Friday evening found 221B relatively peaceful- or at least as peaceful as 221B could be. John was about to make tea and watch the news while Sherlock continued… whatever it was he was doing in the kitchen. Though John's thoughts were on tea and a prayer that an interesting case would come along and give Sherlock something constructive to do, there were other less ordinary thoughts on his mind. Namely precisely what he would say to Rose when she came home and it was time to spank her! And what to do the spanking with.
Hoping that some tea would bring on some sort of revelation of the right words, tone, balance of being gentle yet stern, and what to smack her bum with, John headed into the kitchen to make himself a cuppa. "Tea?" he asked, looking over at Sherlock. Immediately his eyebrows went up, as did his level of impatience with the consulting detective. "God, Sherlock, what are you doing? Are those spleens? Are you splicing spleens in our kitchen?"
"For a doctor you're rather squeamish about such things," Sherlock noted, giving John a look out of the corner of his eye.
"I am not squeamish about blood, body parts, or anything else of that nature. I sewed people back together on a battlefield when their limbs were blown off. Someone who is squeamish could not do that," John reminded him. "What I am squeamish about is you doing it on the kitchen table where people eat and not at St. Bart's or somewhere. Speaking of, why aren't you at St. Bart's?"
Sherlock let out a frustrated sigh and used the heel of his hand to move his goggles up onto his head. "Molly said I'm banned for a week." The petulant tone was accompanied by a considerable pout that John was all too familiar with. "And she took my riding crop."
John's eyebrow rose, silently encouraging Sherlock to share the details of what had led sweet Molly Hooper to ban Sherlock and take away his riding crop.
"Well I was trying to match a pattern of markings on that corpse that was pulled out of the Thames yesterday. So while I was waiting for the fingerprint development chamber to finish trying to pull prints of some items found on the shoreline that may be tied to the crime, I went looking for another corpse to try and replicate the crop marks on it. They were clearly crop marks, no discernable pattern, but I wanted to find out how long it would take for them to develop. Naturally I needed a female corpse of similar size and shape," Sherlock explained. "And-"
"Oh god," John groaned. "Let me guess; you picked a corpse that was ready to go out to the funeral home which is now welted and bruised beyond belief." He let out a sigh when Sherlock nodded curtly, confirming that he was correct. "No wonder she banned you. Sherlock, that's just not on. You can't just appropriate bodies at your choosing. Molly gives you special privileges and it's wrong to abuse them."
"Hmm," Sherlock hummed. "Anyway, I thought you already knew. You were sitting over there scowling for the past several minutes and it made me think Molly had texted you about it. I'll… say… sorry?" he offered, the words more a question than a statement.
"You didn't even apologize? Sherlock!" John scolded, scowling once again. "You have to apologize to Molly. In person," he added, when Sherlock reached for his mobile. "Flowers wouldn't go amiss either, considering all she lets you do in there."
Sherlock rolled his eyes but did not state whether or not he would do as John suggested. "So what were you scowling about then? I put a tarp on the table this time," he pointed out a bit defensively.
"I was trying to figure out what to do about Rose," John admitted. When Sherlock raised an eyebrow, he elaborated more. "I know what, not the how. Baker Street is a bit limited in… well… spanking implements." Just then his mobile chirped. "Unlike your brother we don't have an arsenal around here," he stated, reaching for his mobile.
'Let me know if you'd like something sent to Baker Street for your meeting with Rose. M'
John stared at the text on the screen, going completely still for thirty seconds. Was he seriously seeing this? How the hell did… Suddenly he looked up and around the room, drawing a puzzled look from Sherlock. He passed over the mobile as he continued a visual scan of the kitchen and sitting room. John could see nothing obvious and turned back to Sherlock, shaking his head. "That is rather frightening. I think we need to search the flat for cameras again; and potentially microphones, too!"
Scowling, Sherlock got up and began physically searching in the most unlikely places to find a camera. After all, Mycroft would hate to be predictable by placing them in obvious places. "How much of an impression are you trying to make on Rose?" he asked while searching.
"A considerable one. Why? Do you have a suggestion?" John asked, joining in the search.
