It was ten in the morning before Emily stirred from her slumber, blinking sleep from her eyes blurrily as she sat up and looked around in a moment of confusion to where she was. Oh yeah. A frown crossed her pretty face for a moment and she sighed, trying to shake the already darkening mood from her psyche as she slowly stretched her arms above her head, yawning deeply. She didn't know what time she'd fallen asleep last night, her mind had raced for a good hour trying to wrap her head around the predicament she was in. Not only Castiel's speech, the finality that she was stuck with the Winchester's for the time being, to be trained as a Hunter so she could get what she wanted more desperately than anything in the world, but also Dean's much less appealing and much harder to swallow tirade about rules and consequences and ugh, just thinking about him again put the scowl back to her lips. She threw her covers off and climbed out of bed, giving herself another moment to stretch and get her bearings before she stood and quickly remade her bed, not sure exactly what compulsed her to do so. She didn't plan to stay much longer, but a few more nights to get some information from the two, not to mention to locate where they stored their weapons and the keys to the Impala, and she'd be on her merry way, not another thought about this god forsaken place to be given. Emily padded into the bathroom and repeated her routine from the following night, taking a much shorter shower this time, before she twisted her hair up into a nice smooth ponytail and went to dress for the day. She didn't know what they had planned, so she stuck to simple and comfortable, donning a pair of plain black leggings and a white tee shirt. She added a light blue cashmere sweater to her ensemble, another sticky finger find from some expensive boutique in some other state long ago, then followed the scent of coffee into the kitchen where both men were already up and moving around.
"Morning kiddo," Sam greeted her with a smile and went to grab her a mug to pour her own coffee, which Emily took from him gratefully, even managing to give a smile back. "Coffee's there, Dean's attempting to make some eggs but watch for shells," he grinned again and Emily couldn't help but smile with him. Dean shot a dark look at both of them, grumbling to himself which just seemed to tickle them even more.
"I don't see either of you offering to cook," he called out, clanging a pan onto the stove. Emily sighed inwardly, giving Sam a shrug and going to face the beast in the attached room.
"Actually, I can cook," she took the pan from him, and set it down much more gently then he had. Dean was clearly startled by this news, and he stared at her with no subtly to the fact. Emily stared right back, an amused smirk on her lips, a plan formulating already. Buttering these guys up was going to do nothing but help her, and charming people had always come easy. They were on the defense because they thought they knew what she was up to, but she was determined to force their guards down. That's when she'd strike. "What?" She teased him lightly, keeping her voice level and airy. Dean was clearly uncomfortable at the shift in attitude, but he didn't argue with her as she began to prep the little bit of food he had set out, cracking a half dozen eggs into a bowl, adding salt and pepper and a little milk and cheese and some cubes of butter. She spoke while she worked, getting the sense that Dean wasn't trying to leave her alone in a kitchen full of knives. "My dad didn't care much for eating on the road all the time, and he usually tried to at least get us rooms that had little kitchenettes. I learned pretty young, then I watched a lot of Food Network on the road." It struck her then how very little her father had prepared her for this life. She went to hunts only when he was ready to kill, never did he involve her in research or fighting or training or even procuring things needed for their jobs. She could shoot a gun, which he'd only begrudgingly taught her at age 12 when they'd had a run in with a particularly nasty demon and realized that she should at least be able to protect herself. Not that she'd ever actually needed too, or even been given the opportunity.
Dean was still eyeing her suspiciously, but eventually as the enticing smell of scrambled eggs filled the small space, he relaxed, leaning against the counter and studying her quietly. She certainly was acting differently this morning, maybe a good night's sleep was all she had needed, or maybe his speech had actually gotten through to her. He wasn't entirely sold, but he'd welcome the change while it came. It didn't take long before a pan of fluffy eggs had been set on the table and the three were seated, eating in welcome silence. It was Sam who finally broke up the quiet, pushing his plate away and grinning over at Emily. "That was really good, thanks kid," Emily expected one of them to ask her to do the dishes or clean up the mess, but was surprised when Dean took the lead and started clearing their plates and the pan away. Evidently, food was the way to their hearts. "I'm going to hit the store in a few, why don't you make a list of things you need or want, include any food you may like. I'm sure you've probably guessed that we mostly survive on fast food and takeout, so if you're interested in cooking anything, just add it. And if you don't want to cook for us lugs, we don't mind either way." It was very clear that Sam was going to be the best bet for getting what she wanted, and she almost felt guilty thinking about taking advantage of his kind soul, but then again, he'd watched her get assaulted and done nothing so the feeling left quickly.
