Page 254 of Daddy, Take Me Away
He sets me down on my feet and smirks. “Oh, I asked them to leave them there. I like it. It’s art.”
My jaw drops and heat creeps to my cheeks, but there’s no time to consider it further because he sits, looks at me sternly and points to his lap.
“Bend over Daddy’s lap for your punishment.”
“Over your lap?”
He nods, and then runs his tongue over his teeth in the most menacing gesture.
“I suggest you don’t question me again, yeah?” He shifts his jaw.
All the moisture in my throat evaporates and frisson licks up my belly and down between my legs.
“You’re being a very bad girl now, Zoë, and I won’t ask again.”
Heavy heat pools in my womb at his words. And I guess I hesitate too long for his liking, because he yanks me across his lap and starts swiftly smacking my ass with the flat of his hand.
Squirming at the speed and intensity, I take turns hissing and gasping alternately. No matter how I struggle, I can’t escape his grip or the next swat, and the feeling of helplessness as he clamps me across his lap, his strong arm, a band of muscle across my back holding me in place is like mainlining pure dopamine.
“How does this feel, little girl? Do you feel how serious disobeying Daddy is yet?”
I reach back to cover my bottom from his punishing hand, mostly out of instinct, but also to see what happens, and I’m rewarded for my efforts. He catches my wrist and further pins me.
Mm, more dopamine dumps into my veins. God, helplessness with him is so fucking hot.
“Oh, no you don’t, young lady. This is for your own good and I plan on making sure you feel every swat.”
Those words cause a gush of my womanly juices to flood between my thighs. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, he adjusts me, placing his leg over both of mine, and now I’m completely at his mercy. If I get any more aroused, I just might flood this villa.
“Hold tight now, honey. Daddy’s getting down to business. Here comes the spoon. Remember your colors, yeah?”
I squeal, beg, and plead, to no avail and it’s like he knows I’m getting off on the lack of control, because he’s not giving an inch.
“Stop squirming. You earned this, didn’t you?”
The spoon is the stingiest thing I’ve felt so far and while it hurts like a thousand bees, I love every second, weirdly also while hating it.
“Yes,” I blurt when the hardest swat yet lands on my upper thigh. “But I can’t stop squirming, Daddy, it hurts!”
“Naughty girls getting hard spankings, don’t they?”
God, why is this turning me to liquid fire? I’m going to either turn to molten lava and burn a hole through the floor, or I’m going to combust.
“Yes, Sir.”
“And why am I spanking you?”
“Because I lied to you.”
“Umhm. And liars get their pants set on fire, yeah?”
“Doesn’t that mean I should be wearing my pants?”
The swats get sharper and faster and I instantly regret my sass. “Ow, okay! I’m sorry, Sir.”
His spanking slows, giving the burn a chance to sink in and turn into a buzzy warmth in my pussy. And after a few moments it stops all together, but the throbbing I feel replacing the sting is just as serious.
My ass hurts so badly and yet, I want more. More of his hands on me. More of his stern, but caring voice making me feel like his property. Unashamed, I open my legs and as if by magnetic pull his hand finds its way to the place I need it.
