Page 18 of Until Daddy

She’d gotten what she wanted, hadn’t she? A man who wouldn’t take a little pushing from her and run away. A man who stuck to his principles.

Knowing the large picture windows facing the street wouldn’t allow for much privacy, and the flimsy door leading to the hall wouldn’t keep old Buschmann from hearing what she did not want broadcasted, she headed straight for the bedroom in the back of the apartment.

* * *

She needed to paint.The dull coloring of her bedroom only reinforced the boredom of corner time.

Jamison had walked into the room only a few seconds after her, but he hadn’t said a word. She went about stripping out of her yoga pants and panties, kicking them near the dresser.

The bed squeaked behind her. He was shifting around. Was he just staring at her? When she tried to take a peek at him, he gave her a solid glare and twirled his finger.

“Nose into the corner.”

She sighed.

“What was that?” he asked with a firm tone.

“Yes, Daddy.” She rested her forehead against the cool wall. How easily that sentence slipped from her lips.

She heard him moving behind her, but was still startled when his hand touched her ass. He didn’t smack her or pinch her he simply cradled her cheek in his palm. Heat rose to her face and she pushed herself further into the corner.

“Such a nice bottom.” The deep tenor of his voice startled her after the moments of silence.

His touch was gone, leaving her exposed to the cool air of the room.

“Come here, Carissa-girl.”

She shuffled her feet until she was turned toward him, then, folding her hands in front of her, she made her way to where he was sitting. The chair from her vanity sat front and center in the large area between her dresser and her queen-sized bed. The dark duvet covering matched the expression in his eyes perfectly.

He tilted his head, watching her as she slowly made her way to him, taking each step as though he sat in an executioner’s perch instead of her simple vanity chair. The way his hands rested on his knees, just waiting for her to obey him and go to him and receive her punishment, sent a shiver through her body. He wasn’t playing. This was business for him.

“Do you have a hairbrush, one with a flat back?”

Of course, she did. What spanko didn’t own one of those for this express reason? Only the fantasy of having the wooden brush used on her upturned bottom would most likely prove more satisfying than the reality he was about to dunk her into.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Go get it and bring it back here. And no more dragging your feet, you have fifteen seconds to get your bottom back here, or I’ll add more to your punishment.”

She nodded, her throat too thick to let her speak. The brush wasn’t far, it took her only a few moments to rush to her vanity to get it and get back to him.

“Thank you.” He took the brush from her and rested it on his knee. “Now put your hands behind your back. You don’t hide anything from me, little girl. Especially that pretty pussy. It’s mine to look at whenever I want, and even if you think I don’t want to see it because you’ve been bad, that doesn’t mean you get to hide. Hands back, there. That’s a good girl.”

He had a way of easing her mind into a softer place. Somewhere she could let go of the nagging sensations of being in control. He let her slip into a gentler frame of mind, nearly cradling her as she found her place.

“Do you understand why you’re being punished, Carissa-girl?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she said, keeping her eyes fixated on the brush and not his face. The disappointment that tinted his voice would be mirrored there, and she couldn’t look at that.

They’d only been together a few days and already she was going over his knee.

“Tell me.”

She held in the pout, but still let some of it slip into her answer. “Because you wanted me to tell you where I went. And you didn’t like my answers this morning. And because you didn’t like the curse I used.”

He slapped the brush against his palm. “Okay, let’s get this done then.” He patted his knee. “Bottoms up.”

She might have found the term slightly amusing if she hadn’t been crawling over his muscular lap in order to have her backside blistered.

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