Page 33 of His Naughty Girl

But something in me had snapped. All the pent-up frustration and confusion of the past week came bubbling to the surface. “No!” I shouted, yanking my hand away. “You don’t get to just apologize and make this okay!”

Heads turned at nearby tables as my voice echoed through the restaurant. Dylan’s eyes widened in alarm. “Andrea, please calm down,” he said in a low, soothing tone. “Let’s talk about this quietly.”

“I will not calm down!” I yelled, pushing back from the table. “How dare you try to feed me tortured baby animals! And then act like it’s no big deal!”

I knew I was going too far. I could see the hurt and confusion in Dylan’s eyes, could feel the disapproving stares of the other diners. But it was like watching myself from outside my body. I couldn’t stop the angry words from pouring out.

“You’re just like all the rest of them!” I ranted, gesturing wildly. “Thinking you can control everything, decide what I eat, what I do, who I am! Well, I won’t stand for it anymore!”

Dylan stood, his face a mask of concern. “Andrea, that’s enough,” he said firmly. “You’re making a scene. Let’s step outside and talk about this calmly.”

But I was too far gone. “Don’t tell me what to do!” I shrieked, grabbing my glass of water and flinging its contents at Dylan. The water splashed across his chest, darkening his blue shirt.

Dylan’s jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with a mixture of shock and anger. Without a word, he grabbed my arm and marched me toward the exit. I struggled against his grip, but his hold was firm.

“Let go of me!” I yelled, drawing more stares from the other patrons. But Dylan ignored my protests, guiding me swiftly out of the restaurant and into the cool night air.

Once outside, Dylan released my arm but blocked my path back to the truck. His voice was low and controlled when he spoke, but I could hear the underlying steel in his tone. “Andrea, that behavior was completely unacceptable.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but Dylan held up a hand, silencing me. “No. You will listen now.” The quiet authority in his voice made me snap my mouth shut.

“I understand you were upset about the veal. That’s a valid feeling. But throwing a tantrum like a child is not how an adult handles their emotions.” Dylan’s eyes bored into mine as he continued, “You embarrassed yourself, you embarrassed me, and you disrespected the restaurant staff and other diners.”

Shame washed over me as the reality of my actions sank in. I dropped my gaze to the ground, unable to meet Dylan’s stern look. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, tears pricking at my eyes.

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to,” Dylan said firmly. “But right now, you need to be taught a lesson about proper behavior.”

Before I could process his words, Dylan had opened the passenger door of his truck and thrust my upper body inside, bent over the seat. I gasped as I found myself in that helpless posture, my bottom thrust outward and available.

“Dylan, what are you doing?” I squeaked, my heart racing.

“What it seems like Devin should have done before letting you out in public,” Dylan replied, his hand coming to rest on my protruding bottom and squeezing hard, so that I gasped. “I’m going to spank you, Andrea. Right here, where anyone can see. Because you need to learn that actions have consequences.”

I squirmed, mortified at the thought of being spanked in public. “Please, Dylan, not here,” I begged, trying to turn my face over my shoulder to catch his eye. “Someone might see!”

“That’s the point,” Dylan said, his voice unyielding. “Maybe the embarrassment will help the lesson stick.”

With that, Dylan flipped up my dress, exposing my panty-clad bottom to the world. I felt my face flame with humiliation as I realized anyone walking by could see me in this compromising position. The tightness and thinness of my training panties, knowing how they clung to my bottom cheeks, brought an inferno of shame to my face.

Dylan’s hand came down with a sharp crack, the sting blooming across my right cheek. I yelped in surprise and pain as he continued to rain down firm swats on my exposed backside.

As the spanking continued, I became acutely aware of my surroundings. Main Street. Even in Cato, cars were going by at a steady rate. I guessed I was hidden from them because Dylan’s truck blocked the view, but I realized that meant everyone in the restaurant could see.

They’re watching you get what you deserve,said the voice in my mind that I’d tried so hard to fight.

Dylan’s hand came down again and again, each smack sending a jolt of pain through my body. The sting built to a burning sensation that spread across my entire bottom. I squirmed and wriggled, trying to escape the relentless spanking, but Dylan’s firm grip on my waist held me in place.

As mortifying as the situation was, I couldn’t deny the heat building between my thighs. Each stinging slap seemed to send a shock of arousal straight to my core. I pressed my thighs together, desperately trying to ignore the growing ache of need.

The cool night air on my bare skin, the muffled sounds of diners inside the restaurant, the occasional passing car—it all served to heighten my awareness of my humiliating position. I imagined the other patrons gathered at the windows, watching wide-eyed as I received my shameful punishment. The thought made me whimper with humiliation, even as it sent another surge of forbidden excitement through me.

Suddenly, Dylan’s hand stilled. I held my breath, wondering if it was over. But then I felt his fingers trace lightly over the seat of my panties.

“Andrea, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and knowing. “Your adorable little pussy is giving you away.”

I froze, mortified as I realized what he must have discovered.

“I know you’re not enjoying this, sweetheart,” Dylan continued, his finger running along the damp patch that had formed on my underwear. “I can see the wet spot on your panties, though. You need this, don’t you? Your body is begging me to discipline you.”

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