by Measha Stone
The intensity of his rounded eyes and his firm tone sent her heart pattering faster against her ribcage. This man would not be deterred, this man had a solid footing on his dominance.
Fuck.
“Yeah.”
He pinched her hip. “No, little girl, you won’t address me with yeah, you will answer with a yes, sir, or yes, Daddy. Is that clear?”
She swallowed. His lips were close, in kissing range, and they looked so warm, so plush and delicious. But he was talking, and she needed to pay attention.
“Yes, sir.” She couldn’t call him the other thing. Not yet. Not when they were just being so casual.
He nodded and pulled back. “Good then. Let’s go.”
Gripping her hand again, he pulled her forward into the room.
Inside was exactly how she’d figured it would be. A few toddler beds, two cribs against the wall. A rack with outfits in the far corner. In another corner stood a woman with pigtails holding up a dress, with her bright red bottom displayed to the room. Her daddy stood beside her, his arms folded across his chest, scolding her.
“We were supposed to have a nice evening, and you had to go and throw a fit!” the man stated.
Carissa looked up at Jamison as he pulled them to a stop beside an armchair.
“Looks like someone got herself a bad girl spanking,” he whispered into her ear, then smoothed her hair. “You don’t want one of those, I promise you.”
She held little doubt he was wrong about that.
He let go of her hand to remove his suit jacket and draped it over the back of the chair. Once he’d sat down, his large legs spread, he pulled her to stand between them.
“Now, tell me. How much does this play into your daily life?” He waved his hand, indicating the room as a whole.
“Not very much, I guess. I’ve never had a—well, been with anyone long enough to really incorporate some of this—but…” Her eyes widened at the changing table, where a girl was getting herself diapered, and she shook her head. “Not that.” She pointed to the couple.
“Don’t point.” He wrapped his hand around her finger and pushed her hand to her side. “I’m glad to hear that. Much of this is more than I enjoy myself. But giving a well-deserved spanking to a girl is right up my alley.”
She swallowed again and looked at his hands.
“Not backing out, are you?” He chuckled. “I promise they aren’t registered as lethal weapons or anything like that.” He displayed his hands.
“No.” She shook her head and started to play with her fingers.
He clasped her hands to stop the fidgeting. “Remember your colors. Now, lie over my lap. I think we can have the rest of this discussion over my knee.”
Her pussy clenched and her clit filled with desire just at his words. What the hell would happen when he touched her?
She managed to get over his lap without making a fool of herself, and he helped settle her backside right where he wanted it. Her skin felt warm with his hand resting on the curve of her ass.
“How many spankings have you received for being a bad girl, Carissa?” he asked, starting to run his hand in a large circle over both of her cheeks.
Bad girl? Weren’t they having fun?
“Um.”
His hand rose and crashed down onto her bottom, making her jolt from the surprise of the impact.
“How many bad girl spankings have you gotten? I’d like an answer, please.”
“Three!” she answered quickly when his hand disappeared from her backside again. The first swat had left warmth behind, and she anticipated the next to be stronger if she started to displease him.
He smacked her again, a bit softer, and rubbed away the sting afterward. “Just three?” He tsked.
Discipline hadn’t been at the forefront of any of her previous boyfriends’ minds. They liked the slap and tickle game, but having to actually mete out punishment didn’t excite them.
“Yes, sir.” She gripped the chair leg after the third swat to her backside.
He chuckled, running his hand up and down her exposed thighs. His fingers barely slid under the hem of her dress, and she mentally willed him to slide up further.
“Either you’re a very good girl, or you’ve been overindulged.” His palm lifted from her thighs and peppered her ass with half a dozen swats. Not overly harsh, but enough sting to satisfy her and make her wiggle on his lap.
“Oh!” she said when he pinched her thigh, and she swung her hand back to protect her sensitive flesh.
“No, no. None of that, or I’ll have to hold your arm for you and give you a naughty spanking. You don’t want one of those already, do you?”
His voice reminded her of silken chocolate, so smooth and decadent. Her body responded well enough to it, too. Her clit brushed his leg as she wiggled beneath the spanks, and if she didn’t control herself, she would start humping his knee like a wild beast in heat.
“No, no, sir.” She gripped his pants leg as the spanking continued. A varied array of strong and soft swats spread out across both cheeks. He knew exactly how hard to spank in one area before moving to another. Warmth crescendoed over her bottom, stealing her focus from anything else going on in the room. As far as her mind was concerned it was only she and Jamison in the room.
“Now, that’s a good warm up.” He patted her backside and she looked over her shoulder at him with wide eyes. Warm up? “You didn’t think that was the end of it, did you, little girl?” He winked at her.
His hands, now warm from the delivery of the spanking, slid under her skirt and pushed it up over her hips, revealing her naked bottom. The thong she’d put on had been cute and practical with the tightness of the skirt so as not to show panty lines, but his tsking sound didn’t give her the impression he was pleased.
“A thong.” He pulled up the string nestled between her cheeks and let it snap back into place. “Little girls shouldn’t wear such clothing.” He patted her right buttock. “Your bottom is already a pretty pink.” His hand roamed again over her cheeks while his free hand rested on her back. “I think my little girl can take a bit more from me tonight. What do you think?”
