Chapter 6
Daddy. Just say something, Daddy.
His chair creaked slightly under his weight.
He didn't gesture.
Didn't speak.
Just looked at me with those storm-gray eyes that had gone electric blue, crackling with contained power that made the air taste metallic.
I stood just inside the doorway of his study. My hands twisted together, electricity still sparking weakly between my fingers because I couldn't quite get control of my power when I was this anxious. The lightning scars on my arms pulsed in rhythm with my racing heartbeat.
The silence stretched. Heavy. Deliberate.
He was making me wait. Making me stand there while he assessed me with that predatory focus that said he'd already cataloged every detail—the scorch marks probably still visible on my clothes, the way I couldn't quite meet his eyes, the defiant tilt of my chin despite my obvious nerves.
Through the bond, I felt his emotional state.
Not anger.
Never anger.
Just controlled authority. The Storm Lord who'd caught his mate being spectacularly bratty and was now going to address it exactly as promised.
My stomach clenched. Not with fear. With anticipation. With the need to know if this was real.
Finally, he gestured. One precise movement of his hand, indicating the space directly in front of his desk. "Here."
I crossed the study on shaking legs. Stood where he'd indicated, close enough that I could see the way electricity danced faintly across his knuckles. Close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body.
He leaned back in his chair. Steepled his fingers under his chin. The position was casual but his eyes were anything but. They tracked across my face, lingering on my flushed cheeks, my trembling hands, the lightning scars glowing brighter with my anxiety.
"Tell me which rule you broke," he said quietly. His voice carried that electric undertone. Not raised. Didn't need to be raised. "And why you chose to break it."
The words hung in the air between us. This was it. The moment where I either deflected and made excuses—High Priestess mode, trained to justify every action—or I told the truth.
I met his eyes. "I wasn't supposed to experiment with my abilities without supervision. You told me to rest. To stay in the nursery. To not test my new powers alone."
"And you broke that rule because?"
"Because I wanted to." The confession came out smaller than I meant it to. "I woke up with all this power singing through my veins and I couldn't just lie there pretending to be tired. I wanted to see what I could do. Wanted to play with it."
"That's not the whole truth." His eyes flashed silver briefly. Through the bond, I felt his recognition. His certainty that I was still deflecting. "Try again. Why did you choose to break it?"
The real answer stuck in my throat. But his gaze didn't waver. Didn't soften. Just waited with infinite patience for me to stop performing and start being honest.
"I wanted to test you," I whispered. "Wanted to see if you'd actually follow through. If the rules were real or just words. If you meant what you said about consequences or if it was all just—just theory that would disappear the first time I pushed."
Through the bond, satisfaction crashed over me like a wave. Warm. Certain. He'd known. He'd felt it when he'd given me the instruction. Had watched me agree while already planning mischief. Had expected exactly this confession.
"There it is." He didn't smile but something in his expression softened fractionally. "You needed to know if I was reliable. If my structure would hold when you tested it. That's honest. That's real."
My eyes stung. I blinked hard.
"Then you'll get exactly what you asked for." He gestured again. "Tell me everything you did. Start from the beginning. Leave nothing out."
I took a shaky breath. "Before I came here, I’d never seen electric lights. They’re amazing. And my powers . . . I feel like I’m part of it all. So, I made the nursery lights dance. Pulsed them in patterns. Made them flash in sequence around the ceiling."
"Did you damage them?"
"No. They're designed to turn on and off. I just did it with my mind instead of switches."
"Continue."
"I found corridor lights throughout the citadel. Made them flicker. Created a wave pattern that rippled through the peripheral lighting on multiple floors." My face heated with remembered glee. "I heard staff wondering what was happening."
His expression remained neutral but through the bond I felt his assessment. Noting the bratty pleasure in my voice. The deliberate mischief.
"Damage?" he asked.
"None. Just brief flickers."
"Continue."
"The lightning sculptures in the grand hall." I couldn't quite suppress my grin. "I made them move. Gave them extra power so the static displays became dynamic. Made them respond to each other like they were having a conversation."
"And you heard staff discussing whether to contact me about the malfunction."
"Yes." My grin faded slightly under his steady gaze.
