Papa's Rules
Page 6
Oh no. What had she done? Her tummy flipped as she turned around to face her stony-faced papa. Fear wound through her, and while she still felt safe being alone with Lord Cavendish, she didn’t think she would like what was about to happen.
He removed his jacket, laying it on the couch, and began to roll his sleeves up in a methodical manner, keeping his stern gaze fixed on her.
“As I have said, I will not tolerate a disobedient little girl. I realize your bottom might still be pinkened from yesterday’s spanking, but that’s not going to stop me adding to it and giving you the correction you so richly deserve. Given your huffing and stomping, it’s my opinion that Nurse Lister did not spank you nearly hard and long enough. I intend to remedy that right now, Cammie. You have left me no choice,” he said as he finished rolling up his sleeves.
As his words sank in and her anxieties grew, she found herself staring at his thick manly forearms, along with his large hands. Oh dear. His hands were a lot larger than Nurse Lister’s or Miss Wickersham’s. She gulped, and a second later, her hands flew behind her as she attempted to shield her bottom.
“Oh, Papa! I’m so sorry. But you made me stand in the corner for a long, long time. And it’s not fair,” she said, resisting the urge to stomp again. “I mean, if I hadn’t gone outside to smell the flowers, I would have likely gotten into trouble in this room.
He arched an eyebrow at her. “What kind of trouble, young lady?”
Her eyes widened and she could have kicked herself for not being quiet.
“Cammie…”
She crossed her arms and lifted her chin, trying to look like a big girl. But his jaw soon tightened and she knew if she didn’t confess what kind of trouble she’d been referring to, he would likely attempt to spank the truth out of her. Oh, but it was so shameful, to admit out loud that she’d been tempted to touch her own cunny. What would her papa think?
He took a step toward her and she backed up, putting her hands up in a show of surrender. Very well. She would confess the naughty thoughts that had flitted through her mind. The temptation that she had tried very hard to resist this afternoon, though she hadn’t been able to resist it last night, when she stroked herself to bliss in secret under her bed covers.
“Fine,” she said, in a much more subdued tone. “If you must know, I became achy between my thighs, as I had yesterday during my examination. I thought about touching myself, to make the aching feel better, but I soon decided that wouldn’t be proper and since I was still missing my friend and feeling a little uneasy about all the change that’s happening, I went outside rather than stay in here and risk doing something I suppose you wouldn’t approve of me doing. It’s against the rules to touch our kitties in Talcott House, as Miss Wickersham says we must save our special gifts for our papas.” She spoke in a rush, hoping Papa would show her some additional leniency for her honesty. She stole a peek at him, but his face remained unreadable.
Her heart hammered in her chest as she awaited his response. Did he understand and see her side of things? Or was he even more displeased with her now that she’d confessed to having wayward thoughts?
“Thank you for telling me the full truth, Cammie,” he finally said, his features softening. “Miss Wickersham is right in that regard. A young lady’s cunny is a special gift that belongs to her papa, and you are never to touch yourself there without permission.” He approached her and cupped her face, and she practically melted at the warmth of his large hands holding her in such a tender fashion, as if she were the most special girl in the world to him. Her heart fluttered and the heated throbbing between her thighs restarted.
She yearned for his touch with every fiber of her being, and suddenly there wasn’t enough air in the room. She took a couple of deep, shuddering breaths in an effort to calm herself and not drift back into her salacious musings while he was speaking to her. Whatever Papa was about to say must be important, because the lines on his forehead creased and his mouth tightened slightly before his lips parted on a quick inhale.
“Little girl, if you ever touch your kitty without permission, Papa will force your legs apart and smack the delicate folds of your privates. A long, hard spanking on your kitty is what will happen if I ever catch you in the midst of such naughtiness. Do you understand?”
“Of course, Papa. I-I understand. I won’t dare touch my quim.” Oh heavens. A spanking on her privates. She couldn’t even imagine the shame of enduring such an intimate punishment, even if it were delivered by her papa, and she trembled at the idea of having to spread her legs and await each stinging smack to her tender folds.
His lips tightened again. “You’re my little girl, and I think quim and cunny are much too grownup of words for you to use. Unless I tell you otherwise, you’re to call your privates your kitty. Now, I don’t feel it’s appropriate to have you squirming over my lap when we are yet unmarried, so I want you to be a good girl and bend over the arm of the couch instead. I haven’t forgotten your misbehavior in the corner. I know a certain little girl who’s going to have a bright red bottom while she’s saying her wedding vows.”
Chapter Five
Her obedience pleased him. More than he had imagined it would. Little Cammie rested over the arm of the couch, emitting the occasional nervous whimper, but otherwise remaining quiet and still.
He placed a hand on her bottom. “Young lady, I am going to make this quick but hard. You will learn to follow directions, and you will learn to control your temper and show more patience, or else you will find yourself in this position more often than you would like. Had you remained in the corner, as quiet and still as you are being right now, you would likely be snuggling in my lap at this very moment, rather than finding yourself bent over a couch awaiting your papa to redden your bare little bottom.”