His little girl? She didn’t hate the sound of that.
“Yes… sir.” The word, the title that would make the moment that much more perfect, stayed lodged in her throat.
When his hand made contact with her bare bottom, she jumped, the sting much sharper than before. Her dress wasn’t very thick—even with it being December in Chicago, she’d worn a thinner fabric—so it wasn’t protecting her much. His naked hand on her equally exposed bottom shouldn’t feel so much harder than with the flimsy material protecting her. Another swat and she jumped again. More heat spread, and he continued to rain down fire across her bottom.
She wiggled and kicked her ankles, both of which he stilled by hugging her closer to his body and wrapping one leg around both of hers.
“Oh! Ow!” She covered her bottom momentarily but quickly moved her hand out of the way, sure that he wouldn’t hesitate to go harder on her if he felt the need.
As much as her bottom began to throb, her clit reacted in kind. The wiggling only made her need worse, and the pressure built in her lower belly, aching for release.
“That’s a good girl. Almost finished.” He dragged his nails across her sore backside, making her hiss.
“Yes, sir.” She could feel the tingling and soaring sensation that only a solid spanking could bring her, and although she felt every one of the harder smacks he brought down on her, they only served to bring her to a more pleasant plane.
“There we are.” He dug his nails into her again and she sighed, resting her head against his calf. “You did so good. And good girls get very good rewards.” He moved his leg so he was no longer trapping her and pushed her outer thigh away. “Open your legs for me, Carissa, let me get to your sweetness. You need a release and deserve it.”
She mumbled something, but even she couldn’t decipher what it was. Still, she obey
ed, spreading her legs and even lifting her hips from his lap to give him better access. He didn’t pull her panties aside but rather slid his fingers beneath the thin, wet material.
“So wet for me.” With his free hand, he ran up the length of her back and sank his fingers into her hair, fisting it and pulling back until she arched upward. “Now, keep being a good girl and fuck my fingers. Come on my lap, with your bright red ass staring up at me.” He plunged two fingers into her passageway, and she groaned with the pleasure of it.
She planted her toes on the ground and did exactly as he instructed. His fingers fucked her while she pushed against him. When a finger brushed against her clit, she groaned and began to ride his lap even harder.
“Oh! Oh, god!” She gripped his leg.
“That’s my good girl, come for me, come hard.” He tugged her hair and the little bit of extra pressure, the tiniest flash of pain, and she skyrocketed over the edge on which she’d been teetering. She screamed out her release, rocking harder against his thighs and riding every severe pulsation of her orgasm until, finally, everything stilled. Her breath began to settle and her orgasm faded silently, leaving her in a haze of genuine softness.
Quietly, Jamison helped her rearrange her clothing and to get on her feet. He pulled her back into his lap and pushed her head against his chest, letting her take more time to come back to earth.
“You are more than I expected,” he whispered and pressed a kiss to her head. He smelled of musky aftershave. She snuggled further into his neck. “Better than I could have wished for.” He kissed her again.
He sounded pleased, but she hadn’t given him his release. He made no move to request one, either, just holding her and letting her find herself again.
So comfortable, so at home she felt, snuggling into his arms. Reality finally started to sink in, though, and she realized she needed to get home. She had an early shift, she had to get away before this comfort and this level of intimacy she was feeling started to make her want things that just weren’t possible.
She needed to get away from Jamison. As far away as possible.
Chapter 2
The lights in the main dungeon dimmed as the spotlights illuminated the stage. The evening’s main event would start at any moment—a bondage demonstration. In his office, Jamison Croft, one of the owners of Dark Lace, leaned back in his chair and watched his screen.
He searched the crowd, knowing he’d find her. She’d be there. It was demonstration night. She had shown up a handful of times since their playtime at the Mistletoe Madness dungeon party over a week ago. Each time he saw her, she pressed herself into a crowd, either watching one of the intense scenes in the room or inching closer to the room they’d played in before she’d practically run from the nursery.
The nursery. How he hated that name. He’d begged the board to change it to something—anything—else but he’d been outvoted. A small room off the main dungeon that held a variety of age-play equipment. Everything from changing tables to toddler beds, and even one corner devoted to middles.
Carissa didn’t play by those labels, though. One of the many reasons he’d felt so drawn to her that night.
That damn night. It had started out just fine. They’d met, they’d talked, they’d laughed, and then they’d played. Nothing serious. A short spanking. Just a taste of what they’d both wanted. She hadn’t played coy, and when he’d walked her over to the nursery, she’d been more than willing to enter. He had noticed that about her, too, the innocent way she’d glanced over at the age-play room.
As for what went wrong after the spanking, he had no fucking clue. He’d asked for her number and she’d given it freely. Then nothing. Not a single response to any message or voicemail in over a week. He didn’t play that way. When he scened with a sub, he damn well wanted to be sure they were okay the next day. He had been clear on that subject. Her ignoring him denied them both the aftercare necessary to round off a good session. Hell, it denied him his peace of mind.
“Okay, now you’re just stalking her.” Damien’s voice jolted Jamison from his thoughts.
