by Measha Stone
When she turned back around, she found a determined man staring at her. The playful smile long gone, and his suit jacket was already being pulled off. Her stomach clenched, as well as her other lady parts at the authoritative side of him coming alive.
“I was just kidding,” she said, pushing off the door and walking through the living room.
“You think now is a good time for jokes, do you?” he asked.
His tone stilled her. His stance didn’t do much in the way of relaxing her nerves either, with his arms folded over his chest and his eyes fixed on her. He wanted an answer, she supposed.
“I think you don’t think so.”
“Very astute of you.” He nodded. “But what do you think?”
She blew out a hard breath. “I think I was kidding but seeing as you came over here to yell at me, it probably was a bad idea.”
“Yell?” he asked. “I don’t yell. Why would I yell? Because last night I was very clear that you were to call me when you got home, and you didn’t? Or because when I tried asking about your evening this morning, you were evasive and didn’t take me seriously? Or could it be the language you used.... what did you say? What was that naughty word that came out of that little mouth of yours?” With each question, he took a large stride in her direction, coming to stand directly in front of her by the time he finished.
Whatever comeback she’d formed disappeared when she lifted her chin to look up at him. Dark, serious eyes met her stare.
She’d had doms before, and some of them even liked to be called Daddy, but none of them had ever looked at her with such determination. Maybe she should have called him when she got home. He didn’t need to know everything about her day, and she could have set a limit on how much he got to question her about her time away from him. She was allowed privacy. Wasn’t she?
“I’m waiting for an answer, little girl.” His lowered voice coupled with the intensity of his stare made her squirm. “What was that naughty word you said?”
“Fucking,” she whispered, not quite meeting his eyes anymore.
“That’s right. That’s the word.” He cupped her chin, dragging it upward and forcing her to find his eyes.
“Why didn’t you want to tell me where you were last night? Are you seeing someone else?”
“No!” she jerked away from his touch and put distance between them. Finding a safe place behind the rocking recliner her grandmother had gifted her when she’d gone off to college, she straightened her shoulders. “I’m not seeing anyone else.”
“Good. Then please answer the rest of my question.”
Impossible man. “I was with some friends, that’s all. We met up for some drinks.” There had been wine, though she’d only indulged in one glass.
“You went out drinking?”
“No, I mean, yes we were drinking alcohol, but we didn’t go out to get plastered.” She gripped the back of the recliner in her fists.
“Why couldn’t you tell me that? Letting off steam after the shifts you have isn’t something I'd keep you from doing. You have a stressful job.”
That was putting it mildly. Dealing with the patients and families gave her enough of a headache, but the doctors were the real pain in the ass. Dishing out orders, barking demands, and handing out more attitude than anyone should feel okay about.
“I told you I was going out. You never said you wanted to keep tabs on me.”
“I don’t need to keep tabs on you, and I won’t be putting a tracker on your phone or any other stupid thing like that. But when I ask you a direct question, I expect a direct answer. I do not want to hear vague responses like just out. That’s not an answer. An answer would have been, heading to the bar with my friends.”
He was on the move again, inching closer to the recliner, and determination completely darkened his expression. A man on a mission.
“And you would have said, oh, okay?” she snapped.
“You’ll never know, will you?” He quirked an eyebrow. She didn’t like his tone—hard and unrelenting.
“Fine. I should have told you.” She folded her arms over her chest, picking up her own defense of attitude to shield her from whatever he was about to say.
“Oh, little girl. You’re attitude really is going to be the first thing we work on tonight.” The smirk on his lips eased the knot in her chest enough for her to breath a bit easier. “I don’t expect you to tell me what you are doing every second of every day, but when I ask you where you are, or where you’re going, you will tell me. Is that clear, Carissa-girl?”
Did she want that? With all her past relationships, she’d never ventured too far from the bedroom with power dynamic. And all of those relationships had failed, miserably. Either the men were too wimpy or too frustrated with her to give her anything other than a few rounds of spankytime before marching out.
But with Jamison, the idea of taking everything between them everywhere didn’t feel so suffocating. The fear she’d felt in the past didn’t clutch her throat the way it had before.
It didn’t mean anything, not really. It still wouldn’t matter. Once the month ended, he’d saddle up and ride off. She couldn’t let him affect her like this; she needed to remember they had a time stamp.
“Do you think I’ll tuck tail and run the first time you show me your little rebellious side?”
“I didn’t think that,” she defended herself. “I was thinking it was late when I got home, and I’d talk to you in the morning.”
“That’s not what I told you to do, is it, little girl?”
Of course, it’s not what he told her to do. Seeing as he glared at her with a very clear desire to redden her ass, she thought the answer obvious.
“I asked you a question.”
“No, that’s not what you told me to do.”
“Remove your pants and your panties and find a corner to get comfortable in,” he instructed.
She opened her mouth to speak, sure something full of wisdom and reason would come to her aid.
Nothing. She sighed.
She’d gotten what she wanted, hadn’t she? A man who wouldn’t take a little pushing from her and run away. A man who stuck to his principles.
