“I told you that I needed to be punished, Daddy,” I finally managed to whisper. I was shaking so hard that I hoped he understood the words that tumbled out of my mouth.
“It’s Daddy’s job to take care of you and give you everything you need, isn’t it, little girl?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I said as my voice broke a little.
“Will you trust Daddy to do all of that, little girl?”
Up until this point, I had my eyes glued to the floor. I didn’t want to watch him carve the ginger and I especially didn’t want to look at the wooden spoon on the counter, but I couldn’t stop myself from meeting his eyes.
I wanted to know if what he was saying was true. Did he really want to take care of me that way?
Those blue eyes bored into mine with love and adoration and I knew at once that he meant every single word. That sort of love couldn’t be faked.
I decided to take a leap of faith. I decided to give him everything.
“Yes, Daddy,” I whispered, and his lips curved up in a tender smile. He looked like he was proud of me.
“Good girl,” he murmured. He placed the knife down on the counter and pointed to a sitting room off of the kitchen.
“I want you to go sit down on the couch in there and wait for me, little girl. You will think about how sore your little bottom is going to be over Daddy’s knee in just a very short while,” he demanded, and I shivered fearfully.
I’d never been over his knee for a spanking before. My pussy clenched hard at the thought of being that close to him for so shameful a thing.
With nervous arousal, I walked over to where he’d told me to go. I sat down slowly on the white fabric of the couch, still entirely too aware of my nakedness. I chewed the inside of my cheek for the thousandth time and slowly slipped my feet out of my heels. Not knowing what else to do, I massaged my sore feet. I was keenly aware of his movements and when he walked out of the room, I sat there freefalling into anxiety with wild abandon. Was he finding more things to punish me with? Was he going to make me wait long?
Left alone, I wanted to cry, but he was back within minutes. I looked up to see that he’d slipped off the rest of that ridiculous outfit and was now simply wearing a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants. There was nothing more in his hands. He’d simply gone and changed into something more comfortable, and I breathed a shaky sigh of hesitant relief. He hadn’t left. He was still here and that meant something to me.
I’d been the one to run from him, but he’d always been the one steadfastly by my side. I knew that now. Whatever was about to happen was because he cared for me and that was so incredibly fulfilling that my heart swelled even as my body quivered with nervous tension over my upcoming punishment.
I tried to figure out all he had planned, at least as much as I could.
I knew that he was going to spank me with the wooden spoon over his knee, which would undoubtedly be very painful. It was also very clear that he had nefarious plans for that piece of ginger, but I didn’t know what that meant for me. Would it hurt?
Would I like it if it did?
The island was just tall enough so that I couldn’t see below his waist. Was his cock hard for me? Did it arouse him to know that he was going to punish me for something like this?
I was so lost in my own head trying to figure out what was to come that I hardly noticed the sound of his footsteps walking toward me as I stared down at the shaggy cream-colored rug beneath my toes.
“Stand up, little girl,” he instructed. Casually, he placed the wooden spoon and the carved ginger on the coffee table in front of me and my heart quickened to a frantic pace.
“Please, you don’t have to use that,” I pleaded. I didn’t know what the ginger would do, but I was just fine with not knowing at all. In fact, I’d probably be better if I never found out.
He grasped my upper arm and roughly pulled me up himself before he swatted both cheeks of my backside. I squeaked in surprise. Without saying another word, he took a seat and turned me so that I was situated in front of him in between his thighs. I was still standing, but I knew I wouldn’t be that way for long.
I stared down and it was impossible not to notice that his cock was hard. There was no hiding that in those sweatpants, and I was ashamed of how much that turned me on even through my fearful arousal.
I was mortified by how much I wanted this. I really did want Daddy to punish me.
He was right. I did need this.
I needed to know he cared enough to do this for me.
I cried out softly, unable to stop myself.
“You’re okay, little girl. Daddy’s got you,” he murmured, and he traced his fingers up and down the sides of my legs. My thighs trembled a little, more from the overwhelming desire surging through me than from fear of what those hands were about to do to my naked backside. His fingers grazed along the tops of my thighs and just his thumbs glided along the insides of my legs.
“Come now. It’s time for you to go over Daddy’s knee, little girl,” he said softly as he guided me over one of his muscled thighs. He
