“Yes, daddy.”
“Here’s the face cloth, and here is some baby oil,” he added, reaching behind him and opening a cabinet under the sink. “It’s very good for removing makeup, especially if it’s waterproof.”
Taking the plastic bottle, Amanda poured some onto the face cloth, then paused and looked up at him.
“You won’t punish me too hard, will you?”
“I’ll punish you as I see fit, young lady. Now clean up your face.”
Amanda felt as if she was in the Twilight Zone, or Never-Never Land. When Braxton had scolded her for stealing the makeup, she’d felt transported back in time. When she’d confessed her crime to her father, he had said that little girls sometimes do naughty things, but because she’d told him everything was forgiven. Braxton didn’t agree, and Braxton was her daddy now. He thought she should be punished for the theft, and for her public tantrum as well. She’d always felt that something had been skewed, but her new daddy was going to fix things. He was going to put things back in balance.
Carefully wiping the cloth over her eyes, she stared down at the black and purple smudge. Jeremy had often told her she wore too much makeup, and looking at the garish mess she wondered if he might be right. She’d started using the black eyeliner, mascara, and dark red lipstick as a young teenager, and she’d waited for someone—her teacher, her mother, her friends—to tell her it was too much, but no one ever did. As she continued to wash it off, she had a sense that she was removing more than just the expensive cosmetics with which she been painting her face for so many years. A swell of emotion rose up from inside her, and she felt tears slipping down her cheeks. Moments later, as Braxton opened the door and started toward her, he saw the crease over her brow and the droplets of water that were not from her bath. Moving swiftly forward, he knelt beside her and smoothed away the loose tendrils of hair.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured, “talk to me.”
“I feel… so… I don’t know,” she sniffled.
“Better? Relieved? Cared about?”
“All those things, and really, uh, really happy.”
“My goodness,” he muttered, pulling her head against his chest as best he could over the rim of the tub. “It’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it?”
“It’s so weird,” she bleated.
“I know, but it’s a good weird, right?”
“It’s a wonderful, miraculous weird,” she replied at him.
“Let’s take a look at you,” he murmured, pulling back and staring down at her face. “Hmm, give me the cloth, lift up your chin and close your eyes. Let me finish up. No more of all this crap. It’s too much. Like I said before, you’re too pretty to be wearing it, but you know that now, don’t you?”
“Yes, daddy.”
Her voice had been a whisper, and as he began to gently wipe away the last of the makeup, she sank into his gentle touch. While she couldn’t quite wrap her brain around it, she was experiencing something momentous, and she was overwhelmingly grateful.
“That’s better,” he said, sitting back and studying her. “Much better.”
“How do I say thank you?” she asked, fluttering her eyes open.
“You already have,” he said softly.
He could see her tears were drying up and she was coming out of her emotional state, and she titled her head to the side. A question was coming, and he could guess what it was.
“Are you still going to spank me?”
“But of course,” he said firmly, giving her the answer he knew she wanted and needed. “I’ll spank you for the temper tantrum, but for stealing I have something else in mind. Stand up and I’ll dry you off.”
The relief in her face was palpable, and picking up a large bath sheet, he held it open for her as she rose to her feet. Wrapping it around her body, he helped her step over the side of the bath, rubbed her dry, then removed the clip that was holding up her hair.
“Are you ready for your punishment for stealing?” he asked.
“Yes, daddy, I guess so,” she said nervously.
She watched him reach into his pocket, and as he withdrew a glossy gold butt plug, she let out a shocked gasp.
“What’s that?”
“This is going up your bottom, and you’ll have to wear it until I decide you’ve learned your lesson.”
“Oh, no. Daddy, no, that’s… that’s…”
“Humiliating?”
“Yes,” she squeaked. “You can’t mean it.”
“I most certainly do mean it. Do you think you’ll want to steal again?”
“No, no, no. You don’t have to do it! I swear, I won’t steal again, not ever, I won’t!”
“Turn around, place your hands on the end of the counter, and bend over.”
“Oh, daddy, must I?”
“If you don’t, I’ll spank you with that bath brush, and then put it inside you.”
She knew he meant every word, so slowly turning around she did as he said. This was forbidden territory. Though she’d fantasized about anal sex a few times, she’d never allowed anyone to delve back there. The idea was mortifyingly embarrassing, but when he put his hand on her back and told her to arch, she couldn’t deny it was also stunningly erotic, and a sudden flood of moisture washed through her sex.
Reaching into his pocket, Braxton retrieved a small plastic bottle of lube, and after placing a dollop on the end of his finger, he pulled her cheek aside and touched it to her hidden back hole. She let out a low moan but didn’t move, and placing the butt plug against her, he carefully pushed it forward.
“Oh, no, no,” she moaned.
“Be good for daddy,” he purred. “You know you deserve to be punished.”
“Oh, but it’s so… strange… and… ooh…”
“Take a deep breath, exhale, and let it in.”
Dropping her head into her hands, she slowly did as he said, and as the unwanted intruder slithered forward she uttered a cry of disbelief. It was really happening. It was entering her.
