Daddy’s Little Angela
By
Alex Reynolds
Copyright © 2015 by Stormy Night Publications and Alex Reynolds
Copyright © 2015 by Stormy Night Publications and Alex Reynolds
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.
www.StormyNightPublications.com
Reynolds, Alex
Daddy’s Little Angela
Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson
Images by Bigstock/Yeko Photo Studio and Bigstock/khongkitwiriyachan
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.
Chapter One
Angela Locke lay on the carpet in her living room, idly flipping through one of Charlie’s design magazines. She didn’t really bother to read any of the articles, but she liked to look at the pictures of the houses and imagine what kind of people lived there. She turned to an image of a sleek, modern house that was obviously located somewhere warm, given the landscape of succulents that surrounded it. She started to think about who might want to live there and what kind of life they lived when she heard the sound of the dishwasher clicking shut come from the kitchen.
Angela pretended that she didn’t notice this, or the sound of Charlie walking across the tile kitchen floor, his footsteps becoming softer as he crossed over onto the carpet, approaching her. She hoped she was giving off an air of nonchalance, but in reality, her heart was beating quickly in her chest.
Charlie stopped walking and stood a few feet away from Angela. She knew he was waiting for her to notice him, but she intentionally pretended that she didn’t. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Charlie finally spoke.
“Angela, I know you know what time it is,” he told her. His voice sounded stern and serious, and it made Angela want to squirm a little.
She put the magazine down and sat up, glancing at her watch. “Oh,” she muttered. “I guess it is getting kind of late.”
She looked up at her husband. He was standing with his arms crossed, and a serious expression on his face. Despite the nervousness growing in the pit of her stomach, she couldn’t help but mentally note how handsome he looked as he stood there. She shivered a little bit.
“It’s 11:05,” Charlie said. “that means it’s past your bedtime already. Get upstairs, get undressed, and wait for me.”
Wait for me had a very specific meaning for Angela, and she couldn’t shake the words from her mind as she put her husband’s magazine away on the coffee table and silently headed upstairs. She found herself fidgeting as she walked up the stairs, and she twirled the ends of her blond hair around her finger, taking comfort in the softness.
Angela walked into their bedroom and flopped down on the bed. She lay there on her stomach for a moment, sulking. She was in trouble again. It seems like this always happens, she thought with a deep sigh. I can never get it right.
Angela and Charlie had moved into their comfy, cottage-style house about two years ago. Twenty-six-year-old Angela was a California native, and as much as she liked their house and as glad that she was that Charlie had gotten such a wonderful job at a very respected firm, she found the cold, whipping wind of the Midwestern winter impossible to deal with. She had been so excited the first time she had watched snow blanket the town, but that excitement had turned to dread as she had realized just how long the winter was.
Now, in the middle of her second one here, she had found herself getting grumpy easily. She dreaded getting up in the morning and feeling the cold air hit her as she exited the nest of blankets. She felt less patience, like every little thing wore down on her and made her irritable.
The sound of her husband walking up the stairs made her bolt upright, ripped right out of her thoughts. She was instantly on her feet, her hand instinctively going for the button on her jeans. She started to shimmy out of them, trying her best to quickly get the tight material over her round bottom and down her legs. She was hopping on one foot, doing her best to shake the jeans off when the bedroom door opened.
Charlie was standing in front of her with a small, wooden paddle in his hands and a look of bemused disapproval on his face.
“Having trouble, baby?” he asked, his words sounding sweet and loving.
Charlie’s gentle tone made Angela melt inside a little bit. A moment ago, she had felt frustrated and grumpy, but when Charlie spoke to her that way, she felt like a very young girl who knew her daddy would take care of her. Her worries and her crankiness washed away.
She looked down at the puddle of her half-removed jeans and nodded, biting her lip. “Can you help me, daddy?” she asked.
Charlie set the paddle down on the bed and steadied Angela, letting her slip her legs out of her jeans. He reached down and picked them up, then folded them neatly and set them aside.
“Arms up,” he then instructed, and Angela immediately lifted her arms above her head. Charlie grasped her light blue sweater and pulled it over her head, revealing a pale pink undershirt beneath. The ritual of being undressed this way made her feel secure, even though she knew exactly what was coming next.
Charlie removed Angela’s undershirt, revealing her breasts; she wasn’t wearing a bra. Although they kept the house fairly warm, the air still made her nipples perk up, and the feeling of them hardening gave her a rush of arousal.
Now that she was only wearing a pair of soft, light pink panties, Angela felt the desire to cover herself, although she did her best to keep her hands at her sides. It seemed silly to her that she felt embarrassed to be stripped in front of her husband, who saw her naked on a regular basis, and who knew her body more intimately than anyone else ever had, but she couldn’t help herself. In the context of being punished, her nudity always made her blush a little.
“If I send you to your room, what are you supposed to do, Angela?” Charlie asked her, placing his hands steadily on her hips.
