by Maren Smith
“Everything is fine,” Izzy said with a smile for her hostess. “Thank you, again, for inviting me.”
Narrowing her eyes, Lucy seemed to study Izzy before her face relaxed into her usual welcoming smile. “You’re welcome. Don’t let this one push you around too much. It goes to their heads after a while.”
“That’s enough from you, Lucille,” Ethan growled.
“Why don’t you go prep for our scene before you give poor Ethan an aneurysm.” Mike sent her off with a loud smack to her bottom that made her squeal before she dashed away. Turning back to Izzy, he took his turn in giving her a careful study. “If you need anything, you come find me, or anyone wearing one of these.” He held up his left arm, which bore a thick, red bracelet. “These are worn only by our monitors. But I don’t believe there will be any trouble with Ethan here, now will there?”
She’d expected Ethan to scowl at the implication, but he just inclined his head. “She’s in good hands. Go take care of the rest of your guests.”
“All right. You two have fun.”
“Drink,” Ethan ordered when they were alone again, twisting the cap off of one of the bottles and handing it to her.
“I’m not thirsty.” She was parched, and she’d been about to open a bottle herself, but the order instantly put her on the defensive.
“Did I ask if you were thirsty, brat?”
Where had that deliciously threatening tone been her entire life? Of all the times he’d called her to task for something, whether it was speeding or gossiping or that time she and a group of friends had “borrowed” a few cows from a local farmer and let them loose in the school, he’d always sounded like a disappointed father. And despite him making her call him Daddy, there was nothing fatherly about him right then. There was certainly nothing fatherly about the way that voice made her feel.
Licking her suddenly dry lips, she shook her head. “No.”
“No, I did not. I told you to drink.”
If he kept this up, she might just spontaneously combust right then and there. “I’m not thirsty.”
“All right.” He placed the bottle on the bar between them. Sipping from the bottle he still held in his hand, he looked around the room. “Which one of these girls should I choose for my birthday spanking?”
“Okay, okay, I’ll drink. Geez,” she muttered, grabbing the bottle and taking a long pull of water.
“Good girl.”
She had to bite back a needy moan at his praise. Nothing had prepared her for the way those two simple words, delivered in that delicious growly voice, would shoot jolts of electric need straight to her clit.
When she’d emptied the bottle, he held out a hand for it and walked their trash over to a cleverly placed trash can that blended beautifully with the rest of the decor. “Can we play now?” she asked as soon as he’d returned to the bar.
Capturing her chin between his thumb and forefinger, Ethan forced her to look up at him. “That depends. What are you supposed to be calling me, brat?”
How was her mouth so dry again, already? “Um, Daddy?”
“That’s right. Try your question again, properly.”
She had two choices. Do as he asked, and hopefully get a nice, fun, sexy spanking. Or, push his buttons and see what happened.
Pushing Ethan Clarke’s buttons had always been one of her favorite pastimes. “Can we play now, Ethan?”
His grip on her chin tightened, and his eyes flashed with warning. “Is that how you want to play this, brat? You want your first time over my knee to be a punishment?”
Well, when he put it that way… “Sorry, Ethan.”
“Oh, Izzy. I cannot wait to break you.” He released her chin and took another pull from his own water. “Let’s go, then.”
“Now?” The word came out as a squeak, and she could feel her cheeks turning red.
“Yes, now. What did you think would happen if you kept pushing me?”
Palms slick with sweat, she rubbed them on her thighs as she looked around the room. It only just then occurred to her that they would have zero privacy. “In front of all these people? I can’t.” Other than a few measly little slaps on the ass during sex with previous boyfriends, she’d never been spanked. The idea of taking her first real spanking in front of nearly a dozen people was terrifying, not to mention humiliating.
“Look at me, Izzy.”
His tone commanded obedience, and for once, she did as she was told and shifted her gaze back to him.
“Do you trust me?” he asked, his voice surprisingly soft and gentle.
Of course she trusted him. She’d known him practically her entire life. Sheriff Clarke had a reputation around town for being the most honorable man anyone knew.
At the same time, she recognized she wasn’t dealing with Sheriff Clarke. The man who’d wrapped his fingers around her throat and threatened her with all kinds of delicious torment wasn’t the same man everyone in town knew. This man was dangerous, but somehow, she still knew in her soul she could trust him.
“Yes,” she managed to whisper past the tightness in her throat.
“Then follow my lead, baby girl.”
At his gentle nudge, she slipped off the stool and allowed him to take her hand and guide her over to a small, out of the way area where there was only an armless chair and what looked like a padded sawhorse. Another couple had taken up residence at the wooden X, and while most of the spectators had moved to watch them, a few were trickling over to the area Ethan had chosen.
“Eyes on me, Isabella.”
“Huh?” Tearing her gaze away from their audience, she looked up at Ethan, who was watching her with a small, amused smile playing at his lips.