Sherlock nodded. "I do, but you cannot tell her it was my idea. And it's something I know you have here already…"
"Will you be requiring a ride tomorrow as well?" Mycroft asked a few hours later while dropping Rose off at Baker Street. Now that she was back at the studio regularly, he had resumed providing her transportation. The tube was safe enough… for other people. Not for his Rose. Not when he had a driver ready, willing and able to transport her when Mycroft himself was not able to. It was just safer that way, and it provided him a way to spend a few minutes chatting with her daily.
"We probably won't be going late," Rose replied as he pulled over to the curb. "It's just after dark that I prefer rides. Just to be safe. But if you want to, and you're free, I can text or call tomorrow when Alfred and I are done. We'll have the whole day and probably call it quits right around supper time."
"I'll await your text then," Mycroft agreed. "Before I let you go, please tell me that you'll pay attention to what Dr. Watson tells you tonight and take it seriously. I worry."
Rose leaned across the seat and kissed his cheek. "I know you do. I'll listen, we'll talk, things will work themselves out. I'm trying hard to take all of this seriously because I know it is serious. Wish me luck?"
"As if luck has anything to do with the matter. But I'll say it merely to make you happy: good luck." Mycroft followed this statement by rolling his eyes and shooed her out of the car. He waited until he saw her unlock the front door and enter the building before he pulled away.
Calling out a hello to Mrs. Hudson as she passed the slightly ajar door, Rose hurried up the stairs and let herself in 221B. "I'm home!" she called, taking her heels off and sitting them by the door. Her purse and gym bag joined the shoes.
"Hello my love. That was quick coming home," John greeted as he rounded the kitchen. He handed her a cup of coffee before kissing her.
"A girl could get used to this. I came home early like you asked. Mycroft gave me a ride and he even wished me good luck with you," Rose said, giving him a wink. When John started laughing loudly, she shot him a look full of confusion. "I've missed something haven't I?"
"It's just slightly ironic that he was wishing you good luck with me when a couple hours ago he was offering to send round something from his drawer since we lack the arsenal he boasts," John pointed out, still chuckling. That chuckling came to an abrupt halt, however, when Rose's face darkened and she reached for her mobile, beginning to angrily type a text. Without missing a beat, John took the mobile from her and set it aside. "Whatever you're saying, I'm sure you'll want to rethink those thoughts before you send them to your brother if your face is any indication of what that message was going to be," he pointed out. The last thing Rose needed was to get herself into any further trouble and Mycroft was highly unlikely to ignore her angry texts.
Rose sighed heavily. "Alright, you've got a good point," she admitted, leaving the mobile where he placed it. "But he's going to hear about it later, that brother of mine." Giving a shake of her head, Rose sipped the coffee and murmured happily. "Perfect!"
"Good, I was hoping so," John admitted, giving her a smile. They stood there for a moment, Rose with the mug in her hands and he with a hand on her arm as though they were each waiting for the other to make the first move. This is bound to be awkward, he thought to himself. While he had given her a bit of spanking after she had returned to work far too early, this would be the first time since they'd begun dating that he would be giving her an all-out spanking. This was new territory for them as a couple and John knew he was a bit anxious about doing it right and treating her like an adult taking responsibility for her actions rather than a child And if he was a little anxious, Rose must be as well.
"So…" Rose murmured, her face beginning to blush.
"Best get on with it yeah?" John had asked her to come home at 8pm in order to give them plenty of time to deal with things and settle for the night without cutting too much of her practice time. It made little sense to stand there awkwardly and waste that time. "Why don't you go to your flat? I'm going to get some things from my room and I'll meet you there."
Rose nodded, her blush deepening; a visual sign of her nervousness.
John reached for Rose, pulling her close and tenderly kissing her forehead. "I love you," he whispered. "And I would never hurt you or push you beyond your comfort zone. Tell me honestly love, are you alright?" While he certainly felt that Rose should answer for her poor choices with what seemed to be the most effective method of doing so, John would never go forward with this spanking or any other if she was frightened or uncomfortable. To do so would not only violate her trust but make his words of love hollow and meaningless.
Closing the small distance between them, Rose brushed her lips against his very gently. "I'm alright," she then whispered. "Just nervous and I don't think that's unavoidable. I'll be very, very glad when we never have to talk about my ribs ever again," Rose admitted. "I'll see you in a few."
