Cheri's New Rules

by Markie Morelli

“Did you give notice?” he asked as he gathered her closer and kissed the top of her head.

  “Not exactly.”

  “What do you mean? You either did or you didn’t,” he said, holding her away from him so he could look into her eyes.

  “Then I guess I didn’t, but I tried.”

  “You’re not making any sense.”

  “I know, I’m sorry. Mr. Waters nabbed me as soon as I got off the elevator and demanded to see me in his office,” she explained. “It seems he has a new client on the line, one who makes cosmetics for older women and he wants me to handle it. It will be a huge feather in the cap of the company if we can land it and months of work for me. I tried to tell him my plans, but he wouldn’t listen. He was so excited about it, I didn’t have the heart to tell him I was leaving,” she admitted.

  “Go change and wash your hands,” her husband instructed. “We’ll talk about it over dinner.”

  He knew it sounded like a dismissal, and maybe it was, but he needed a few minutes to process this. She was late. She hadn’t called, and she hadn’t given notice. They had plenty to talk about. He watched her walk away, her shoulders drooping.

  “I was worried about you, baby. You should have called.”

  “I know,” she replied without turning around.

  When she returned, she looked like an exhausted child. The make-up was gone and her hair was pulled back in a messy bun. The business suit had been replaced with leggings and an oversized tee shirt that said, “You can’t make me!”

  Michael smiled. He certainly could, but it was more important to feed his wayward little wife before they got into any heated discussions. He served her a small portion of lasagna, a slice of garlic toast and a salad. Without asking, he poured her a glass of wine which she accepted with a grateful, shoulder-slumping groan.

  “I know it was my turn to make dinner tonight,” she apologized. “I’m sorry I was so late.”

  “Throwing a frozen dinner in the oven is not a big deal,” he replied as he took his place at the island. “Worrying myself sick because you didn’t call is. Is something wrong with your phone?”

  “No, but the traffic was terrible and you know I don’t have Bluetooth. I didn’t want to risk fumbling around with my phone,” she explained, taking a bite of dinner and moaning in appreciation.

  Michael nodded, agreeing with her decision regarding the call.

  “Did you have lunch?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Um, define lunch,” she replied, looking away.

  “Never mind, that answers my question. I’m becoming more and more convinced you do need a full time daddy looking out for you.”

  “You won’t be a full time daddy,” Chéri pointed out. “You will be a working daddy. I would be a full time little girl. How do you plan to take care of me when you’re working?” she asked with a touch of attitude.

  “Ever hear of something called a Nanny Cam?” he asked, shooting her a look.

  “Oh. I didn’t think of that. You would watch me all the time?” she gasped.

  “I will whenever I can. Of course when I’m in court I won’t be able to, but I’ll pretty much know exactly what you’re doing at any given time. All I’ll have to do is access my phone or laptop and I’ll see how naughty you’re being or have been.”

  “You act like I plan to be a very bad little girl,” she said with a laugh.

  “I wouldn’t put anything past you,” he informed her. “I can see daily spankings in your future, my love.”

  “What if I never do anything wrong?” she asked with a wicked smirk. “What if I’m a perfect little girl and never give you any reason to punish me? Will you be very disappointed?” she teased.

  “Not at all,” Michael replied calmly. “In that case, I will spank you for my pleasure…and yours,” he stated, smiling when she squirmed on her seat.

  “Oh, well yes, there is that,” she admitted, taking a sip of her wine. “I’d like to lie about it, of course, but you know me too well, don’t you?”

  “I know that despite how much you protest verbally, your body loves it when I’m strict with you and I’m beginning to think the stricter the better,” he drawled.

  He watched her blush, glare at him and gulp down the rest of her wine. It pleased him so when he could force her to admit to her desires.

  “Can we talk about something else?” she stammered.

  “Of course,” he replied congenially. “When are you going to tell Waters you’re leaving?”

  “Boy, there is no safe subject is there?” she sighed.