“Try to ignore them. Focus on me. Since this is your first time, I’m going to allow you to keep your dress on. But I will still be baring your bottom for your spanking. Your safeword is always there if you need it, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good girl. Now, I was going to use a small leather paddle, something with a little sting but not too severe.” Though his lips turned down in a stern frown, excitement burned in his eyes. “But then you decided to be a brat. What are you supposed to call me, Isabella?”
“Ethan.” The response popped out of her before she really had a chance to debate her answer. She added a wide grin, and her heart skipped a beat when he growled.
Shaking his head, Ethan turned and selected a small, oval-shaped paddle from the wall behind him.
The dark, shiny wood was almost a disappointment after he’d promised not to go easy on her. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but it just looked so… harmless.
With the paddle in hand, he took his seat in the armless chair and crooked a finger at her. It was tempting to disobey again, but she was worried if she pushed him too far, he’d simply pack her up and send her home. Or worse, make her watch as he spanked someone else.
Intensely aware of the people watching them, she stepped closer to the chair. With more tenderness than she’d expected, Ethan took her hand and guided her over his lap. When she was settled, she felt the tug of her dress being pulled up over her ass, and the rush of cool air over her skin reminding her how exposed she was.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, stroking a hand over her bottom until she relaxed under his touch. “I’ve been dreaming of this for a long time, brat.”
He’d been dreaming of her? All this time she’d been pining for him, and he’d wanted the same damn thing?
Before she could twist around and demand answers, his hand lifted from its resting place on her bottom and came crashing down again a split second later.
“Holy shit! That hurts!”
“This?” He repeated the action, moving his hand slightly to the left to cover skin he’d left untouched with his initial assault.
“Yes! What the fuck else would I be talking about?”
“Last warning before I get someone to bring me a gag, brat. Watch your language.” His hand connected with her bott
om twice in a row, making her yelp with each one.
None of her reading or her fantasies had prepared her for the sting of his hand blistering her bottom. Nothing had prepared her for the way each swat sent waves of pleasure straight to her clit, until she thought she might die if he didn’t touch her there right fucking now.
Desperate, she wiggled her hips, pressing her aching pussy into the side of his leg, seeking some kind of relief from the torture he was inflicting on her.
Two swats delivered, not to her bottom, but to the tops of her thighs, stilled her movements immediately. Fuck, that hurt! A million times worse than the spanking he’d been in the process of delivering. His hand fisted in her hair, pulling her head back and arching her spine in a position she was becoming all too familiar with already.
“Naughty little brats don’t get to come during their spanking. They don’t come until Daddy says they can. Got it?”
“Yes!” When he released her, she twisted around to stick her tongue out at him. “Meanie.”
“Down to my bones. You might want to remember that.” The spanking started again, harder and faster than before, until her entire world was nothing but the burn in her ass and between her thighs.
“I think we’re done with your warmup, brat. Ready for your real spanking?”
She snorted out a laugh. “What was that, an imaginary one?”
“That mouth is going to get you in trouble one day.” Something cool and hard tapped against her inflamed skin. “How old am I?”
“Um.” Her mind went blank for a moment. He was ten years older than her. How old was she? Jesus, the man had addled her brain. “Thirty-five?”
“That’s right. So that’s one with the paddle for each year and I want you to count them. After each count, you will say ‘Happy Birthday, Daddy’.”
A laugh bubbled up in her chest and burst out of her. “Seriously?”
“Yes. Miss a count and we’ll start over.”
Her laughter was cut short when the paddle cracked against her bare skin. Squealing at the unexpected pain of a thousand needles piercing her skin, she kicked her legs up to cover her ass. Harmless? Had she really thought that evil thing was harmless?
“Count, brat.”
“One, Happy Birthday Daddy!” she gasped out.
The second swat of the paddle was somehow more shocking than the first. “Two, Happy Birthday Daddy!”
“So, the brat can follow instructions.”
Was it her imagination or was there a note of pride in his low, gravelly voice? She didn’t have time to dwell on it before the next blow landed.
“Three, Happy Birthday Daddy!”
They made it to ten before he paused to rub some of the sting from her bottom. Moaning at the feel of his rough hand stroking her tender skin, she lifted her hips, pressing her ass into his hand.
“You’re doing so well, baby girl. I think you deserve a little reward.”
Pleasure, raw and shocking, shot through her when he slipped a finger between her drenched folds. A rough, callused fingertip stroked a spot she’d never believed existed before this very moment and she nearly shot off his lap.
“Oh, God. Don’t stop.”
“Feel good, baby girl?”
“So good. So close.” The ultimate pleasure was right there, shimmering just out of reach as her entire body strained to reach it.
And just when she could feel it about to break over her, he pulled his hand away.
“Daddy!” she whined. “Why did you stop?”
“Because this is my birthday, and I can’t think of anything I want more than to keep you just on the edge of coming for the rest of the night.”
Asshole. Sadist. A dozen vile names ran through her mind, but she was terrified if she voiced any of them, he’d keep her in this painful state of orgasm limbo and she’d never get to experience the full extent of the pleasure just that brief touch had promised.
“Don’t forget to count, brat.”
It was all the warning he gave her before the paddle crashed into her tender backside again. “Eleven, Happy Birthday Daddy!”