"Hey I don't mind cooking once in awhile," she leaned back thoughtfully, studying his face, noting just how long he was. His brown hair was long, his face was long, his body was long, but he was undeniably good looking, and she grinned again. Maybe he'd be more easily seduced then Dean, who she had thought for sure was going to be her easy target. She remembered everything her father had told her about these boys; Sam was the smart one, Dean was the brawny one. "I enjoy it, truthfully. It always gave me something to do." She took the notepad he offered with his neat, small handwriting gracing the top, and began to add things to it, pausing for a moment to laugh when Dean stuck his head out of the kitchen and called "Add beer! Oh and cheetos!" She finished what she needed and pushed the pad back to him, letting Sam run his eyes over it thoughtfully. "Listen, I'm not trying to embarrass you or anything, but do you need...supplies? We're gonna be holed up here for a bit," hisface turned red and Emily stared at him in confusion for a long moment until she realized what he was trying to ask her.
"Oh, nope, but thank you," she answered giving him an easy shrug. There was a lot she had no intention of sharing with the two of them, but she supposed this was the least of her worries in the long run. "I don't have periods. Never have. Doctor's said my uterus is messed up," the lie rolled off her tongue easily, she'd never been to a doctor before in her life. But she enjoyed the pink rising to his cheeks again as she talked about it. "I do need shampoo and conditioner, and maybe a loofah and some bath bombs if you're feeling generous? I have some money too," she thought to the wads of cash she had stashed away under her bed, half hoping he'd deny her offer because she needed that to last her awhile. Luckily, he did, snapping himself from his own embarrassment with a shake of his head.
"Naw kid, we'll call it even for cooking for us." He stood and shoved the list into his pocket, looking back at her for a moment with a strange expression in his eyes. "Be nice to Dean, okay? I don't want to come home to world war three, and I don't know what his plans are exactly for you guys this morning." Emily felt her chest tighten at his words, how juvenile they sounded coming from him, and she had to fight really hard to push her anger down and not give him a rude retort.
"I will, honestly, I was kind of hoping to just wander a bit. I haven't fully got the layout of this place yet. Plus, I brought a book." She arranged her face into a picture of innocence, inwardly beaming as he blushed and smiled again.
"Yeah, okay kid, just don't go in the library and that shouldn't be an issue." Emily lingered around the table for a moment, trying again to eavesdrop on Dean and Sam talking in the kitchen, but it was nothing useful. Dean added a few things to the list, Sam gave him the same warning he'd given Emily, and then she heard the door open and shut and there was quiet. It wasn't long before Dean appeared in front of her with a bag of chips in one hand and salsa in the other. "Sam said you want to read or some shit? I don't really care, there's a game on this morning and I intend to watch the entire thing in peace. Think you can handle that?"
Emily rolled her eyes at him as she stood and stretched again. "Oh, aren't you just the most typical man," she teased, forcing that lightness again. Dean was clearly not buying her bullshit as much as Sam seemed to be, and he gave her a hard look in response. "I'm just going to be in my room, reading." She shrugged and brushed past him, but in a seemingly unhuman move, he'd shifted the salsa to the arm holding the chips and snagged her arm before she was fully out of his grasp.
"I don't trust you. I don't trust this nice girl act you're putting on this morning, so listen carefully sweetheart," Emily glowered at him as he spoke and he gave her arm a tight squeeze in retaliation, "you stay in your room and I'll get you when it's time for lunch, if you so much as think about trying to sneak around me, you'll regret it. Clear?" Emily wrenched her arm from his grip and rubbed it sourly, resisting the urge to stick out her tongue like a five year old, which is about what she felt in the moment.