“I am not.” He turned away from the computer screen.
Damien laughed and kicked the door to the office closed. “Right. Except I can see her right there on your screen. The same chick you’ve been watching for the past week.”
Jamison ignored Damien with a grunt of annoyance. “Where you coming in to get some work done? Maybe go through that massive pile of applications on your desk, or did you just want to check out the security footage with me?” Jamison pointed to the messiest of the three desks in the small office. The other offices were being used for storage, so the three business partners had agreed to share space for the time being.
Damien shook his head. “Would your bruised ego feel better if I told you she’s asked about you?”
Jamison wouldn’t admit it, but it would. “Has she?” His brows rose a little but he controlled his reaction, hiding the twist of his stomach at the idea of her looking for him.
“Yeah. Steven told me she asked if you were here the last three times she’s come. And when he said no, she looked a hell of a lot more disappointed than relieved.”
“I’ve been here every time—” Jamison caught himself before he revealed too much excitement.
But it was too late. Damien laughed. “He didn’t know you knew her.”
“He could have told me.” Jamison turned back to the screen. Bingo. There she was, hiding in the back of the group but peering intently over a shorter girl’s shoulder. Bondage wasn’t her thing, from what she’d told him. What had her so enthralled?
He moved his gaze to the corner of the screen, where a spanking was taking place. An obvious daddy and his little girl were in the middle of a punishment. The girl’s pigtails swung across the floor as she squirmed over her daddy’s lap, while his open palm struck her bare bottom over and over again. The fierceness of his scowl and his narrowed eyes explained plenty. That little girl had landed herself in some trouble. An avid spectator, Carissa’s eyes were wide and the tip of her tongue rested on her upper lip.
Maybe he’d spank her for being nosy. He smiled as he imagined it and then his mouth curved down.
If she returned his fucking calls.
“Why don’t you just go out there and talk to her?” Damien asked as he picked up a small stack of applications from his desk. “If she won’t return your call, just go out there and force her to confront you.”
Jamison ignored the suggestion. “I don’t have it bad for anyone.” He shot his partner a quick look of irritation before his eyes were back on Carissa. “What, are you in high school?” Jamison watched Carissa’s reaction to the spanking being dished out while he berated his friend. When he wasn’t handling the background checks for new members and employees of Dark Lace, Damien worked on the Chicago Police force.
“Here’s what I see.” Damien dropped the papers on his desk and strode over to Jamison’s, leaning across to jab a finger at the monitor. “That girl has you twisting in the wind. If you want to talk to her, go talk to her. Tell her what bullshit it’s been, her ignoring you. If she wasn’t interested, she could open her damn mouth and say so. Or at least tap a few fucking words into her iPhone.”
Damien was right, Jamison knew it, and the urge to barge out onto the dungeon floor and have that conversation with her burned hotter with the encouragement. Yet, he still didn’t move.
“Girls fucking hate it when guys do this shit to them, yet here she is pulling the same crap.” Damien slapped Jamison on the back and went back to his desk. “Or, you know, just keep staring at her through the security cameras like a creep. Whatever floats your boat.” He flashed Jamison a white toothed grin, grabbed the pile of papers from his desk and headed toward the door. “I’m gonna run through these on my break tonight. I have a late shift at the precinct.”
“It’s not creepy,” Jamison muttered, but he clicked off the program and opened up his email. “Have a good shift.”
/> “See you tomorrow. Maybe you’ll have your spine back. I’ve never seen you pussyfoot around so much with a girl before.”
“Well, this one’s different.” He laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back.
Damien shook his head with sigh. “They’re all the same, Jamison. A girl is a girl is a girl.”
“Such a fucking romantic.” Jamison laughed.
Damien grunted, threw him a grin and left, leaving Jamison with the strong temptation to turn the security program back on and check on Carissa. The ringing of his cell phone saved him from his own weakness.
His father. With a heavy sigh, he picked up the call.
“Jamison. Good I caught you. I have an opportunity you’re not going to want to miss.” His father always had an opportunity.
“I’m in the middle of a project at the moment, and Garrick and I are working on a deal with a condo complex. I’m not sure I can fit in another project right now.” Even after five years of trying to get out from under his father’s corporate thumb, the struggle never ceased.
“That’s fine. This is huge, the little projects you do with Garrick won’t get in the way at all.”
Little projects.
Jamison closed his eyes for a moment and took a calming breath. Arguing that his company may not be a corporate conglomerate like his father’s but he and Garrick were doing just fine wouldn’t get him anywhere, and would only keep him on the phone longer.
“Come over and we’ll go over the details.”
Jamison clicked open the security screen again, just in time to see Carissa walking toward the lockers. The demonstration had finished, and the girl who’d been thoroughly punished stood facing a wall with her nose pressed firmly against it.
“Not tonight. I’ll have my secretary schedule something.”
“Of course. I have dinner plans myself this evening. But don’t wait too long, Jamison.” The phone clicked, signaling his father had disconnected the call.
Jamison didn’t give his father another thought. Whatever he wanted would wait, at least until his patience ran out, then his father would track him down.