“Ah, yes, there you go,” he muttered. “That’s my good girl.”
The plug disappeared, leaving the golden flange nestled elegantly between her cheeks, and as he stroked her back he brought his lips to her ear.
“Three things you must remember, sweetheart. I will reward you when you’re a good girl, I will punish bad behavior, and I will always keep my promises. Repeat what I just said.”
“I’ll be rewarded when I’m good, you’ll punish me if I’m bad, and you always keep your promises.”
“That’s right. Straighten up now.”
“But it feels so awful,” she groaned.
“You’ll think twice next time you think about stealing, won’t you?”
“Oh, yes. I’ll never shoplift again. I promise,” she mewled, leaning into his chest.
“I certainly hope not,” he said, bringing his arms around her. “If you do, I’ll have to put something much larger inside you, something that would make you wriggle and squirm. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
“No, no, I wouldn’t, not at all.”
“Now I have a present for you.”
“You do?” she said, shifting out of his arms and staring up at him.
“Here, on the back of the door.”
Turning around, he lifted a robe off its hook. It was pink velour with white ponies, and as he slipped it around her naked body, her eyes sparkled up at him.
“It’s so soft. I love it.”
“It’s yours, but it will stay here at your daddy’s house, and when you come over that’s what you will wear.”
“It’s wonderful, thank you, daddy.”
“Come into the dining room and we’ll have dinner. Are you hungry?”
“Yes, I am, and it smells so good, but this thing you put in me, it feels funny to walk. Can’t you please take it out now? I’ve learned my lesson, honest.”
“My goodness, sweetheart, of course not. It’s only been in there a few minutes. You have to be prope
rly punished.”
Amanda looped her arm through his as they walked slowly through the bedroom and down the hall, and as they passed through the living room she stared out at the magical view and paused her step.
“I really am living a fairytale,” she murmured. “I’m so lucky, and I’m so glad to be here.”
“Even though you’re uncomfortable right now, and will have a stinging backside soon?”
“Yes,” she nodded, then in a whisper she added, “maybe because of that the most.”
He sat her at his dining room table, and before moving into the kitchen to fetch their dinner, he tied a cloth napkin around her neck.
“We don’t want you spilling food on your lovely new robe.”
“No, daddy, we don’t,” she replied, and when he returned with a glass of milk for her and a glass of wine for himself, she broke into a smile. It was perfect.
As they began to eat, Braxton asked her how she’d managed to secret away the makeup without any of the salespeople seeing her. After she’d explained how she’d covertly put it in her mother’s handbag, he frowned at her and shook his finger.
“That was very bad,” he said gravely. “Your mother would have been in serious trouble if it had been discovered.”
“I didn’t think about that,” she admitted. “I’m very glad it didn’t happen.”
“What else have you stolen?”
“A few things,” she replied, lowering her eyes, “but I hate this beastly thing inside me, and I truly am sorry, daddy. Honest.”
“When I spank you for that tantrum I’ll remove it, but remember what I said. If you do anything like that again, the punishment will be much worse.”
“Yes, daddy. You don’t have to worry. I won’t do it again, not ever.”
“That’s my girl,” he smiled. “Finish your dinner before it gets cold.”
As he sipped his wine, Braxton studied her. Her cheeks were flushed pink, her eyes were twinkling, and without the heavy makeup she looked ten years younger. He also sensed a calm settling over her. She was naturally effervescent, but also she carried an edginess, a simmering stress just below the surface, and he could feel it dissolving. She cleaned her plate and drank the last of her milk, and as he cleared the dishes away, she looked up at him expectantly.
“Is there something else you want?”
“Dessert? Is there dessert?”
“Yes, but you’ll have that later, provided you’re a good girl when I spank you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You will,” he replied, “now go into the lounge and wait for me on the couch.”
Slipping off her chair, she padded into the living room, and as she sat down on the cream leather sofa, she found herself once again getting lost in the sparkling city. When she heard him approach she felt her butterflies spring to life, and turning around, she could see he was carrying something in his hand. As he drew near, she could see what it was. A wooden spoon.
“What’s that for,” she quivered, already knowing the answer.
“Your naked bottom,” he said sternly.
He could see the fear in her eyes, and sitting next to her, he gently took her hand.
“Yes, little girl, it will hurt, but it’s meant to hurt. Throwing yourself on the sidewalk and making a spectacle of yourself, my goodness. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“I am, daddy,” she whimpered. “I just wanted the purple-haired doll so very much.”
“That’s no excuse,” he scolded. “You behaved like a spoiled brat, and now you’re going to be punished. It’s long overdue. Lay yourself across my lap, and while I’m spanking you I expect you to keep your hands wrapped around that loose sofa cushion at the end of the couch, and if you have to yell you’ll bury your head in it, and no kicking. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, daddy.”
“Go on then, crawl over daddy’s lap and hold on to the cushion.”
Taking a deep breath, Amanda did as she was told, and as she settled into position and felt him lift the robe out of the way, she turned her head to the side and stared out at the twinkling lights. She was living a fairytale, but her handsome prince wasn’t going to kiss her, he was going to spank her, and she knew it was going to hurt.
