I nearly collapsed onto my desk chair as the last student scurried out the door. I had been keeping myself together since waking in bed to find a cold and empty spot beside me. He had left a note: I was called in, at work. Should be back before you. Behave, my sweet love. I always enjoyed waking to notes from my husband though the sight of him would always be better than that of a piece of dead tree.
I took a deep breath. I was becoming unsettled, itchy. When I opened my eyes that morning I knew I needed some kneeling time with him, but he was gone, pulled away by his work. Most days it was alright. I didn't need to be dominated each and every day... Today was not one of those days.
I heard a ding from my phone and looked down to see the display name: Daddy. I smiled, grabbed the phone from my desk which was riddled with paper, and read the message.
Daddy: At a domestic violence case rn. Might be a little late.
My heart shattered. All my defenses, all my walls, everything that protected me from the emotions buried deep within; it all came rushing out. But I couldn't react. Not at school where my students and co-workers still walked.
Me: Okay, Daddy. Stay safe.
I clutched my phone as I awaited a response... none of which came. I'm not sure why I was expecting one because when he was on the job he rarely ever contacted me. I knew that if I needed something, if there was an emergency, he'd come running. This wasn't an emergency though. That itch, that uncomfortable feeling, could be ignored. Hopefully.
Daddy still wasn't home. He had texted an hour after I settled in that the case got out of control (meaning guns had been drawn, and fired). He needed to do interviews from the witness' and then paperwork which apparently couldn't wait.
So, I waited.
I was sitting on our made bed when the urge began. An urge that now was foreign. I wrapped my arms around me and buried my face into my knees. No matter how much this urge grew, I could not act.
I gasped upon feeling a shoot of pain in my arm. Looking down, I realized I had started to claw at the offending limb. I nearly sobbed at the evidence for my lack of control.
I wasn't safe. And Daddy wasn't here to save me this time.
The blade had ended up in my hand not even a few minutes later. I was still as I examined the sharp piece of metal that I lightly traced across my barren arm, past scars of which stared up at me, begging for a new friend.
I knew Daddy would be home any minute now. I knew that he would be ruined if he saw what threatened his sweet love.
I glanced at the notebook laying on his nightstand which kept everything detailing our relationship. Rules were on the first page. As I pressed the blade to my wrist, I remembered one in particular: The only one to harm you is me. Not even yourself.
I scowled at the reminder yet the blade remained, which dug deeper into my skin. I wouldn't stop now. Once I saw the first hint of the dark red which lived inside of me, I was gone to my inclinations.
I let my feet fall to the floor and leaned forward as the first hit of serotonin collided with me. I gasped. I had been craving a relief for my discomfort all day, and finally-
"Baby."
I jolted and looked up to the now opened door to our bedroom where he stood, eyes widened and panicked. I couldn't say anything. No words could meet my tongue. Daddy was here. And I had broken a rule. I had relapsed to an urge we both thought was gone.
"Okay, honey," Daddy said, calmly.
My eyes fluttered at his voice. He had the best voice whether that be his Dom voice, his Daddy voice, his-
He started walking slowly to me as if he were worried I would do something rash. I didn't blame him for a semi-colon tattoo nestled between my right ear and hairline.
"Can you please give Daddy the blade?" he asked before he kneeled in front of me.
I looked down then to see the blade was still embedded in my now ruined skin.
I didn't say anything as I pulled my temporary savior from its home, and handed it to my Daddy's awaiting hands.
He heaved a sigh of relief as he tucked the object into one of his plethora of pockets on his uniform.
I opened my mouth to say what... I didn't know, but words failed me. I wanted to speak: to tell him I was sorry, to ask for a punishment of which I deserved, to beg just to be in his arms and be his baby girl for a little while. But I couldn't speak.
Daddy tilted his head, understanding my dilemma. Daddy knew me more than anyone. He knew what I wanted, what I needed.
"Here's what we're going to do," he began.
A plan. I liked plans. I nodded.
"We're going to go to the bathroom and take a nice hot shower. Then, I'm going to bandage your arm," he explained.
I held back a flinch. Showering after fresh cuts was never a nice feeling. It hurt more than Daddy's crop, but I'd never tell him that.
"What do you need from me?" he asked then, unsurprisingly.
I knew I needed punishment, pain. I needed to have my skin bruised and welted, clear evidence of my transgression. But I also needed my Daddy.
I signed: Me. Hurt. Please. More.
Daddy and I had both learned American Sign Language after the first few bouts of my recurring mutism. It worked well in situations such as these.
Daddy nodded. He both signed and said "Thank you" before he lifted me into his arms and onto his hip. Immediately, I buried my face into his neck and breathed in the smell of Daddy's sweat and aftershave.
"I'm gonna set you down, my love. You need to stand though so we can undress," he whispered into my hair before he placed a gentle kiss on my head.
I was slid down and carefully set on my feet.
I didn't move as Daddy grabbed the end of my now bloodied blouse and pulled upwards. I raised my arms to the sky as he lifted the blouse over my head and then settled it gently on the counter. He then grabbed my skirt, unzipping from the back, and lowered it to the ground where I easily stepped out. That too was placed on the counter.
I watched then as Daddy stripped from his uniform. Because of the lack of weapons on his body, he must have placed them in the safe before finding me and my failure. When he began sliding his briefs down his muscled legs, I couldn't help but look at the perfect specimen that laid there. His cock, just as much mine as his, hadn't even hardened with me standing in nothing but my matching lace undergarments. Insecurity began to race through me.
