Page 19 of Daddy!

I nodded again, feeling anxious, my eyes darting around the room.

He captured my chin and put them back where he wanted them. "Am I right about that, little miss?"

I frowned but nodded, because he was right.

"And that's another naughty thing, a much more concerning, naughty thing that you did, baby love. You deliberately tried to hide your naughtiness from me so that you could avoid getting a punishment." He paused, an eyebrow raised. "Didn't you?"

The tears started again then, but he didn't let me off the hook.

"Answer me, young lady."

"Yes," I whispered unhappily. I had never felt so guilty about anything I'd ever done before in my life.

Mane sighed. "Well, my child, if you had just had some ice cream and not tried to hide it from me and I had found the evidence of your misbehavior this morning when I got up, you would have gotten a trip over my lap for being disobedient and having more ice cream when you knew I didn't want you to have."

There was a "but" coming, and I didn't much want to hear it, because I was pretty sure that it was going to be about something mighty uncomfortable happening to mine! And I was absolutely right.

"But."

There it was.

"Since you obviously knew that what you were doing was something I wouldn't want you to do and you went to the bother of doing your best to try to cover it up, then that's a much more serious matter altogether, I'm afraid." A hand came up to cup the back of my head as he leaned down to kiss my forehead. "And for that, I want you to go get your hairbrush for me."

All of a sudden, I was free, but all I did was sit there—stunned and horrified—for a long moment.

The hairbrush was just as bad as the paddle in his hands—and that was when I was big! "No! I-I'm sorry—please!" I begged.

Mane shook his head with what I knew was genuine regret. "No, little girl. I'm afraid I need to teach you a strict lesson about trying to circumvent your Daddy's will. Now, please."

Still, I couldn't seem to make myself get down from his lap as I began to cry again, worrying my lip with my teeth and wringing my hands.

His next words were almost whispered. "I can promise you, my little love, that you do not want me to have to go and get it when I've already asked you to twice."

That was what it took, not that I ran to get it and ran back to him. But I also knew better than to try to delay the inevitable, too, especially since I'd already made him threaten me. Silent tears ran down my cheeks as I went to get the hated implement, bringing it back and handing it to him.

"Thank you."

No "good girl", though, because I wasn't, really, at the moment, and I'd defied him about retrieving that thing for as long as I could without earning a worse punishment. That wasn't very good girl of me, either.

Mane didn't believe in wasting any time once a punishment was decreed, either. I had no sooner given him my own hairbrush than my pull up was down at my ankles, I was taken over his knee and given one helluva spanking. There was no lecture and no pausing. He meant business.

Right cheek, left cheek, right cheek, left cheek, up and down each side of my backside, and even down into the backs of my thighs. And I had no doubt that they would be feeling the kiss of the hairbrush, shortly, too.

But it was longer than I thought, probably one of the worst hand spankings he'd given me. I was as limp as a ragdoll over his thick thigh long before he stopped, wailing and choking and pleading, but he was immovable.

And then, with no warning at all, he switched implements from one stroke to the other, not tailoring the strength of his swats to the brush's severity in the least. That big wooden head came splatting loudly down onto a cheek that I was willing to bet was already as swollen red and ripe as a cherry tomato. I was already exhausted, but that smack got me screaming and kicking and making desperate attempts to escape as if it was the first. But it was only the first in a long line of them.

And he had too firm a hold on me for me to actually escape. He'd drag me back into place, even if I did. Even if I made it out of the bedroom, I would never make it all the way to the door before he caught me and brought me back to continue where I'd made him leave off. And there was no telling what he'd do then—well, yes there was, from previous experience. He'd start again, at the beginning, and do the whole thing again. It would be horrible, and one kind of punishment like that was more than enough to teach me that lesson, even though I could hardly help but try to get away, and he understood that.

He kept the same rhythm, too, always very conscious of not whacking away obliviously at one cheek and ignoring the other. Mane liked to make sure they were both the same color by the time he finished, not one purple and the other barely pink. And, although he did manage to cover all of my butt and more, he did have that favorite spot, where he knew I would be feeling it every time I sat down for a day or so, at least, so that area probably got the most attention of anywhere.

I was beside myself the entire time, and he showed absolutely no signs of stopping. And when he did, I was so sore that it didn't really even register at first that it was over. I was bawling, my eyes swollen shut with it, face red and cheeks drenched as he put the brush down on the bed and tucked me into his arms.

He didn't try to make me stop crying or wailing. He didn't care that my nose wanted blowing or that there was drool on my lips. He just held me, tighter than tight, using his voice—his whole body—to comfort me as he rocked us back and forth.

"Poor babygirl. Got her bottom paddled good and proper, she did, but that's all done. All over. Nothing more to be said or done about it. Safe in her Daddy's arms. Daddy loves her so much."

Mane repeated the same types of things over and over, in very much the same kind of aftercare he gave me as my Dom—trying to be reassuring and loving and help me find my way back to myself, usually out of subspace, unless there was something else he intended to do to me. But not this time. This time was different. It was…closer to my heart, and, I thought, his, too.

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