Page 11 of Trust in Me
Brax’s hand left my back. Without the weight, it felt…empty, somehow. Then any thoughts ceased to exist as his hand crashed back down on my upturned bottom with surprising force.
“Ow!” I gasped, unable to hold it back.
Brax didn’t reply. He delivered another smack, hitting a new spot that hurt even more than the first.
I sucked in a breath, trying to hold it in. I failed, though, letting it go in a very unladylike shriek as Brax began to spank hard and fast. “Ow! That— I’m sorry!”
I didn’t know exactly what I’d thought a spanking would feel like. I hadn’t imagined this, though. It hurt, but more than the pain, I felt chastised, fully aware of what I’d done wrong.
“You will negotiate properly. You will consent fully and appropriately to any play scene. You will have a safe word. You will have strangers vetted by those you know, or by club leadership. You will be respectful to Dominants, both in and out of the club setting.” Brax’s spanking continued through his lecture, his words washing over me.
My ass was on fire. Somehow my body relaxed in spite of the pain, submitting to the spanking and leaving me limp over Brax’s lap. The pain of the punishment and the disappointment in Brax’s tone began to swirl together as tears welled up. I was not going to cry. I was not going to—
Brax continued to layer blow after blow across my bottom cheeks. My resolve was crumbling.
“Five more, sweetheart,” Brax paused for a moment, running his hand softly over my backside.
Then he laid the last five strikes down with even more force than before. The dam broke. I couldn’t hold back. The tears streamed down my face as the sobs poured out.
“I’m sorry Bra—Sir! I won’t—ow! Plea—ow!” I no longer cared about crying, about the audience that had formed around us. All I felt was sorry for disappointing him. I sobbed, limp over his lap. He’d stopped spanking me at some point. Now he was rubbing his hand over my back. A soft blanket draped over me, then the world rocked as Brax turned me over and lifted me into his arms.
I looked up at Brax through the tears that clung to my eyelashes.
He smiled down gently at me as he ran a hand along my forehead, pushing my hair back from my face. “Back with me, darlin’? You took that so well. I’m proud of you.”
I sniffled. We were settled on a couch in a quiet corner, away from the main play area. “But—I cried. Who cries from a spanking?” My face heated. I swiped at the tears with one hand.
Brax tilted his head, his lips quirking up on one side. “Lots of folks do, Avery. Especially little subbies who’ve had to be the one in charge for too long. You had a lot of emotion saved up in there. How are you feeling?”
I considered. “I guess…lighter, somehow. It hurt more than I thought it would. My butt still hurts.” I shifted on his lap, my underwear brushing against my stinging bottom and renewing the burn slightly.
“Spankings are meant to hurt, when they’re teaching a lesson. That was a hand spanking, with your dress still on, thin as it is. Bare bottom spankings can sting even more, and we can always add an implement to help things stick, if we need to. But remember this feeling you have now, how much better you feel. And now it’s over and we move past this.”
10
Avery
Brax:Be good, sweetheart. I’ll see you Friday
I shoved the phone back in my scrubs pocket. I’d respond to the text after my shift. Tuesdays weren’t supposed to be this busy, but somehow the waiting room just kept filling up.
I’d had six shifts in a row this week— once tonight was over, four more to go. I sighed, picking up the next chart. 13-year-old with abdominal pain. With my luck, it would be someone who swore up and down they’d never had sex while the baby’s head was crowning. Immaculate conceptions were a daily occurrence here in the pediatric ER.
I flipped through the chart to see what I was getting myself into. The patient was a girl I’d seen in my clinic about a month ago. At least we’d have some rapport, right? Plus, I was pretty sure this one wasn’t pregnant, although you never knew for sure. She certainly hadn’t looked pregnant last month.
“Hi, Anna, it’s Dr. Cooke. Good to see you again. What can I do for you today?” I pushed aside the curtain as I walked into the room. Anna sat in the bed. She looked only mildly uncomfortable, certainly not in enough pain to warrant an emergency room visit.
A man was standing to the side of the hospital bed. He looked familiar, somehow. I struggled to place him for a minute. Where did I know him from?
It came to me just as Anna started talking. He was the man who had tried to be seen in the pediatric emergency room, the weird one who’d asked to see me. What was he doing here? How did he know Anna?
“Um, my tummy hurts, and my stepdad thought I needed to be seen,” the girl muttered.
I pulled my attention back to Anna and away from the man. Her stepfather, apparently. “I see. Where does it hurt?”
Anna motioned to her lower abdomen.
I nodded. “Ok. I’ll need your stepdad to wait outside while we talk, then you can decide if he should be here while I examine you.”
