Super Daddies: A Naughty Nerdy Romantic Comedy Anthology

by Smith, Maren

  “Welcome home, boss,” Marshall announced. “How did things go today?”

  “Same as always,” I replied as I let myself into the house. “Although it seems whoever at the precinct who’s been leaking information, they’re getting bolder. Some seriously sensitive intel was compromised last night.”

  “Not good. Want me to run a scan on the station computers?”

  “Yes. Find out who is paying special attention to Patel and his men. Run a scan on angel and the pawn shop too.”

  “On it.”

  “Want to also tell me what I’m about to walk in on?”

  Marshall stayed silent.

  That can’t be good.

  When I opened the door, however, the sights, sounds and smells that greeted me were not only better than not good, they were fantastic. Angela skipped around in my kitchen like she didn’t have a care in the world. She twirled and smiled and sang along with the music. It was beautiful.

  Not wanting to interrupt and selfishly wanting to enjoy the show a little longer I leaned against the doorjamb and watched. She opened and closed drawers and cabinets pulling out items to set the table. I didn’t have anything fancy, but she made the table look like it belonged in a home and garden magazine. Fresh flowers even filled a vase as a centerpiece. Where they came from, I had no idea. I didn’t even care. I was going to make it a point to have fresh flowers in that vase more often. It brought color and life to the room. She brought color and life to the whole house.

  The song ended and so did her dance.

  “Okay, smarty pants, what else you got?” Angela put her hands on her hips and looked up at the ceiling.

  Marshall stayed silent.

  “Nothing, really?”

  “He’s busy running some scans for me,” I answered.

  She jumped and turned in my direction. “Oh, hi.” Smoothing down her shirt and running her fingers through her hair, she blushed. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Only a minute or so. Long enough to know you should dance more often.”

  “How do you know how often I dance?”

  “I don’t really. Only that you haven’t since you came here.” I walked into the kitchen. “What are you making?”

  “Garlic butter steak and potatoes with broccoli salad. Hope that’s okay.”

  “It’s perfect. Just wondering what you might have done to warrant buttering me up?” I winked.

  She widened her eyes and bit her thumb nail. “Well, I just haven’t been the best houseguest and I wanted to show you that I’m sorry and I’m going to be better.”

  I closed the gap between us and hooked my finger under her chin. “You’ve been under a lot of stress and there are a lot of uncertainties. I understood your behavior. However, I accept your apology and am thrilled to share a dinner with you. Do I have time to shower or is it ready?”

  Her eyes never left mine. She was searching for something. Sincerity maybe?

  “It’s ready,” she whispered. “The steak was just resting.”

  “Well, let’s eat, then.” I took the liberty of kissing her forehead, like I had that morning. She was addicting and I wanted to take care of her in every way possible. My feelings for her had far surpassed that of simply the mission.

  She brought the dishes to the table and we both dug in, enjoying the delicious fruits of her labor.

  “Where’d you learn to cook like this?”

  “Here and there. I used to try to learn from the families I was with, the ones that didn’t just feed us frozen meals. When I got old enough, I tried to make myself useful by cooking for the fosters. I thought if I could contribute, I could stay. It worked for a while, but something always got messed up and I was moved.”

  “That couldn’t have been easy.”

  She shrugged. “Eh, a lot of kids were way worse off than me. I’m just thankful I could get out and get into that pawn shop business. Who knows where I would have ended up if not for that store.”

  She went silent and stopped eating, just pushed the food around on her plate. I let her have her quiet moment and took a few bites, stealing glances at my contemplative little angel and dreading what I was eventually going to have to tell her. Just not tonight, I’d already decided on that.

  “What else kept you busy today?”

  “I made a pie.” She half answered my question, laying her fork down and hugging herself around the middle. Guilt was written all over her face.

  Setting down my own fork, I picked up my napkin and wiped my mouth before giving her my full attention. “Is there something else?”

  “Didn’t Marshall tell you?”

  “Marshall isn’t the one I want to hear it from, and by the looks of it, you are feeling pretty guilty about it. So why don’t you get it all off your chest and tell me what you got up to today?”

  “I was bored.”

  “I can understand that.” I could and if she wasn’t acting so nervous, I wouldn’t even make a big deal about the snooping, but there was more to it.

  “I explored the house.”

  I stayed silent and watched her, keeping my expressions guarded, but making sure not to come off as angry or upset. I didn’t feel those things, what I wanted to do was scoop her up and kiss her and tell her everything is okay and play Daddy for the rest of the night, but her actions were making me think that wasn’t what she needed.

  She sighed and let out the rest in one long breath. “I was being nosy and found your lab, and Marshall tried to lock me out because you don’t let anyone in there, but I reminded him you said no locked doors and manipulated him into opening it, and he did, but then he wouldn't turn on the lights, so I just looked at the computers and I didn’t touch anything.”

  I raised both eyebrows. She used some interesting words to explain her behavior. I imagine she had heard them a time or two in her life. I opened my mouth, but she immediately launched into another breathless explanation.