Knowing the large picture windows facing the street wouldn’t allow for much privacy from people walking by, and the flimsy door leading to the hall wouldn’t keep old Buschmann from hearing what she did not want broadcasted, she headed straight for the bedroom in the back of the apartment.
She needed to paint. The dull coloring of her bedroom only reinforced the boredom of corner time.
Jamison had walked into the room only a few seconds after her, but he hadn’t said a word. She went about stripping out of her yoga pants and panties, kicking them near the dresser.
The bed squeaked from behind her. He shifted around. Was he staring at her? When she tried to take a peek at him, he gave her a solid glare and twirled his finger at her.
“Nose in the corner.”
She sighed.
“What was that?” he asked with a firm tone.
“Yes, Daddy.” She rested her forehead against the cool wall. How easily that sentence slipped from her lips.
She heard him moving behind her but was still startled when his hand touched her ass. He didn’t smack her or pinch her. He simply cradled her cheek in his palm. Heat rose to her face, and she pushed herself farther into the corner.
“Such a nice bottom.” The deep tenor of his voice startled her after the moments of silence that stretched out.
His touch was gone, leaving her exposed to the cool air of the room.
“Come here, Carissa-girl.”
She shuffled her feet until she was turned toward him. Folding her hands in front of her, she made her way to where he sat. The chair from her vanity sat front and center in the large area between her dresser and queen-sized bed. The dark duvet covering matched the expression in his eyes perfectly.
He tilted his head, watching her as she slowly made her way to him, taking each s
tep as though he sat on an executioner’s perch instead of her simple vanity chair. He rested his hands on his knees, just waiting for her to obey him and come to him and receive her punishment sent a shiver through her body. He wasn’t playing. This was business for him.
“Do you have a hairbrush, one with a flat backing?”
Of course, she did. What spanko didn’t own one of those for this express reason? Only the fantasy of having the wooden brush used on her upturned bottom would most likely prove more satisfying than the reality he was about to dunk her into.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Go get it and bring it back here. And no more dragging your feet. You have fifteen seconds to get your bottom back here, or I add more to your punishment.”
She nodded; her throat too thick to let her speak. The brush wasn’t far. It took only a few moments to rush to her vanity to get it and get back to him.
“Thank you.” He took the brush from her and rested it on his knee. “Now, put your hands behind your back. You don’t hide anything from me, little girl. Especially that pretty pussy. It’s mine to look at whenever I want, and even if you think I don’t want to see it because you’ve been bad doesn’t mean you get to hide. Hands back, there. That’s a good girl.”
He had a way of easing her mind into a softer place. Somewhere she could let go of the nagging sensations of being in control. He let her slip into a gentler frame of mind, nearly cradling her as she found her place.
“Do you understand why you’re being punished, Carissa-girl?”
“Yes, Daddy,” she said, keeping her eyes fixed on the brush and not his face. The disappointment that tinted his voice would be mirrored there, and she couldn’t see that.
They’d only been together a few days, and already she found herself over his knee.
“Tell me.”
She held in the pout but still let some of it slip into her answer. “Because you wanted me to tell you where I went. And you didn’t like my answers this morning. And because you didn’t like the curse word I used.”
He slapped the brush against his palm. “Okay, let’s get this done, then.” He patted his knee. “Bottoms up.”
She might have found the term slightly amusing if she wasn’t crawling over his muscular lap in order to have her backside blistered.
He didn’t hold back. Right out of the gate he brought the brush down on her upturned bottom. “You will learn that when I ask a question, you answer directly.”
She wiggled as the force of the brush increased.
“You will learn to watch your attitude, little girl.” The brush landed particularly harshly on her left cheek and then her right.
“Ow!” she yelled when he upped the intensity again. “Wait. Ouch!” She waved her hand behind her, but he easily caught her by the wrist and wrenched it to the small of her back. “It hurts!” She wiggled her backside, trying to evade the wooden devil he held in his hand.
“You aren’t getting away.” He jostled her a bit, ensnaring her legs with one of his own, and wrapping his arm around her waist.
Completely trapped and blocked from protecting herself, all she could do was feel. Each burning stroke of the brush. Every word of his lecture. All of it soaked into her body.
“I won’t control every minute of your day, but if I ask you where you’re going, you will answer me.” He punctuated his statement firmly with a stroke to her thigh.
“I’m sorry!” she cried out. The spanking continued no matter how much she tried to wiggle free.
Finally, her head dropped, and she wrangled her hand free and steadied herself by placing her palms on the floor, and she gave in.
“I’m so sorry, Daddy.” She sniffled, and hot tears dripped onto the carpeting below her. Not only did her bottom hurt, but her chest burned with regret. Several long moments passed before she realized he’d stopped spanking her and was stroking her fiery bottom with his fingertips.
“You took your first bad-girl spanking pretty well, Carissa,” he said.
His compliment shoved away some of the dark cloud hanging over her. He helped her up from his lap and moved her to stand in front of him again. She remembered his rule and didn’t try to cover herself.