Leaving her shoes in 221B, Rose exited the flat and went to her door, unlocking and entering her own. She left the door unlocked, knowing John would be right behind her. In the meantime, as a sort of answer to the butterflies swarming in her belly, Rose had just a few moments to put a hastily thought up plan into action…
As Rose headed to her flat, John went upstairs to his bedroom to retrieve the two items necessary for his talk with his girlfriend- a belt and the jar of arnica cream. It was still a rather odd dynamic for him, inflicting pain and then treating it. Sure, he'd done it in Afghanistan, though that was generally the inflicting part and only when he absolutely had to. He was a soldier through and through, but he had the heart of a doctor even in the middle of a war zone. This situation, was different, John told himself as he took a belt from his closet. This wasn't injuring, this was discipline, done out of love and concern, not anger. There would be something wrong if he liked having to discipline Rose.
After retrieving the jar of arnica cream, John headed back downstairs and entered Rose's flat. The door was shut tightly and locked, though that wouldn't stop Sherlock from getting in given the fact that he had a key. But it was unlikely Sherlock would interrupt them since he was well aware that Rose was going to be spanked this evening. In fact, the belt had been Sherlock's idea for an implement that would make a serious impression on his wayward sister that wouldn't involve taking Mycroft up on his offer.
Rose was sitting on her lavender colored sofa when John entered the flat and her eyes immediately saw the belt in his hand. Her mouth fell open and for several long seconds just stared at John. Finally, she responded with a little "…Oh."
"I never thought I'd live to see the day that a Holmes replied with just an 'oh'," John teased, trying to keep the mood light, for the moment at least. He knew he'd struck the right chord when Rose smiled a bit. After placing the belt and the arnica cream on the coffee table, John joined her on the couch and reached for her hands, squeezing them gently in his own. "First things first: how's your breathing today, love? Had any shortness of breath at the studio over the last couple days? Any soreness?"
"No, no soreness for the past week or so. If I pressed on it hard or ran into something it would hurt," she amended. "But I don't make a habit of poking myself or running into things." Her comment drew a chuckle from John and Rose smiled, glad that a bit of levity wasn't out of place. At least not for the moment. "I haven't had much shortness of breath but my body is having to re-acclimate itself to working out for long hours on a daily basis again. I find I need to take more breaks than I used to, just to catch my breath and rest a bit, but I don't find it a struggle to breathe. So I think that's good?"
"That's good," John agreed. "And it's going to take a bit of time to work back up to the kind of stamina you had before you were injured. You'll get there though, just keep at it and be mindful of your limits. Speaking of which…" Rose ducked her head a bit as he said that and John reached out to tip her chin up. "You could have come to me," he said quietly. "You should have come to me. First and foremost, I am your doctor and want to keep you healthy. But more than that I want you to want to keep yourself healthy, not because we're fussing at you about it, your brothers and I, but because you understand how important it is."
"I do want that," Rose assured him. "I've learned my lesson, I promise, but you need to understand where I'm coming from too. I'm trying to build a professional career and I can't just pull out of major competitions for every little thing, especially ones that I know I can win. Not that I'm saying this was a 'little thing' because it very much wasn't," Rose cautioned. "But if I essentially report to you for every little bitty thing, and you tell my brothers, how often am I actually going to be allowed to dance? I don't want to face competitions where I'm weighing the balance of winning versus upsetting my family in order to dance. I mean, if I had a really serious problem I would come to you. I intend to from now on," she amended.
"But I don't want to have a battle over every bump and bruise. Dancers get roughed up, we're working our bodies just as hard as anyone else in physical sport. Over the years I've learned which bumps and bruises are not such a big deal. I made a mistake this time," she said, her face growing scarlet. "A really big mistake, but I don't intend to make it again. But I can't practice my craft and have my career if we're going to constantly be battling over every bruise. That's not good for my career, but more importantly, it's not good for us," Rose pointed out, her face earnest in its plea for him to understand. "I don't want to spend our time together fighting."