  “Not for you. Not tonight,” he responded.

  “I thought I’d meet with the new client and talk to her about what she wants. Then I’ll work up the best ad campaign I can. I’m trying to get him to promote Mary. If he does and I can sell the client on it, I’ll give notice and pass it off to Mary. I know she can handle it. All she needs is a chance. Waters has promised me a huge bonus. I want to wait around for that if this new client likes my work.”

  “How long?” he demanded.

  “I’m not sure,” she hedged. “It depends on how things fall into place, if they do. She might not like any of my ideas and we’ll lose the whole deal. I’m sure we’re not the only firm jockeying for her business.”

  “So,” he asked, “three months, six months, a year?”

  “I told you I don’t know,” she snapped. “I’ll do the best I can, that’s all I can promise.”

  “Chéri, for someone who’s already in trouble, taking that tone with me might not be your best move.”

  “How am I in trouble?” she demanded, hopping off the stool and carrying her plate to the sink. “I explained why I couldn’t call you and thought you understood.”

  “Was there any reason in the world you couldn’t have called from work and said you were running late? Could you have called from your car before you left your parking space? How about a text message if your service was poor? I would have gotten it eventually and it sure as hell would have been better than wondering if you’d been in an accident.” Standing, he moved to the sink and towered over her, knowing his stern expression alone would impress on her how upset he was.

  “I’m sorry, Daddy,” Chéri whispered, looking at the floor. “You’re right, I should have called. It won’t happen again.”

  “You’re damn right it won’t,” he said. Turning her away from the sink, he swatted her ass, hard. “You are to go up to your room and wait for me. Take your leggings and panties off and stick your little nose in the corner, right where you belong. I’ll be up shortly to deal with you.”

  “But, Daddy,” she wailed. “I—”

  “Get,” he snapped, swatting her again, “before I help you on your way with a rubber spatula.”

  “Yes, Daddy,” she screamed as she ran from the room.

  He listened to her scampering up the stairs with a grim expression. It was nice that she apologized and smart that she hadn’t tried to call him while driving, but no way was he letting it go completely. Even if the day should come when Chéri told him she no longer wanted to be a little girl, she was always going to be a well-behaved wife.

  Michael wondered briefly how Sergeant West was making out as he cleaned up the kitchen. Smith and Wesson were furious when Michael returned to the court room after recess and informed them the Wests decided to drop the divorce proceedings. His instincts also told him Missy West was probably sitting on a very well spanked bottom. The sergeant was a big man with big hands and Michael had an idea he would do a very thorough job with anything he undertook. He doubted he would see their names come up in his court again.

  After locking the door, he turned off the light and went upstairs.

  Chéri fretted until her husband took her hand and led her to the bed. When he sat in the straight backed chair, it always meant the punishment would be more severe. If he sat on the bed, he was concerned with her comfort. Tonight that seemed to be the case.

  He sat and positioned her carefully wit
h her torso resting on the bed instead of dangling helplessly in the air. She was still over his knee, her waist held securely but it was better than being nearly upside down on a full stomach.

  Wasting no time, he pulled up her tee shirt and began patting her bottom.

  “We don’t have anything to discuss as far as I’m concerned,” he began. “You’ve been warned plenty of times about letting me know if you’re going to be delayed, yet you chose to ignore those warnings. Is there anything you want to say?”

  “I forgot,” she said miserably. It was the truth, but she knew it would hold no sway with him.

  “I see. Maybe this will help you remember.”

  That was the last of their conversation, at least his part in it. She couldn’t stop the cries, moans and sobs as he took her to task quite rapidly. There was no tender warm up, no gentle swats as he scolded her. Instead she got one hearty smack after another until she ended up with her legs trapped under one of his when she fought to get away.

  He did scold her for that, informing her she was acting silly as she knew once he decided she needed a spanking that’s exactly what she’d get. It was the truth. He never changed his mind once it was made up and it only exhausted her further to fight him.

