Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Cami
After three days of protocol training, my body ached in places I hadn’t known could ache. My thighs were stiff from holding positions, my back protested every movement, and I was pretty sure my knees would never forgive me.
Dinner had been quiet that evening between the three of us since Luna had left for the day. Majesty had made pasta while Lex opened wine, and we’d eaten mostly in comfortable silence, my exhaustion evident enough that neither of them pushed for conversation.
“Take a bath tonight,” Majesty had said as I headed toward the stairs. Lex had stepped out for a bit. “There are soaking salts in your bathroom. Use them. And don’t push yourself too hard tomorrow,” Majesty added. “Listen to your body.”
“Yes, Sir,” I’d replied, the honorific coming more naturally now after three days of practice. They’d expressed that I should use them inside and out of the classroom.
Now, back in my room, I ran the bath water hot and dumped in a generous amount of the salts. I was in the process of undressing when my phone rang. Lex’s name appeared on the screen.
“Hello, Sir,” I answered.
“Good girl. What are you doing right now?”
Heat crept up my neck at the praise. “I was told to take a bath as part of aftercare. Is that not right, Sir?”
Lex chuckled, a low sound that did things to my insides. “That is correct. Are you still sore?”
“I’m incredibly sore and stiff. How did you know?”
“You were limping when you left training. Not badly, but enough to notice.” He paused. “Can I see you now?”
My hand stilled as I slipped off my bottoms. “You mean like video?”
“I mean in person. Can I come to your room?”
My heart rate picked up. “It’ll have to be after my bath. I was given strict instructions that I had to bathe before anything else. And you see, my instructors aren’t to be messed with or tried. A bit of a bossy pain in my ass, you know, Sir?”
The growl that came through the phone made my stomach flip. “You’re testing me, little one. Answer the question.”
Little one.
That was new.
I should have just answered him. Should have said yes or no and left it at that. But something in me—some reckless, curious part—wanted to push. I wanted to see what would happen. Plus, because I was tired, I was feeling bratty.
“I thought that I was the one being tested,” I said, unable to stop the teasing tone. “Did the rules change, Sir?”
The line went quiet for a moment, and I heard footsteps in the hallway outside my room.
Oh no.
A knock sounded at my door that was firm and deliberate.
“Open the door, Cami.” His voice came through both the phone and the wood between us.
The call ended. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.
I quickly texted Shelly
Me:
I think I may have pushed Lex too far a few minutes ago.
Then I moved toward the door on shaking legs. I pulled on my robe and tied it around my waist.
Shelly:
Good luck with that. Valuable lesson incoming. I’ll say nice things at your funeral.
I groaned, nervous about what was about to happen. Another knock, more insistent this time. A text appeared on my screen.
Lex:
No need to hide now, little one. Open the door. You’ll only make your punishment worse the longer I have to stand out here.
Punishment. The word sent a thrill through me that I couldn’t quite name. I opened the door.
Lex didn’t say anything at first. He just stepped inside, closing the door behind him with his foot, moving forward until I had to back up.
My robe had come loose, revealing more than I’d intended.
When I moved to fix it, his eyes stopped me.
They were dark and intense and daring me to try. I didn’t.
“Where’d all that bravado go?” he asked quietly, his hand coming up to rest on my hip, his touch burning through the thin silk.
I couldn’t find words. His proximity, his presence, the way he was looking at me was overwhelming.
“Yes, Sir?” I managed.
“Now you’re all ‘yes, Sir,’ ‘no, Sir’. That wasn’t what you were saying on the phone, is it now, little one?”
“What happened to ‘beautiful’?” The words escaped before I could stop them. “I liked that endearment better.”
Something flickered in his eyes—amusement, maybe, or appreciation for my continued audacity.
“Come here.” He took my hand and led me to the small couch near the window.
Relief flooded through me. He was letting it go. But then he reached for the tie of my robe, slowly pulling it free.
“Lean over the arm of the couch for me.”
My breath caught. “Why?”
“Yes, Sir, remember?” he asked, holding up the silk tie. “Any aversions to being restrained?”
My body answered before my mind could catch up. I clenched my vaginal muscles, and a rush of heat flooded my pussy. “No, Sir.”
“We’ll use the universal safe word unless you have one you’d prefer.”
“Red is fine, Sir.” My voice barely sounded like my own.