Another ten, and she was gasping and whimpering over his knee when he stopped again. Her ass was on fire. That damn paddle hurt more than she’d given it credit for.
And to think, she could have had a sweet, easy birthday spanking if she’d just used his title instead of his name. In retrospect, it had been a terrible miscalculation on her part, but how was she supposed to have known good old Sheriff Clarke, small-town hero, had such a sadistic streak in him?
“You make the most beautiful little noises, Izzy. My favorite so far might be this one.”
The paddle snapped against her ass again, and she squealed before shakily voicing her count. “Twenty-one, Happy Birthday Daddy!”
“Actually, I think my favorite is this.”
Strong, sure fingers dipped inside of her again, stroking and teasing a low moan from her.
“Please…” Rocking her hips, she tried to force his touch where she needed it most. At this point it wouldn’t take more than a flick of her clit to send her screaming over the edge.
“Naughty girl,” he scolded, withdrawing from her. “What did I tell you? Disobedient little brats don’t get to come during their spankings.”
“Daddy, please!” Her voice pitched up to a whine she barely recognized as her own. Any semblance of pride she’d had before this moment had been stripped from her. It didn’t matter that they had an audience watching her wiggle and writhe, listening to her beg. All she wanted in that moment was the pleasure he was keeping just out of reach.
“I was wrong.” His chuckle vibrated against her side. “Hearing you beg is by far my favorite sound. I plan to hear it a good bit more before we’re done here.”
She was going to die, right there over his knee. Because there was no way she could survive another second of this torture.
The paddle fell again, snapping her out of her pity party. God, that thing burned. And it wasn’t just a surface burn, no, this felt like it went all the way down into her muscles. Her entire ass ached like a bad tooth and she was certain she would have bruises in the morning.
A thrill raced up her spine at the idea of his mark on her, even if it only lasted a day or two.
By the time she cried out, “Thirty-five, Happy Birthday Daddy!”, she was drained. And still, her body demanded his touch, craved the release his skilled fingers had promised.
“Stand up for me, baby girl.”
Guided by his gentle hands, she managed to push her trembling body upright. Ethan stood with her before scooping her up and striding across the room to a discreet door off to the side. Behind the door was a small bedroom. He placed her on the bed, then turned to retrieve a bottle of water from the mini fridge beside the bed. After twisting off the top and handing it to her, he wrapped a blanket around her and climbed into the bed, drawing her into his arms.
“You were incredible, Izzy.”
His soft praise washed over her, and she tilted her head back to grin at him. “Yeah?”
“Absolutely. Drink.”
“You’re bossy,” she complained, but did as she was told and sipped from the bottle.
His eyes were dark and unreadable as he stroked the hair from her face. “Come home with me tonight.”
If it had been anyone else, she might have hesitated or tried to play hard to get. But this was everything she’d ever wanted being offered to her on a silver platter and she wasn’t about to risk having it taken away.
“Your car or mine?”
Chapter Three
It took much longer than she wanted for them to be on their way. Ethan had insisted she finish her water before even allowing her out of the bed. When she’d protested that she was fine, he’d given her still-throbbing ass a hard squeeze and threatened to drop her off at home if she kept arguing.
The ache in her painfully neglected pussy convinced her not to push him too far.
Thirty minutes later, the sor
eness from the spanking had somewhat faded, but the piercing need between her thighs was as painful as ever. Restless, she couldn’t seem to stop fidgeting in the passenger seat.
“Sit still, brat. You’re distracting me.”
Well that was just too tempting to resist. “Oh?” Lifting her bottom off the seat, she tugged the hem of her dress up over her hips and spread her legs. “Is this better, Daddy?”
“Isabella, if you touch that little pussy, I’ll have to punish it.”
It. Not “you”. Intrigued, she trailed her fingers up the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. “But Daddy, I need to come.”
“You can come when I allow it.”
“But I need to come now.” Needed it like she needed her next breath. Desperate for some measure of relief, and curious to see exactly how he would respond, she pressed a finger to her clit. It was so sensitive; she nearly came from just that single touch.
A low growl came from the driver seat. “Hands under your ass.”
The snapped order shocked her into compliance. Sitting up, she closed her legs and shoved her hands between her bare ass and the seat.
“No. Legs open, brat.”
The first lick of fear sent a shiver down her spine. What was he going to do? Slowly, she moved back into position with her thighs spread wide but with her hands out of the way.
Once she was settled, Ethan reached across the console and rested his hand on her exposed lips. “This,” he lightly patted her swollen pussy lips. “Is mine. Nobody else is allowed to touch it. Not even you. Do you understand me, little girl?”
“Y-yes, Daddy?”
With a flick of his wrist, he swatted her, and she howled at the shock of pain. Two more quick swats followed, and tears filled her eyes at the unexpected sting.
“Are you going to touch yourself without permission again?”
“No, Daddy!”
“Good girl. You can stay just like that until I tell you to move.”
Oh, Jesus. Thank God it was the middle of the night so nobody could see her spread wide on the passenger seat of his truck.