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I move to him, heart pounding, and drape myself over his lap, my body fitting to his like we were made for this. He adjusts my position, tugging me just slightly forward so my butt is perfectly presented. There’s something deeply vulnerable about being here like this, exposed and waiting. But it’s not scary.

It’s freeing.

Matt’s hand rests on my lower back.

“You said something cruel about your body,” he says softly. “And that’s not something I’ll ever let slide, not because I want to control you—but because you belong to me now. And I willnottolerate anyone disrespecting what’s mine.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“I know, baby. But you still need the correction. I promised you a spanking on your bare ass and a spanking you will be receiving.” He rubs my bottom slowly.

He continued to run his hand over my bare skin, his touch slow and possessive. “This is a discipline spanking, Jackie. You earned it. You accepted it. Now you’re going to take it.”

I nodded into the couch. “Yes, Daddy.”

The first swat landed firm and deliberate, not cruel, but undeniably corrective. I gasped, the sharp sound echoing in the quiet room.

“You don’t call your beautiful body names,” he said, another crisp smack punctuating the words. “Not ever.”

I breathed through it, letting the rhythm take hold.

Smack.

“Your ass is perfect.”

Smack.

“And you don’t have permission to insult what’s mine.” He sets a rhythm, alternating cheeks, his hand connecting solidly again and again. My skin warms, each strike deepening that low thrum of arousal and contrition in my belly.

“This ass,”smack, “is stunning.”

Smack.

“This ass is mine.”

Smack.

The pain bloomed from the inside out. It was bright and hot and somehow centering. With every swat, I felt more present in my body, more grounded. The embarrassment faded, replaced by something deeper: surrender. Trust.

Matt’s hand strokes slowly down my back as I rest against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart against my cheek. My skin is warm, my mind a little hazy, but I feel safer here than I have in a long, long time.

Then, without warning, he delivers three final swats, sharper than the ones before, enough to make me yelp and press my hips down into his thigh, trying to outrun the sting.

“That,”smack, “is for the dance floor comment.”

Smack.“For the lie you told yourself.”

Smack.“And for making Daddy prove to you just how perfect this beautiful, full ass of yours is.”

I moan softly into the comforter, equal parts overwhelmed and alight. My eyes sting, not with pain, but with release. Because it’s not just the spanking. It’s the meaning behind it. The care. The refusal to let me settle for anything less than love, even from myself.

Matt strokes a hand down the curve of my back again, soothing now, no more swats coming. Just that steady pressure, his touch grounding me back in my body, back in the moment.

“You did so well,” he murmurs, leaning forward to kiss the center of my spine. “Took your punishment like a good girl.” He helps me sit and I cuddle onto his lap. He kisses my forehead. “We’ll take it one step at a time. Just like we talked about. You’re mine now, and I take care of what’s mine.”

And sitting there, sore and warm and utterly adored, I know the truth of it all the way to my soul.

“Yes, Daddy,” I whisper. “I know.”