  “Well, I didn’t touch anything at first, until I got frustrated with Marshall. He wouldn’t cooperate with me, so I started clicking on stuff to get his attention, but he ignored me, and after a few clicks I found something.”

  My body tensed at the idea of her clicking around on any of the computers and inadvertently ruining something. The urge to run to my lab and check everything out was strong, but I needed to know what she’d found first.

  “There were videos of you and two other people from when you—”

  I held up my hand to stop her. “You found my transformation videos.”

  “Yeah. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

  “You didn’t mean to search file folders and watch videos on someone else’s personal computer?”

  She squirmed and dropped her gaze. “Well, I guess I meant to do all that, but I didn’t realize what I was going to find.”

  “But you knew you should not have been in the lab in the first place.”

  “Yes.” She nodded.

  “Yes, Sir. When you are naughty and about to get a spanking, or any other punishment I deem fit, you will address me properly.”

  Her mouth formed a small ‘o’ of surprise.

  I scooted my chair back and pointed to a spot on the floor between my legs. “Come here.” It was a test. If she said no, I wouldn’t force the issue. I would probably send her to her room or something, but if she obeyed, I would know she needed the spanking that her actions warranted. Her first spanking had been cathartic and established that I cared enough to discipline her, this one would be a little bit more about her behavior.

  “Are you going to spank me?” she asked in a tiny voice.

  “Do you deserve a spanking, angel?”

  She shrugged.

  “Did you know when you went into the lab that you were taking a risk with your sitting privileges? And don’t lie to me because little girls who use their mouth to tell lies are at risk of getting a good soaping.”

  She clamped her lips shut and shook her head, but then stopped and nodded.
“I thought maybe you wouldn’t like it.”

  I still didn’t care either way, it seemed that no harm was done, but her guilt needed to be handled.

  “Then come here.”

  “But don’t you want to talk about what I found? I have a lot of questions.”

  “I’m sure you do. We can discuss all of that after you have been spanked.”

  Sighing, she stood from her seat and shuffled over to the place I indicated. Resting my hands on the waistline of her jeans, I looked her in the eyes.

  “Naughty girls get spanked on their bare asses, don’t they, angel?”

  “Yes, Sir.” She nodded, shifting back and forth from foot to foot. “But I didn’t mess—”

  I put my finger to her lips and halted her words. “Your turn to talk is over. Now it’s my turn and I’m going to talk with words and a wooden spoon.” She tried to take a step back, but I didn’t let her.

  “I want you to go get a wooden spoon from the kitchen drawer and hold it in both hands, then I want you to go to that corner right there and put your nose in it and wait for me. I’m going to clear the table, and then you and I are going to use that spoon to work through your naughties.”

  “Can’t you just use your hand like before?” she pleaded.

  “I can, but I find a wooden spoon does wonders on a naughty bottom.”

  It had been a long time since I had someone to spank like this. My new strength had been difficult to learn to control and I’d been pretty immersed in my work. There was not a lot of time to date, let alone to build the kind of trusting relationship it took to discipline someone. I had no interest in casual spanking. Angela had made me realize how much I missed being a Daddy in all ways and if any woman ever needed one, it was her.

  She didn’t move to obey.

  “If I need to give you a hand spanking in order for you to obey, then I can certainly do that, but it will not change anything and you will still get the same number of swats with the spoon.”

  She didn’t like that option because before I was even finished, she was backing away and once I quit speaking, she went straight to the utensil drawer and got the spoon before making her way to the corner, all without looking back at me. She didn’t need to. I could see the trepidation in her jerky movements and her cheeks were tinged a deep pink. Embarrassed and nervous. Exactly what a naughty little girl should be feeling before she got her butt whupped.

  I took my time clearing the table and putting the food away. When I was ready, I went to the couch and turned my attention to my naughty houseguest. “Come here, little angel.”

  She turned to face me, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She would let go of those before I was done with her. I would make sure of it.

  “I’m sorry for being nosy and manipulative and invading your space and not following the rules.”

  “Stop right there, little one. What rules did you break?”

  “I shouldn’t have gone in your lab, Marshall said—”

  “Marshall is not in charge here, I am. If I don’t tell you something is against the rules, then you are free to do it. As long as you are not putting your health and safety on the line,” I added. “What space are you invading?”

  “All of it! I went in your room and your lab without being invited, and you are letting me stay in your house, and I should have respected your space.”

  “Angela, I did not give you a choice in coming here. I brought you here because I needed to keep you safe. You are not invading anything, do you understand me?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good, let’s get your spanking taken care of, and then we will chat a little more and have some pie, okay?”

  “I’m not very hungry.” She pouted prettily.

  “Well, allow me to help you build up your appetite, then.”

  Ignoring the stunned look on her face, I tipped her over my knee and started spanking with my hand. A little warmup wouldn’t hurt, I decided, before I really laid into her with the spoon. She needed my forgiveness as much as she needed her own and I was going to help her find it.

