Page 11 of Daddy's Rules

“No, Miss Jones. What have you done to earn correction?” His words are stern but quiet and they caress my ear. I wonder if it’s possible to come from words alone.

“I didn’t follow my budget.” My voice sounds foreign.

“You went way over budget, didn’t you?” Baby girl. That’s what I long to hear.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Tell me how.”

“Sir?” He knows the answer to this; not only did I tell him in an email, but he was there. God, he witnessed it at the Save the Whales charity dinner.

“What did you spend the money on?”

“A donation.”

He clears his throat.

“Sir.”

“Why?”

“What does that matter?” I say, feeling irritated. I want his hands on me. Dammit! I press my lips, close my eyes, and remind myself this isn’t supposed to be about getting off. That won’t help my issues. This is about correcting my behavior to prove to everyone and me that I can take of myself.

But I can’t confess jealousy over him as the reason for my bid either.

“Young lady, pull your skirt up, now.”

My eyes pop open widely. “What?” He’s behind me, his heat soaks into my back even though he’s several inches away.

“Pull up your skirt,” he repeats, firmer this time. His words are stiff and I scramble to do it.

“Panties down.” He moves away from me to stand at the side of the desk. “I think you’ll be more obedient if you’re vulnerable.”

Oh, my God.

I clamp my lip between my teeth and whimper as I lower my panties slowly, my hands shaking. I can’t do this. What if he sees my panties are wet? And God, they’re definitely wet.

“Lower,” he says and I take in a swift breath. “To your knees.”

“Yes, Sir.” When they are down I squeeze my eyes shut again.

“It matters because I need to know the reason you do things and so do you. You can’t change your behavior if you don’t understand it.”

I hear his footsteps as he walks to my other side.

“Put your forearms flat on my desk and stick your bottom out.” I don’t hesitate to do as I’m told, but when I feel his hand on my lower back, I bolt up.

“What are you doing?” I blurt. His answer is a sharp swat to my ass. I hiss at the sting, but he swats again and then once more, harder than the previous two. My body heats, my breath hitching. I shouldn’t be turned on but hell... I can’t help it.

“I’m teaching you respect and obedience. Now get back into position.”

I quickly lower into position and sniff. When he spanks me it hurts, and I can’t help twisting to get away from the pain. My bottom is warm, buzzing a bit. His left hand is back on my sacrum and the right begins swatting until the burn is intense enough for me to twist out of the way. Even though my bottom is stinging, my thighs are wet, and my pussy is throbbing. What is wrong with me? I swallow hard, wondering how much he can see of me. My gut flip-flops at the thought of him knowing I’m more turned on than I’ve ever been.

He tsks at me. “No more talking back and moving out of position.” Again his mouth is at my ear. His whisper sends shivers cascading down my spine. “Do it again and I’ll add more to your strapping.”

My eyes fall closed and arousal pulses from my middle throughout my body. My nipples tingle and tighten to hard needy buds.

“I didn’t want anyone to donate more than me. I did it to make myself feel better—like I belonged, like I wasn’t the oddball in the too-tight dress whose father told the world she wasn’t good enough by cutting her off.” A sob from deep in my belly rises and comes out on a breath and keeps coming until my shoulders shake with gut-wrenching emotion. All that’s true, but I leave out the part about my jealousy.

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