Page 47 of Daddy's Princess

Maybe if I keep saying it enough, I will start believing the lie. From the first moment I laid eyes on Oliver, I was attracted to him. Our first conversation had me softening to him. Our first scene sealed the deal. I’m fighting a losing battle at keeping my heart safe from Oliver. In reality, I handed it to him on a silver platter that first night.

“I’m sorry, daddy.” The words are whispered and laced with true repentance.

“I had plans to take you out on a nice date, but I think I need to revise those plans,” he says thoughtfully. “I’ll let you choose, Bidden and Bound, or date night?”

I don’t even have to think about it. “Bidden and Bound.”

Oliver raises one eyebrow, giving me a hard look. “The moment we step inside the club, you’re my submissive—my babygirl—and I expect you to act accordingly.

“Yes, daddy.”

“You do realize I’m going to punish you for your little tantrum, right?”

I know he’s asking just to make sure I’m sure about my decision. I am so very, very sure. Just the thought of being taken over Oliver’s lap is enough to calm the madness that temporarily took over my mind. I imagine how it will feel. Each punishing spank to my bottom will free me from my roiling thoughts and emotions. God, I want that so bad.

“Yes, daddy,” I say, meekly. “I deserve to be punished. I’m sorry.”

Oliver releases his grip on my wrists and pulls me back into his warm embrace. He kisses the top of my head. “I know you’re sorry, babygirl, and I forgive you. And after you accept your punishment, you can forgive yourself.”

Yes, that’s exactly what I need. The guilt is already building. My mind is quick to tell me how wrong it was to lash out at Oliver. If anything, he’s a victim in the office gossip too. He didn’t start the rumors, and he was willing to keep our relationship status under wraps until I was ready to be out in the open.

This isn’t his fault, and it’s not fair of me to blame him.

18

Sugar

Bidden and Boundis packed when we get there. Which isn’t surprising considering it’s a Friday night. Everyone wants to unwind after a long work week, and what better way is there than to get your kink on?

Oliver doesn’t waste any time in securing a private room for us. Andre gives a tip of his head, acknowledging he sees me but doesn’t approach. That’s different. Andre is an immovable force when it comes to making sure he takes the time to talk to me every time he sees me. It makes me wonder if things are going to be different now that I’m obviously with Oliver. He didn’t change when I was dating Cody.

I half want my overly protective friend to come over and remind Oliver of who I am to him and that I’m protected. The fact that he doesn’t come to warn Oliver is telling. It says that he trusts Oliver in a way he never did Cody. It tells me he thinks that I’m completely safe in Oliver’s care. That’s terrifying because his unspoken approval is saying exactly the same thing I’ve been trying to talk myself out of believing. Oliver is a good guy. A good dominant. An excellent daddy.

The private room is one of the smaller rooms, though it is fully stocked for any kind of scene a dominant wants to construct. Oliver releases my hand for the first time since we walked into the club and shrugs out of his jacket. My core clenches in anticipation as I watch him unbutton his sleeves and methodically roll them up, exposing his forearms. I’m not sure what it is about that simple act that totally does it for me. It’s almost better than watching him strip his clothes completely.

Almost.

“What’s your safeword?”

I swallow thickly. If Oliver’s asking that, this isn’t going to be a simple spanking. “Red, daddy.”

“Good girl.” The praise sings through my veins, lighting me up. This is precisely what I need. I need to be daddy’s good girl again. “Strip.”

The word is a command and a promise all in one. It’s him letting me know that he’s in charge and that I no longer need to worry about anything because everything that happens from this moment on is his to worry over. I just have to let go and do as I’m told.

While I undress, Oliver makes himself comfortable on the end of the bed. The way his pants are tented tells me he’s very much enjoying the show. I carefully strip out of every stitch of clothing, leaving them in a neat pile beside Oliver’s jacket. Once I’m fully nude, he wordlessly pats his lap, indicating where he wants me.

Carefully, I position myself over his knee. Since this is a punishment, I expect Oliver to go directly into the spanking, but instead, he massages my bottom. His hands roaming over my back and down my thighs. By the time the spanking starts, my brain is silent.

The first two smacks sting, and I squirm a little at the abrupt change from pleasure to pain. Each swat gets harder until they hurt so badly, I can hardly stand it.

“Daddy, please! I’m sorry.”

“What’s your color?”

That makes me freeze. He’s giving me an out. He’s letting me know even though he’s not done, he will stop if I can’t take my punishment. As much as I want to shout red and be done, I can’t do that. I need this.

“Green, daddy.”

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