Page 38 of Her Stepbrother Master
There was no hiding from her Daddy. He would punish her, probably in humiliating ways, and she would still feel safe. There were no ifs. She belonged to him.
Still holding her wrists captive, he bent his head and caressed her lips with his in a soft kiss.
“I want you naked and kneeling in the corner when I come home from work tonight. Understand?”
Her nipples hardened. “Yes, sir.”
He kissed her again. “Good girl.”
Brad spent the day with a semi-hard cock, thinking over possible punishments for LuAnn. Despite his resolve to separate discipline from pleasure, he doubted he’d be able to resist ending it all with her release. Her little wet pussy was too alluring, her desire too heady, her climaxes too intoxicating.
It was too late for that night, but he sketched the design for a little wooden paddle, shaped with an oval and a handle. He would drill a hole for a ribbon to hang it on the wall, and paint it with LuAnn’s name on the back. He was good at wood-working and had a friend with a shop where he could use the equipment. It would make a perfect wedding present.
On his lunch break, he drove to a supply store and found a sturdy rattan cane certain to make an impression on LuAnn’s voluptuous backside. He also stopped by the motorcycle garage and put up a for sale sign for his Ducati.
The last vestiges of rebellion in him had disappeared with his new role as husband. He was the authority now. He was daddy. He made the rules. And LuAnn deserved a daddy who acted like a grown-up. For the first time, he wanted to buy a car and a small house. He wanted to man up and provide not just for LuAnn, but for a family.
He never thought he’d want those things, but he realized now, he’d felt the change the very first time he’d taken little LuAnn over his knee. Being her daddy was his destiny.
Driving home with the cane resting across his thighs, his thoughts went to his pretty little girl. Would she be in position? He imagined the sight of her, kneeling naked, her head bowed. Was it wrong he was this excited to punish his soon-to-be wife? Probably.
He parked the bike outside and walked up the steps. The apartment was spotless, as if LuAnn had spent all day cleaning. The furniture shone with fresh wax, the floors were scrubbed and polished and not a thing was out of place. The table had been set and the place smelled of a freshly cooked dinner—a pot roast, judging from the covered pot on the stove. He hung his leather jacket on the hook behind the door and toed off his shoes.
He found the door to the bedroom slightly ajar. LuAnn looked even more breathtaking than he’d imagined. She’d put her hair in pigtails and blue ribbons, but otherwise did not wear a stitch of clothing. Her creamy white skin glowed in the soft light from the curtained windows. Her slender shoulders were lifted slightly, as if in anticipation of her punishment, making the line of her spine even longer. Her bare feet were tucked around her bottom, framing her buttocks with the two dimples at the back of her pelvis shaping the top of the picture.
“Good girl, mouse,” he murmured.
She turned her ear slightly in his direction, but kept her eyes fixed on the juncture of the walls.
“Have you thought about our discussion this morning?”
“Yes, sir,” she said in a small voice.
“And?”
She twisted to look over her shoulder, her eyes pleading. “I’m so sorry.”
He nodded, satisfied. “Thank you. Your punishment will begin in just a moment. You may stand up if your knees are getting stiff, but keep your nose in the corner.”
Leaving the cane on the bed, he went to the kitchen where he fished a carrot out of the crisper drawer. He scrubbed it, then cut it with a paring knife, forming it into the perfect shape to insert in LuAnn’s ass.
When he returned, LuAnn was standing in the corner, looking so sweet and vulnerable and beautiful it made his eyes smart. He grabbed the baby oil from the nightstand and set it with the carrot plug and cane on the bed. “Come lie over Daddy’s lap, Lulu,” he said as he sat down.
LuAnn turned, her eyes sweetly downcast. She padded over to him. Her lower lip stuck out in a little pout, but there was no defiance in her. She stood between his knees, her gaze reaching the level of his chin. “Are you mad at me?”
He wrapped his palms around the backs of her thighs and drew her closer. “No,” he murmured. “Daddy’s not mad. I’m going to spank my baby girl, and then we’ll put this behind us. No more lies, only trust and honesty between us. Okay, little girl?”
Her lip trembled.
He steeled himself against the urge to go completely soft. Pulling her across one of his legs with her torso resting on the bed, he wrapped the other leg over hers to keep her from kicking.
The first swat sounded loud in the quiet apartment and hit hard enough to leave the bloom of his hand print. He repeated it on the other cheek of her luscious ass. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he settled into a rhythm, spanking steadily.
She gasped and squirmed, but didn’t protest. He loved the way she gave herself over to him, the honey dew between her nether lips proving she loved receiving her punishments as much as he loved giving them. He slapped her with punishing force, making his own hand sting as he painted the entire lower half of her bottom red.
After a few minutes, her whimpers grew louder and came with each swat. Her little bottom tightened, buns gripping as if that would protect them against the steady onslaught of his spanking.
He watched as her slender fingers wrapped into the covers of his bed. When she took the fabric into her teeth and began to tear at it, he stopped. Reaching for the baby oil, he trickled a stream over her crack, smiling when she jerked. He rubbed the oil into her blazing cheeks, then gave a few more slaps, knowing the oil made them sting all the worse.
