"The kind that will help you remember to trust me when I'm trying to keep you safe," I replied, moving to sit on the edge of the sofa. "Come here, Emily."
She hesitated for a moment, and I could see the internal war playing out across her features—the part of her that wanted to argue warring with the part that craved this dynamic between us.
"Are you going to spank me?" she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Yes," I said simply. "Because you scared me, and because actions have consequences. But also, because I think you need it right now."
Something in her expression shifted, a mixture of nervousness and anticipation that made my chest tight. "I... I think I need it too," she admitted, her voice small.
"Good girl," I murmured, holding out my hand. "Then come to Daddy."
She moved toward me slowly, placing her small hand in mine. I guided her to stand between my knees, looking up into her face.
"This isn't about punishment for the sake of punishment," I explained, my hands resting on her hips. "This is about helping you feel grounded, forgiven, and cared for. Do you understand?"
Emily nodded, her eyes bright with trust and something that looked remarkably like relief. "Yes, Daddy."
"What's your safeword?"
"Blue," she whispered.
"Good. Now, let's get these dungarees off."
With trembling fingers, she unclipped the straps and let the garment pool at her feet, leaving her in just her white cotton underwear and the soft sweater. I helped her position herself across my lap, her weight familiar and precious.
"Ten spanks," I said, resting my hand on her cotton-covered bottom. "You'll count each one. This is for running off without telling me where you were going, putting yourself at risk when I was trying to protect you."
"Yes, Daddy," she breathed.
The first smack was firm but not harsh, and she gasped softly. "One."
By the fifth strike, she was trying to wriggle away but I held firm. By the eighth, tears were flowing freely, though she continued to count dutifully.
"Ten," she sobbed as the final smack landed.
I immediately began rubbing gentle circles on her tender skin, soothing the sting. "Good girl."
Emily remained draped across my lap, her body shaking with quiet sobs as she processed the emotional release. I continued the gentle massage, whispering soft reassurances.
"It's over now, sweetheart," I murmured. "You're forgiven. You're safe."
After a few minutes, I helped her sit up on my lap, cradling her against my chest as she buried her face in my neck. Her tears dampened my shirt, but I welcomed them—they were healing tears, washing away the fear and guilt we'd both been carrying.
"I'm sorry," she whispered against my throat. "I'm sorry I scared you. I'm sorry I didn't trust you enough to stay."
"I know, baby girl," I replied, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "And I'm sorry I made you feel like you couldn't depend on me."
We held each other in the quiet room, the sounds of the party downstairs a distant murmur. For the first time in weeks, I felt complete again.
"Daddy?" Emily's voice was soft, hesitant.
"Yes?"
She pulled back to look at me, her eyes still bright with tears but clear with purpose. "I want to go home. With you. I want to see our room, our dogs. I want to sleep in our bed."
Our.The word sent warmth flooding through my chest.
"I'd like that very much," I said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "But first, we should probably let Gideon and the others know we've worked things out. They've been worried about us."
