Reya looks exhausted...

The **** Break – A Mother’s Well-Deserved Discipline

The Exhausted Mother

The kitchen was bathed in the golden glow of the late afternoon sun, casting long shadows across the countertops as Reya moved with the weary determination of a woman who had spent far too many hours on her feet. Her usually vibrant curls were tied back in a messy bun, loose strands clinging to the faint sheen of sweat on her forehead. Dark circles lingered under her eyes, and her shoulders slumped slightly under the weight of an endless to-do list.

Aslan leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching her scrub at a stubborn stain on the counter with more **** than necessary.

"Mom," he said, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of the refrigerator.

Reya startled slightly, her hands pausing mid-scrub before she resumed with renewed vigor. "Hmm?"

"You look like hell."

She shot him a half-hearted glare over her shoulder. "Grazie, sweetie. That’s exactly what every woman wants to hear."

Aslan pushed off the doorframe, stepping closer. "I’m serious. When was the last time you sat down?"

Reya exhaled sharply, tossing the sponge into the sink with a wet plop. "I don’t have time to sit down. The laundry’s not going to fold itself, the floors won’t mop themselves, and someone"—she pointed a soapy finger at him—"left his dishes in the living room again."

Aslan smirked. "And the world will end if those things don’t get done right this second?"

Reya’s jaw tightened. "Yes."

He arched a brow. "Liar."

She huffed, turning back to the sink. "Go away, Aslan. I’m busy."

Aslan didn’t move. Instead, his gaze trailed over the curve of her backside, the way her sundress clung to her hips as she bent slightly to reach for a towel.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

The Intervention

"Come here," he said, his low baritone full of self-righteous anger.

Reya didn’t even glance back. "No."

Aslan’s smirk widened. "Mom."

She sighed, tossing the towel onto the counter before turning to face him, her hands planted firmly on her hips. "What?"

His gaze locked onto hers, dark and unyielding. "I said come here."

Reya’s breath hitched slightly at the tone—the one that brooked no argument. But she lifted her chin stubbornly. "I’m fine, sweetie. Stop fussing."

Aslan took a slow step forward. "Last chance."

Reya’s eyes narrowed. "Or what?"

He didn’t answer. He just closed the distance between them in two long strides, his hands snapping out to grip her wrists.

Reya gasped. “Aslan—!”

But before she could protest further, he spun her around, yanking her back against his chest, one arm banding around her waist to hold her in place.

"Is something wrong?" she squeaked, her voice pitching higher.

Aslan ignored her, his free hand sliding down to grip the hem of her sundress.

Reya’s entire body stiffened. “A-Aslan, what are you doing?!"

His answer was to yank the fabric up, bunching it around her waist, exposing the soft, lace-trimmed panties beneath.

Reya shrieked, her hands flying back to try and cover herself. "No—!"

But Aslan was already moving, his arm tightening around her waist as he hauled her over his lap in one smooth motion.

Reya flailed, her legs kicking uselessly as she found herself bent over his knee, her ass on full display.

“Aslan!” she gasped, her voice equal parts outrage and disbelief.

Aslan didn’t hesitate.

His palm cracked down on her right cheek, the sound echoing through the kitchen like a gunshot.

Reya yelped, her entire body jerking. "Ouch!"

Aslan smirked. "That’s for not listening."

His hand came down again, harder this time, the sharp smack leaving a faint pink imprint on her soft flesh.

“Aslan!” she shrieked, her legs kicking. "Stop it!"

He ignored her, delivering another sharp swat to the other cheek. "This is what happens when you don’t take care of yourself."

Reya whimpered, her fingers clawing at his thigh. "I—I’ll take a break!"

Aslan paused, his hand hovering. "Promise?"

Reya nodded frantically, her face burning. "Yes, yes, I promise!"

Aslan hummed, his fingers tracing the warm, reddened skin of her ass. "Good girl."

The Aftermath

When he finally let her up, Reya scrambled off his lap like she’d been burned, her hands flying to yank her dress back down, her face a brilliant shade of scarlet.

"You—you are impossible," she hissed, her smoky contralto trembling.

Aslan just leaned back in his chair, his smirk lazy. "And you’re welcome."

Reya’s eyes widened. "Welcome?!"

He shrugged. "You needed a break. I gave you one."

Her mouth opened and closed several times before she finally huffed, spinning on her heel and storming toward the living room—though not before he caught the way her fingers lingered on her still-stinging backside.

Aslan chuckled, stretching his arms behind his head.

Mission accomplished.

And if she sat very carefully on the couch for the rest of the evening?

Well.

That was just a bonus.

Good girl.