"Crystal," a saccharine sweet smile pasted back to her face as she turned and headed down the hall to her room, well aware that he was staring at her retreating back the whole way there. She pressed her ear to the door to listen for the sound of the TV switching on, and just as she'd suspected, a moment later the announcer's voice and the sound of a crowd permeated the empty house. She gave it awhile, today she intended to begin planning, which meant scoping out the place for the weapons. She knew Sam had taken the car, so she'd have to wait until tonight to figure out where they kept the keys when it wasn't in use, but that wasn't a problem. That was the easy part. Years with her father had taught her that everyone had their own way of doing things, they'd ran into hunters who kept weapons in plain sight, ones who'd had whole rooms dedicated to them, some who had secret passageways or trick doors concealing their arsenals. Sam was intelligent, she had a feeling that if it had just been Dean, the weapons would be somewhere like under the kitchen sink, but with Sam in the picture, she was sure they had a hiding spot. A good one. While she waited for some time to pass and Dean to get caught up in the ball game, she pulled her bag back out from under the bed and recounted the wads of cash stowed in the bottom. Near 15K, it would be enough to sustain her for at least the next few months or until she could get back to their own bunker in Seattle, see if anything still remained, if the safe under the floorboards in Jack's old bedroom was intact and untouched. She'd kicked herself for not breaking into it before she left, but there simply hadn't been time and she honestly had no clue what he even had inside and if it was worth the effort. Re-zipping her bag and shoving it back under her bed, Emily rose and went back to the door, very, very quietly opening it and listening for sounds of Dean. She could hear him yelling profanities to the television, along with the sound of the game still raging on, so she calculated she'd take no more than ten minutes on each room before doing another sweep.
Still creeping as quietly as her socked feet allowed, Emily headed to the room directly across from hers' which she believed was Sam's, although she couldn't remember for certain. She tested the handle and was relieved to find it wasn't locked, and she quietly made her way inside, keeping the door cracked so she could continue to listen for Dean. The room was simple, very simple, neat and organized and she was pretty positive that she was correct in her assessment of it being Sam's, it held a bed that was nicely made with a black and green duvet and a few pillows, he had a TV mounted in the corner that was switched off, and some sort of gaming system beneath it. On the other side of the room was a closet and a desk, where a laptop sat propped open, the screen black. There were a few books, scattered between the desk and dresser near the door, but overall it was clutter free. She had a hunch she wasn't going to find the weapons there. But still, she needed to look and be sure, so she snuck to the closet door and opened it, expecting to find exactly what she did, some shirts hanging up, a couple of nice suits, and ties, and his shoes stacked neatly in next to a plain black backpack. Emily crouched down and began to unzip it, her heart pounding as she did so, unsure of what she'd find in there if anything at all. The sight that greeted her caused her to sit backwards, crossing her legs as she pulled it to her lap, rifling through the contents. Inside were badges. A lot of badges. Police, FBI, CIA, hell, she even pulled out a Fish and Wildlife one. Each badge held a slightly different name, but the same picture of Sam, these had obviously been meticulously made, Emily had never seen anything like it. Their covers, that was what was in this bag, that was how they must have gotten around hunts, by pretending to be various people. Her father had never done anything like this, not this elaborate at least, not that she could ever remember. They generally just showed up at a place and then did the job, no pretenses, in and out as quickly as possible and on to the next. Still, this was much more clever, and probably a hell of a lot easier, so Emily found a badge with no name or picture, just a plain police badge in a non-descript black wallet, and slipped it into the waistband of her leggings to add to her own arsenal. She was zipping up the backpack and putting it back to it's place, when a sudden chill ran through her and she realized with a start that she could no longer hear Dean. Or the TV. Fuck. She straightened quickly, and whirled around to find him leaned against the doorframe of Sam's room, his nicely muscled arms crossed, a lazy, dangerous smile on his lips. Emily immediately put her hands up in defense, mind racing for an excuse as to why she was doing what she was doing, but nothing came and to both of their surprise and horror the words, "I wasn't doing anything," slipped from her mouth before she could stop them.