She gasped, but before she had a chance to move, he flipped up her skirts and her chemise, then parted the slit of her drawers, revealing her nakedness. His blood heated. God, she was a lovely creature. He spread her drawers wider apart, letting his fingertips trail across her pale flesh. Inspecting her, he saw just a hint of pinkness on her lower left cheek, the only evidence that she’d endured a recent punishment. Of course, her entire bottom would be reddened by the time he was finished with her.
He still couldn’t believe she’d had the audacity to huff and stomp her foot. Had she been testing him to see if he really would spank her? Or was she simply unable to control herself when she became frustrated? Well, he supposed it didn’t matter, because either way, she was about to be on the receiving end of a good hard bottom smacking.
Standing beside her, he placed a firm hand on her lower back and raised his other hand, preparing his aim. He brought his flattened palm down upon her right buttock first, then quickly slapped her left one. She wiggled and gasped, but he continued on, spanking her with hardly a pause between slaps. Her curvy little cheeks soon pinkened, and then reddened, under his chastising swats.
“Ouch ouch ouch!” she cried. “Oh, Papa, I’m so sorry! Please no more spanking!”
“Your punishment will continue until I’m satisfied that you have indeed learned your lesson, little girl. Papa is in charge here, not you, young lady. You would do well to remember that.”
She whimpered and her shoulders heaved. A moment later, he heard the sound of sniffles followed by a heartfelt sob that wrenched at his soul. He gave her three more slaps, then stopped and rubbed her punished cheeks, deciding she had indeed had enough.
“Shh, sweet girl. It’s over now. You took your punishment well.”
He fixed her drawers back into place and gave her behind an affectionate pat. Then he returned her skirts and chemise to rights and lifted her off the sofa, only to draw her directly into his lap after he sank down on the cushions. He wrapped his arms around her and was pleased when she returned his hug and nestled her head against his chest.
“Do you know why you got a spanking, Cammie?”
“Y-yes, Papa. I was a bad girl.”
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Her soft brows furrowed over her eyes. “B-but you punished me.”
“You were not bad. You were naughty, a very naughty girl indeed.” He took note of the way her breath hitched when he called her naughty. He stifled the happy smile that wanted to burst upon his lips for it would not do to have her know how much it pleased him. “You are a good girl. You are Papa’s good little girl. And sometimes good girls do naughty things or even bad things, but that does not make them bad.”
She thought for a minute and pursed her lips in concentration before resting her head against his shoulder and smiling up at him. “I think I understand, Papa. Thank you for explaining it to me so well.” She sighed. “I think I am going to like having you as my papa.”
He pulled her close and held her for a moment, planting a kiss upon her forehead.
“All is forgiven, my little poppet.”
“Thank you, Papa. I will try to be good from now on. I would not like to disappoint you again,” she said, gazing up at him solemnly. Her trust melted his heart.
“That is the point of punishment, my dear. Once the penalty has been imposed, the deed is forgotten, and we may continue as husband and wife in a happy manner, without the cloud of disappointment or worry hanging over us. Does that make sense to you?”
He watched as she pondered his words until she met his gaze and said, with a small smile, “Yes, Papa, I understand. I think your idea is a good one. Thank you for thinking of it.”
He dropped another kiss atop her head. Though he longed to wrap her snuggly in his arms and probe her pink lips with his own, he did not wish to alarm the poor girl. She had already traveled a great distance from her home in the country to the bustling streets of London, not to mention the naughty desires he had for her, his one wish was to make her feel safe and content in his home.
“Now,” he said, standing and taking her hand in his, “let us not talk of such unpleasantness. Would you care for a tour of Ashton Manor, your new home?”
“Oh, yes.” Her eyes glistened with excitement. “I would like that very much, Papa.”
He assisted her in climbing the large staircase that led to the second floor of Ashton Manor then down a long corridor to her room. He held his breath in excited anticipation, hoping against hope that she would be pleased with the arrangements he had made for her. Opening the door, he watched her face as the room was revealed to her one small part at a time.
Her eyes popped and her mouth fell open as she stepped across the threshold and then into the center of the room. Speechless, she turned in a slow circle taking in what he hoped was the perfect room for his little girl.
“D-do you like it?” he asked, nervous as a schoolboy as he awaited her response.
She circled again, this time more slowly and she made a wider circumnavigation of the room, reaching out to touch a lace covered table here or a porcelain doll there. Hesitantly, she moved to the corner where a large dollhouse stood, an exact replica of Ashton Manor. She turned to look at him and moved her lips, but no sound came out.
“Cammie? Are you well?” Crossing the room, he clasped her hands in his, staring down into her beautiful face.
“Y-yes, Papa,” she finally said on a whisper. “I-I have never seen anything so grand in my entire life. Is this really meant to be my room?”
His heart soared with happiness to see her astonishment at his creation. “Yes,” he said. “Yours and yours alone.”
“At Talcott House, I shared a room, with Hyacinth, Daisy and Rosie.”
“Did all of the other girls at Talcott House have flower names? Cammie is not a flower,” he said.