"I don't want that either," John assured her. "That's no way to have a relationship. And I know full well that if I try and lay down the law with you, even for your own good, that won't work either. You wouldn't tell me anything at all and muddle through it, leaving me to clean up your naïve patchwork of bandages and home cures. Frankly, that terrifies me far more than compromising with you on the lesser things." He raised her hands to his lips, kissing both of them as he gathered his thoughts.
"Come to me for everything and I promise to keep an open mind. If there is a way to safely patch you up and get you through a competition, then I will do it," John said seriously. He squeezed her hands. "I don't ever want to see you go through what you have the last six weeks and if compromising will prevent it from happening again, I'll do it gladly. If I had known, at the very least you would have been rushed to surgery the second the competition ended. As I said the day I collected you from the Met, this injury could have serious impacts on your career, not to mention your life. What if you had punctured a lung? I can't take the chance that you won't come to me because I fuss over the little things. If you tell me about aches, pains, bruises, and the like, I'll sort out bumps and bruises from what's a serious concern, I won't stop you from dancing unless it's truly serious. Can we do that? Can you live with that?"
Rose took a deep breath and let it out very slowly. "I probably sound like a broken record at this point but I truly didn't know I could puncture my lung. I don't want that again, or any other injury that could damage my career." Without even realizing it, one hand moved to where the scar was on her chest from being attacked and covered it protectively, as if thinking about the attack and resulting punctured lung made it hurt again. "I'm sorry I didn't trust you and chose not to come to you for help," she added sincerely. "But I can and will promise to trust you from now on and come to you with everything."
When she covered her scar protectively, John cupped Rose's cheek and brushed it gently with his thumb, attempting to calm the flooding of memories that would naturally coincide with such a gesture. "I love you and I want to protect you and sometimes that means protecting you from yourself. But we'll find a middle ground for this and I promise to stop short of locking you away in an ivory tower," he teased.
His teasing garnered a smile from Rose as she leaned into his soothing touch. "Just keep in mind, please, that dancers have special 'mind over matter' powers when it comes to pain. If we didn't dance every time something hurt a bit, we'd hardly ever dance at all. And definitely forget any ivory tower ideas."
"Some pain may be unavoidable, but at least I can take care of your minor injuries, and keep you excellently mended. That has to give you some sort of advantage on the dance floor. After all, how many professional dancers can afford a live-in doctor at their beck and call?" John said with a smile. That smile faded a bit as he realized, now that they'd come to an understanding, it was time to move on to the much less pleasant part. "I think it's time we get the rest of this taken care of love. Let's go into your room, yeah? More space in there and I want to make sure your ribs are alright."
Rose's eyes flickered over to where the belt sat on the coffee table and a wave of embarrassment rushed over her. It was silly being so nervous, belt or no belt, because this was John. He would never hurt her and in fact had spanked her before. But it felt so different now. They were a couple now and despite having discussed this before, it still felt awkward for Rose. "Do we have to?" she asked quietly.
"I promised you a spanking if you endangered your health again and you certainly did. Not just your ribs but the blatant overuse of medications to try and work through the pain, something that we have talked about before," John reminded her, his tone gentle but firm. "So yes, we have to." Standing up from the couch, he grabbed the belt and arnica cream with one hand and held the other out to Rose. He was as anxious as she was to have this over with. He knew he was making the right choice because she was such a stubborn thing, but it certainly wasn't high on his list of things he wanted to do. When Rose stood and took his hand, he squeezed her's lightly and murmured, "Good girl." It never helped to encourage her along the way as he had no doubt this was not easy for her. With that thought in mind, he led the way to Rose's bedroom and placed both the belt and the arnica cream on the bed.
"I'm a bit worried about the pressure on your ribs," John admitted as they stood there near the bed. "So I think what I'm going to do is put you over my left knee with your torso well on the bed and we'll use one of your pillows to cushion your ribs so we've covered all the bases." Letting go of her hand, John sat on the bed and then beckoned her forward.
Moving between his legs, Rose bent way over his left knee so her whole torso was lying on the bed with just her bum propped over his knee. She took the pillow he offered and put it underneath her, adding more cushioning for her ribs, just in case. "I'm ready, or as ready as I'll ever be," Rose told him once the pillow was settled.
