Chapter Eight Earned It
I fucking did it.
Passed that damn test with a ninety, and I was still riding that high hard enough that I did not even care how obnoxious the whole thing had been.
I had to fight my professor for part of it too, because there was one open-ended question where my answer had not been written out the way he wanted, but it was still right, and I was not about to let him dock me just because I had not worded it like a textbook.
I annoyed him until he gave me the points back, and whether he did it because I was right or because he got tired of arguing with me honestly did not matter.
I got the grade. I got the A. And now I was standing at the Club Temptation bar with Jonas’s hand on the small of my back and a whole private scene waiting for me down the hall.
So yeah, every second I had spent studying and every second I had spent arguing had been worth it.
I should have felt calmer than I did, considering all of this had been planned out.
We had talked through what I wanted, what he wanted, what I was nervous about, what I definitely wanted to try, and what he thought I was ready for.
None of this was supposed to be a surprise.
But apparently knowing what was coming did absolutely nothing to make me less excited, because I still felt half giddy and half out of my mind just standing there with him.
He had not really stopped touching me since we got there either, and that was not helping.
His hand at my back. His fingers brushing my hip when he leaned in to say something.
His arm settling around my waist for a second while we waited at the bar.
We had crossed paths with a few people he knew on the way in, other Doms, other subs, a couple I was pretty sure were swingers, although honestly at this place it got hard to tell who was into what after a while.
I had smiled and tried to act normal while secretly feeling so smug I could have floated.
I was there with him. People could see that. They could see where I stood.
And I liked it way more than I probably should have.
Jonas leaned in close enough that his mouth almost brushed my ear. “Are you ready?”
I looked up at him and nodded.
That was all it took. He took my hand and led me away from the bar, down the back hallway where the noise from the club shifted into something different.
There were doors cracked open, movement inside some of the rooms, flashes of bare skin and ropes and mouths and bodies, and weirdly enough it was not as embarrassing as I had once thought it would be.
Maybe it should have been. Maybe seeing people naked and fucking in a hallway like it was the most natural thing in the world should have made me want to run.
But I was with Jonas, and that changed everything.
With him there, I felt held inside it instead of thrown into it.
We stopped outside one of the private rooms, and he opened the door and let me step in first.
The room was simple but still intimate. A bed. A small side table. A padded chair in the corner. Soft lighting that made the whole space feel private without turning it into some cheap fantasy set. It was not a voyeur room. Not the dungeon. No audience. No strangers. Just us.
Jonas stepped in behind me and shut the door.
He was wearing black jeans and that black t-shirt again, the same kind of outfit he had on the first night I saw him downstairs in the dungeon, and it looked unfairly good on him.
The shirt fit tight over his chest and shoulders, and I caught myself staring before he even moved.
Then he reached into his back pocket, pulled out a pair of black latex gloves, and slid them on one hand at a time.
Watching his hands shouldn't have turned me on this much, but it did.
He flexed his fingers once, then looked at me. “Why did you want to do this here?”
I blinked. “What?”
“At Temptation,” he said, taking one slow step closer. “We could have done this at home.”
I realized now anytime Jonas asked me to spell things out like this, is because he wanted to be sure I myself knew why I wanted things. So I swallowed and told him the truth, didn't try to make it sound sexy. “Because I wanted people to see me with you.”
His gaze held mine.
I made myself keep going. “I wanted them to know I’m yours.”
Something dark and pleased moved through his face. “Good answer.”
Then he backed me up until the backs of my knees hit the bed.
His gloved hand came up and ran slowly over my face, down my throat, the touch light enough to make me want more and firm enough to remind me exactly who was in charge once that door closed. I tipped my chin up without even thinking about it, and he watched me the whole time.
“I am proud of you,” he said. “You did well on that test for me.”
That warm, ridiculous rush of pride hit me so fast I nearly smiled.
Then his hand slid down and he tipped his head a little. “But that doesn’t make up for the way you’ve behaved this week, does it?”
The smile died right off my face.