“Yes,” she said. “Miss Wickersham gave everyone a new name when they came to live with her at Talcott House. She said we were her little blossoms. And,” she added with a giggle, clearly pleased at having a surprise for him, “my name is Camellia, but everyone calls me Cammie, but that’s a flower too.”
“So it is.” He smiled down at her, his pleasure in her company increasing every moment.
Alexander was curious about what had brought his little Cammie to live at Talcott House, but he was not so sure he wished to ask at this time. Miss Wickersham had told him a small amount, that her brother had been about to sell Cammie off as a servant girl to a disreputable household. He shivered at the idea of anyone else laying claim to his little treasure, and fierce anger coursed through his veins at the thought of her working her fingers to the bone day after day. Much as Miss Wickersham annoyed him with her brusque manner and humorless ways, he had to acknowledge the importance of her mission. A mission which had brought sweet Cammie to him.
“I am glad the room pleases you, Cammie,” he said, but then noticed that she seemed confused about something. “Is everything to your liking, Cammie girl? You look upset.”
She worried her bottom lip between her teeth and his cock stirred in his trousers imagining those same lips wrapped around his hard member, but he forced those thoughts away. His first priority was to assure his Cammie’s comfort and happiness.
“I-I thought that m-married people...well, Rosie said that...and bossy Garland too...they all said that well, that little girls and papas shared a b-bed, and I thought you said something similar downstairs, but perhaps I misheard you.” Having said what was on her mind, Cammie turned from him and buried her face in her small hands, an adorable flush visible on the back of her neck.
Gently, he placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him, lowering her hands so they could look at each other.
“That is true,” he said, “and I am looking forward to sharing my bed with you tonight, after we are married.” He felt her quiver in his hands and pulled her to him, stroking his palm down the length of her back and forcing himself to stop before continuing down to cup the curves of her bottom. “In my bed, you will be my wife, a grown up lady. Lady Cavendish. But here, in your room, is where you will be my little girl, my sweet Cammie. Does that make sense to you?”
He held his breath while she considered his words. “I-I think it does,” she said. “I am to be your little girl, but also your wife.” She blushed again, but this time she did not turn away, so Alexander felt he was making some progress.
“Exactly,” he said. “This room is yours where you can play and keep your little girl things.” He led her to a door along the wall. “In here,” he opened the door to display a dressing area filled with dresses of all description, some more fitting for little Cammie and others for Lady Cavendish. She gasped and gaped at the collection of fabrics and laces.
“Are these all for me?” she asked, astonished.
* * *
Cammie wondered if she might faint dead away. An entire room filled with clothes and shoes, hats, capes, and other things she could not even identify. Miss Wickersham had certainly done her best to outfit her little charges, and Cammie had been grateful for two or three dresses which were laundered on a regular basis. Sometimes, late at night, she had memories of her time before arriving at Miss Wickersham’s and how she wore an old dress that was torn and dirty and how people looked right through her as though she did not exist, or if they did look at her, they turned their heads and glanced the other way. Only Miss Wickersham had seen fit to offer her clean clothes and treat her with dignity.
And now, Miss Wickersham had found her a papa who wanted to treat her like a princess. His princess. There really was no other way to describe it. She wondered if royalty had as many clothes as she saw hanging about.
A small fabric covered stool stood in the center of the room. “What is that for, Papa?” she asked.
With an over-exaggerated bow, he extended his hand to her. “Step this way and find out, my lady.”
She giggled and placed her hand in his. Oh, how she loved the feel of his strong fingers around hers. He led her over and helped her to step up on the stool. “This,” he said, “is where you will stand while I assist you in dressing for the day.”
Cammie gasped. “Y-you will assist me in dressing? Is that not a servant’s job?”
“That is true, my little treasure, but it is my pleasure and my duty to take care of you, to take care of all your needs and that includes helping you dress.”
“W-will I not have a maid for such things?”
“On those rare occasions when I cannot attend to my responsibilities as your papa, one of the house maids will take over those duties, but only on a temporary basis. You, my dear sweet Cammie, are mine and I shall shower you with all of the love and attention you have ever wanted. And that I have always wanted to shower upon my own little bride.”
Cammie’s head spun with the notion of her papa dressing and undressing her every day, assisting her with her clothing. A soft giggle escaped her lips.
“What is so funny, Cammie?” Papa asked, a smile on his face.
“Will you also style my hair, Papa?”
“Oh, you are a sassy one, are you not?” Papa gave her hair a playful tug. “I might surprise you with my skills.”
Cammie giggled again and peeked up at her papa from beneath her lashes. He was certainly a handsome man and that funny tingly feeling had returned. Or perhaps it had never left. Standing on the stool, she wiggled a little bit from side to side.
“Would you like to try on one of your new dresses, Cammie?” Papa asked with a gleam in his eye. “I would very much like to see you in some of the items I selected for you. I have a particular ensemble in mind for our wedding ceremony.”
A joyful smile covered her face. “Oh, yes, Papa. I would like that very much. It was a long trip here today and fresh clothing would make me very happy. Besides,” she glanced up at him with a saucy look, “I wish for you to be happy as well.”
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