Since he intended to make this a longer spanking, and only use the belt at the very end, he'd decided to start over her clothes. When Rose said she was ready, John put his arm around her waist and raised his hand, bringing it down sharply across the center of her behind. It felt… odd. Frowning to himself, John brought his hand down twice on her left cheek and twice on the right. Something was off, her bum didn't feel right and for the life of him he couldn't figure it out. Just then it came to him and John rested his hand on Rose's bottom. "Did you put magazines down your knickers or something?" he asked. Without waiting for a reply, John lifted her ladybug covered dress…
"How many pairs of knickers have you got on?" John questioned, unable to stop himself from laughing as he spotted the multiple pairs of knickers covering her bum. "There's gotta be at least four pairs here. One…" he counted, lifting the waistband of one pair. "Two… three…."
"There's six pairs actually," Rose interrupted. "The pair that I put on this morning plus five more. I was really hoping it would take you longer than that to figure it out," she admitted, beginning to giggle. Before long, the two of them were in the midst of a laughing fit.
John ran his hand down Rose's bum, giving it a light smack right above her sit spots. "Did you think I wouldn't ever notice that?"
Rose shook her head, almost laughing too hard to say anything. It took her several tries to be able to get a response out. "Just a diversion or delay tactic or partial protection, I don't know! I was so nervous, it seemed like a really brilliant idea at the time, especially after you brought the belt with you!"
Still chuckling, John helped Rose sit up, pulling her right on to his lap. "I've spanked you before, why are you so nervous?" he asked, kissing her temple. "You know I'd never injure you. Did you need a bit of levity to break up the tension you were feeling?"
"Yeah," Rose admitted, her face blossoming with color. "I just… I don't think it's wrong that you're doing this," she began. "But it's different and I don't… I don't…" Letting out a sigh of frustration, Rose fell silent.
"Don't what?" John cupped her chin in his hand and lifted it so he could look in her in the eye. "Don't what, love?"
"I don't want you to see me as lesser for this. Less mature, less responsible, too childish or what have you. I am a woman and I just worry that this will make me lesser in your eyes, more of a burden than a girlfriend and more of a child than a woman," Rose explained in a hushed tone.
"There is nothing in this world that you could do that would make me think less of you," John answered, his tone strong and sure. "This isn't easy, any of it. Taking responsibility for your actions and facing the consequences of them. That's a very adult thing that everyone struggles with. But you're brave and intelligent and reasonable and you want to face the consequences and change for the better, don't you?"
When Rose nodded, he kissed her forehead before continuing on. "This, love, requires bravery and strength and indicates a considerable amount of maturity, to face these kinds of consequences. Frankly, I don't think there's anything childish about it and I'm not punishing you like I would a child, because you are a woman and I recognize that. I really think this is the most adult way of thinking, to take responsibility like you are right now. It's a consequence that I know works for you, I've seen it work, and you aren't telling me 'no' right now are you?" If she was, then John would respect that and there would be no spanking. Rose was a woman who knew her own mind and the last thing he ever wanted to do was belittle her or force her to do something she was uncomfortable with.
Slowly Rose shook her head no, that she was not telling him 'no.' "If you want to tell me 'no,'" John said quietly. "Then you can. You always have that right, no matter what, and I won't be angry with you for it. But if you agree that this works and you want to take responsibility for your actions then we'll continue on, alright? The choice is yours, my darling girl, and I'll not pass any judgement for whichever choice you make."
And there was the rub, Rose thought to herself. She didn't want to be spanked, but at the same time she knew John was right and she did want to take responsibility. Even she knew that sometimes she couldn't see reason unless someone provided an alternative perspective, a boundary of what was acceptable and what wasn't when she was too involved to see the line herself. This time, John was that someone.
"I'm not saying 'no,'" Rose responded firmly. "I don't like it, but I'm not saying no because I want to be responsible and make better choices and because I trust you. If you promise that this doesn't make me a burden to you, then we'll proceed."
"You are far from a burden, love, even if I don't enjoy doing this," John promised. He caught her lips with his own and kissed her soundly as he held her close. Finally the kiss broke and it was time to get back to business. "Over my knee again Rose. And while all these knickers were rather funny, and a means to an end in terms of our coming to a better understanding, I won't be happy if I see this should there be a next time, alright?"
