Page 18 of Morsel
“You can come out,” he says. “I know you’re there.”
8
Oscar
How the hell did she think she was going to sneak by me?
Is she being serious right now?
Dolly doesn’t make a move, though. She stays where she is, just out of sight, and she waits.
“Dolly.”
Silence.
“I’m going to count to three, Dolly.” I can’t believe I’m pulling this out. “If you don’t come here by then, you won’t like what happens.”
“What?”
There we go.
“I’ve got your attention,” I say.
“You can’t count to three on me. I’m not a kid.”
“One.”
“Oscar!”
“Two.”
Silence.
“Three.”
I move as I say the word. I slide around the corner, grab her hair, and tug. Dolly cries out, but we both know I’m not really hurting her.
“What are you doing?”
“I gave you an option,” I say. “You chose not to take it.”
“But Oscar!”
I have no interest in arguing with a petulant brat, so I haul her to my dining room table, pull out a chair, and sit. I yank her over my lap. She lands hard.
“What the fuck? Oscar, this is so messed up. You can’t really be planning on spanking me!”
“Oh, but I am.”
I stare at her ass.
“You look good in my clothes.”
“Look, I’m sorry about the clothes,” she says.
“You aren’t, but you will be.”
“I am! I am sorry!”
