Page 23 of Daddy, Take Me Away
She threw back her head, bursting into desperate tears, and suddenly, just as fast as it started, it was over. She bawled, even as his hand grazed her shoulder, taking firm hold of her bicep before drawing her upward. Just like with the spanking, he said not a word as he pulled her up to sit on his lap and folded her into his strong embrace. His cheek resting on top of her head, he rocked her, letting his shirt soak in all the tears that poured from her.
She wanted to hold her bottom, soothe away the bonfire-like blaze, but she didn’t dare. Because her punishment wasn’t over yet. She still had the anal part of it left to go.
She covered her face with both hands, burying herself into his chest, and just bawled.
Stroking her back and hair, he placed a soft kiss upon the top of her head. “Back to the corner,” he directed, giving her a gentle push.
Dejected, she went.
Chapter Twelve
Hamish sat at the kitchen table, ankle crossed over his knee, one hand braced upon his thigh while the fingers of his other hand tapped the table. Chloe was standing in the corner, stripped completely naked, her hands on her bowed head, her shoulders still hitching as she struggled through the last of her tears. Her bottom was swollen, beet red with welted lines where the edge of his belt crisscrossed here and there, especially on the top of her thighs and where the end of his belt had wrapped her bottom to leave its painful kiss on the side of her hip.
She looked every bit the chastened Little girl he knew her to be. He’d seen it in the car when he’d made her hold his belt, bringing the certainty of her impending discipline right to the front of her mind. He’d known her a total of two days, three if one counted the time before midnight at the airport when he’d been so desperate for sleep that he’d bribed her with coffee so he could get a few winks more. He had no business doing this, and if she’d just once told him no–in anything other than her lost Little girl voice–he’d have stopped. He’d have let this whole vacation fantasy he was stubbornly playing along with, for no reason he was ready to face yet, go.
But he wasn’t letting it go.
And she wasn’t telling him no, except when she was over his knee with his belt cracking hard and fast across her naked bum. Crying and sobbing, and wailing “Please, Daddy” and “I’m so sorry” and once an utterly ridiculous, “I’ll never be bad again, I promise!” Every time she cried to him with that special word, “Daddy,” mixing with the tears on her lips, it just made it all worse.
Yeah… worse… that was why his cock was hard as a rock and had been from the moment he’d brought her home from the airport.
Adjusting his jeans, he checked the time. It was already two minutes past the five-minute allotment he’d given her, but he wasn’t ready to continue yet. He had to get his misbehaving thoughts in order before summoning her back to him.
Jesus, was he really going to do this? Bend her back over his knee for another lesson in obedience she wouldn’t soon forget. The buttplug… Had she ever experienced it before? He didn’t know, but he was still going to do it. Gentleness, slow force, and a lot of prep time would be the order of the day. After all, he wanted her to feel the mortification, not overwhelming pain.
Christ. Hamish rubbed his face with both hands. He needed to stop this nonsense now, before he went too far.
Hell, they’d both sailed way past that point and there was no going back.
He didn’t want to go back.
But what did Chloe want? That was the question. One he desperately needed an answer to, before he did more damage than good. He did not want to hurt her. Not in any way.
Except when she was over his knee, and his throbbing cock was proof enough of that.
Down, laddie, he told himself. He couldn’t afford any further intimacy than what he’d already instigated. He was insane–but he liked her. He liked everything about her, especially those moments when she slipped her wee hand into his, letting him lead while she followed on tiny feet half the size of his. The need to protect her was strong, every bit as strong as this burgeoning need to take care of her. He’d felt it this morning when he’d made her breakfast. Once discipline was done, he already knew he would make her dinner too. He saw what she’d bought at the store. He’d be damned if he turned a blind eye while she fed herself on paté pieces her entire vacation long.
He checked his watch. It had been ten minutes and she was calm once more, only sniffling once in a while and no longer wiping at her eyes.
“All right,” he said grimly. “Come here.”
The table was already set up and ready for this last part of her punishment. He’d chosen a small metal plug, just in case it was her first time, but he’d brought a second larger size just in case the first failed to make an impact and she misbehaved again.
He doubted she would. Chloe wasn’t really trying to misbehave at all. She was just a Little girl running wild, without rules or someone who cared enough about her to enforce them. And lord above, as she left the corner and came to him, he could see how truly sorry she was. Naked as the day she was born, she didn’t once try to cover either her breasts or her pretty little unshaved pussy. Nor was there the slightest hint of enjoyment anywhere on her face or in the tiny, reluctant steps that brought her inexorably to him. She looked so vulnerable and small, but he knew a secret, something she probably didn’t know herself: she’d gotten wet as wet could be right from the very first slap of his broad hand to the very last lash of his belt across her ass.
Getting hard in response to that had been impossible to stop. Already the confines of his pants were tightening as his cock stirred, swelling in anticipation.
“Come, mo leannan.” He beckoned, the endearment–sweetheart–falling so easily from his lips that he just couldn’t catch himself in time. His saving grace was that unless she spoke Gaelic she wouldn’t know what he’d said.
Her chin wobbled, but she didn’t hesitate. She took his hand, letting herself be drawn in between his knees. When he pulled, she gingerly lowered herself to sit on his right thigh. Her head bowed, she stared at his left leg, her pretty blue eyes growing watery as her bottom lip began wobbling now too.
“Is it okay if I say I’m sorry now?” she whispered thickly.
He stroked her golden hair and all the way down her back. “So long as you keep it respectful, you may say anything you like when you’re sitting upon my knee. And after correction, yes, you may say you’re sorry, but only if you can also tell me what you’re sorry for.”
A long tear slipped past her damp lashes, but she quickly swiped it away. Her breath hitched though, and she was quickly coming unraveled as she whispered, “M-may I have a h-h-hug?”
How his heart could both break and swell at the same time, he didn’t know. But for her, it did.
