Page 92 of Saving Sophia

Six more hard smacks burned across the backs of my thighs. “Now you have the proper motivation to be my good girl and see it gets done.” Two more smacks fell, but his words, calling me his good girl, sent zaps of hungry pleasure to my desperate core. I squirmed harder against his lap, unable to help myself.

“Do you need to come, baby girl?” One finger lightly tapped against my entrance.

“Yes, Daddy. Please.” I shuddered, pushing toward him, trying for more contact and crying out when he withdrew. I was empty of shame. I would beg if he would only touch me again.

“When you’ve corrected your behavior, I’ll give you your release.” He tapped once more, and I moaned at the shock of electricity that zipped up and down my spine. “That’s your penance.”

He slid me off his lap and onto my feet. I stood before him, panting, the fog of need swirling around my head. I turned my attention to the obvious bulge in his lounge pants. Before I could move, he shook his head.

“I told you how to make amends. No more guilt or bad feelings. Just tell the truth.” He slid a hand onto my hip. “Then you’ll feel much, much better. I promise, baby girl.” His crooked grin lit up his face as his finger traced the edge of my excruciatingly sore bottom. I flinched, the touch reigniting both the burn of the spanking and the need simmering inside me.

I could do this. No guilt. No empty apology. If a sore bottom and some delayed gratification could ease my heart, I’d take it.

“Now, as much as I love you in my shirt …” He trailed off for a moment, his eyes holding mine.

“You love me … in your shirt?” I asked, apprehension forcing my eyes down and my thumb up to my mouth.

He stood up and tugged my hand away, holding it in his. “I love you. The shirt is immaterial.”

I stared up into his cashmere eyes, my heart almost bursting.

“But you can’t wear it to our meeting,” he laughed. “So, I brought you some presents.” He pointed to a corner of the deck where several pink boxes with white ribbons sat.

“Presents?” I scurried over to examine them.

The first box had an outfit inside, complete with matching underwear. A buttery soft sweater, circle skirt, tights, and new Converse all in matching shades of green. I loved it.

Upon closer inspection of the underwear, I laughed. “SpongeBob?”

“You said he was your favorite.”

The second box was also an outfit.

“Eeyore?” I almost squealed with delight, my mind temporarily off the confusing swirl of sensations in my lower parts. I lifted out a light blue T-shirt with the loveable donkey’s dour-sweet face on the front, dark blue shorty coveralls, matching underwear, and gray sneakers with him on them too. And ears! Callie would approve.

The third box was clothes too, but this outfit was different. A gray pencil skirt, silk blouse, stockings, and sharp gray pumps.

I looked at him, questions clear on my face.

“I want you to express yourself, always. No embarrassment.” He pointed to the Eeyore outfit. “When you feel Little.” He pointed to the dressy skirt. “When you want to feel business-y.”

I laughed, my fingers lightly touching the silky top.

“And when you want to be sort of grown-up, but with a reminder that you’re my Little girl underneath.” He pointed to the green outfit with the cute panties.

Sore bottom aside, happiness radiated out of me like the sun. “They’re amazing, Daddy.”

The next box had a huge collection of satin ribbons, all the colors of the rainbow and then some.

“I fucking love your hair in ribbons, baby girl,” he growled into my ear as I examined them, sending my tummy into somersaults.

One box left.

My smile faltered when I opened it, my eyes going wide.

“A pacifier?”

I thought of the store Callie and I had gone to. The Little accessories had been intriguing, but actually trying them out made me nervous. I still wasn’t completely convinced I could be what he wanted me to be.

---