Page 32 of A Very Naughty Christmas

After sniffling once more and giving him her best pitiful puppy-dog look, which he ignored, she went into the corner feeling very sorry for herself.

Alex set the timer for thirty minutes—plentyof time for Little Sara to think about her misdeeds and the punishment that would be waiting for her when he got off of work—and looked at her once more to check that she’d followed his directions. Once he was sure that she had, he quietly let himself out the door.

* * *

Aw, man, how long was she going to have to stand here? She’d never thought that it would take much energy to just stand in place and do nothing, but then again, she’d neverbeen imprisoned this long in the corner, either. Stupid corner. It was soboringand white, without a single thing to distract her from the tumult of emotions that she was experiencing or the flood of thoughts she couldn’t silence. She supposed that that was the point.

Not that she didn’t have plenty to think about! Nearly as soon as she’d heard the door close behind Daddy Alex, she had begun to feel a tingle in her bottom. And it wasn’t a pleasant tingle, either, like the kind from the love pats he sometimes gave her. It was an angry tingle that became painful and grew in heat in a matter of minutes, spreading across her bottom like an invisible paddle was being laid to her cheeks!

It definitely gave her something else to think about besides how boring the corner was, that was for sure. Even though she was pretty sure that he had indeed left for work, that she was really and truly alone, Sara kept her arms at her sides for as long as she could stand it. And then the burning got to be too much and she let her hands fly to her bare cheeks, trying to rub out some of the sting, but that didn’t work. It didn’t ease the pain even a single bit. Oh, God, ithurt!

And all she wanted to do was to go to the couch and lie on her side, her hands trying to rub out the flames, to no avail, but she was stuck in the darn corner! Did he really have to make her stand here for solong? It had been an hour, at least! She was sure of it! Wasn’t the ache in her tender orbsenough?

Not that she didn’t deserve to be punished. She knew she did. She had crossed a line this time. She hadn’t tried to, of course, but she’d ended up doing it just the same. All she’d wanted was to get Daddy a present… well, that, and continue the annual tradition…

What you wanted, she heard a voice in her head begin to lecture,was your own way.

Ouch. Daddy Alex seemed to have left a part of himself in her head and it was every bit as stern as the real thing. And the worst part was, it was kind of right on the money, too. When she thought about it, she realized that she could have just waited.

“But how was Isupposedto know that he’d be back to take me?” she mumbled to the cream-colored wall that she knew from experience wouldn’t answer.

That was easy—she couldn’t have known. What she could have done—maybe evenshouldhave done—was to walk home like he’d said and trust that he would see that she got to do her window shopping. He’d known it was important to her, after all, and Daddy had a way of taking care of the things that were important to her.

The realization made her chest pang painfully. She’d been so interested in doing whatshewanted, so sure that she would get away with it, that she hadn’t been thinking about him. She hadn’t thought about what might happen if he came back before she did, of how he might feel to realize she wasn’t back yet. She hadn’t thought of how afraid he would be to find her gone and not have any idea where she was.

Yikes. She’d really,reallymessed up this time. When tears began to trickle down her cheeks, they had much less to do with the spanking she knew she had coming than they did with the realization that she’d hurt the man who had been so very good to her.

Ding!

There had been a time when Sara had thought she would shoot out of the corner like a flash of lightning, but she was so busy crying and fully feeling the weight of what she’d done that she didn’t even make a move to leave. She could use a few extra minutes in the corner, she decided. She’d earned it, after all.

* * *

Daddy Alex saw that his little girl was sound asleep on the couch when he walked in. He idly wondered how long she’d slept. He’d only used Capsaicin cream twice before, on the same woman, and she’d told him that it kept her from being able to do anything other than feel sorry for herself. Either that hadn’t the case for Sara, or the pain had subsided enough to let her rest.

As he walked closer, he saw the dried streaks of tears on her cheeks. The sight tugged at his heartstrings and made him want nothing more than to scoop her up in his arms and cuddle her close. But he held himself back—he knew that she had to learn her lesson or he risked this incident repeating itself in the future. He couldn’t do that again—not knowing where she was even for the short window he’d been waiting on her doorstep had been enough to take a good five years off his life.

After allowing himself another minute to drink in the sweet sight of her sleeping, Alex walked over and gently shook her awake. At first when her eyes fluttered open, Sara smiled to see him. But it was gone in an instant and her eyes became wide and scared.

“Y-you’re home.”

He hated for her to have that look on her face, even though he knew it was only because she feared the punishment he had in store. Best to get it out of the way. “Yes,” he agreed, giving her a squeeze. “I’m home. Up with you. Let’s go into the kitchen and look at those lines.”

“Yes, Sir,” she agreed, readily leaping up and walking in that direction.

Alex followed behind her at a slower pace, enjoying the view. He’d ordered her to keep her panties down for the rest of the day until he got back—a very tangible reminder that she would soon be crying over his knee.

He’d also texted her the line she was to write: ‘I will not disobey Daddy’ two hundred times. He accepted the pieces of paper she meekly offered and let his eyes scan each page in turn. He was pleased to see that her handwriting was neat—though it was obvious when herhand had begun to tire—and that every line was accounted for.

“I… I have something else for you,” she offered timidly.

“What’s that?” He arched an eyebrow, curious.

“I wrote you a… an essay.”

“Is that right?” he asked, letting his face betray nothing. The truth was, he was amused. He was remembering the first time he’d punished her, when he’d threatened her with another spanking and an essay if she ever ran another stop sign.

“Yes, Sir. Would you like to see it?”

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