He kept talking in that calm, measured voice that always got to me more than if he had snapped. “The teasing. The talking back. The little rules you keep trying to bend just to see what happens. That attitude.”
His hand stroked once over my throat. “None of that disappears just because you passed one test. Does it?”
I looked up at him and let the answer come soft.
“No, Daddy.”
His eyes darkened.
He reached for the straps of my dress and slid them down one at a time, slow enough to make me feel each second of it. Then he pushed the dress down my body, the fabric whispering over my skin until it pooled around my feet. Standing before him completely bare.
The dress hadn't needed a bra, and I had started the night out with panties, but I had gone into the bathroom before we came down the hall and done exactly what he told me to do: remove them. My underwear was currently held hostage in one of his pants pockets.
He looked. Not rushed. Not greedy. Just a long, steady look that made my skin hum.
Then he nodded toward the bed. “Sit.”
I did.
He stood in front of me, one gloved hand lifting to my jaw. “Now tell me something. What should we do about your attitude?”
I knew what he wanted. Or at least I knew what I wanted.
He tilted my face up a little farther. “Should I paddle that ass of yours?”
I licked my lips and nodded once. “Yes, Daddy.”
His hand slid into my hair and tightened just enough to make me gasp.
“You understand that just because you’re being sweet right now does not mean I’m going to go easy on you.” His voice stayed low and smooth and absolutely serious. “You do not want me to go easy on you. Do you?”
The answer came out faster than I could think about it. “No, Daddy. Please don’t go easy on me.”
That smile of his was the kind that always made me feel like I had just walked into something and was about to like it way too much.
“You’re going to enjoy this,” he said. “And if it gets to be too much, you’ll use your safe word.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Which is?”
“My safe word is red.”
He patted my face lightly. “Good girl. Now let’s get you set up. Face down.”
I climbed onto the bed and stretched out the way he wanted, my pulse already thumping hard enough that I could hear it in my ears.
He secured my wrists in the leather cuffs attached to the headboard, then slid a wedge pillow beneath my hips so my ass tilted up and my whole body was positioned to give him the best access to it.
That alone made me feel exposed in a way I liked so much I hated myself a little for it.
He moved behind me and I twisted my head just enough to watch him reach into his back pocket and pull out the paddle.
Red leather.
His paddle.
He had shown it to me before and told me it was his personal one, the one he saved for his favorite subs, and even now that detail hit me right in the chest. The handle fit into his hand like it belonged there, and the broad leather head looked heavy enough to hurt.
He dragged it over the curve of my ass, not striking yet, just letting me feel it.
“We’ll start with five,” he said. “And you’re going to thank me for every one.”
I swallowed. “Yes, Daddy.”
The first crack of the paddle landed hard across my right cheek, sharp and stinging. The sound echoed through the room like a gunshot. I sucked in a sharp breath as the burn bloomed instantly across my skin.
“Thank you, Daddy.”
The second landed on the same cheek, and this time I felt the sting spread wider, sinking in deeper now that he had found the spot and clearly had no intention of being nice about it.
“Thank you, Daddy.”
By the third, something in my body stopped resisting and started leaning into it. The sting turned hot, the pressure built on top of itself, and I could feel wetness gathering between my legs in a way that was both humiliating and impossible to deny.
“Thank you, Daddy.”
The fourth made me tense and then melt right after, and that was when I realized, with a flash of disbelief, that I liked this. I did not just like the idea of it. I liked the way my ass was glowing hot. I loved how the pain lit up every nerve and made my pussy drip for him.
“Thank you, Daddy.”
The fifth and final crack landed with punishing force. I cried out, the sound half-pain, half-pleasure. By the time the echo faded, I was already aching for more. Already imagining all the ways I could brat out again just to earn another five, or ten, or twenty.
“Thank you, Daddy.”
He set the paddle aside with a soft thud. Then his gloved hand smoothed slowly over the swollen, burning cheek he’d just punished, massaging the fierce heat deeper into my skin. The latex felt cool against the throbbing flesh, making me shiver.
“There she is,” he said quietly. “I knew my filthy little girl was going to love getting her ass spanked raw.”