To his credit, Dean didn't get angry. He didn't explode on her, he didn't scream, didn't make any movements to grab her, he just stood there in the same imposing position he'd been when she found him. The smile still frozen on his face he shook his head and sighed exaggeratedly, slowly pulling his body straight which caused Emily to take a step back. She had not forgotten the other night, she had not forgotten his threats, and while it had been easy enough to be brave and push them aside when she'd embarked on this mission, it was all now rushing to her head and she did not want to stick around and find out what he was going to do. Her hands dropped to her side and she gave an uneasy laugh, her eyes still fixed straight ahead on Dean's very handsome, and very unamused face. "I was just looking around, Dean, I wasn't doing anything, I didn't...I didn't take anything," the lie must've been the last straw because he sprung into action, before she even knew what was happening he was in front of her, his hands going straight to her hips as if he was trying to steady her, but they both knew that wasn't what he was doing.
"Liar." The word breathed between them and there was the tight grasp on her arm again, his other hand swiping down to her sweater, lifting and looking for what she could only assume was a pocket. Not finding it there, he moved his hand lower to the side of her leg, and that was when she felt his fingers brush against her hipbone and it was there, there where he drew out the offending badge she had swiped. "Well, well, well. What would this be?" His grip tightened and Emily felt the color drain from her face, as he waved the wallet in front of her face and then tossed it behind him without a second glance, where it landed on Sam's bed with a nice, soft 'thud.'
"I was just curious," she started to protest, her arm was beginning to ache, and she felt light headed, and dizzy, fear coloring every angle of her body so clearly that Dean almost, almost felt sorry for the little thief in front of him. Almost.
"Oh no, sweetheart," he kept his voice low, sending another cold chill down her spine, "you're up two lies already, on top of the sneaking around, I wouldn't continue if I were you. Then again, I'm not you," his voice was taunting then, mimicking her words from last, "free will and all."
She blushed prettily, and had the decency to duck her head then, breaking the gaze they'd been holding intensely up to that moment. "Dean, please, be reasonable, I don't want-" she was stumbling over her words and it would've been so cute and endearing to him if he wasn't so goddamn pissed off right now.
"Don't want what, Emily? To face the consequences of your own actions? Did I not tell you what would happen? Were the rules somehow unclear? Because it looks to me like you were just seeing what would happen if you did do something stupid like this, maybe you wanted to test me and see if I was going to follow through?" His words were coming fast and hard, leaving no room for argument, and he glanced around Sam's room for a moment before he began to move, pulling Emily roughly along behind him, his grip not lessening at all. She had the good sense not to fight him, partly because she was terrified what would happen if she did, but partly because she was pretty sure he would break her arm if she tried to pull away. She was confused for a second when he went past her room, but that didn't last long when he swung the door to his own bedroom open. "Since it seems like you're so intent on snooping through our belongings, let me give you the grand tour of my room," he swung her in front of himself and pushed her into the room, none too gently, letting her stumble in front of him. She didn't lose her balance, but she was able to at least give a quick once over of his room, which was quite a lot like Sam's, but messier. The bed spread he had was black, his closet and desk were on the opposite side of the room, and there was a bathroom in there as well, though the door wasn't open fully. He had clothes strewn around the room, along with some random papers and receipts, some empty soda bottles, and various cords that looked like they belonged to more then one gaming system. Dean slammed the door behind them, making her jump, and he unceremoniously gripped her shoulders from behind, forcing her to the bed, where she fully expected him to force her to bend over, but instead he whirled her around and pushed down, making her sit. She stared up at him with wide eyes, her heart still pounding in her throat as she watched him turn from her and go to the desk, kicking a few items out of the way as he did so. He grabbed the chair from it and brought it to sit in the middle of the room, just a few feet from where she sat, where he also promptly took a seat, his thighs spread slightly, his feet planted firmly on the floor as he finally returned his attention to her. "Well sweetheart, here it is, in all it's glory, anything in here interesting to you? I mean, besides what's about to happen to you, anyway," he let out a short, harsh laugh which made her flinch. "So let's see here, three broken rules, three broken rules," he seemed to almost be talking to himself, but they both knew it was really for her benefit, to ground her and remind her, to break her. "What are we ever gonna do with you? You know it's kind of funny, Sam and I were just talking about this, and you know what he said? He told me he hoped you'd break the library rule first, so that he would be the one to spank you for your first real, proper whooping." The library. A lightbulb went off in Emily's head then, breaking through the fear of Dean in that moment as she realized that had to be where they were storing the weapons. The only place they didn't want her to go. Of course it had to be! But she was snapped from her thoughts by Dean's voice barreling on, getting louder and more frustrated as he spoke, "He seems to think I'm gonna be way more harsh then he believes himself to be, he tried to tell me, "oh dean, oh dean,"" Dean made a face which Emily deduced was supposed to be an imitation of his younger brother, "you're gonna be too hard on her, she doesn't know what she's in for, she's not like us, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah," he spat the last word and leaned forward sharply, ignoring Emily's small squeak of terror. "Well sweetheart, I'd suppose he was right. And I'm gonna make sure you remember that the next time you open your mouth and even think about lying to me again."
