Page 11 of Daddy's Rule

"For the next two weeks."

“Fifteen days, to be exact.” We had decided to extend the contract through the last weekend, officially ending it on a Sunday night.

“Fifteen days,” I agreed.

"Yeah. I hate this part."

“What part?”

"The waiting. Like there's no official switch that can be flipped on and off like there can be with a scene. So I have to wait for something to happen. I hate that."

"Well, you have a bedtime now, and a curfew, rules about eating, among other things. If you don't want to wait, just break a rule."

"That's not… it doesn't work that way. I don't want to break a rule on purpose. That’s rude."

"Yeah. If you'd like I can find something to get bossy about."

Nyla shook her head at me, the disgust on her face letting me know she found my suggestion ridiculous. She fell quiet and I could tell she was working through something, so I just waited.

Finally, she scooted to the other end of the couch and faced me, leaning forward with her forearms settled on her thighs. "I know our agreement isn’t retroactive, but I need it to feel real. I need to feel… something."

"You need a spanking," I interjected, seeing where she was going with this.

"I do. Otherwise I'll just sit here, being all up in my head. It's just been so long, so, so long, and now that I'm here with all you guys again, and the club is upstairs… I just can't stop thinking about it. Will you… Bas, will you spank me for losing control and getting way too drunk last night?"

"It would be my pleasure. Do you still have implements here or should we move this party to my place?"

"I have some. A paddle, and a strap and… things."

I nodded. "That will work."

I stood, and took her hand, helping her to her feet. I could practically hear her heart pounding as I led her back to the bedroom and I wondered just how long it had been. Had Jake ever spanked her? Just the idea made my blood boil. A man like that didn't deserve a woman's submission and likely wouldn't know what to do with it if it bit him on the ass. Then again, Nyla was the type of woman who needed a good session every now and again, and if she had deprived herself of that on Jake's account, that would make me even madder than the idea of him touching her. There was no winning answer so I didn't ask the question. I simply closed her bedroom door behind us and sat down on the small pink loveseat in the corner of the room.

"Get me your implements," I commanded, putting on my Dom voice from the get-go. Nyla was likely to push and she needed to know that I was fully committed to this and not just putting on an act for her.

"Yes, Bastian," she agreed, scampering over to her closet and withdrawing a small pink suitcase from the top shelf. "All of them? Or just certain ones?"

"All of them. That way I can see what I'm working with and if I'll need to pick up anything of mine later."

Judging from the size of the suitcase, I wouldn't need to. She wheeled it over and I set it beside me on the loveseat, whistling when I got it open. Nyla had an impressive collection. Canes, paddles, straps, and many pervertibles, such as a wooden spoon, a blind rod, and even a flip-flop. It looked like she had everything I did and then some.

I picked up a small leather strap that would work perfectly for over-the-knee and waved it in her direction.

"You know what to do next, little girl. You don't get spanked with your clothes on. Strip down to your bra and panties please."

I’d remove her panties myself. Not only did it afford her the illusion of modesty, but there was a powerful degree of humiliation associated with having a strong, stern daddy dom peel back your panties and bare your bottom for a spanking.

I could see she was nervous to strip in front of me, even though I had seen it all before, but she was going to have to get over that. I raised my eyebrows and cleared my throat, and she quickly obeyed, ditching the clothes she had dressed in just before breakfast, and standing there in a hot pink bra and panty set, shifting from one foot to the other as she waited for further instruction.

I offered my hand and she took it, allowing me to guide her over my knee until her ass was positioned just so, and her hands were folded underneath her head at the edge of the sofa.

"It's been a very long time since you were over my knee, little girl." I knew she hated being called a little girl, but that was why I did it. It helped get her into the headspace I needed her to be in.

"Bas," she sassed, and I could hear the laughter in her voice, "I don't think I’ve ever been over your knee. It was always a spanking bench or a St. Andrews cross or the arm of the couch…"

"Touché. Well, this will be a first of many then, I'm sure."

She smothered a groan, and I took a moment just to admire the picture she made. I could play this off like she was helping us, or I was helping her, or it was some perfect, mutually beneficial arrangement, but the truth was Nyla and I had always had a connection that went deeper than the friendships we had with the others in our group.

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