"No, you didn't," I agreed, my voice gentling slightly at her obvious distress. "And that's exactly the problem. Actions have consequences, Emily, especially when those actions put you and others at risk."
I turned to Gideon. "I'm going to take her home."
Gideon nodded, his expression understanding beneath the stern exterior. "We'll discuss this with the girls."
I grabbed her bag, led Emily toward the elevator, my hand on her back firm but not punishing. She stayed silent on the way home, and I took her inside, greeted the dogs, then led her to our room. Once inside, I closed the door and leaned against it, studying her.
She stood in the center of the room, her borrowed outfit making her look both vulnerable and defiant. The pigtails had come slightly loose during our return, and she reached up to fix them with trembling fingers.
"What's going to happen now?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Now we talk about consequences," I replied evenly. "What's your safeword, Emily?"
Her eyes widened. "Blue," she answered automatically, then swallowed hard. "Are you going to... punish me?"
"Yes," I said simply. "You put yourself at risk. That requires a response."
"I'm not a child," she protested, though her voice lacked conviction.
"No, you're not," I agreed, moving away from the door to stand before her. "You're an adult who made a choice that endangered herself which was my top rule. An adult who needs to understand that her safety matters, even when she doesn't think it does."
I sat on the edge of the bed, holding her gaze steadily. "Come here, Emily."
She hesitated, clearly torn between her instinct to obey and her desire to maintain control. Finally, she took a small step forward, then another, until she stood directly in front of me.
"I'm going to spank you," I said calmly. "Ten strikes with my hand. You will count each one. If you need to stop at any point, you will use your safeword. Do you understand?"
Her breathing quickened, her cheeks flushing. "Yes."
"Yes, what?" I prompted gently.
She bit her lip, then whispered, "Yes, Daddy."
Something warm unfurled in my chest at her use of the title, but I kept my expression firm.
"Good girl." I reached for the hem of her dress. "Lift your arms."
Emily complied, allowing me to pull the soft pink sweater dress over her head. She stood before me in her white leggings and simple cotton bra, her breathing shallow and quick.
"The leggings too," I instructed gently but firmly.
With trembling fingers, she hooked her thumbs in the waistband and pushed them down, stepping out of them when they pooled at her feet. Now she wore only her underwear and bra, the toed off sparkly ballet flats abandoned in the corner.
"Over my lap," I said, patting my thigh.
Emily hesitated for just a moment before positioning herself across my legs, her stomach resting on my thighs, her hands braced against the floor. I could feel the tension in her body, the way she held herself rigid with nerves and anticipation.
I rested my hand on her panty-covered bottom, feeling her flinch slightly at the contact. "This is about keeping you safe," I said quietly. "About helping you understand that your wellbeing matters. Count each one out loud."
Without further warning, I brought my hand down in a firm smack across her left cheek. She gasped, her body jerking slightly.
"One," she breathed.
The second strike landed on her right cheek, equally firm. "Two."
By the fifth strike, she was breathing hard, small whimpers escaping her lips. By the eighth, tears were flowing freely, though she continued to count dutifully.
"Ten," she sobbed as the final smack echoed through the room.
