He laughed. “Eager?”
I nodded. “I am . . . Daddy.” I whispered, of course. I could see him respond just in the way his expression changed. His jaw clenched a little; his nostrils flared. I was beginning to understand that even though he was supposed to be the one in control, there was power in my role, too.
“Patience isn’t my strongest suit,” I told him. “Maybe that’s something you can teach me.”
He nodded sagely. “I’m sure I can. And I’m a very patient teacher. No matter how many times the lesson has to be repeated.” He reached out and traced the back of my hand with his fingers. “I’m happy to do what needs to be done. For your own good.”
I tingled again at his touch and bit my lip when our eyes met. It looked like I’d have to be a very slow learner.
Chapter 4
My stomach had been filled with butterflies all day long. I’d found it difficult to so much as concentrate on typing an email or paint my nails. This was it. My first day as a Little.
I’d done some Internet sleuthing as to what would be expected me of as a Little. Actually, I saw myself as more of a Middle. This was something he and I would have to discuss. He had treated me as a Middle on Friday night, from what I could tell. But I didn’t want to assume anything.
I stressed over what to wear. My “Britney” outfit had suited Friday night’s activities, but it wasn’t the sort of thing I wanted to whip out every day. I wondered what sort of outfit would say “bratty teenager”. I grabbed an old pair of jeans out of one of the storage totes in the basement and cut holes in the knees, then cut the neck out of an old black tee so it slid off one shoulder. I pulled my hair into a high ponytail and rimmed my eyes in dark liner. I was definitely more of a parody of a teenager than what an actual teenager looked like. If Daddy had a problem with it, we could always talk it over later.
I told him I’d leave the front door unlocked. All that was left to do was wait for him to come over. I sacked out on the sofa and turned on some random reality TV show. It was mindless and silly, but I was playing a role after all. I took out my phone and scrolled through my social media feed. My heart was pounding, and I was hoping he would actually show up.
But he did, right on time. He walked into the house and shut then locked the door behind him. “Where’s my Little Girl?” I heard him ask. My heart skipped a beat. Here we go.
“In here,” I muttered just loud enough to be heard. He rounded the corner and saw me lying there. I didn’t tear my eyes from my phone.
“What are you up to?” he asked. I shrugged.
“I thought we talked about this,” Hunter said. “You’re supposed to be doing your homework or cleaning your room, not lying on the couch watching garbage TV and texting your friends.”
“I’m not texting my friends. I’m looking at Facebook.” I didn’t so much as glance at him.
“Do me a favor and look at me when you’re speaking to me, or I’ll take that phone away from you,” he said.
I looked at him. “I said I’m not texting my friends. I’m looking at Facebook.” Then I looked back at my phone again.
“I think we have to have a discussion about your attitude, young lady,” he said. Wow, we were getting into this very quickly.
I sighed heavily and rolled my eyes. “Just because I’m taking a break from all the work you want me to do?”
“Because your tone of voice needs work, Little Girl. I think you forget who takes care of you around here. I deserve a little more respect.”
I pretended to deliberately ignore him, goading him on. When I didn’t reply, he said, “I’ll give you a choice. Either I take away your phone, right now, or I take you over my knee and teach you a little bit about respecting your Daddy. What do you think? Your decision.”
I looked at him, defiant. “I’ll take the spanking.” I saw his eye gleam and knew he was pleased with me.
“I bet you think I won’t break you,” he said to me. “I bet you think your Daddy can’t make you say you’re sorry for acting this way, and that you’ll be better.”
“I bet you’re right,” I said.
He narrowed his eyes and smiled. I sensed danger in that smile.
“Get up,” he commanded. I took my time, sighing as I did, never letting myself break eye contact. I stood in front of him, hands at my sides.
He sat down on the sofa. “Unbutton your jeans, then get over my knee,” he commanded. Again, moving slowly and never breaking eye contact, I did as I was told. I unbuttoned my jeans and lowered the zipper, then stretched out over my Daddy’s lap with my knees and forearms resting on the sofa.