"Got it," Rose agreed, glad he took her little prank so well. Leaving all six pairs of knickers in place, she went over his knee once more.
"I think I'm going to have to spank my way through all these layers," John announced. "Five smacks per pair and then we'll do a proper spanking hm?" Without waiting for her agreement, John raised his hand and landed two smacks on her left cheek, two on the right, and one across the center before pulling down the first pair of knickers.
Initially it didn't seem so bad, but by the time John got down to the last two pairs, Rose could feel the accumulated sting and heat in her bum and began to squirm a bit. John peeled down the last pair of knickers and slipped the whole lot of them right off her feet, as he was certain it would be uncomfortable to have them around her knees for longer than a few minutes. He then inspected Rose's bum, which was sporting a bright pink; her sit spots and upper thighs, however, were pale and that simply wouldn't do.
"Alright Rose, no more silliness," John said seriously. "Time for the real spanking." He held her a little more firmly around the waist and patted her bum once before he started spanking her yet again. His hand thoroughly smacked her sit spots and upper thighs, landing at random and sometimes landing in a spot more than once! He wasn't at all surprised that Rose resumed squirming and sniffles were not far behind.
"Ow, ow, ow!" Rose protested. "John please! Oww!" Her protests, very heartfelt and quickly accompanied by tears, did little to deter John it seemed and the heat steadily grew in her backside to a very uncomfortable level.
"I know it hurts," John told her. He hated to hear her cry and know he was responsible for it, but Rose had most definitely earned this. "Next time you think about taking a gamble with your health, think about this and decide if it's really worth getting soundly smacked or not." By now her cheeks, sit spots, and upper thighs were well reddened and still he spanked on, determined to make this a very memorable spanking.
"Owwww! John, I'm sorry! Please stop!" Rose begged through her tears. "I'll be good, I won't do it again! Ow! Ouch!" Her exclamations of displeasure fell on deaf ears and, unable to squirm and wriggle her bum out of the way, Rose's hand went back to try and interfere.
John easily caught her hand and held it in his own at her side. "No, none of that. I'll hold your hand, but you're going to take your spanking Rosenwyn. You earned it, you agreed to it, you'll take it. There's no point in doing this if it's not done right." Ignoring her pleas and tears, he thoroughly spanked every inch of skin until it was flushed a dark red from the crest of her cheeks to halfway down her thighs.
Tears turned into sobs as John spanked on, making Rose feel as if the spanking would never end. Finally it did, and she could feel him rest his hand on her hot, stinging bottom and still she cried. "No more, no more, no more," Rose pleaded, knowing the belt was still sitting on the bed. "I'll be good, I'll take care of myself, I promise!" she wailed. "I don't want any more spanking!"
"Shhh," John soothed, moving his hand to rub her back gently. "I know it hurts love, and you're being so brave. I'm so proud of you. We'll take a minute before I use the belt, so you can try and calm down. I won't use it much," he promised when Rose let out a wail at the very mention of it. Taking another minute, John spoke softly and soothing towards her, almost cooing the words in an effort to calm her. He let her cry and waited for her breathing to even out. It was downright heartbreaking to listen to her sob; he was a doctor, he was supposed to soothe pain, not cause it. The moment he spent comforting her was also spent mentally bolstering his determination to finish the spanking as planned.
When Rose calmed some and her breathing had returned to normal, she looked over her shoulder at John. "Do we have to?" She sighed sadly when he nodded, indicating they did. "You'll be careful, right? I'm sort of small and I don't want the belt to wrap round my hip because that really, really hurts." She ignored the silent question John asked by quirking his eyebrow at her.
"I'll be very careful love," John promised. He reached for the belt and folded it over in his hands so that the buckle was tucked safely away and all that was left was a short strap. "See?" he said, showing it to her, trying to ease her concern. "Buckle well hidden away and just a short bit for smacking. Ready to get it done, love?" When she nodded, he leaned over and kissed the back of her head. "Good girl," John praised.
Raising his knee a bit, John lined the strap up with her bottom, resting it against the hot skin before raising the belt and bringing it down with a snap across the crest of her cheeks. It left a vivid red bar in its wake that stood out darker in color than the rest of her bottom. That didn't bother him nearly so much as the pitiful wail that Rose let out.