Angela looked down, biting her lip. “I’m supposed to get undressed, sit on the bed, and wait for you,” she said. She took a deep sigh, then added, “And think about why I’m going to be punished.”
“What were you doing instead?” Charlie wanted to know, his voice still loving, but with an undercurrent of sternness. This wasn’t play time.
“I was just thinking about things,” Angela mumbled back, her hand toying with the edge of her panties.
“What things were you thinking about?” her husband asked.
“I guess just the reasons why I’ve been out of sorts recently,” she admitted.
Charlie sat down on the bed, leading Angela over to him, then he positioned her so that she was standing in front of him. “Are you going to share those reasons, little girl?”
“I guess, I’ve just been cold,” was the best way that Angela could come up with to describe what she had been thinking.
Charlie’s face looked entertained by this. “You’ve been cold? I can certainly help warm you up,” he teased.
Angela pouted. “I’m serious, though. I just want better weather. When I wake up in the morning, and I know it’s going to be ice cold out there, I don’t want to get out of bed! And when I have to, then I get grumpy and that’s why…” She trailed off, looking down at the floor.
“That’s why you’re rude to people in our community?” Charlie asked. For the first time in the conversation, his voice had lost its affectionate edge. It sounded firm and foreboding. Angela felt a shiver that c
ertainly wasn’t from the temperature.
“Daddy, I didn’t mean to be rude,” she protested, squirming a little bit as she thought about her situation. She was standing in front of him wearing nothing but a small pair of panties and he had a paddle next to him on the bed. His tone said that she was in serious trouble. Despite all this, she could feel the gusset of her panties growing wet as he spoke to her, and her nipples hardening even more than they already were.
Charlie shook his head. “Honey, I don’t see how you could have thought that your behavior today was anything but rude.”
“I was just teasing her, that’s what girls do to each other! I thought it was funny,” she insisted. She knew that she wasn’t fully telling the truth here; she had been aware while she was in the store that she wasn’t exactly being nice.
She had run into Morgan, a girl who lived a couple of blocks away from her, while she was in the shopping center just outside of the community where she and her husband lived. While there was a small store within the gates of Little Haven, Angela almost always shopped in what she thought of as ‘the outside world.’
Angela and Charlie lived in what looked like, from the street, a normal, gated community. It had rows of houses, all with their own charm but within a unified style, and it had its own little parks and community center, but Little Haven was different than the other developments that dotted the Minnesota landscape. Unlike ‘The Oaks’ or ‘Waterford Village,’ those who were interested in dwelling in Little Haven had to complete a complicated application. Specifically, they had to describe the ways in which they participated in age play: it was a community designed around giving a safe space for those who shared this interest to fully embrace their lifestyle.
Angela and Charlie had decided to apply to live in Little Haven after Charlie had gotten hired at the firm where he now worked. They had gone to a convention for age players back in California, where they had heard about the community. Angela would never have wanted to leave her home state, but the chance for her husband to grow his career this much had been worth the move.
It had taken a lot of adjusting to get used to having to call her husband ‘daddy’ not only in the privacy of her own home, but in public, too, and to lose privacy about other things as well. She remembered how much she had cringed the first time she was threatened with a spanking while they were out in public! But as Angela got to know the people in her little town, and she made friends with other ‘girls her age’ who identified as teenagers, although their real-life ages varied quite a bit, she sometimes felt a little bit too comfortable.
By venturing out into ‘the outside world’ for errands, Angela brought a little bit of the thrill back into age playing. So, when she had seen Morgan in the store, she had figured that it would be fun and exciting to poke at her a little bit.
“Would you say that Morgan is your friend?” her daddy asked her.
Angela knew the answer to this, but didn’t want to admit it. “Kinda?” she tried.
“I would say she is not,” Charlie told her. “Actually,” he corrected, “I would say that you are not her friend. I think that Morgan would be happy to spend time playing with you if only you were nicer to her.” Charlie emphasized the last few words very sternly.
Angela felt a little bit ashamed when she was told this. She didn’t feel the exciting tingly feeling of being about to be spanked that she had been focusing on earlier; that had been replaced with a truly bad feeling in her tummy because she knew that her daddy was right.
“What did you say to Morgan?” Charlie asked, using one finger to lift her head and force her to make eye contact.
Angela wished that she could escape his disappointed gaze, but she couldn’t. She looked deep into his dark eyes as her heart pounded against her chest.
“I just asked if she was allowed out of the house without a babysitter,” Angela whispered.
Charlie nodded. “And then you laughed at her,” he added.
Angela gave her own nervous little nod.
“You know that you weren’t just playing around. You know what your tone was. You were making fun of her, weren’t you?” Charlie scolded, carefully articulating each word.
Angela felt like she was about to cry, but she sucked it in. She was going to be a big girl about this. “Yes, sir,” she managed to get out.