I felt his fingers hook into the waistband of my jeans and pull them down. Once again I was wearing a thong, and my entire ass was exposed to him. I felt his right hand gently caress the skin, moving back and forth from one cheek to the other. I felt goosebumps rise in the wake of his gentle touch.
“Such a nice, round ass, Little Girl,” he murmured admiringly.
Then smack! He caught me with the palm of his hand, once, briskly. I gasped. To go so quickly from pleasure to pain was a surprise. It also heightened the arousal I felt once the momentary pain subsided.
“See what being a bad girl gets you?” my Daddy asked. He slapped again, this time on the other cheek. The sound echoed off the walls and reverberated through me. My skin tingled.
“If there’s one thing I ask for” — smack! — “it’s respect.” Smack!
I could feel myself becoming more and more aroused with every stroke. My hips flexed and moved without my even intending them to. I couldn’t keep myself from responding to the feeling of his hand against me.
“Hmmm . . .,” I heard. “It looks like somebody is enjoying this a little bit. Is that true? Do you like it when Daddy spanks you?”
I didn’t know how to best answer, and I must have hesitated too long, because I felt his hand grasp my ponytail and yank my head back. “I asked you a question. Answer me. Do you like it when Daddy spanks you?”
“Yes!” I gasped, and I could hear the pain in my voice. It didn’t hurt so much as it was uncomfortable. I liked having my hair pulled – just not so hard. Not worth bringing out the safe word, but something worth discussing anyway.
“See? All you had to do was answer.” He roughly shoved my head back down, still holding onto my hair, and gave me two good whacks across my ass. I cried out in surprise at his sudden show of force.
“It looks like I have to spank you harder, then, since you’re enjoying yourself so much,” Daddy said sternly. I tried to stifle the moan of mixed pain and pleasure that escaped my lips after he struck harder than before.
I felt myself getting wet, as that familiar tingle between my legs got stronger. It was like his hand was connecting directly with my pussy instead of my ass. He found a rhythm, delivering brisk and forceful blows on one cheek, then the other.
I felt the heat building inside me, washing over me. I stopped feeling each blow, instead experiencing the sheer sensation. My breathing got louder, more ragged. I couldn’t contain the little moans and gasps that his hand brought out of me.
I could feel my tits rubbing against the sofa as every blow rocked me forward slightly. I wasn’t wearing a bra, and the friction on my sensitive nipples added another layer to the ecstasy I was sinking further and further into.
In the haze of my pleasure, I could feel him growing hard beneath me, but that was only a passing realization – that my reaction was turning him on as much as he was turning me on. I was too enveloped in my own feelings to engage in much conscious thought.
Finally, one more solid whack against my sore flesh and I heard him let out a long sigh. As if he’d reached a sort of completion of his own.
“I think you’ve learned your lesson. What do you think, Little Girl?” he asked.
I was panting, gasping for breath. I was shocked to realize that I’d been close to cumming just from being spanked. I felt like I’d been left adrift in the middle of the ocean with no
life preserver.
“Are you okay?” he asked, stroking my back gently. I didn’t answer verbally, choosing to nod my head instead. I was still lying across his lap, ass in the air. I didn’t even want to move yet. I slowly came back to reality, connecting to the feeling of his hand on my back.
“Wow,” I finally breathed. “That was intense.”
“You seemed to enjoy it,” he said. I was still facing away from him but could hear the smile in his voice.
I looked back at him and smirked, making him laugh. Then I slowly climbed off his lap. “I don’t think I should bother trying to get these back up right now,” I said, letting my jeans fall to the floor and stepping out of them.
“Do you have a bathtub?” Hunter asked. Funny how I could tell when he was playing Daddy and when he was being Hunter.
I nodded. “Why?”
“A warm bath is one of the best ways to take care of that butt,” he said. “Can I run one for you?”
