Page 89 of Redline Baby

"And the restraint agreement is still the same?"

"Yes, Daddy. You can hold me in place if I'm squirming or kicking because it hurts. Red overrides it."

"Good."

He sets the spoon beside him. "Tell me why the fear didn't excuse the rule."

I stare at my hands. "Because I could've told you."

"Yes."

"And I could've called the therapist."

"Yes."

"And because being scared wasn't the part I did wrong."

Soren's face softens. "There you go."

My throat tightens.

"The fear wasn't wrong, baby boy."

I nod.

"Hiding it was."

"Yes, Daddy."

"Come here."

I stand, cross the room, and lower myself over his lap. Soren adjusts me until I'm steady, one hand settling against my back. Then he picks up the wooden spoon.

The first strike is nothing like his hand. Pain shoots straight through me, sharp enough that my entire body contracts at once.

"Fuck!"

The second lands somewhere else before I've fully processed the first. My hips jerk.

Then another.

"Oh my God."

Another.

"Ouch!"

Soren's pace stays controlled. The spoon moves methodically instead of landing on the same patch over and over, but that does very little to improve my opinion of wooden kitchen utensils.

It hurts. It hurts so fucking much.

My sweatpants are still between me and the spoon for the first several strikes, and I'm already dancing in place, panting, swearing, making increasingly pathetic noises that I would deny under oath.

Then Soren stops briefly. His palm settles warm against my back. "Still with me?"

"Yes."

"Yellow?"