“You were just punished, so you won’t get to have any fun with this pussy of yours right now.”
He kept his eyes glued to hers as his fingers slipped between her wet folds. She tensed her jaw, keeping the moan inside, afraid he’d take his hand away if he knew how good it felt.
“So wet for me.” He rolled his fingers over her clit, circling it and pushing on it. Her eyes closed, and she slid her legs apart for him, knowing she looked desperate, and not giving much credence to the shame her mind told her she should feel. Her pussy dictated her movements now.
“Please.” She arched her hips toward him.
“Nope.” He pulled his hand away abruptly, and her eyes flew to his face, just in time to see his fingers disappear into his mouth. He sucked the juices off his fingers and smiled. “Maybe later, if you’ve been a good girl the rest of the day.”
She chewed on her lip. His trousers were bulging from his obvious erection. Surely, he wouldn’t want to deny himself pleasure. Her hope came alive again.
“What about you?” She tilted her head and pointed to his hard on.
He shifted in his seat, gripping the bulge and making himself more comfortable.
“You want my cock?”
“Oh yes.” She smiled.
“Get on your knees, then,” he ordered. He shucked his shirt, exposing the hard-ripped body beneath.
She moved quickly to the floor, dragging her hands across her face to rid herself of her tears.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather cuddle?” he asked, standing from the chair and working his belt buckle free.
“No, no.” She shook her head. They could cuddle after. She’d cuddle the hell out of him if he would just put out the fire he’d built between her legs.
She watched, starved and anxious as he jerked his pants over his hips and his cock sprang out from behind his boxers. Salivating like an animal in heat, she reached for his staff, but he smacked her hand away.
“Take off your top and bra.”
Quickly, she went about obeying then reached for him again.
When he pushed her hand away, she looked up at him with irritation.
“Eyes on my cock,” he ordered.
His hand gripped his thick shaft, and he stroked it. She’d seen cocks before, so it wasn’t shocking, but it—fuck—it was beautiful. Long and thick with a drop of moisture beaded at the head. His palm ran over the smooth tip of his dick, coating his shaft with the juices. He jerked his hips forward, through the tight grip of his hand, and let out a moan. One filled with pleasure and desire.
When she leaned toward him, he tapped her mouth with his free hand. “You only watch.”
She wanted to stomp something, but his hand dove into her hair, fisting it at the roots and holding her out of reach of his cock. She could smell the masculine scent of him, and her tongue ached to touch the silken bulb of his dick, but he kept her right where he wanted and gave her no room to move.
Faster, he stroked. His stomach muscles caved inward and twitched. His breath came faster. The grip on her hair intensified.
She wanted him, wanted to taste him, stroke him. She wanted her own damn pleasure, too. But he wouldn’t be giving it to her. He would be taking his pleasure, and she would only be watching. Because she’d been naughty.
“Fuck.” He yanked her head back and took a micro step toward her. She opened her mouth, waiting for her reward for taking this part of her punishment—the worst part—well.
But he aimed lower.
Hot spurts of cum streamed from his cock onto her chest, her neck, and her chin. He kept every drop away from her mouth. Her shoulders slumped when he finally released her hair.
He caught her chin and pulled her gaze to meet his.
“You can’t lead me around by my
cock, little girl. Never try that again, understand?”
“Yes, sir.” Fresh tears sprang to her eyes.
“No more tears.” He released her chin and brushed them away. “Lesson learned, isn’t that right?”
“Yes.” She nodded.
“Good enough. Now, I’m going to fill a bath so I can wash you up. Then we’ll check out your kitchen for food. I’m starved. You stay right here on your knees until I call you, okay? Reflect on what you’ve learned.”
“Yes, Daddy,” she said.
Even with the pull of her arousal, her mind calmed. She’d messed up, but he wasn’t storming out; he wasn’t giving in.
“I’ll be back.” He pressed a warm kiss to her forehead, pulled his pants up, and walked off toward the bathroom.
He wasn’t supposed to be so perfect. Her guilt over her lie, over her omission built up again. She’d have to tell him sooner rather than later. After the bath. Then she’d come clean in every way possible.
Chapter 6
Damn. He wanted to bury himself inside her.
Jamison sat on the edge of her bathtub watching her. The lavender scented bubble bath he’d found under the sink created just enough white fluff to cover her naked body, but every now and then, when she moved, a nipple would peek through, and he’d lick his lips.
She lay back against the tub, bubbles up to her collarbone, smiling softly. He probably shouldn’t be letting her have so much fun considering he’d just punished her, but it would have been more painful for him not to see the joy on her face.
“Don’t take bubble baths very often?” he asked, flicking the top off a mound of bubbles.
She opened her eyes and bit at her lower lip. “Don’t usually have time. On my days off, I’m running errands or at a meeting.”
“Hmmm, meeting for work?”
“Uh. No, just meeting friends or stuff,” she said. The little quiver in her voice gave her away. She was keeping something from him.