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I stood there naked before him.

Exposed.

The cool air wrapped around my body, but the heat beneath my skin pulsed harder. I crossed my arms, only to drop them again,unsure if I was allowed to cover myself. Unsure if he’d correct me.

I was shy. Nervous.Aroused.

He stepped closer. His hands came up, slid around my waist, pulling me into his chest like I was the most precious thing he’d ever touched.

“I love you,” he murmured.

I shivered.

“I love you, too,” I whispered, small and breathless.

Then he turned me. Pressed down between my shoulder blades to bend me forward. My hands landed on the bed, and I slowly lowered myself down to my elbows. The silk sheets were cool against my palms, and I shook hard, my entire body alight with goosebumps.

“Look at me, baby girl,” he said, his deep voice incredibly powerful.

I looked over my shoulder, my eyes locking with his.

He stood behind and to the side of me at the foot of the bed. Then, with devastating slowness, he reached down.

His fingers moved to the buckle of his belt. I heard the soft click of the metal releasing, the faint sound of leather sliding free of his pants. The sound was quiet, almost nothing in the vastness of the room, but it was deafening to me. It sliced straight through my chest, landed low in my belly, and spread heat like wildfire across my skin.

He pulled it through each loop with a steady, smooth drag—snick, snick, snick—the kind of sound that made my heart poundand my thighs tremble. He wasn’t looking away, not even for a second.

This wasn’t an afterthought; it was part of the whole experience he had planned for me. This was a man taking off his belt for one single reason—to whip my ass for disobeying him—and he wanted me to know it.

He folded the thick leather in half in his hand, tested the weight of it once against his palm, the way a man tests a weapon he knows all too well. Then he smiled. Not cruelly. Not mockingly either. With that smile, he conveyed that he knew exactly what he was going to do and that he was going to enjoy every moment of it.

The first strike didn’t come right away.

He stood behind me, belt in hand, and let the moment stretch so long it buzzed in my bones. I stayed obediently bent over the bed, bare, exposed, presenting myself to him for my punishment. My skin was hot despite the cool air licking across it. My heart thudded in my chest, my breath quick and shallow, and every inch of me was aware—of the space, of him, of the brutal inevitability of what was coming.

Then he pressed his hand to the small of my back, pushing down to make me arch my back and push my ass out for him. He nudged my feet wide apart, exposing my soaking wet pussy for him to view.

My skin prickled with anticipation. I swallowed hard, breath already shallow, nerves tangling together in my stomach.

The first strike came before I was ready for it.

A whoosh, then a sharp, stingingcrackacross the center of my ass made me jolt forward and gasp, more from surprise than pain. I bit my lip, heat blooming where the leather had kissed my skin. It hurt, but I could take it. That was my first thought.

Icould take it.

The second one landed lower—across the underside of my cheeks—and this one sizzled like a fresh burn.The kind of pain that didn’t just sting, it lingered, sinking into my skin like fire simmering beneath the surface.

I hissed through my teeth.

“I hope you’re enjoying yourself,Daddy,” I muttered, my voice coming out far sassier than I really intended it to.

Wrong move.

The next lash came down harder, snapping across the same spot like a brand. I cried out this time, fingers clutching the bedding, my back arching.

“You openly defied me, baby girl,” he said, voice steadfast. “This is what it feels like, what it will always feel like, when you’re a bad girl and need to be punished by Daddy.”

Another strike, high, near the upper curve of my buttocks. Then another. Lower. The sound echoed like thunder in the quiet room.