  Eventually in what was actually a very short time but seemed like forever to her, he slowed and held her in place as he went into a squeeze, slap pattern she hated. She cried and pleaded for him to end it, but as always, her words had no effect on him. Finally, when she was completely subdued and so remorseful she could hardly stand it, he pulled up each cheek, one at a time and spanked her in her most tender spot at the very top of her thighs.

  Chéri wailed pitifully, and when he was satisfied, she blew her nose and wiped up her snot in the handkerchief he handed her. Expecting to be cuddled, she was stunned when he sat her up and went to his cabinet. Her eyes were too watery for her to see what was in his hand but he walked to her desk and placed something on the chair.

  “Come here, young lady,” he ordered.

  She obeyed as slowly as she dared, staring at him with the most accusing expression she could come up with. Where were her hugs? Where were her cuddles? Why was Daddy still mad?

  “Sit,” he barked out, pointing at the chair.

  Shocked she looked down and saw he had placed a piece of matting on the seat. It looked like the kind you place outside your door for people to wipe their feet on. It was brown, thick and scratchy and he wanted her to place her sore bottom on it?

  “No, Daddy,” she cried, backing away in horror.

  “Oh yes, my naughty little girl,” he said. “You will sit.”

  “But it will hurt,” she protested as he took her arm and pulled her forward.

  “It most certainly will hurt and if you’re smart, you’ll sit still and not wiggle around.”

  He took her shoulders and pushed her down onto the seat before scooting the chair forward.

  Chéri screamed and tried to rise, but Michael held her in place.

  “Get out of that chair and we start over,” he warned.

  Defeated, she put her head on the desk and sobbed.

  “Now,” he said, opening a drawer and taking out some paper, “you will write a proper letter of apology to Daddy. After that you will write one hundred times, ‘I will always call my daddy when I am going to be late.’ Do you understand me?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” she whimpered as she inadvertently moved closer to the desk.

  “Good. You may begin.”

  Chéri wrote as quickly as she could. The matt was horrible, horrible! Every time she moved the slightest bit it scraped her burning bottom in the most painful way. Where did he get these ideas she wondered? This was devious and she hoped he never used it again.

  When she’d completed her task, her daddy took his sweet time reading over each line while she fidgeted and cried with each movement. She heaved a sigh of relief when he pulled her chair out and helped her stand, leading her back to the bed.

  Apparently that sigh was premature. While she’d been writing and sniffling she failed to notice what daddy was doing. In short order, she found herself back over his lap with her bottom hole being greased like never before. He then greased the largest thermometer she’d seen yet and without further ado pried her bottom apart and began to seat it inside her.

  “Daddy, please,” she begged. “It’s too big.”

  “I have bigger ones,” he informed her as he worked it in and out of her tiny pucker. “Behave or I’ll get another. You know I take your temperature every night.”

  “I know but I’m so sore,” she said weakly as the intrusive object made headway.

  “I see that,” he replied. “Your poor little bottom looks positively ravaged.”

  “Then won’t you stop?” she cried.

  “Oh no, I mean to teach you a lesson. This is what I’ve chosen to use tonight. I will work it in as deeply as I can and it will stay there until I determine I have a proper reading. The more you wiggle and complain, the longer it will take me. A wise little girl would simply say ‘yes Daddy’ and relax her bottom,” he advised, pulling the rod nearly all the way out and slowly inching it back in.

  “Yes, Daddy,” Chéri sighed in defeat, letting her body collapse on the bed.

  It seemed he kept it in longer and deeper than ever before. Every now and then he would “adjust” it, causing her to shiver uncontrollably for a moment or two. Finally, he removed it very, very slowly and helped her up.

  “Put on a loose nightie,” he instructed. “We’re going downstairs to finish our discussion of earlier and I’ll need to tend to your bottom.”

  “Haven’t you tended to it enough?” she asked, weeping openly.