I smiled. He was so thoughtful. I knew I had gotten lucky, finding a thoughtful and caring person to guide me into this new lifestyle. If that’s, in fact, what it was going to become.
I directed him to the bathroom and lay on the sofa – stomach first, of course – waiting for the bath to be ready. I was definitely smarting. Now that the pleasure had passed, all that seemed to be left was the discomfort. But there was no forgetting how I had felt when I was falling deeper and deeper into the blissful sensations Hunter brought to life in me.
I had never known, until two days ago, that this was possible for me. I hadn’t been frigid by any means, but I wasn’t the girl who was driven to the heights of pleasure by a rough spanking. And I sure never thought of anybody as “Daddy”. Now here I was.
And I liked it.
Chapter 5
“Bath’s ready,” Hunter said, so I got up and walked upstairs to the bathroom. And I was taken aback by what greeted me.
“I found a few candles,” he said, and I smiled when I saw how he’d lined them up along the edge of the sink. The clawfoot tub was full of sudsy water, and from my MP3 player on the shelf came soft, soothing music.
“Thank you. This is so sweet.”
“It’s the least I can do,” he said, almost shyly. “Do you want to be alone?”
“Actually . . .,” I hesitated. “I don’t. I’d rather you stayed with me.” I felt incredibly vulnerable, and there were a million thoughts and feelings running through me. I didn’t want to be alone. Then, I had a thought.
“Would you be interested in joining me? In the tub?” I asked.
“I don’t want you to think I ran a bath just to get in with you.”
“I don’t think that. Please. Join me.”
I slipped off my thong and pulled the tee over my head. That was enough to convince him, and I couldn’t help the half-smile that pulled at one corner of my mouth as he quickly shed his own clothes. He got down to his jockey shorts, and I bit my lip in anticipation. He took a deep breath and pulled the shorts down.
I forced myself to stay silent instead of gasping at the sight of his penis. It wasn’t porn-big, but it was flipping fantastic, even flaccid. In fact, he was a completely glorious specimen all around. I had known how beautiful his chest, shoulders, arms, and abs were already. They were sculpted, but not ripped. I immediately thought of Ryan Gosling in that Crazy, Stupid Love movie. He was my desktop wallpaper for a long time.
His legs were toned and strong, too. I wondered what he did to get them in such great shape. When he turned slightly to get into the tub, I was treated to the sight of a perfectly round, firm ass. He could have been a nude model. I gave a silent prayer of thanks.
Once he was settled against the back of the tub, I climbed in and sloooooowly sat down, then backed myself up against him and placed my forearms on his bent knees. The water was deliciously warm and scented with my lavender bubble bath. I leaned my head back against his chest and let out a deep sigh.
“How are you feeling?” he asked gently.
I thought about it for a moment. “I’m pretty good,” I told him. “Maybe a little confused.”
He ran his hands up and down my arms. He wasn’t being sexual per se. Just comforting. “Tell me about it,” he encouraged.
“I never thought I was this person,” I admitted. “I never saw myself as the girl who gets off on being spanked.”
“But there’s nothing wrong with that,” he reminded me. “It’s not easy seeing ourselves as someone other than who we thought we were, but that’s part of growing, too. If you enjoy it, and you’ve found someone who enjoys doing it to you, and you’re not hurting yourself or anybody else . . . who’s not asking to be hurt” — I giggled, and he continued — “then it’s all good.”
He picked the sponge up off the little rack on the edge of the tub and submerged it, then squeezed it out over me. I sighed and groaned a little. It felt good to be taken care of.
“So how did that go for you downstairs? Was everything okay for you?” he asked quietly as he sponged my back.
“Yeah, it was great,” I admitted. “The hair pulling was a little harsh, though. My scalp is starting to sting a little bit.”
“So call off all hair pulling?” he asked.
“No – a little yank is nice. I generally like it,” I told him. “But that prolonged yanking doesn’t really do it for me.”
He mulled this over. “Point taken. I’m glad you brought it up.”
