Page 16 of Daddy's Little Liar
She rolled her lips and kept them closed, from start to finish, determined not to say a word because she deserved it. Everything he gave her—she deserved for her dishonesty, her manipulation, for not having planned this out better. Above all, deep down, she knew all those things wrapped up together were really very small and insignificant—she deserved it because she felt bad. And maybe, just maybe, once it was all over, she wouldn’t have to keep feeling that way.
“What brought you here?” he asked as if she didn’t already feel terrible enough.
“An interview,” she admitted, staring at the kitchen linoleum not two inches from her nose. God, she felt like crying, and he hadn’t even started yet.
“No, I mean, what brought you here?” He patted her bottom, bent as it was over his lap.
Oh.
“I agreed to something when I couldn’t pay for it. I…” She hesitated, shoulders slumping. “I lied.”
“What should you have done instead?” he coaxed when she stopped.
Was he going to make her say all of it? Bad enough she knew what she’d done. The last thing she wanted to do was hear herself admitting it out loud.
“I should have told you I didn’t have the cash and asked if there were any alternatives.” Although, if broken down to the absolute nitty-gritty, she had kind-of-sort-of asked to pay in alternative ways.
No way was she going to remind him of that, though.
“And what did you do instead?” he continued with soft-spoken ruthlessness.
Damn it.
She’d have squirmed if he wasn’t holding her so tightly. His arm across the small of her back kept her exactly where he wanted her. His hand, now resting on the curve of her bottom, was a burning reminder of what was about to come.
“I asked for… um… other ways to pay.” It was the best that she could do.
“You offered yourself in place of money,” he clarified.
She didn’t think it was possible to feel any worse than she did right now.
“Yes.”
“Do you think maybe you’re worth more than that?” he gently countered.
Georgia didn’t need the spanking anymore. She was already blinking back the sudden burn of rising tears.
She sniffled. “Yes.”
She felt the subtle movement as Daddy nodded above her. “So do I.”
He spanked her then.
In all her life, Georgia had only been spanked a handful of times. Most had comprised nothing more than an attention-grabbing swat, all of which had been delivered long before she turned five and for offenses, she couldn’t remember. This offense, she didn’t think she’d ever forget.
All trace of the porno movie influence was gone. She couldn’t even dwell on the kink facet anymore. From the moment the flat of his hand smacked the curve of her skirt-clad backside, all Georgia cared about was what she’d done. How awful it was, then how awful she was. One wrong decision after another, she had brought herself to such a point, a perfect stranger felt the need to put her over his lap like a misbehaving child and physically correct her.
His hard hand caught her again, and Georgia winced. She put a hand back but stopped herself in time. Instinctively, she knew better. At least he was letting her keep her skirt on.
Ow. She winced even more sharply, her feet kicking up behind her. Right bottom cheek to left and back again, steady as a damned metronome, Daddy smacked her ass. It was stinging, which made it hard to wallow in her pity pit. She tried to block him out, but he was picking up steam, and the steady rise and fall of his hand came cracking down faster than before. Harder too, or maybe it only felt like that because the sting was growing hotter. More than just a sting, it actually hurt.
“Ow!” She rolled her lips, locking them to keep from saying anything more embarrassing. Every two or three swats of his hand, hers tried again to dash back from his knee to cover her unprotected flesh, and she had to catch herself. She felt childish enough without covering her bottom with her palm turned up and fingers desperately splayed to block him. Not that such a thing would work. Things like that never worked, and she’d only feel worse about herself.
For heaven’s sake, it was just a spanking. She’d earned it, she deserved it, and she could take it. If grown women knew nothing else, it was how to take the lumps they were dealt whenever they screwed up. Something that would be infinitely easier to bear right now if he’d just stop hitting that same stupid spot!
“Ow!” she yelped. She could have cared less about the embarrassment. Every nerve was keying into the steady smack-smack-smacking of his iron-hard palm as it rained down all over her ass. No longer predictably falling right to left, back and forth, the smacks were growing chaotic. He swatted the center of one cheek multiple times, then dashed to the other side and dealt the other more of the same. The sting was gone. Hurt had taken its place.
Spankings really, really hurt—why hadn’t someone told her before now? She would never have agreed to this had she known. She might not have pulled her car off the damn interstate, either.