  Warmup though this was, she still squirmed on my knee, clenching her bottom and gasping softly as I spanked her. Her hip brushed against my cock and no amount of focus could keep it from getting hard.

  Not today, buddy. Not today.

  I locked my mind on the task at hand, letting the pitch of her self-muffled cries and the minute jerks of her body as she fought not to flail be my guides. After about two dozen solid swats, I slipped my thumb into her waistband and tugged both her pants and panties down in one swift movement.

  It wasn’t the first time I’d seen the curves of her bare bottom, balanced high and round upon my knee, with the shallow valley between her thighs cast in shadow nowhere near deep or dark enough to hide her secrets. I caressed her bottom where already her skin was flushed and warm to the touch. That hue would be darker and her skin much warmer before I was done. My little angel knew it too, because when I raised my hand to continue, this time a much harsher warmup meant to crack through her guilt and ready her for the bite of the spoon, she threw her hands back and frantically grabbed to stay my arm.

  She even tried to pull her jeans back up, something that failed when I caught her wrist. “Wait, wait! Are you gonna use the spoon now? I’m sorry for being such a bad girl, please please don’t hit me with that!”

  There was panic in her voice, high-pitched and shaky, and it stopped everything when I heard it. Forcing her to let go of her pants, I pulled her up to sit on my knee instead of lying over it. I needed to see her face, and what I saw there made me think something was truly wrong. Something more than a naughty girl trying to avoid the pain of having her bottom smacked. Her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated to tiny pinpricks of blackness, and her face was ashen.

  “First, you’re not a bad girl, Angela.” I hugged her close to me. “I’ve already told you, there’s no such thing. You made a naughty choice and that is why you are getting spanked. Second, I would never hit you. Ever. I will spank your bottom each and every time you need it, but that’s different. Can you understand what I’m saying to you?”

  She nodded, but the anxiety did not dissipate in the slightest. She looked back and forth from me to the spoon she clutched in her hands. There were either traumatic memories tied to wooden spoons or she was a damn good actress. I doubted it was the latter.

  “Lastly, little angel, I am not spanking you for anything you did. Right now, you are getting a spanking because your behavior since I’ve been home says you need it. Everything you’re doing says you feel guilty for being ‘nosy,’ as you put it. You caused me no harm, which isn’t to say that it couldn’t have gone differently, but you were careful and nothing bad happened. But still, your behavior is one of extreme guilt. Even the way you explained yourself and the way you’re sitting right now, eyes wide, head bowed, hands gripping the handle on that spoon so tight that your knuckles are white, say you feel guilty. Your breaths are shallow and fast. Not once have you protested that you don’t deserve the spanking I’m telling you over and over again that you are going to get—all of this is telling me you think you need to be spanked. Am I misreading the situation?”

  She shifted her grip on the wooden spoon, and then reluctantly shook her head.

  “If it makes you feel any better,” I offered, “once we’re done here, I will be instigating new rules regarding my lab and when it is and isn’t appropriate for you to be there.”

  She nodded, her body slowly melted against mine. “So, you’re not mad at me anymore?”

  “I never was. I was concerned, but anger never even crossed my radar.”

  “But the way Marshall talked, it was like you were going to be furious.”

  “Honey, as real as he feels sometimes, Marshall is a computer. I have programmed him to protect certain things and he has adapted to my personality. He acts as he believes I would act. He has seen me be protective over my space when my cousin and his wife have visited, but even th
en, I was mostly joking with them. Marshall can’t differentiate between sarcasm and reality.”

  “Oh.”

  I tapped her nose. “Silly girl. Now, want to tell me what caused your panic over the spoon?”

  She bit her lip and eyed the item in question. “It’s gonna hurt.”

  “Yes, spankings are supposed to hurt. They are supposed to be a deterrent for naughty behavior.”

  “But you said I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “You didn’t, but your guilt got the best of you and you need to know you’re forgiven. Also, I think there is more to the story than ‘it’s gonna hurt,’ but I will let it go for now if you are able to let me finish your spanking.”

  “With the spoon?”

  “Yes, with the spoon.”

  Tears filled her eyes and she shook her head. “I can’t.”

  “You can’t tell me or you can’t let me finish?” I didn’t particularly want to scare her, but I needed to know what I was up against and I was giving her the choice, albeit a difficult one.

  “I… there was one lady. I thought she really liked me. She taught me how to make chicken noodle casserole and I was getting really good at it. But she came home from work one day and she was angry. Like, really angry. I was trying so hard to make it better, but I left the food in the oven too long, and the house filled with smoke and she… she just grabbed a spoon out of the holder.” She hesitated for so long, I almost thought she’d come to the end of her story until, even more softly, she added, “She spanked me, and then she just threw me away. Never looked at me again, just called the social worker and I was gone that night. I never even got to say I was sorry.”

  My blood was boiling, thinking about a young Angela trying to be perfect for the assholes that were entrusted with her care. All she wanted to do was find a place where she belonged, and yet time after time, the system failed her. My heart broke for that little girl.