Rose tried to brace herself for the intense sting that the belt would cause but there was no real bracing for something like that. She yelped and then wailed as the leather struck her cheeks, the sting sharp and biting. Her tears returned in full force and only grew louder when the belt fell another two times, slowly working its way down her bottom.
John planned on giving her ten strokes and made it halfway before Rose buried her face in the pillow. He was certain his heart broke when he saw that. The pillow couldn't hide her frantic sobbing and he closed his eyes for several seconds to steel himself to go on. "One more love," John said. He was glad he hadn't told her the number he'd planned to give her, otherwise it would look like he couldn't follow through. John raised the belt one more time and let it fall with another snap across her lower cheeks. The fractured wail that followed the stroke confirmed that John had made the right choice to stop now and not go on.
"All done," John said, letting the belt fall to the floor. "All done Rose. You'll be alright." He began to rub her back again, not expecting her to respond to his words of comfort. "I love you Rose, I'm so proud of you. Such a brave girl," he intoned. After a moment or so, he carefully lifted Rose up and held her right side up on his lap, letting her bottom hang between his knees. "Shh, shhh," he murmured into her ear as he began to rock her in his arms. "It's alright, you'll be alright."
Rose clung to him when he gathered her in his arms, pressing her face to his shoulder. Her tears fell on his shirt as John's strong arms held her tight, rocking her slowly from side to side. The movement was calming and soothing and so was his voice. While John largely repeated variations of the same comments over and over again, it was in the right tone and, in combination with the rocking, was precisely what she needed to hear.
"Such a good girl," John murmured, kissing her hair. "I love you Rose. I just want you safe, always. It's alright, you'll be alright. Shhh." The gentle ministrations continued for several minutes until Rose's tears had become mere sniffles. John tenderly brushed away the last of her tears with the pad of his thumb before kissing her forehead. "Alright?"
"Well, I'm alive at any rate," Rose replied, managing a tiny smile for him. "Hurts, a lot. And don't bother telling me that's the whole point because, believe me, I know."
"I brought the arnica cream, are you ready for some?" John chuckled when she nodded eagerly. "Back over my lap then and I'll put some on." He caught her lips with his and kissed Rose before letting her up. He reached for the jar of cream and then helped Rose over his lap, flipping up her dress once more. Unable to stop himself, John winced before scooping a generous amount of cream from the jar. "Looks very sore, love," he admitted. "I'll be as gentle as I can." Slowly and carefully he applied the cream to her bottom, sit spots and upper thighs; every little whimper and whine Rose made during that process making him feel badly.
Finally, he finished and capped the jar, helping Rose up from his lap. "I'm going to wash my hands. Why don't you get into something more comfortable and we'll cuddle on your bed, alright?"
"Are you staying?" Rose asked softly. She moved towards her dresser and opened a drawer, searching for a nightshirt. After a moment she located the Cinderella nightshirt she was looking for, which fell to mid-thigh so her modesty would be preserved without her having to put any knickers back on for the night.
"Do you want me to?" John asked. He smiled when she nodded.
"Yeah, but take that-" Rose pointed at his belt on the floor. "Back to where it belongs. And then come straight back."
John kissed the top of her head before grabbing the belt and disappearing from the bedroom. By the time he returned, dressed for bed, he found Rose already snuggled up under the covers. He turned off all but the bedside lamp and joined her. John held an arm out for Rose to cuddle close and wrapped it around her when she did.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke, they merely held on to one another. Finally, though, Rose broke the silence. "I am sorry you know."
"I know, darling girl," John murmured. "And I know you'll do better from now on, too. We don't have to talk about it anymore." He began to gently stroke her hair, very relieved to hold her without the tears. "I love you," he whispered into her hair.
"I love you too," Rose murmured, truly meaning it. Again they fell silent for a few moments and just held on to one another, enjoying the quiet and the feeling of holding each other closely.
Eventually though, John reached to turn off the lamp beside the bed, bathing the room in darkness. He sighed happily, earning a strange look from Rose.
"Can I ask you something?" John asked, resting his cheek on top of her head.
"Mmhm, anything."
"How do you live in a room that's so… pink?"
Rose burst into giggles and laughed until her eyes teared up.