Chapter Fourteen
Amanda grit her teeth and buried her head in the cushion as Braxton started to remove the butt plug. It was mortifying and humiliating, but she had a very strong feeling it wouldn’t be the last time he’d be toying between her cheeks. As it finally slid out and he began smoothing his palm over her backside, she readied herself for the slaps she knew would follow.
“You will learn to control your temper, little girl,” he began, smacking her right cheek, “or you’ll find yourself back over my knee.”
“Yes, daddy,” she whimpered, then squealed as he landed a second and a third smack on the same spot.
“I will not allow you to be a brat with me,” he continued, moving his hand to her opposite cheek and delivering three quick slaps.
“I know, and I’ll behave,” she promised with a pleading voice.
“This spanking is punishment, but I think I’m going to put you over my lap once a week to remind you what will happen if you don’t control yourself.”
“Oh, daddy, you don’t have to,” she wailed.
“It’s not up to you, little girl,” he declared. “I’m the daddy around here, and if I think you need regular discipline, then that’s what will happen. Who’s in charge?”
“You are, daddy.”
“That’s right, and you’ll be much better off if you remember that. Now I’m going to warm your bottom and make it ready for the spoon. Do you remember the rules?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me what they are.”
“I have to keep my arms around this pillow, put my face in it if I’m going to yell, and I’m not allowed to kick.”
“That’s right. If you behave you’ll have the dessert, and I might not spank you quite as hard. Let’s see how well you can obey me.”
“I’ll be good,” she exclaimed, looking over her shoulder. “I will, I promise.”
“Head down,” he said firmly.
She began to wriggle, trying to find a more comfortable position, and he waited until she had settled before resuming, but once she was still and her head was in the cushion, he let his hand fly across her naked seat, landing his smacks on every part of her backside. As the rosy color grew, he heard her muffled yelps but paid them no heed. He knew exactly how hot and pink her bottom needed to be, and he had no intention of stopping until it was ready for the sting of the wooden spoon.
Amanda kept waiting for his peppery palm to pause. When he’d spanked her in her bedroom it hadn’t lasted for very long, but this time it felt endless. Over and over again his hard hand fell, moving from cheek to cheek, then traveling lower to sting her sit spot, leaving not an inch of her bottom untouched, but no matter how much it hurt she was determined not to break the rules.
“That’s it,” he suddenly declared. “I think you’re ready.”
“My gosh,” she panted in her little-girl voice, turning her head to the side. “You spanked me for so long.”
“I’m capable of spanking you much longer if you deserve it,” he warned. “You’d best remember that.”
“Uh-huh,” she uttered, still trying to catch her breath.
“You were good though, I’m very proud of you. You didn’t kick out, you didn’t move your hands behind you, and you made sure to keep your head in the pillow. If you continue to behave you’ll get your reward.”
“Ooh, is there much more, daddy?”
“It will be over soon, sweetheart, but it will smart,” he replied, picking up the spoon. “I’m going to swat you ten times. The smacks will be slow, and after each one you’re going to say, ‘I’m sorry, daddy, for being a brat.’ Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she whimpered.
“Here comes the first,” he announced, an
d touching the back of the spoon against the center of her right cheek, he raised it up, then swatted it down.
Amanda howled into the pillow, then catching her breath, she lifted her head and whined, “I’m sorry, daddy, for being a brat.”
Moving the kitchen implement to her opposite cheek, he landed the second blow.
“I’m sorry, daddy, for being a brat,” she gasped. “Ooh, that hurts so much.”
“Yes, it does, and now I’m beginning to believe that you really are sorry,” he declared, landing another.
“Oowww, I’m sorry, daddy, for being a brat.”
So it continued, and after each swat Amanda’s apology changed. She’d be breathless, or yell, or sniffle between the words. She was being properly punished, undoubtedly for the first time in her life.
“Last one,” he finally said, placing the spoon in the very center of her bottom across the fissure of her cheeks.
He dispatched it with a significant flick of his wrist, and she wailed into her pillow, gyrating her hips from side to side. Letting out a sigh of his own, he dropped it next to him, but before he could begin to rub away her fiery burn, she bolted upright and threw her arms around his neck.
“I’m sorry, daddy, for being a brat,” she mewled, clinging to him tightly. “Please cuddle me, please, please.”
Her unexpected response took him by surprise, but he held her tightly and stroked her back as she sniffled into his shoulder.
“Sweetheart,” he crooned, “it’s over now and all is forgiven. You’ve paid for your sins. Do you feel better?”
“I do,” she said, stifling a sob. “I’m not crying because it hurts, I mean, it does, it hurts so much, but because I feel… I don’t know what I feel, but it’s a good thing. Am I being stupid?”
“Of course not. They’re tears of relief, and probably other things as well, but they’re certainly not stupid. My poor little girl, you’ve lived with so much guilt for so long.”
“Thank you, thank you,” she mumbled. “I’m so glad I met you. I’m so glad I’m with you.”
“It goes both ways,” he said tenderly. “Believe me, you’re a blessing for me too.”
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