"Continue."
"The communication relays." My voice went quieter. "The ones I helped redesign. I just wanted to examine them. See how my electrical signature interacted with their frequencies. I wasn't going to transmit anything. Just test the resonance."
"You made them sing loud enough that staff heard them throughout the citadel."
"I matched their harmonic frequencies. All three at once. It was beautiful, mathematically. The way they interlocked and amplified—"
"Did you damage critical infrastructure?" His voice sharpened slightly.
"No. I pulled back immediately. Returned them to standby mode."
"And then?"
I swallowed hard. "The storm-warning system. I just wanted to understand how it worked. Followed the current through the sensor network to see how they communicated with the central processor. I didn't mean to trigger—"
"You activated a citadel-wide emergency alert." Not a question. Statement of fact. "Klaxons. Flashing lights. Storm shutters deploying. Staff evacuating to secure positions thinking death was approaching on lightning wings."
"I didn't mean to," I whispered. But even as I said it, I knew it was weak. Knew that intent didn't matter when the result was that level of chaos.
"Did you damage the warning system?"
"No. Someone manually shut it down. It should still function normally."
The silence stretched again. He was processing.
Calculating. Through the bond, I felt his mind working through what I'd done—the progression from harmless light shows to increasingly sophisticated systems to critical infrastructure that could have actually mattered if there'd been a real emergency happening simultaneously.
"So." His voice was quiet. Controlled. "You deliberately violated a safety rule.
You interfered with citadel systems including critical infrastructure.
You caused a false emergency that disrupted everyone in the building.
" His eyes locked onto mine. "And you did all of it to test my response.
To see if I'd follow through on promised consequences. Is that accurate?"
"Yes." My voice came out barely audible.
"Do you remember what consequence three means?"
Heat flooded my face. My thighs pressed together automatically. "Spanking."
His eyes flashed pure silver. Electricity crackled visibly across his knuckles. Through the bond, I felt his certainty. His satisfaction that I'd confirmed everything he'd predicted. His anticipation.
"Over my knee," he said quietly. "Now."
My legs shook as I moved around the desk. He turned his chair slightly, positioning himself. Spread his thighs to create a stable platform. His hands rested on his knees, patient and certain.
I hesitated beside him. Through the bond, I felt his recognition of my fear. Not fear of him—fear of vulnerability. Of surrendering control. Of letting him see me completely.
"I've got you," he said softly. "You tested to see if the rules were real. Now you'll learn that my promises are real too. That includes the promise to keep you safe while I teach you this lesson."
Something in my chest cracked. I moved forward.
His hands guided me with surprising gentleness. Over his lap, my weight distributed across his strong thighs. One of his hands pressed against the small of my back, holding me steady. The other rested lightly on my bottom, not yet punishing, just claiming.
My lightning-scarred hands braced against the floor. My face burned. I could feel the position—vulnerable, exposed, my bottom presented for discipline. This was intimate. Personal. Care wrapped in authority.
His hand on my back radiated warmth. Electricity hummed between us but gently now. Grounding.
"Ten strikes," he said, his voice carrying absolute certainty. "With each one, you'll say: 'Daddy's rules keep me safe.' You'll mean it. By the end, you'll understand it. Understood?"
I nodded against his thigh.
"Words, little lightning."
"Yes, Daddy." The title came out breathless. Natural. "Understood."
Through the bond, his satisfaction wrapped around me completely. Then his hand lifted from my bottom.
The anticipation built like gathering storm clouds.
"Count," he commanded.
And brought his hand down.
The first strike wasn't just his hand. It was his hand charged with controlled electricity.
The shock hit my bottom and exploded outward, racing through every nerve in my body like lightning finding ground.
My back arched involuntarily. My hands scrabbled against the floor.
A sound tore from my throat—not quite a scream, more like a choked gasp that came from somewhere deep in my chest where I'd been holding my breath without realizing it.
The sensation was nothing like pain. Or it was pain, but pain mixed with something else so thoroughly that I couldn't separate them. Pleasure-pain-electricity-heat all crashing through my nervous system simultaneously, lighting up pathways that had never carried this intensity of sensation.