaking with relief and humiliation, but also something she couldn’t deny—something warm, steady,right.
When her sobs quieted, she whispered, raw and broken, “Why are you doing this?”
He tipped her chin up with a scarred finger, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“Because you need someone strong enough to carry you through the storm,” he said simply. “And I’m not letting you drown on my watch.” His palm rubbed soothing circles down her back, grounding her against the solid wall of his chest. “That’s it, baby girl. Let it out. No shame in tears.”
Her breath hitched. “I—I don’t usually cry.”