And with that, her daddy reached forward and pulled her over his lap. He positioned her so that she was supported by the bed. His efforts to make sure they were both relatively comfortable while he spanked her meant one thing—that her punishment wasn’t going to be quick. She grabbed one of the gray cushions from the head of the bed and clutched it to her chest.
Charlie responded by reaching to the other side of the bed to grab Angela’s stuffed tiger and handing it to her. Angela squeezed her plush companion close to her with gratitude.
“You think you’re such a big girl, but here you are, over your daddy’s lap, cuddling your little stuffie as you’re about to get your bottom spanked. Do you feel so grown up now, Angela?” Charlie chastised.
Angela hid her face. “No, sir,” she whispered.
“My little girl is going to get spanked now,” her daddy announced, tugging her panties down to her knees.
Angela did her best not to squirm as Charlie raised his hand and brought it down hard on her bottom. No matter how many times she had been spanked, the first smack always startled her, as if she had forgotten just how much a spanking hurt. It even happened if she had just been spanked the day before. After a moment, obviously to let it sink in, Charlie gave her another swat, this one even harder. Angela gasped.
He gave her a few more well-placed, carefully timed smacks like this, and Angela grunted and whined after each one. They were hard and slow, and each one stood out from the one before it and after it, not letting her fall into the rhythm of the spanking.
Soon, though, Charlie began to pick up the pace and was peppering her bottom with smacks. Angela felt the heat growing and building and she began to struggle a little bit, twisting her hips away from the punishing swats and tightening her grip on her tiger.
“Don’t fight me, young lady,” Charlie scolded. “You know that you were a naughty little girl, and that in this household, misbehaving girls end up with very sore, red bottoms.”
Charlie’s words were punctuated by a series of hard slaps, and Angela tried her best to be still. She couldn’t help but cry out, though, as her daddy’s strong hand visited her bottom again and again, with no end in sight.
“I’m sorry!” Angela finally cried out, unable to keep quiet and wanting something to do with her voice besides just shriek and wail.
“I hope you are,” Charlie said. “I hope you’re sorry that you hurt someone’s feelings. I hope you’re sorry that you embarrassed me with the way you behaved today. I hope you’re thinking about how to be a truly well-behaved girl in the future.”
The words stung more than the hard smacks and Angela sniffled. “I promise I’m going to be good! I’ll be nice and polite and friendly!” she howled.
At first, Charlie’s only response was to continue with the steady rhythm of the spanking, but after a moment, he stopped.
Angela felt a mixture of relief that she wasn’t being spanked at that moment and a deep, tingling fear—she knew that the paddle was sitting within her daddy’s reach. She took a couple of deep breaths.
“Angela, I’m tired of you acting like you’re better than the other girls here. We moved here to be part of a community, and you do that by making friends and getting along with others, not by holding your nose in the air and acting snooty. It doesn’t make people think well of you.”
“Yes, daddy,” was all that Angela could whimper.
“I won’t have any more of this, for any reason. If I ever hear about you acting this way again, I will go out and buy a cane.”
Angela gasped, her body going rigid as if she had just been given a particularly powerful smack. She knew that some girls in the communit
y got the cane every now and then, but it had never even occurred to her that she would be in for it! She certainly was able to take a fairly hard spanking, but the mystery surrounding an implement that she was unfamiliar with, and one that was rumored to be one of the most severe, left Angela without any feeling of bravery.
“Daddy, no!” she cried. “Please don’t!”
“If you make me, I’ll get a cane and I’ll punish you with it. And don’t think that will be all that I’ll do to you. I’m warning you now, Angela, you need to be on your best behavior.”
Charlie’s mysterious threat left room for Angela’s mind to wander. Would he plug up her bottom? Give her an enema? Spank her pussy? She ran through a list of as many humiliating and painful punishments as she could think of. As much as she dreaded the idea of being in big trouble and needing to be punished so thoroughly that her daddy thought it would be necessary to buy a cane just for the occasion, Angela felt herself growing wet between her legs, and she had to try hard to keep from grinding against Charlie’s knee.
“I promise, I’m going to be good!” she insisted.
Charlie responded by reaching behind him again. Angela knew what he was grabbing, and she braced herself, tightening her muscles to prepare for the impact.
“Relax,” Charlie ordered.
Angela took a deep breath and willed herself to untighten.
“Good girl,” her daddy praised her.
Angela beamed: those words made her whole body feel warm, in a good way.
She didn’t get to bask in the feeling long, though. Charlie lifted the paddle and brought it down hard against her bare, defenseless bottom with a resounding crack.
Angela yelped. “Owwwwwwww!” The small paddle was dense and carried a lot of weight, and the small size made all the pain concentrate in one spot. Angela could feel the smacked area pulsing hotter than the rest of her bottom, and she imagined that it had to look like a raised welt based on how it felt. It stung and bit and burned.
Daddy's Little Angela Page 1