Page 13 of Daddy's Rule

Bas didn't care. Well, he probably did, but he sure was good at acting like he didn't. "Oh, little girl," he scoffed, "sorry is what you are surely going to be."

I was sorry. Sore and sorry and ready for this torture session to be over. But I also wasn't. There was something calming and centering about being simultaneously spanked and lectured. The emotional pain lessened the physical pain somehow.

I gave in to both, going limp over Bastian's lap, relishing the feeling of the leather striking me as I let out all the pain and frustration of the past four years of my life. I’d tried so hard to make my marriage work. And now that it was over, sure, I was scared, but mostly I was relieved and happy to be back with my friends where I belonged.

Tears of gratitude poured out of me, and my shoulders shook with my cries. And Bas didn't stop.

"There you go, little one," he whispered, "let it all out. We’re almost done. Just a few more."

A few turned out to be an even dozen, and Bas counted them out loud.

"One."

I took a deep breath and rolled with the pain.

"Two."

My body went rigid, the leather burning my bottom as he struck my thighs just below where my panties rested.

"Three, four, five, six."

He struck the same spot over and over, previously unspanked skin, and I cried out at the fresh pain, rocking my hips back and forth as if I could dodge the swats.

"Seven, eight, nine, ten."

I just wanted it to be over. I wanted nothing more than to climb into Bas's lap and cry into his shirt while he held me and whispered words of comfort in my ear.

"Eleven. Twelve."

The last two were the hardest as he laid stripes mercilessly across the tops of my thighs, and I yelled as they landed, the leather like fire burning my skin. And then it was over and Bas gathered me into his arms. And suddenly this crazy arrangement we had made felt real. He was my daddy.

Chapter Six

Bas

We spent a perfect weekend in Nyla’s apartment adjusting to the ins and outs of our new arrangement, but on Monday it was time to go back to our real lives. For both of us that meant heading to the Penthouse offices. I had quarterly reports to do and Nyla was going to give our websites a much-needed update, and design and print additional promotional material for Club Rent-A-Daddy.

I could tell Nyla was nervous to take our arrangement out into the real world, but I wasn't sure why.

I came up behind her as she fussed with her outfit, a magenta skirt suit with a black satin chemise underneath, for the hundredth time, smoothing the skirt and turning to examine herself in the mirror from every angle.

"Are you almost ready to go?" I asked, repressing the urge to smack her bottom, even though her skirt was accentuating it perfectly, reminding me every second how perfectly spankable it was and how much I enjoyed doing exactly that.

"Almost.” She turned again and frowned at her reflection. "Do you think I should change?"

"I think that if we’re late to work, I'm going to have to call you into my office for a little chat."

"We're our own bosses. We can't be late. We set our own schedules."

"Mine has been set for a long time. I start work at 9 am on the dot and I leave at two."

"Well, what if I don't want to start until ten?" She had abandoned the mirror, finally, and seemed to be wiggling her butt as she sidled up to me.

I cocked a brow. "I know what you’re doing. You're trying to distract me with your body and get me to go in late. But we both agreed. Sex isn’t on the table, so you’re just screwing with yourself, and with me."

"You're no fun." She pouted.

"And you're nervous. Not nervous, scared. Why are you scared, babygirl? We'll be among friends."

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