He guided my hands behind my back and secured them with the tie. It wasn’t tight enough to hurt, but firm enough that I couldn’t get free. I tested the restraint instinctively, and he placed a calming hand on my lower back.
“Easy, little one. No marking those delicate wrists. Breathe for me.”
I did, trying to process what was happening.
He lifted the back of my robe, exposing me to the cool air of the room.
I was acutely aware of how vulnerable I was, how wet I’d become from nothing more than his proximity and his voice.
The way he dominated the space and assumed control. It didn’t leave room for sass.
“What are you doing?” I asked, looking over my shoulder.
“See, you have a problem with saying ‘Sir,’ answering my questions, and following instructions. I think it’s time I showed you the consequences of those actions. All are very valuable tools for training and communication, don’t you agree?”
“Yes.” I attempted to stand, but his palm pressed firmly against my lower back, keeping me in place. Then I remembered that I hadn’t said Sir. “Yes, Sir.”
“Nice catch, but it won’t save you. What’s your safe word, little one?”
“Red.”
“Do you need to use it?”
Did I? My body was screaming yes and no at the same time, fear and anticipation warring with each other.
“No, Sir,” I whispered.
“Good girl.” His hand caressed my exposed skin, gentle and appreciative. “So soft. You’ll count for me, won’t you, little one?”
“What am I counting, Sir?”
Before I could process his lack of answer, his hand connected with my ass in a sharp smack. The sting was immediate and shocking, making me gasp and squirm. But his other hand held steady on my back, grounding me.
He waited.
“Whenever you’re ready,” he said calmly.
I took a shaky breath, trying to understand what he wanted.
“This would go so much faster if you counted.”
“What am I counting, Sir?” Frustration crept into my voice.
Three swift smacks followed, each one building on the heat of the last.
“How many was that?” he asked.
Shit. He wanted me to count the spanks.
“Three! Three, Sir!”
“Much better. Thank you, beautiful.”
The praise settled over me like a balm, making the sting more bearable.
“Take a deep breath,” he warned.
I barely had time to comply before ten sharp smacks landed in quick succession, covering different areas, each one stoking the fire building under my skin. Then five more.
“Fifteen that time!” I gasped, tears streaming down my face. The pain was intense, but underneath it was something else. It felt like a release breaking through a barrier I hadn’t known was there.
“For a total of?” His tone was almost hopeful, like he wanted to see if I’d been paying attention.
“Eighteen, Sir.”
“Good girl.”
They continued. I counted each one, my voice growing shakier as we climbed to twenty, past twenty-five. Somewhere around twenty-eight, everything began to blur. The pain became arousal and the overwhelming sensation of being completely at his mercy.
“How many?” His voice was rougher now, his hand exploring the heated skin gently.
“Twenty-eight, Sir.” I was crying openly now, shaking.
“Good girl.” He kissed across my ass, soothing the burning skin with his lips. “Let’s get you into that bath.”
I could only nod, unable to form words. He untied my wrists carefully, checking for marks, then helped me stand. My legs were unsteady, and my emotions were all over the place. I felt a confusing mix of shame and pride, vulnerability and strength.
He pulled my robe closed and kissed my forehead. “Have you started your bath?”
I gestured weakly, and he guided me there, his arm secure around my waist.
He tested the water before letting some out, adding bubble bath and hot water. Then he helped me out of my robe and into the tub. I hissed as the water touched my tender skin, but then the heat began to soothe.
Lex moved around the bathroom with familiarity, lighting the candles on the counter, finding the speaker and connecting his phone to play soft instrumental music.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, kneeling beside the tub.
Surprisingly, I answered, “Better.”
“Are you still hungry?” His hands began massaging my shoulders, strong and sure.
I couldn’t help the moan that escaped. “Hmm...”
“I’ll take that as a maybe.” He massaged both my legs, working out the tension and soreness from three days of training. By the time he finished, I was practically boneless, floating in the water with my eyes closed.
“I’m going to make you something sweet. Will you be okay here for a few minutes?”
“I’m not sleepy,” I mumbled, already feeling drowsy.
“You really are a brat,” he said, but there was affection in his voice. “I’ll be right back.”
I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew, Lex was gently shaking my shoulder. “Cami? The water’s getting cold, beautiful.”
I blinked up at him, disoriented. The water was indeed cooler, and I was stiff again.
“I still need to wash,” I mumbled.
“I’ve got you.” He drained the tub, covered me with a towel while he rinsed away the salt residue, then helped me stand for a quick shower.