Dirty Seduction

LAINE

I’ve NEVER RUN SO FAST in my life. My feet barely touch the floor as I pound the beachfront, my heart in my throat as I realize what I’ve done. What she’s done.

I’m out of breath as I see his car in the distance, but I still keep running, and then I see him, and he’s running too.

I slam into his body and wrap my arms around his neck and I want to tell him how sorry I am but no words will come.

“What, Laine?! What is it? What’s going on?” His hands are in my hair, on my cheeks, checking me all over, and his eyes are wide and petrified. I struggle for breath, and it pains me so much to see what I’ve done.

“Nothing…” I wheeze. “Not like that… it was Kelly Anne! She changed my clock! I didn’t know! I swear I didn’t know!” His eyes are so hurt as he realizes. So hurt.

It makes me feel like shit upon shit. I struggle not to cry, but I don’t deserve to cry, not after being so stupid. I’ve been so stupid.

I am naive. Just a stupid fucking idiot. Just like Kelly Anne says.

“You gave her your phone?” he asks, and it’s so angry and pointed that my tummy flips.

“No! She took it! I wouldn’t! I didn’t!”

“I’ve been waiting here an hour, Laine. A whole fucking hour.” He’s so hurt, his eyes so scared. “I was out of my fucking mind, Laine! Petrified!

Do you have any fucking idea what that’s like? Do you have any fucking idea?”

No. I don’t.

Because I’ve never lost anybody. Not like he has.

But I’m beginning to get a sense of it. Because I’m petrified of losing him right now. Petrified of losing everything.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and my voice sounds pathetic and small. “I’m so sorry, Nick.”

There’s no Daddy this time, but he doesn’t even notice. He’s staring past me, into the distance, his jaw gritted and his eyes so sad. “Get in the fucking car,” he says.

NICK

A TERRIBLE CONCOCTION of relief and anger. Hurt, too.

Hurt that someone as loving and special as Laine could do something so stupid and reckless.

My temples pound as I drive, my gut churning and twisted.

“I’m sorry,” she says again, but it does nothing to calm my mood.

I have nothing to say, not like this. Not while I’m still wired and on the edge, chased by demons I’ve tried so hard to ignore. Demons that know exactly how it feels to lose everything.

I pull through the gates and park up, slamming the car door as I head for the front door. Laine follows like a shadow, her fingers clasped tight together and her eyes on the floor.

I close the door behind us, and then I lock it, barricading us in as though she’s still in danger.

Only she wasn’t in danger, only reckless. Trusting. Far too trusting.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry, Nick, I swear.”

I pour her a juice, unsure of how much she’s had to drink already, and dig out a bottle of whisky from my father’s vintage stash and pour myself a healthy measure. She watches me, staring with big doe eyes.

“I can go,” she whispers. “If you want… I can go…”

“You aren’t going fucking anywhere!” I snarl. “Not fucking anywhere,

Laine. You’re fucking grounded! Forever, Laine, for-fucking-ever!” Grounded. It sounds so fucking stupid.

She nods anyway. “Okay.”

“No!” I snap. “It’s not okay, Laine! It’s not okay!”

I stare at the girl in front of me, only she’s not a girl, not really. I can’t keep her in a cage, can’t protect her from everything, can’t keep pretending she’s an infant who needs me to dress her and wash her and wipe her dirty ass.

It all falls away, this illusory game we’re playing.

She’s not Jane.

She’s not Louisa, either.

She’s just her. A young woman who’s never known love. Who’s never known what it feels like to be cared for?

And that’s what she wants from me.

She wants love. Not just kinky daddy play a new phone, or a daily call at lunchtime. She wants love. Actual love, as an actual young woman with someone who treats her right. “Talk to me,” she whispers. “Please.” I don’t know where to start.

She takes a step closer and her eyes are so eager for reassurance.

“Please talk to me.”

“I was scared,” I tell her. “So scared I couldn’t think straight.”

She nods. “I was scared too. Scared because I knew how scared you’d be. Scared because I’d hurt you so bad.” Her lip trembles. “Scared because I thought I’d lost everything, all for the sake of someone who never even gave a shit about me. Scared I’d ruined the only good thing I’ve ever had.” Her words pang. “You haven’t lost anything, Laine. I’m still right here.

I’m just fucking angry.”

She nods. “Angry because of me. Scared because of me.”

“Scared because of that stupid selfish bitch Kelly Anne more specifically.”

She shrugs. “I should have stopped her. Should have checked.” “Yes,” I agree. “You should have.” “It’ll never happen again…” she says. “No,” I tell her. “It won’t.”

She sips at her juice, and she’s thinking, her gaze darting around the room as she tussles with some course of action or another. “You could punish me,” she says. “Like your father did, with the belt. I deserve it,

Daddy. I deserve everything.”

