MARY
I’ve been drowning since I left Afghanistan. Trying to keep myself together. Trying to manage the oceans of emotions which threaten to overwhelm me regularly.
I need something. I need someone. Right now, Tom is all I have and it feels like he just threw me a lifeline when he offered to be my daddy. I never had a daddy. My father died before I was old enough to really remember him. I don’t even know what it means to have a daddy. But when those words came out of his mouth, they felt right. Tom already feels like family.
I love Ken. I lust for him. Tom is handsome as hell, but I don’t feel the same way about him as I do Ken. Monogamy in action, I guess. Or maybe it’s just that Ken is utterly ruthless and unyielding and would probably have whipped my ass on day one if I’d tried any of the shit on him which I just tried on Tom.
“Good,” he smiles warmly. “Then that’s settled. No more of the attitude, no more of the messes, no more of the rudeness. Just you and me, getting along.”
I snort a little. He has to know that’s not the end of it.
“Well, it’s a start,” he says. “Mary…”
“What?”
“I’d like to examine those scars.”
I shake my head. “Sorry, no.”
“I’m guessing you got them under some adverse circumstances, and from how you reacted when you found out I’m a doctor, I’m guessing you haven’t seen one for a while.”
My palms are sweating. My mouth and throat are getting dry.
“No,” I croak.
“Okay,” he holds up his big hands in surrender. “Not going to force anything.”
“Good.”
“Let’s just talk,” he suggests.
I don’t want to talk. He’s seen the scars and now he feels sorry for me, and though he’s being sweet to me that makes me mad. I fucking hate it when this happens.
“I’m not weak, and I don’t need to be taken care of.”
“True and false,” he says. “You absolutely need to be taken care of. You’ve spent a week proving that to both of us. And besides, even if you didn’t need it, I’d do it anyway because I promised Ken I would.”
“You can’t give me what I need,” I say, immediately wishing I hadn’t. I need to stop this conversation. It’s getting way too real.
“Not all of what you need,” he agrees. “Because you need Ken. But I can keep you in line well enough until he gets back.”
“Can you?”
He smiles. “Mhm.”
I try not to visibly squirm, wondering if he means what I mean. I need a spanking. God. That’s weird to admit even to myself. I just want so badly to be able to let go, to feel like someone else has me under control. I wish Tom would spank me. I want my bottom to hurt. I want to cry. I want to forget who I and where I am and why I’m here and just be free of the burden of existence for a bit.
“But you have to ask for it,” he adds, unexpectedly.
“What?”
“You have to ask for what you need. Use your big girl words.”
“I don’t know what I need,” I lie.
“Yes, you do. You’ve been trying to bait me into doing it all week.”
I feel my face go flame red. He knew. The whole time, he knew exactly what I was doing. How fucking embarrassing.
“Sorry,” I mumble, turning my face away from him. Jesus. I’ve humiliated myself and got nothing for it. I feel small and silly and utterly like a little girl who just got caught trying to lie to her dad.
“You can ask for a spanking.”
I let out a little squeak as he says the word that has been floating through my head since I got here.
“No, I can’t.”
“Why not? Pride?”
“I guess.”
“My little girl doesn’t get to have much in the way of pride,” he says, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. He reaches out and brushes his fingers through my hair gently. His touch is so kind and so gentle, I find myself leaning into it.
“Ask me for it,” he murmurs gently.
I try to find the words.
“Please… sp…”
Spank is a fucking impossible word to say under pressure. I stutter and stammer my way through it so much it’s basically incomprehensible. “
“Sp…pp..p.. ank me.”
“And what do you call me?”
Oh shit. He’s going to make me call him…
I curl up on myself and hide my face, but Tom gently guides my chin back toward him. “Ask me for it, little girl. Ask me nicely.”
“Please, spank me… daddy…” I practically whisper the last part of the word, but it’s enough.
“Alright, little girl. I’ll spank you.”
And he does.
He takes me by the arm and slowly guides me over his lap. I relax and let it happen. I let this man, who is so kind and so strong, take me right over his thighs. We’re so close right now. His hard leg is beneath my hips, his strong arm is wrapped around my waist.
This feels nothing like when Ken spanked me. When he punished me it was passion and fire and pure hard dominance. Tom cradles me and when his palm meets my ass, it’s with a stroke which is firm and hard enough to make it sting, but it doesn’t ignite the same fire.
And that’s a good thing. Because it’s means I’m safe. He’s safe. Tom holds me and he spanks me, his big hand peppering the seat of my jeans with firm slaps which sink through me, sending wave after wave of security through my body.
“You can be a good girl,” he says, lecturing me in the kindest way you can be lectured. “And you’re going to be a good girl from here on out, aren’t you, Mary?”
“I’ll try,” I gasp.
His palm finds my ass a little harder, intensifying the heat and the sting.
“And every time you start to feel lost or afraid or alone, you’re going to come to me,” he says. “And I’m going to do this for you.”
The spanking isn’t hard enough to make me cry, but his promise is. The floodgates I’ve been holding closed spring open, and with them come tears. Tears I can’t restrain in any way. I start sobbing over Tom’s lap. He immediately picks me up and settles me on his knee, cuddling me close and letting me cry all over his shirt.
“There, there, little girl, he murmurs. “It’s going to be okay.”
I don’t know if it is going to be okay. But it is going to be better than it was, I think. As he holds me, his arms loose about my waist in a comforting, paternal grip, I start to settle down.
“One more thing,”
“What?”
He brushes a stray tear away with his thumb.
“You’re going to talk to Ken again.”