Cynny was afraid of the strap, no doubt about it. But she would endure anything her papa meted out. She deserved it. He had not ordered her from his home as she had expected, and for that she was immensely grateful. Not that he could not punish her and then send her away.
Where would she go? The only people she knew in the whole wide world were Cammie and the people at Talcott House. She blocked the thoughts of her dismal prospects from her mind. She needed her wits about her in order to withstand the rest of her punishment.
Her heart thudded against the pillows and she gripped her wrists, tightly holding the pillows in place and giving her something to do with her hands lest she be tempted to block Papa’s efforts to punish her with the strap.
She closed her eyes as tight as she could and buried her face against the softness of the pillows.
The strap landed on her right cheek with stinging heat and she yelped into the pillows, but held her position.
“There is no need to stifle yourself, Cynny,” Papa said. “No doubt the entire household is aware of your transgressions and punishment.”
As if her shame was not sufficiently profound already. How would she be able to look any of the staff in the eye, especially Liza?
She gave herself a mental shake. That embarrassment would be a small price if only she could remain Papa’s girl.
True to his word, Papa laid on the strap fast and hard. Her shoulders ached from holding herself tight in her position, but she followed Papa’s instructions and stayed in place. Each blow a reminder of her unspeakable behavior and shame.
Her bottom burned. Her heart ached.
Although Papa had announced her punishment as ten strokes with the strap, he had not indicated that would be the entirety of it. Her arms and legs quivered and she wondered at her ability to endure much more beyond the strapping.
Screwing up her courage, however, she resolved not to complain or beg for mercy.
With her face plastered against the pillows she sent up yet another plea to the heavens. I will endure anything as long as Papa forgives me and lets me stay with him. Oh, please, please, please. I promise this will be the very last thing I ever ask for. Please do not let Papa send me away. I could never bear it.
Two especially hard strokes landed and her moans of pain echoed in the room. I can do it, she repeated over and over. I must.
Finally, Papa tossed the strap upon the bed and it landed with a thud next to her. However, he had not given her permission to move, so she remained huddled over the pillows. Waiting.
She heard Papa moving about the room and finally opened her eyes, blinking against the late afternoon sun streaming in the windows. Desperate to see Papa and try to determine his mood, she forced herself not to swivel her head around looking for him. Her happiness was on the thinnest of thin ice and she dared not do anything which might jeopardize whatever miniscule chances she had.
Heavy footsteps neared the bed and she held her breath. When a cool ointment spread over the flames of her bottom, she startled but then relaxed into Papa’s touch. It relieved her of much of the pain in her backside, but more importantly it relieved the pain in her heart. Papa reached up and unwound her from the pillows, laying her flat on the bed. His gentle hands massaged the knots from her arms and shoulders where she had held tight for the long moments of her strapping.
Papa had barely spoken since she finished confessing all about herself, but his soothing touch spoke volumes, or so she hoped. Tension eased from her aching body.
“I swear,” she whispered quietly, needing to offer her apologies one last time, “that I am truly sorry. I wish I could go back in time and do things differently.”
“You are forgiven, little girl,” he said, caressing her shoulders. Finally, Papa removed the ribbons from the last remaining bits of her braids and worked his fingers through her hair, then drew her onto his lap where she buried her face in his chest. He kissed the top of her head and whispered, “Papa loves you, Cynny.”
His words were a balm to her soul, and she regained her composure just long enough to ask, “You-you truly don’t wish to get rid of me, Papa?” She waited for his confirmation, holding her breath as dreadful anticipation curled in her tummy. He’d said he loved her and she believed him, and his forgiveness meant the world, but she had to know for certain that he still wished to keep her—still wished to have her as his wife, his little girl. She had never committed such a serious transgression in her whole life, and she felt uncertain about what came next. How would they move on from this unpleasantness?
He moved to cup her face in his hands, drawing his thumbs over her fresh fallen tears. His handsome features were etched with concern, his eyes dark and troubled. “Cynny, I would never get rid of you. My God, the very thought of losing you breaks my heart. You’re my little girl and I’m your papa. Do you not believe me when I tell you how much I love you?” His voice was hoarse with emotion and underlying possessiveness.
“Oh, Papa.” She ran her hands through his hair, needing to touch him. He stared down at her, holding her secure in his lap. Her throat burned and her eyes swelled with more tears. Not only did he still love her, but he’d forgiven her and he still wished to keep her. A feeling of immense gratitude and relief swept down upon her, and slowly, the sorrow constricting her heart began to ease. As she stared at Papa and he continued holding her tight, his expression one of tender concern, her breaths no longer felt heavy and weighed down by anguish. “Thank you for still loving me, Papa. I-I love you so much my heart aches with the thought of it sometimes. I could not imagine losing you either.”
A ghost of a smile touched the corners of his lips. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and the warmth of his mouth on her flesh soothed her further. She relaxed in his embrace and ran her hands down his chest. He had removed his jacket, loosened his neckcloth, and rolled up his sleeves before he’d meted out her strapping, and the hint of the dark hair on his muscular chest drew her attention. Papa was big and strong, so very powerful and masculine. She never felt more protected than when she was in his arms.
She shifted on his lap and detected the hardness of his cock swelling beneath her bottom, the only thing separating her from his shaft was his trousers. She sucked in a shaky breath and peered at him, suddenly wanting nothing more in the world than for her papa to take her to bed and make love to her. But she dared not ask such a thing. Not when she’d just been so naughty. She wasn’t about to make any sort of demands on him, but she secretly hoped he might decide to claim her. Not because she wished for the pleasure she might receive, but because she fervently craved the emotional connection that came with making love with her papa.
“Cynny, my love?” His eyes flashed with a primal need that left her hopeful.
“Yes, Papa?” Her heart beat faster and her kitty clenched in anticipation.
He placed one hand between her thighs and stroked her gathering wetness. “I’m going to claim you now,” he said with a growl, “and I don’t think I will manage to be very gentle.”
She whimpered and jerked her center against him, tears springing to her eyes from the promise of his closeness. Though they’d both professed their love for one another and he’d made it clear that nothing would ever tear them apart, she didn’t quite feel as if the rift between them had closed entirely. But she imagined surrendering to her papa’s skillful love making, even if he was in one of his rough moods, would lead to their hearts once again beating in the same rhythm, as if their souls were entwined as one.