He sat back at that moment, and with no further bravado, motioned for her to stand. Emily did, her legs shaking, her hands balled tightly at her sides, eyes darting to the door as if to measure whether or not she made it, but Dean clucked his tongue disapprovingly, following her train of thought before she could act on it, "Oh no, no, no little girl," she pulled a face at the name, "I wouldn't even think about it. Cause you already got one helluva spanking coming, and you wouldn't want me to have to chase you down and add in, oh I don't know, a switching to it?" Her eyes immediately snapped back to his face at the threat and she switched tactics, staying where she was.
"I'm not a little girl, Dean. I'm twenty one years old, I'm practically the same age as Sam, I'm not a child, and you're not my father," her fists balled a little tighter at her sides, her face beginning to blush a deep shade of pink. "You can't just manhandle me everytime you're pissed off! I don't want a spanking, I'm too fucking old-"
Dean moved at that moment, rising from the chair and making the short trip to grab her wrist in his calloused hand, dragging her back to the chair. He was seated and had her swung to his right side before she could even make a noise, no, that came a moment later when he unceremoniously dragged her across his spread thighs so she was dangling helplessly over his knees, her ass positioned perfectly on his right knee, her upper abdomen across his left, and she flailed, reaching forward for the floor that she couldn't quite reach, so one hand caught on the calf of his jeans and the other on the lower rung of the chair. Her feet didn't quite reach the floor either, so she crossed her ankles, attempting to buck herself up or down, or anyway she could away from him. Dean's left arm encircled her waist though, effectively pinning her in place as she squirmed, and he landed the first hefty spank deftly across her upturned cheeks. She squealed in righteous indignation, but Dean continued on, beginning the familiar pattern of striking while he spoke, "First off, little girl," he sneered, not slowing at all, "I can and will do whatever the fuck I want because I am in charge here. You were warned, very thoroughly I might add, already. You chose to break the rules. I didn't make you." He had found his rhythm, his hand beating a slightly muffled tattoo back and forth over her butt, rising and lowering each time to cover every bit of it. "If you're not too old to break the rules, you ain't too old to take the spanking you earned."
Below him, Emily gritted her teeth, determined not to make anymore noise even as the pain began to steadily rise in her nether regions, her toes curled in her socks, ankles still crossed as she wiggled and squirmed and pounded at his leg to force him to let go. Of course, that only seemed to anger him further, and he moved to her thighs, where he finally elicited the first squeaks of distress from her, "knock it off, Emily!" He peppered her thighs with matching spanks, occasionally raising his hand to catch the underside of her cheeks, where her thighs met her ass, which made her struggle even harder against him.
"No! No! No! Stop it! Ow, stop it Dean! You're! Hurting! Me!" She managed to get a grip on the fleshy part of his calf and she pinched as hard as she could, eliciting a sharp gasp from the man above her. "Let me UP!"
Dean stopped the spanking suddenly, and Emily breathed a sigh of relief, thinking it was over. That wasn't so bad, thank Jesus- but Dean wasn't letting her up, instead she felt the arm that had her pinned lift slightly and his hand moved to her back, pushing her sweater up far enough that she felt air on her back before he moved his fingers into the waistband of her leggings and panties and he deftly swooped them down to her knees. The fight immediately returned to the her and she let out the most enraged scream he'd ever heard in his life, one that almost made him drop her right from where she was, but instead he leaned down and fisted his hand into her hair, yanking her head up and forcing her back to arch, the scream dying in her throat as he did. "SHUT. UP."
