Page 98 of Under Daddy's Spell

“Please, Daddy,” she squealed. “My bottom is on fire.”

“Good. You’re not likely to forget this punishment, then.”

He showed no sign of stopping, continuing in a businesslike fashion with the innocuous-looking kitchen tool, which she vowed to cram down the garbage disposal the first chance she got.

When he set it aside, at last, Tessa was panting hard and blinking away tears.

“Catch your breath for a minute,” he said, massaging again, this time much more gently. “You asked for twelve with the belt, which I’m lowering to six since this is your first time.”

Having nothing to compare it to, and filled with remorse, she hadn’t been thinking what a dozen meant for her bottom. She had to assume, with him cutting the number in half, it would be worse than the rubber spatula.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“You’re welcome, baby. A repeat of this behavior won’t find me as lenient. Up you go,” he said softly while helping her off his lap and onto her feet.

He rose beside her, holding and steadying her. He also pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“Hands on the bench, bottom high in the air,” he instructed. “No wiggling and squirming this time, Tessa. I want the strokes to hit what I’m aiming for. Understand?”

“What if I can’t stay still?”

“Be a good girl and try for Daddy.”

When she nodded, he turned her to face the bench. With a hand on her back, he urged her into position. Tessa wished he’d have bent her over the side of the bed where she could grip the comforter because the cushion had very little give to it.

“Feet apart.”

She widened her stance about a foot and closed her eyes. When she heard the clink of the buckle, she braced for the first stroke of six.

With a whoosh and a crack, a line of fire exploded across both cheeks. She yelped but stayed in place. The second followed, a little lower than the first. Her knees trembled, but she still maintained her position. Stroke number three landed farther down and caught the lowermost curves of her cheeks. Heat blossomed, wetness surged, and a pulse started in her clit. At the same time, flames licked across the already tender skin of her bottom.

She couldn’t keep still this time, and rose, hands flying to her bottom as she danced around.

“Only three more. Back in place,” Daddy ordered patiently.

“I can’t,” she cried as she turned to him, burying her face against his chest.

His arms came around her, his big hands sweeping up and down her spine, and thankfully, not her bottom. With his chin resting on the top of her head, he assured her, “Yes, you can. You did wrong. Now you take your punishment like a big girl.”

“Which am I? Little or big, I can’t keep up.”

“You’re both. Which is the best of both worlds for people like you and me.”

She glanced up at him.“Right now, I’m not so sure.”

He rubbed a hard nipple with the tip of one finger. “Think about it, and I’m certain you will be.”

Gazing up into his brilliant-blue eyes, warm with understanding, she realized she needed this as badly as he needed to give it to her. That’s the people he meant. An adult little girl who needed a daddy like him and all the love, nurturing, and discipline he could give her.

She didn’t speak a word. What she did was bend over the bench and stick her burning bottom out.

“That’s my good girl,” he murmured, as his hand swept up her back. His fingers splayed wide between her shoulder blades, a warm reminder of his praise and his presence, when he continued.

With the next three strokes, he worked his way down, getting the crease where her legs joined her bottom and her upper thighs, so that no spot got a double dose of leather.

After the sixth crack resonated through the room, he caught her up in his arms. Brushing damp tendrils from her face, he asked, “Doing okay?”

“Would I have been more okay if I chose the slotted spoon as option two?”

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