Page 46 of Punish Me, Daddy

Hell, a part of me wanted to say it too.

“That’s right, baby girl,” he coaxed. “Tell Daddy what you need.”

His fingers circled my clit again, and it was almost too much.

“Say it,” he growled. “Say it for me.”

I couldn’t.

I wouldn’t.

Hispalm cracked against my ass, the sound echoing off the walls as the plug jostled inside of me.

“Say it.”

I shook my head, a sob catching in my throat.

“Fine,” he growled.

His fingers curled around the plug, twisting and pulling, and then, without warning, he spankedmy ass right over top of it.

His other hand was rubbing over my clit, driving my head into the clouds and then before I knew what was happening, I was coming, and I was coming really fucking hard.

My entire body convulsed. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t see. All I could do was ride the wave of the most intense orgasm I had ever had. Scalding hot pleasure surged up and down my every limb, making my fingers tingle and my toes curl, lighting up every nerve in my body like a goddamn fireworks show.

When I was finally able to form coherent thoughts again, I pressed my cheek against the cool counter and then his hand was in the middle of my back, holding me in place.

“Such a good little slut,” he murmured. “You came so hardfor Daddy, didn’t you? Let me see.”

Before I could protest, his fingers were between my legs, tracing my soaked folds, slipping inside me, exploring, and I couldn’t help but cry out with pleasure.

“You’re so wet, naughty girl. You liked that, didn’t you? You like beingpunished like a bad little girl.”

Fuck.

I bit back a groan.

“Tellme or Daddy is going to take off his belt,” he warned, his tone turning dangerous.

I swallowed hard, my pulse hammering in my throat.

Take off his belt.

The words echoed through my head, wrapping around my spine like a threat I didn’t know how to process. His tone had changed—deeper, quieter, coiled like something ready to snap. There was no teasing in it. No amusement. Just command.

I believed him.

He would do it. Not for fun. Not for show.

He’d take it off, fold it in his hands, and use it. Not to break me—that’s not what this was—but to trulypunishme.

A fresh wave of heat flooded through me, sharp and unwelcome. My thighs clenched, my eyes still squeezed shut. The burn from the last strike still pulsed heavy and deep, aching with a sharpness that bordered on unbearable—especially over the plug still stretching me open, keeping me exposed in the most vulnerable sort of way.

I shouldn’t like this.

But the thought of that belt—the leather snapping across already burning skin, the heavy whoosh of it through the air before it landed—terrified me.

And it turned me on in a way that made me hate myself.

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