I leaned against him again, and he started massaging my legs. I felt any and all tension leave me.
“Can I ask you something?” I finally got the courage to say.
“Mmm-hmm,” he answered as he massaged.
“Why do you try to hurt? Like, I got the feeling that you were trying to hurt me and kind of liking it a little. It happened on Friday, too. Do you get off on that? I mean, it’s okay if you do. But if that’s going to keep happening, I think I should know about it in advance. Does that make sense?”
He was quiet for a long time. I got nervous, worried that I’d crossed some line. Was this like Fight Club? Were we not supposed to talk about Fight Club? But he kept washing my back, squeezing the water from the sponge over my body. I supposed if he was angry, he’d storm out. For a long time, all that could be heard was the soft music and the sound of water gently splashing.
Finally, he spoke. “It’s funny, I guess I hadn’t thought about it before now. Doesn’t it seem strange that a person would do something for a long time without considering why they do it?”
I settled back into his chest. “No. Not so strange. People do it every day.”
“I guess,” he said skeptically.
“So, do you know why you do it? Or am I being hopelessly rude by even asking?”
“You’re not rude, and you have a right to know. Like I said: communication.” He played with the sponge. I enjoyed watching his large, strong hands work the soft material as he got his thoughts together. There’s something incredibly sexy to me about a man’s hands.
“See, my ex got me into the whole BDSM thing,” he eventually said. “I had never considered it prior to getting involved with her. She loved the whole Daddy/Little role play scenario. She liked pretending to be even younger than you do.” I wondered how common that was, for the female to initiate that way.
“And you liked it?” I asked.
“Mmm-hmm,” he replied. “I liked the control part. I liked the discipline part. At first, I just went along with her, but as I got more comfortable with it, I started taking the reins. She really loved that; she loved handing over control completely.”
“Did she want you to act that way then? Like pulling her hair and stuff?”
“Yeah. I did it once, by accident. She loved it, though. And I’d seen stuff in, ya know, porn. Where the guy’s all ‘you like that, bitch?’, even though the woman looks like she’s in pain. I thought that’s just how it was done. I was pretty naïve.”
“But she went for it?” I couldn’t help but smile t
o think that he was once as naïve and untested as I was.
I glanced up from the corner of my eye and saw a slight smile play over his lips. “She did. So I wanted to give her what she wanted. I guess it became a habit of mine. I hadn’t even thought about it until you just asked.”
“And your other playmates? They liked it, too?” I normally wouldn’t have kept asking questions, but I was so relaxed and so enjoying this time we were spending together. Maybe because we weren’t strictly facing one another, I felt I could keep talking in such an intimate way. Sure, I was leaning my naked body against his naked body. But still.
“Actually, I haven’t had any serious playmates since then. I’ve dabbled with women at the club, yeah. But there hasn’t been anybody else who I’ve had this sort of arrangement with, if that’s what you mean.”
Oh. Plot twist. I’d naturally assumed that somebody as beautiful as Hunter was would have women crawling all over him. And maybe they wanted to. If they were living and breathing and possessed of sight, I was sure they wanted to.
I heard a note of pain in his voice, and I had a feeling that there was more to the story. But I decided to let it go for now. I didn’t want to be pushy.
I leaned forward to add more hot water to the tub, and when the water had heated up, I maneuvered myself carefully so I was facing him. He closed his legs, allowing me to straddle his thighs. I picked up the sponge and gave him the treatment he gave me, letting the sudsy water run over his shoulders and muscled chest.
“I’m guessing you could do without the hair pulling then?” he asked as I worked.
“I like having my hair pulled a little bit,” I said. “There’s just a way to go about it that’s pleasurable as opposed to feeling like I’m going to end up with a bald spot. And we can always play like ‘ow, that hurts’ without it actually hurting.”
I glanced up at him and saw a sexy smile playing over his lips. Uh-oh. I had a feeling that smile would undo me every time.
“Show me,” he murmured playfully.
Hunter's Baby Girl Page 3