Normal girls didn’t get spanked and normal girls didn’t call anyone Daddy.
Especially not me.
“My hand is going to hurt, little girl,” he warned.
“I don’t care,” I blurted.
“If you don’t refer to me properly by the time your punishment ends, little girl, you’re going to get a very real taste of Daddy’s belt,” he said.
A quiet cry died in the back of my throat. He couldn’t be serious. He wouldn’t.
Right?
This wasn’t real. This was simply a bad dream that I was going to wake up from at any moment. The worst part of it all was that I couldn’t even reach for my arm to pinch myself and force myself to wake up.
“You wouldn’t dare,” I sneered.
He chuckled and the effect was chilling. His laughter surrounded me like a storm, swirling around faster and faster as I lost control.
“Are you scared, little girl?” he asked softly. His hands had never stopped moving. Always gentle. Always soothing. Always in control.
“Yes,” I murmured.
“Daddy is going to take care of you. You just have to trust him,” he continued.
Why did he keep calling himself Daddy? Was he sick too? Did it make his cock hard at the same time it was making my pussy wet? Were we both as deranged as the other?
Oh, God. This was so wrong.
“Just let me go,” I pleaded. I hated that my body was surging with arousal from some deep, dark hidden depths that I never even knew existed. My body was a traitor. I should hate him for this, but I knew that I was soaking wet because of it. My one saving grace was that I could keep my legs together. He wouldn’t be able to see the effect he was having on me.
I could keep my body’s betrayal a secret. No matter what happened, he wouldn’t know his words were turning me on. He wouldn’t know how much I wanted to come.
His palm smoothed over my right cheek and then like a leaf on a harsh gust of wind, his touch vanished. Not knowing what to expect, I stilled and didn’t say anything at all.
“It’s time for Daddy to punish you, little girl. What comes next is going to hurt, but when your spanking is over, the two of us are going to talk about what you did. Do you understand me?”
I didn’t dignify him with an answer. Maybe I should have.
His palm cracked down hard on my left cheek. I squeaked in surprise more at the sound than anything else. It bounced off the stone walls all around me, reverberating off the hard cement and pounding down into the deep chasm of my soul. A second followed on the opposite side so quickly after the first that I barely had time to register that he’d spanked me again.
Disbelief rattled through me. This was really happening. I’d been caught and now one of my marks had bared my bottom and was giving me the spanking that I so richly deserved.
Did I? Had I really earned this?
My ears hurt from the sound. It was so much louder than I could have ever imagined it would be. His palm cracked twice more on either side and that’s when the sting started to rise along with it.
Sure. I knew that a spanking was a punishment. I wasn’t naïve. But I had never been spanked before. I didn’t know how much it would actually hurt.
Oh, fuck. Oh. It hurt a lot.
I wasn’t ready for this, but it wasn’t looking like I had much of a choice. His palm was ruthless and terrible and incredibly hard. It cracked against my naked cheeks, over and over again until my skin felt like it was on fire. It had started as a gradual burn, but with every last spank it escalated until it felt like a flame was scalding my flesh. He didn’t just punish the fullest part of my bottom either.
He moved to the upper curves of my ass, ensuring to punish every inch with that wickedly cruel palm. When he spanked the place where my bottom met my thighs, I cried out because the sting was so much more intense there. I struggled to take it, but I was bound, and I wasn’t going anywhere until he let me go.
This was a punishment. A very real punishment and I couldn’t use my words or my looks or anything I’d been trained to do to get out of it. I was trapped in the leather cuffs with my vulnerable bottom presented for chastisement. With my arms pulled out wide and my ankles bound, I couldn’t really turn my body. I couldn’t squirm or twist away to stop his cruel punishing hand. I was his prisoner. I’d stolen from him and he was taking out his revenge on my naked flesh.
“Please. Stop. I’ll figure out how to get your money back,” I pleaded.
He ignored me.
“Begging won’t help you, little girl. Daddy knows that you need to be punished. Daddy knows what you need,” he said firmly, and I pressed my forehead against the sheets beneath me in stark disbelief.
There it was again.
Daddy.
When the term fell off his lips, my core tensed hard each time. Even though my breasts were entirely covered, I knew that my nipples were scraping against the soft lace of my bra. Even worse, I knew that my arousal was beginning to gather between my thighs in earnest. I was so turned on and I didn’t want to be.
Something was seriously wrong with me.
There was probably something wrong with him too.
His cruel hand spanked my upper thighs for the first time, and a quiet keening noise escaped my lips before I could stop it. Maybe that spurred him on because he began punishing my thighs harder than ever.
“Such a pretty bottom, little girl. It’s even more beautiful when Daddy spanks it bright pink,” he mused.
Bright pink? Hell, it felt like it should be purple
