Page 38 of Irish

“Yes, princess, I do.”

“Are you going to tell me, or just keep repeating back what I say?” She crossed her arms over her chest and looked out the window, cheeks flaming.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She couldn’t look at him. Guilt was eating her alive. Her tone wasn’t about him, neither was her anxiety. But he had become her target. Her middle sure was showing out.

“Drop the attitude, little girl.” He said calmly. It was that calmness that stroke the fire building inside of her, a fire she couldn’t explain if she wanted to. She was going to explode.

“Make me.” Her hand flew up to her mouth the second the two words were out. This was it. He was going to pull over and beat her ass over the hood of the truck. He was going to be done with her and leave her in the middle of the country. He was?—

“I’m glad you feel safe enough with me to challenge me.”

That was absolutely not what she expected him to say. “W-w-hat? What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means that you just added some extra swats to your bare behind when we get home, is what that means. It also means that you are sassing me because you feel safe enough with me to do it. You are feeling the chaos from the situation and need an outlet, and you’ve decided Daddy is a safe outlet for you. Now, I won’t let you turn me into a verbal punching bag or be disrespectful, but bratting is par for the course when a Little is upset. It signals to me that you are craving to be taken in hand, possibly have a good cry for a release. You said make me, but what you meant to say was, ‘Please Daddy. Please, Daddy, help me figure out these big emotions that are too big for little me.’” As he expertly maneuvered the truck down the road toward his house, Makenzie watched the trees fly by outside.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to throw herself into his lap and be held in his incredibly strong arms. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t do any of it. She didn’t know how.

“I’m sorry I’m a brat. You probably don’t want me now. I’m stupid and immature,” she squeaked out. She would have never had the freedom to disobey or tell her ex no. She shivered thinking of how he’d have handled it.

“No, princess. There will be absolutely no self-deprecating talk or sabotaging of our relationship. I don’t want a passivedoormat. Littles aren’t slaves. All the Daddies I know like the challenge of a feisty, playful and yes, sometimes disobedient, Little. We understand the reason behind the behavior. You are welcome to be as naughty as you need to be with me. I’m not going anywhere. Just know, naughty behavior has consequences. Your behavior tells me you need some special attention. It doesn’t make me want to run away and abandon our relationship. Dish it out, princess. I can handle it.”

“But, what if, when I’m in Middle space, I say something mean like I hate you or something?”

“I’ll tell you I am sorry you feel that way, but I love you, even if I don’t like the way you are acting and I’ll put you somewhere safe in timeout where you can think through your actions and words. Once you’ve calmed down, we’ll discuss the ugly words and how you can communicate without lying to Daddy.”

“What do you mean, lying?”

“Unless you truly hate me, telling me that is a lie. And calling me names is disrespectful. Pretty sure those are both against our rules, right princess?”

Hmph.

She turned away from him again. The adult inside of her was fuming over the person who’d cloned her account and was causing drama. She was scared they were going to affect her newly developing relationships with the other submissives in town. She worried about them getting lawyers and suing her and losing everything she’d worked so hard for in her life. How could she prove it wasn’t her? She was confused as to why her ex suddenly did this out of nowhere. Why was he attacking her now? Too many emotions were whirling inside of her. Too many. She couldn’t think straight.

“Princess, your behavior tells me what you need even when your words can’t express what you want. When you misbehave, it means you need Daddy’s attention in a very specific way. It’smy job as the adult, to figure out why you are acting out. Is it because you are tired? Hungry? Lonely? Or is it because you have big emotions overwhelming you, and you need daddy’s guidance to help regulate what you are feeling? It’s my job to help you work through those emotions in a safe and loving environment. I’m not going to leave you because you act like a Little. I’m going to love you harder because you are gifting me with your Little side and trusting me to take care of her.”

Tears stung the back of her eyelids. Not because she was sad or angry, but because she was very, very happy. Irish was like a Daddy straight from a romance novel. He cared about her hard limits, made sure not to cross any of her boundaries but also provided the firm care she craved. He was exactly the right man for the job.

He parked the truck in the driveway and motioned for her to stay sitting. He came around and opened the truck door, reached across her lap and undid her seatbelt. She gasped when he grabbed her around the waist, lifted her out of the truck and put her on the ground. She shocked herself when she pushed at his chest.

He looked down and smiled. “Be careful pushing me, princess. You aren’t going to like how Daddy pushes back.”

She didn’t know why but the smile made her even more grumpy. She shoved him. This time, when she looked up, he wasn’t smiling. “You are going straight to your room, removing your pants and underwear and are going to spend some much-needed time in your naughty girl corner.”

Uh oh.

“I don’t know why I did that,” she started. He held one finger up.

“Lucky for you, little girl, Daddy knows exactly why you did that. You need to know I am a man of my word and I’m going to give you what you need, when you need it.” He added a secondfinger to the first. “If I get to three, I’m going to pick you up and carry you to your room and you will stand in the corner with a plug in your behind.”

She took off and ran to the bedroom before he could move another finger.

She had decided corner time sucked.

Corner time without pants or underwear on, sucked even more.

It must have been an hour and she was still staring at the drywall in the corner. One thing corner time was to help her slip fully into her Little headspace.

---