  “No, not nearly enough,” he replied, gently cupping her cheek.

  He took his thermometer with him, Chéri noticed. He was probably afraid it would mysteriously disappear and it might have, she decided. Slowly, she washed the tears from her face, brushed her teeth and used the toilet. She did not inspect her bottom in the mirror. Sometimes it was best not to look. Putting on her widest, most flowing white cotton gown, she timidly made her way down the stairs.

  Michael was sitting in the middle of the couch, not a good sign. That meant he wanted her over his lap once again and for the first time she considered using her safe word. Instead she went to him when he beckoned, holding out his hand.

  Carefully he helped her lie across his lap and lifted her gown.

  “My, my you were a naughty little girl, weren’t you,” he remarked as he touched her burning cheeks.

  “Yes, Daddy,” she admitted, covering her face with her hands.

  “You’ve been punished quite a bit more harshly than usual haven’t you?”

  Chéri nodded.

  “And did you deserve it?” he asked.

  “I guess so,” she replied softly. “I shouldn’t have made you worry.”

  “No, you shouldn’t and you won’t again, will you?”

  “No, Daddy, I never will do that again,” she sniffed.

  “I believe you, sweetie.”

  She heard the pop of a bottle opening and stiffened.

  “Hush now, my little one,” he soothed. “Daddy’s going to make it feel better,” he promised. “But if you ever do this again, you will wear your sore bottom like a banner for me to see for three days and I will slap it whenever it’s in reach. Now be still.”

  The lotion was wonderfully cooling and she cried out in relief at his gentle touch. Soon she was mewling with each stroke as he worked it into her skin, and lifting her bottom into his hand.

  “Now it’s time to talk about the rest of our issues,” he said softly as he pulled her nightie down and covered her bottom.

  Chéri easily snuggled into his arms when he turned her over. He stroked her cheek, kissed her lips softly and made her look up into his eyes as he pulled her onto his lap.

  “Tell me what you want, Chéri,” he ordered. “And I want the complete truth, no matter what
it is.”

  Chapter 13

  Oh, Michael,” she sighed. “Please don’t make me answer that now, not tonight. You said I could have until the weekend,” she reminded him.

  “I know I did,” he agreed, running a hand through his hair as he held her close with his other arm. “I think you’ve already decided what you want but for some reason you’re finding it difficult to tell me.”

  Chéri felt her face warm and looked away from his probing eyes. It was always hard to keep things from him and never more so than when her bottom was exceedingly hot and she knew another spanking could happen at any time.

  “Please give me some more time, honey,” she pleaded. “This isn’t exactly an easy decision. After all, you did say I would no longer have a safe word.”

  “Is that the issue or are you embarrassed to admit that sometimes you’re really a two-year-old and want your daddy to treat you as such? Would you like me to remove the choice from you so you bear no personal responsibility?” he asked with a knowing look in his eyes.

  “Of course not,” she insisted softly. “This is my life too and while it would be nice to lay it all on you, I can’t do that. It wouldn’t be fair. Then if things turned horribly wrong—”

  “What could possibly turn ‘horribly wrong?’ ” he demanded, stroking the hair back from her face. “I love you and I’d never do anything to hurt you, not in a permanent way. I’ll always discipline you when you’re a naughty girl or don’t follow the rules. That will never change no matter what, but I think I know you well enough after all these years I’ll be able to tell what you’re enjoying despite your complaints and what’s truly frightening or hurting you.”

  He was right, she admitted to herself. He did know her, better than she ever realized. Somehow in this great big universe they’d found each other, even if it had taken them years to admit their needs were remarkably similar.

  She’d stripped him of his manhood, he’d found the perfect approach to reclaim it in a way that satisfied a part of her she never knew existed. So far she loved everything her dominant daddy did to her, but how far could she take it? How far would he go? He’d said he was perfectly happy with their relationship as it was. Would taking it to a new level ruin everything?