He let her go and her head dropped down, she didn't scream any longer, but she was so beyond humiliated that her pride wouldn't allow her to go without a fight, so she reached her hand back to try to cover her aching behind. Dean caught her wrist before she even made it there, pinning it straight to her lower back, the position made her shoulder scream in protest, but it was soon forgotten as the spanking resumed onto her now bared skin. It hurt so. much. worse. Emily couldn't think, all she felt was a million bees stinging her over and over again, Dean had picked the pace up, there was no pause between the blows, and her body had basically frozen in position, too shocked at the pain to even fight. Dean realized it, he only spanked like that for a minute longer before he rested his hand onto her blazing skin and waited for her body to relax. She wasn't making noise, but she'd bit her lip hard enough to draw blood and she shakily brought her free hand up to wipe it away. Sensing the vulnerability he had with her now, Dean moved his hand to gently push her legs down, almost forcing her to a kneel, except he deftly pulled her back up so that her ass now hung dead center of his left thigh. He let go of her hand, knowing the change in equilibrium was going to cause her to flail, and it did, she threw both hands to the floor to catch herself, even though Dean had a tight enough hold on her that she wasn't going anywhere. He moved his right leg to trap her legs beneath himself, and readjusted his grip on her waist. There. He had her right where he needed her to be. She wasn't crying yet, and he was almost impressed, especially after the show she'd given yesterday. "Now, sweetheart," he cooed to her softly, which made her kick as best as she could angrily. "That was for the lack of cooperation. Now we can move onto the lying."
Now? Now they could move on? Emily's mind raced and she gave a pitiful mewl like an injured kitten, "Dean please, I'm sorry, I've had enough," she knew the arguing changed nothing. She could sense the determination in him, but she couldn't just give in. She didn't think she could take another hit either. Dean just chuckled in response, smoothing his hand over her perfect little ass again, admiring his handiwork for a moment. Her ass was a nice shade of pink, but he could do better.
"Nope, you haven't," his hand raised again and she flinched, bracing herself for the blow that came shortly after. "You haven't come close. See, here's the thing about me, sweetheart," he resumed a slow, easy pattern, his hand rising and falling much more purposefully compared to the flurry of angry spanking he'd laid on her just moments before. Only this was worse, the position made her even more vulnerable, her thighs and sit spots were exposed fully to him now, and he made use of it. "I can see right through your little act. I know you're no innocent princess like you were pretending to be this morning, I see the brat in you. If you think you're going to waltz in here and lie to my face, steal from right under my nose, you got another thing coming. I can do this all day, sweetheart, but I bet you can't. Maybe if your daddy had taken a belt to you a day in your life, you'd know better, but now it's my job to pick up the slack. So, little girl, this spanking? This is for your lies, and next time you think about staring me in the eye and telling me some cute little story, I'll not only spank you twice what you're getting now, but I'll also make you eat soap. Do. You. Understand. Me?" The lazy spanking had changed to a much harder round of smacks at the last sentence, and tears finally welled up in Emily's eyes. She was miserable, no escaping the lecture, no escaping the spanking, no escaping Dean. Why had she done it? She should've waited until they were both gone, she should've planned it better. She shouldn't...she shouldn't have done it all.
"I'm sorry," her voice was small, and she sniffled, bringing her hands to her face to bury her shame in them.
"Oh, I don't doubt you're sorry you got caught, princess," Dean was unmoved, the spanking had resumed harder and more pointed now then before, eliciting small squeaks and squeals now, her skin a uniform red, with random splotches of crimson where he'd spanked harder. "But are you sorry you did it? No. What was your plan anyway? What did you think you were going to do with that badge?" He paused the spanking again so he could listen to her response, but he didn't get one. Just muffled tears as her hands stayed firmly over her face. "Uh, uh, uh," he tsked, leaning down to grab the small wrist of her closest hand and force it away from her face, and back to the uncomfortable position on her lower back. "I asked a question, I want an answer."
"I don't know," Emily wailed miserably, trying to kick her legs again knowing fully well they were pinned just as tightly as they'd been since this blasted spanking had started. "I wasn't thinking, I just did it."