I feel the beast stir, taking advantage of the adrenaline. It’s so easy to want that. So easy to seek out control in the way I learned from my father and he learned from his. The belt is hanging on the hook behind the study door, in the same place he used to keep it.

The prospect of tanning Laine’s pretty little backside and making her suffer for her recklessness is so fucking tempting.

“Never angry,” I tell her. “My father never disciplined me in anger,

Laine.”

“But your father never lost anyone,” she whispers. “Not like you did.” That’s true enough.

“I don’t mind,” she says. “Daddy, I don’t mind.”

Her eyes are so adoring, so eager to make it all better. Maybe the belt would do that, forge a bond of respect that no silly little bitch like Kelly Anne will ever stand a chance of breaking.

“It’ll hurt,” I tell her, and she nods.

“I know it will, Daddy.”

“You don’t,” I say. “You don’t know at all.” “I don’t care,” she says.

I down the rest of my whisky.

“Go through to the study,” I tell her.

LAINE

MY NERVES ARE ON FIRE, tummy churning so bad I feel like I could throw up, but I make my way along the hallway and open the door to the study without a single moment’s hesitation.

I want this. I want to please Nick and make him feel better. I want to make him feel safe. I want him to know I am a good girl.

I want him to know that I am sorry.

He isn’t far behind, and my breath catches as he closes the door behind us. The belt swishes on the hook as it slams, and I wonder if I’m ready for this.

“Over the desk,” he tells me. “On your front.”

I lower myself so carefully, pressing my cheek to the leather inlay. It smells rich and woody, like old books and scotch.

I imagine Nick here, in this very same position. I wonder if his heart used to race like mine is now.

He lifts my dress and tugs down my leggings and my knickers without saying a word.

The air feels cold. My skin feels prickly.

My mouth feels so dry I can hardly swallow.

“Six,” he says. “I’m going to give you six. Not because I’m angry, but because you deserve it.”

“Naughty girls need discipline,” I whisper.

“Discipline shows care, Laine.”

“I know,” I tell him. “I know, Daddy Nick.”

“I love you, Laine,” he tells me and I’m so sad for what I’ve done that it hurts more than his belt ever could.

“I love you too, Daddy.”

“Six,” he repeats. “And you’ll learn your lesson.”

I’ve already learned it, but that doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but us. Nothing matters but loving Nick and him loving me back. Nothing matters but making sure I never hurt him again.

I gasp as the leather glides across my ass cheeks. “This is going to hurt,” he says. He gives me a tap, and the leather feels so smooth against my bare skin.

I wonder how many times it’s been used for this.

I hold my breath. Grip the edge of the desk so tightly.

And then I wait.

Silence.

One long empty silence.

“I love you so much, sweetheart,” he whispers.

And then he hits me.Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

I squeal and jolt forward on the desk, and my breath catches.

It sears. It fucking sears.

Burns so bad I fidget from foot to foot.

“One,” he says.

I don’t want two, and I know it.

I don’t want two.

I cry out when it lands, and it sounds so pathetic and desperate.

The tears come so easily, filling my eyes and spilling over.

“Two,” he says, and my body jolts with these crazy sobs that make me feel like a baby. “You understand why I’m doing this?” he asks.

I nod. I do understand.

I asked for it. In every sense of the word.

I squeal again when it lands for the third time.

A baby, I’m such a fucking baby.

“Three.”

I lurch forward and wail like a banshee as four strikes, and my ass is on fire.

“Four.”

I cry openly at the next, no longer caring how I look, or if I take my punishment well for him.

I don’t care about anything much apart from the burn.

“Five.”

I close my eyes for six. And he waits.

He waits until my sobs ease, and my body stops shaking.

He waits until I twist my head to look at him and blink through the tears.

“Have you learned your lesson, Laine?” he asks and I nod. “Yes, Daddy.” He drops the belt.

No six.

It makes the tears come all the harder.

And this time he’s there. Pulling me up and holding me and smoothing my hair as I cry.

I have no right to cry, but Daddy Nick doesn’t seem to care about that.

Daddy Nick is so warm and kind.

So loving, even when I’ve caused him so much pain.

“I told you it would hurt,” he says, and I nod against his chest, my wet eyes soaking through the fabric of his shirt.

I hope I don’t snot on him, but I doubt he’d care so much anyway.

He puts his hands on my cheeks and tips my face to his and his eyes aren’t angry anymore, just scared.

“I’ll never use the belt on you again,” he says. “You’re not a little girl,

Laine. We just like to pretend you are.”

A strange sob from my throat, and I’m nodding. I’m nodding.

And I’m happy, and sad, and relieved, and scared, and everything in between.

“Thank you, Nick,” I say.