Page 19 of Daddy Devious

Frowning down at me, Mr. Stone grabs my ankles, lifting my legs up high in the air and exposing my bottom. Hard spanks rain down all over my ass and the tops of my thighs, and it doesn’t take long for the air to fill with the sound of my cries and pleas for mercy. The swiftness with which I went from happy and excited over my unicorn pajamas to sobbing as I endure yet another painful punishment nearly makes my head spin.

“Ow, Daddy, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“I’ve had more than enough of this attitude, Victoria Rose. The next time I have to punish you for this, I will use a paddle on your naughty bottom. Am I understood, little girl?”

“Yes, Daddy! I’m sorry!”

Tears are running freely down my cheeks by the time he lowers my legs back down to the cushion. “Lift your hips so I can get your skirt off, Victoria.”

Sniffling, I do as I’m told, raising my hips up so he can drag my practical business skirt down my legs. Leaving me completely bare, completely open to his gaze.

I press my legs together in a desperate attempt to preserve some sense of modesty, but all my efforts earn me is a slap to the top of my thigh.

“Little girls do not hide from their Daddies. Open your legs, Victoria.”

If I can’t hide my pussy, then at least I can hide my shame. Covering my face with my hands, I let my legs fall open.

“Much better. Your sweet little kitty belongs to Daddy now, Victoria, and you will not hide it from me.” I feel a gentle tug on my pussy lips, and he sighs. “Tomorrow we will have to get rid of all this hair. Proper Little girls do not have hair on their pussies.”

Oh. My. God. This cannot possibly get any more humiliating.

“Arms up, Victoria. Daddy needs to finish getting you undressed.”

Groaning, I force my arms up, squeezing my eyes shut so I don’t have to look this gorgeous man in the face while he strips me like a toddler. Mr. Stone makes quick work of my shirt and my bra, and a shiver races through me at the knowledge that I am completely, one hundred percent naked in front of one of the most powerful men in the world. My brain makes quick work of cataloguing every flaw I can remember from my too-small boobs to the tiny scar on my stomach from where I had my appendix out when I was sixteen.

Every last bit of me is on display for him, and there’s nothing I can do about it. Why that should arouse me as much as it horrifies me, I don’t know, but my pussy is aching again and if I wasn’t so busy trying to hide myself from him, I might be tempted to reach down and touch myself.

I can hear him moving around, sense him reaching across me, but I’m too lost in my own misery to think about what he might be doing.

Until I feel something press against my stomach. It almost feels like a belt of some kind, so I risk opening my eyes, just a fraction.

Sure enough, I’m strapped to the table, a large leather band across my stomach holding me in place. I wiggle a bit, testing the restraints.

“Stop wiggling, Victoria.”

Tears well in my eyes. Not because I’m strapped naked to a table, completely at the mercy of a man I barely know. But because his tone is sharper than before, and he’s reverted to only using my given name. A sob wells up in my chest and bursts free before I can fight it back.

Mr. Stone runs a hand over my hair, his touch surprisingly gentle as he soothes me like one might a fussy baby. “Shhh, my sweet little one. What’s all this?”

“You h-hate m-me!”

It’s a toss-up as to who’s more shocked by my outburst, me or Mr. Stone. As confused as I am by the words that have just left my mouth, he looks even more stunned.

“Of course I don’t hate you. Where did you ever get such an idea?”

Sniffling loudly, I try to get my sobs under control. “You sound s-so angry.”

Some of the confusion clears from his expression as it turns apologetic. “I’m sorry, little one. Sometimes Daddies get a little cranky, just like Little girls when they’ve had a long day. Forgive me?”

“It’s my fault you had a long day,” I say, the misery I feel in every cell of my body coating my words.

“So much travel always makes for a long day.” Smiling down at me, he tickles me behind my knee, teasing a giggle out of me. “But it was worth every mile to finally have my sweet little thief here with me.”

Finally? How long has he been waiting to get me here?

Before I can decide if it’s worth risking a punishment to ask him, he distracts me by pulling a wet wipe from some hidden compartment on the table and wiping my face clean. Not just of my tears, but what little bit of makeup I slapped on for work this morning goes as well.

God, was that really only eight hours ago? It feels like days, weeks, another lifetime.

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