Page 17 of Protect Me Daddy

"Of course you can, sweetheart. Thank you for asking nicely."

As I refilled my glass, I couldn't shake the feeling of having let Daddy down. Even though his reminder had been gentle, I hated the thought of breaking his trust. I promised myself I'd be more mindful of the rules from now on.

Later, after we'd had lunch, Dwight's phone buzzed. He glanced at it with a slight frown. "I need to take this work call, princess. It shouldn't take long. Can you be a good girl and play quietly for a few minutes?"

I nodded, settling onto the couch with my favorite stuffed animal. But as Dwight stepped into the other room, his voice a low murmur, a thought popped into my head. The mail! I'd been waiting for a package, and I suddenly remembered I hadn't checked for days.

It's just down to the lobby, I reasoned. I'll be super quick. Daddy won't even know I'm gone.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I slipped on my shoes and eased open the front door. The hallway seemed longer and darker than usual. My heart started to race as I made my way to the elevator.

You're fine, I told myself sternly. Stop being such a baby.

But as the elevator doors opened onto the lobby, a wave of anxiety crashed over me. The space suddenly felt vast and exposed. Every shadow seemed to loom menacingly. My breath came in short gasps as I realized how vulnerable I was, alone and unprotected.

What was I thinking? Panic clawed at my throat. I needed to get back upstairs. I needed Daddy.

I froze, torn between rushing to the mailboxes and fleeing back to the safety of the apartment. That's when I heard the elevator ding behind me. My heart leapt into my throat.

"Tilly."

Dwight's voice was low, a mix of concern and disappointment that made me want to curl up and disappear. I turned slowly, tears already forming in my eyes.

"You remember our rule?" he asked gently, closing the distance between us with long strides.

I nodded, my lower lip trembling. "Ask permission before I leave the room," I whispered, the words catching in my throat.

Dwight's strong arms enveloped me, and I buried my face in his chest, inhaling his comforting scent. “The rules are important, Little One. They’re to help reinforce our dynamic, and to keep you safe. Does that seem fair?”

"It does. I'm sorry, Daddy," I mumbled into his shirt. "I just wanted to check the mail."

"I know, little one. I understand," he sighed, stroking my hair. "But your safety is more important than any package. Let's go back upstairs and talk about this, okay?"

The elevator ride felt eternal. Dwight kept his arm around me, but I could sense the tension in his body. My stomach churned with guilt and anxiety.

Once inside the apartment, Dwight guided me to the couch. He knelt in front of me, his piercing eyes full of concern.

"Rules keep you safe, little one. Breaking them has consequences," he said, his voice firm but not unkind. "I think we need to address your choice."

I squirmed, knowing what was coming. "Yes, Daddy," I whispered.

Dwight took a deep breath. "I suggest a mild spanking—five swats. But I want you to understand that you have the right to say no. This is about keeping you safe, not punishing you. Do you understand?"

I nodded, a mix of emotions swirling inside me. Part of me craved the release of submitting to his discipline, while another part felt ashamed that I needed it.

"Use your words, princess," Dwight prompted gently.

"I understand, Daddy," I said, meeting his gaze. "And . . . I consent."

I took a shaky breath as Dwight guided me over his lap. His strong hand rested on the small of my back, warm and reassuring.

"Remember, little one," he murmured, "you're safe and loved. This is to help you learn, not to hurt you."

The first swat landed, more startling than painful. I gasped, fingers curling into the soft fabric of the couch.

"One," Dwight counted softly. His hand rubbed gentle circles where it had just landed. "You're doing so well, princess."

Each swat was followed by his soothing touch and words of reassurance. By the third, tears were streaming down my face—not from pain, but from the release of pent-up emotions.

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