"That's right," Dean sighed and picked the spanking back up, "you weren't thinking. You wanted it just to have it." He stopped speaking then, allowing the spanking to do the talking for him for the next few minutes, until her tears and squeaks had turned into ugly sobs and begging for forgivingness. Her ass more closely resembled a tomato now, cherry red, and Dean whistled lowly. He wondered if that's what they'd looked like when their dad had whipped their asses himself, but it wasn't quite over yet. "That was for the lying." He released her wrist and legs then, patting her thigh gently to coax her to move, so he could stand and help her up too. He had to clench his jaw tightly to stop himself from letting her fall into his arms as her delicate little tear stained face came into his view, he could see the hurt and embarrassment in her face, but this was all on her. She'd brought it on herself, she'd done the lying, she'd done the sneaking. Feeling better about what he was about to do, he moved his hand to grip her arm again and he lead her to the bed, grabbing one his pillows and moving it to rest on the edge of the mattress. Ignoring her confused protests, he gently lowered her over the pillow, and his heart almost broke when she let out a panicked wail, seeming to realize that her spanking wasn't over. He waited a moment for her to calm down before he straightened and squared his shoulders, unbuckling his belt as he spoke to her. "This will be for the sneaking around. I'm sorry I have to do this Emily, and I really hope I don't have to do it again."
He meant the words as he watched her small body shake, her sweater had fallen over the middle of her cheeks, the stark contrast of color between the blue of the material and the red of her ass was almost comical. He rubbed his hand on her back gently, both to calm her and draw the fabric back up, and he sighed again. "You're going to get ten. That's it. I'll keep count this time, and then it's over and it's forgiven." She flinched sharply, and he could see she was struggling not to push herself off the bed and put up a fight, and he really didn't want to add any more. He didn't think she could take it if he did. So without further ado, he doubled the belt over and swung it backwards before bringing it sharply across the center of her cheeks. Her foot swung up immediately in response and she arched her back with a yelp, trying to straighten her body from the line of fire that had just lit across her cheek. But Dean didn't allow it, he firmly placed his hand between her shoulder blades and pressed her back down. Then he laid stripe number two beneath the first, no longer allowing any pause between blows, wanting to get it over as quickly as possible. By the seventh stripe, she had given up and was sobbing heart wrenchingly into his bed spread, her small hands fisted into his blankets as she tried desperately to stay still. He gave the last three blows right to her thighs and sit spots, eliciting the loudest sobs thus far, and then he tossed the belt down, exhausted from the drama of it all.
He didn't feel bad, he told himself firmly. Emily needed that. She deserved it. The act she put on was cute and all, but it had to end. He was still telling himself that as the small form below him slowly straightened herself out, her face was red and streaked with tears and snot, which she swiped angrily at. She'd kicked off her leggings and thong at some point during the spanking, but she didn't seem to care about that much at all as she brought her hands back to her face and cried bitterly into her hands. That had been the single most painful, humiliating experience she'd ever had, and she hated herself for appearing this weak, she hated him for doing it to her, she hated this stupid bunker, and the stupid rules, and above all, she hated that she had been stupid enough to get caught. It hadn't been worth it, not at all, but it was too late to take it back, so she was just left with her injured pride and bruised ass. Dean caught both her wrists gently in his hands and drew them from her face, looking down at the devastated woman with what almost looked like pride. He drew her into a hug, and Emily didn't pull away, she didn't fight, it felt...right. She was angry as all get out and even more than sore, but she had deserved it and they both knew it. The hug lasted until she had stained through his shirt with her tears and he'd done nothing but stand there, rubbing her back in silence. When she pulled away, she swiped the back of her hands across her face and sniffled again. "I'm sorry," she told Dean softly, pink coloring her cheeks again.
"It's done, darling," he shrugged and gave her a grin, before delicately leaning down to pick up her leggings and thong and handing them to her without another word. "Why don't you go rest, I'll wake you up for dinner."
She didn't argue, didn't bother to put her clothing back on, she was too sore and stiff to deal with that mess, and once she'd made it safely back to her room, she slipped wordlessly into bed and cried until she'd fallen asleep.