“Fuck you. I’m here because I survived.”

“You’re not here, Grace.” I lean down and pull her hair at the same time, making her head tilt back. “You’re still there, sweets.” She doesn’t say anything to that. But that’s her MO, right? Silence. “You refuse to go to therapy. You refuse to talk to people. You refuse to accept help. And whatever. That’s your choice. But marriage is a partnership, Grace. If you want to be married, then you owe me. So what’s it going to be? Stop or go?”

“Go,” she snarls. “If that will make you feel better, then just do it.”

“It will,” I assure her. “It will.”

She opens her mouth to spout off something sarcastic, but my hand comes down on her ass cheek so hard she jumps. “Holy fuck, Asher! What the—”

I smack her again, five times in a row without stopping. Five hard, flat smacks across her bare ass.

“Ow! That fucking hurts!”

I kiss her neck and then turn my mouth to her ear and whisper, “It’s supposed to, Kinsella. I told you, you’re gonna cry...”

“Why does this make you happy?” she asks. Her voice is already betraying her. She’s losing control very fast right now. “Why does hurting me make you happy?”

“I don’t like hurting you, Grace. I told you back on the island that none of this is about violence.”

“Well, it sure feels like violence to me.”

“That’s because you’re unable or unwilling to give in. Did it ever occur to you to ask me what I wanted?”

She stiffens but says nothing.

“No.” I answer for her. “You have never once asked me what I want.”

“So you’re punishing me for being a selfish cunt?”

“No again. I’m punishing you for not trusting me.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“Why shouldn’t you trust me? I think that’s a far better question.”

She stays silent again. Only this time I’m not going to answer for her. The negotiations are over. “I’m going to let go of your hair and you’re going to stay right where you are. Do you understand?”

More silence.

I smack her hard again and she whimpers, but stays put. “When I ask you a question, Grace, the polite thing to do is answer it. And if you don’t want to answer, then you get punished. I’m going to punish you and the only way this is not going to happen is if you tell me to stop.”

“But if I don’t let you do this to me, then we’re over.”

“Yes.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Then say no.”

She sniffles before answering this time. “But I don’t want you to walk out. I don’t want you to leave.”

“So you think you should be allowed to continue on with the way you’ve been acting?”

“No, but—”

“Tell me right now, Grace. If I let go of your hair will you stay where I put you?”

“Yes,” she says into the cushion.

“Ah. Finally you have to give in to something.” I let go of her hair and step away from her naked body. “Now I’d like to know how you want to do this. I’m going to spank you for all indiscretions, past and present. Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” She turns her head a little so she can see me. Like she can’t believe I’m going there. But I am. I’m so fucking going there. “Grace? I asked you a question. Yes, what?”

“Yes, Master,” she spits. She looks me in the eye for it too. So score one for Asher.

I look away from her before I lose my nerve and instead look down at the bright red skin. Both cheeks are flaming. I hover my hand over them and feel the heat. “Wait here,” I tell her. “Don’t move.”

I don’t wait for an answer, just walk down the hallway to our bedroom and then turn into the bathroom. Grace has stuff all over the counters. Just shit everywhere. I flip the light on and start looking at the various bottles. I choose the one that says it soothes chapped skin, and head back to the living room.

Grace is right where I left her. Her eyes are even closed. “Don’t fall asleep on me, sweets.”

She open her eyes and whispers, “Yes, Master.”

I don’t like it. I hope she doesn’t think that’s what this is about. It’s not. I don’t want to crush her. I just need her to know I’m a man of my word. I told her when I knew her well enough I’d punish her for all her misbehaving. And even though I like the kind of misbehaving she did back on the beach, I’m less than thrilled about the way she’s been misbehaving since she came home.

It needs to stop.

I smack her ass one more time and she sucks in a gasp of air, but says nothing. “I know it hurts. You’re allowed to moan or cry.”

“I’m not going to cry.”

“OK.” I uncap the bottle of soothing lotion and drip it across the bright pink handprint left over from the last slap. This makes Grace sigh and relax. “You like that?”

“Yes, Master,” she says obediently.

I rub it in a little harder, squeezing the round globes of her ass. And after a few minutes of this seemingly innocuous rubbing, when she is good and relaxed, when she’s breathing deep and even, almost content, I give her five more quick, hard slaps to wake her back up.

She shoots up off the back of the couch for this, but my hand is there on her back, gently pushing her down. “Be still,” I tell her softly.

She relaxes again and my punishment repeats.

“Goddammit!” she squeals. This time she doesn’t take my direction, and instead of relaxing, she struggles against me.

“Tell me to stop if you want it to stop, Grace.”

“No,” she says defiantly. “I’m not gonna tell you to stop so you can blame this on me. But I’m sure as fuck not going to let you hit me for no good reason!”

“OK, that’s fair. How about I tell you why you’re being punished.”

“That would be a good start,” she hisses up at me.

I smack her hard again, this time across the back of her thighs. She squirms and twists, but the spreader bar prevents her from taking a necessary step to balance herself, and she falls right into my arms. “Don’t struggle, sweets. It’s a losing battle.” She growls out her protest, but since she can’t walk and her hands are bound, she is forced to lean into my chest.