Page 17 of Daddy!

This one took a little longer, but he was more than patient enough to see it through to the end—to its inevitable conclusion. I was screaming again this time, bucking and heaving and convulsing, muscles locked tight as he maintained ruthless control of me.

And as soon as that one began to die down, Mane pressed the pacifier back into me and began again. But I thought I had reached my limit, and before I could think better of it, both hands came down to cover his, the material of my faux diaper forming a barrier between us.

He stopped, and so did I, frozen by what I'd done and what I knew the inevitable consequence was going to be of that action. Without batting an eyelash, I found myself flipped expertly over onto my stomach, pajamas and pull up pushed down enough to expose a bottom that I was quite sure was still red from the last time, leaving enough of them caught beneath me to effectively trap my arms at my sides.

The smacks began falling immediately. "Naughty, naughty girl," he scolded in a severe tone that was starkly different from the one he had used with me seconds ago, although he never raised his voice. I almost wished he had. His words were that much worse to hear when delivered in his calm, steady manner. "You were told to keep your hands above you, grasping the headboard. You were not given permission—nor did you even bother to ask—to bring them down. I'm surprised at you, Tahlia. You know better than to do that, don't you?"

Screaming now for an entirely different reason, however muffled, I nodded my head at his question, not knowing whether he wanted me to or not. My position—with my cheek on my pillow—kept the binky in longer than it might have remained, reinforcing the reason why I found myself here, wearing a diaper, essentially, and childish, one piece pajamas, while having my bottom smacked by my Daddy for being disobedient.

Although it was as awful, as all of the spankings he gave me were, it was short and hard and to the point, every smack deliberately designed to make the most impact in the shortest amount of time. And boy, did they ever!

But before I had even begun to come to grips with it, I found myself lying on my now even sorer rump as he rearranged things around me, setting everything to rights. But instead of ordering me to grab onto the rung again, he gathered my wrists in to his free hand and stretched them well above my head, making me feel like a naughty child who had to be restrained by her Daddy.

"There. Apparently, you need some help remembering to keep your little hands where they belong." He sounded stern but not angry.

And just like that, his lube slickened fingers were right back where they had started out. A long, muscular leg hooked itself over the closest one of mine, forcing me to splay myself that much further apart for him. He didn't really get any better access to me by doing that. He was just reinforcing the point he'd been making since he'd picked me up this afternoon.

He was my Daddy, and he could—and would—do as he pleased with me. What I wanted might—or might not—be taken into consideration. But in the end, he was in charge, not me.

Mane brought me to three more orgasms as I lay there on a very hot, stinging behind, replacing the pacifier every time it fell out of my mouth as I climaxed. Those last three were quiet on his part. He concentrated all of his attention on bringing me off.

When he removed his hand, he laid it on my tummy while I tried to recover some semblance of myself and my dignity, but it just wasn't going to happen. He wasn't going to let it happen. Littles didn't worry about their dignity.

He redressed me quite tenderly, humming softly while he did it, then pulling the covers up over me again and snuggling down next to me. Mane knew I enjoyed being held as I fell asleep—I'd turn away from him when I was ready to sleep the rest of the night, but getting there, I liked to feel his arms around me. He put I Heart radio on his phone, turned to a loop of standup performances that would provide the background voices that I needed to help me sleep.

I was drowsy and relaxed into an incoherent puddle of goo, and I could have nodded off very easily. But my eyes had been closed for a while, and I knew I had been being terribly selfish, just lapping up and drowning in all of this attention as I sucked away on my pacifier. But I forced myself to open my eyes and look up at him, finding him staring down at me intently.

He didn't look unhappy, he just looked a little…off, and I became frightened instantly—as I was wont to do as a little—at the idea that it might be as a result of anything I'd said or done.

It was a testament to how I felt about him that I didn't just dissolve into horrified tears at the very idea, and I actually felt safe enough—even when we were new like this—to actually ask him about it.

"Did I do something wrong?" The urge to call him "Daddy" was there, but I resisted. I'm not really sure why, at this point—considering that he was certainly acting as the perfect one for me—but I did.

Mane recovered immediately, hugging me tightly. "No, you most certainly did not. But, in the interests of being completely honest with you—as you know I expect you to be with me—I was surprised that I didn't hear you scream any of those times what I heard you scream last time—the one that got us here."

My cheeks were again—still—yet, with him this weekend—fire engine red. "I'm sorry."

He put his finger over my lips. "No, honey, please don't apologize to me. You don't owe me any kind of explanation, and I didn't tell you to make you feel sorry or obligated to call me that, either. You asked, and I told you, and that's it. I want you to be completely yourself with me. I've wanted to hear you call me Daddy for a while now—probably since I met you. I was so pleased—and delightfully surprised—to hear you scream it when I frankly hadn't expected I ever would, and I'm just being overeager. I've said I love you first, and I do. But you called me Daddy first, however inadvertently—and that's at least as good as that, as far as I'm concerned."

He sighed, looking at my expression, which I guess wasn't very helpful to him. "I'm explaining this badly, but this is a relationship, not a contest. Things happen when they happen, and I want them to unfold as they should, without artificial expectations getting in the way. I want you to really be little—as little as you feel you need to be—because I really want to be your Daddy."

Although I nodded that I understood, I still felt the score was very uneven, tipped drastically in my favor, and I knew I was going to have to do something about that.

I put my palm over him, and he literally jumped at my touch, but he also gently put my hand back under the covers. "No, babygirl. I appreciate the sentiment, and despite the evidence to the contrary, I don't want that right now. This weekend is for you. I'll start teaching you about what Daddy needs from you later. For now, believe me when I say that all I want is to learn what you want, what you need from me, as your Daddy."

He leaned down and kissed my cheek gently, then my lips, but it was a Daddy kiss, not a lover's. "And right now, what I want most is for you to get to sleep. It's way past your bedtime. I'm already being a horrid Daddy to you, not getting you to sleep on time."

"You're being a 'mazing Daddy to me," I vowed, meeting his eyes and meaning every word from the very tips of my toes.

I loved it when he blushed. "Thank you. But now it's quiet time, sweetie. You need your sleep."

Again, as a compliment to him and his caretaking of me, despite any residual worries I might have about what he was getting out of this, I was asleep in seconds.

Unfortunately, I wasn't smart enough to stay asleep.

Chapter 6

"What's this?" he asked, crouching over me and tucking his finger beneath the collar of my pajamas, to bring something on my jammies into better focus, and running his fingers over it. I heard him sniff. "This is…this is chocolate."

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