Page 35 of Daddy's Naughty Dog Trainer

"And what happens to naughty girls who deliberately ignore their Daddies?"

Heat floods my body at the question. "They get punished."

"That's right." He tugs my hair gently, tilting my head back to expose my throat. "And you, princess, have been very, very naughty."

His lips find my neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin there. I shiver, melting against him.

"What are you going to do about it, Daddy?" I challenge, unable to resist pushing him even now.

Sean pulls back, eyes dark with promise. "Take you to my room and show you exactly what happens to little girls who test their Daddy's patience."

"What if I don't want to?" I tease, shifting deliberately in his lap. I want to. God, I want to.

His smile is slow and dangerous. "Then I'll have to remind you who's in charge, won't I?"

Before I can respond, he stands in one smooth motion, lifting me with him. I wrap my legs around his waist instinctively, a small gasp escaping me.

"Any other objections?" he asks, voice low in my ear.

I shake my head, suddenly breathless with anticipation.

"Good girl," he murmurs, carrying me toward the stairs. "Now, let's see if we can't turn your bare ass into an appropriate shade of red..."

A minute later, I stand in the center of his bedroom, completely naked, my pulse a steady drumbeat in my ears as Sean watches me. I am so fucking aroused. He’d slowly undressed me and now stares at me, like a lion staring down his prey before pouncing. His expression is calm, controlled but there’s something else in his gaze, something darker. A promise.

"You know not to ignore Daddy." His voice is low, steady, the kind of controlled that makes my stomach tighten. I know this isn’t about me ignoring him. It’s about reestablishing his control and bringing us back to where he wants us. This is more of a roleplay. An exercise of our power exchange dynamic.

“I know. I should have answered when you called."

"And yet you still chose to ignore my calls and texts."

I shift on my feet, my fingers twisting together. He moves to the bed, sitting on the edge, his legs spread slightly apart in that effortless display of dominance. He pats his lap.

"Over my knee, princess."

My breath hitches, and the anticipation pools hot and heavy in my belly. I step forward, lowering myself across his lap, my body molding against his. My stomach presses into his thighs, my hands resting on the cool sheets, my legs dangling off the side of the bed. The position he puts me in is deliberately vulnerable, exposing every ounce of me to his gaze.

His hand skims over the curve of my ass, light and teasing, making me shiver.

"You’re already trembling," he murmurs, satisfaction thick in his voice.

"I know," I whisper, my breath shaky.

"Good. Tremble for me."

The cool air of the room kisses my skin, and my face burns with the exposure. His palm smooths over me, stroking, teasing, before lifting away.

The first slap lands with a sharp crack.

I gasp, my body jolting from the impact. It’s not too hard, but enough to sting, enough to send a shockwave straight through me. Oh, I had no idea how different a spanking on my bare ass would be compared to over my pants. This is different. More intimate. More painful.

I love it.

I fucking love it.

The next strike comes, then another, each one deliberate, each one stoking the fire inside me. It hurts. I can’t deny it. He continues to spank me, and unlike the other two spankings, this one feels like a punishment. It hurts. Each swat is sharp against my skin. I understand what is happening. He’s taking out on my ass the frustrations from the miscommunication. He’s taking the control I give to him in these situations, in the bedroom, and showing me what he’s made of. And while it hurts, it does much more. It satisfies me at a deep, emotional level. He shows me hisemotional side a different way. This way. The sting melts into something else all together. Heat, arousal, the delicious contrast of pain and pleasure tangling together until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.

I don’t know how many swats have come down on my ass, before I’m panting, gripping the sheets, my body pulsing with need.

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