Page 13 of Sadie's Little Christmas

“Sadie.” At the warning in his tone, she clamped her mouth shut, folded her arms tight across her chest, and looked at him. “Do you really want me to spank you so you’ll know I can do it without your enjoying the experience? Because that’s what you seem to be pushing for, and I really don’t think you want me to do that.”

Except she did, and he could see it in her worried eyes.

“What are you trying to convince yourself of?” he countered. “Are you afraid if you enjoy it, you’ll wake up in another ditch? Or are you hoping by not enjoying it you might somehow silence the need that’s been tickling at your insides from the moment you set foot in this place?”

That was the thing about irrational fears—they didn’t always have to make sense.

“So be it.” Letting go of her shoulders, he unbuttoned the cuffs on both of his long shirt sleeves and rolled them up past his elbows. “Let’s go, little girl.”

In long strides, he returned to his desk, pulled out the chair she had used not ten minutes before, and sat down. He wasn’t surprised to find she hadn’t budged from the corner. He could see it on her furiously blushing face—the anxiety, the hunger, the overwhelming curiosity of desires her roommate might have awakened, but Derek intended to cultivate until she blossomed into a thing of pure submissive beauty.

Picking up the paddle off his desk, he beckoned again. “Right here.”

She came, but she did it in slow, shaky steps.

Taking Spankles from her, he put the stuffie on his desk, and took her hand.

“I want you to lay yourself over my left knee.”

“Just the one?” she stammered.

“Just the one. I’m going to clamp your legs down, so you can’t kick, and I’m going to hold your hands. This is going to be hard and fast, and I don’t want to accidentally hurt your fingers if you can’t stop yourself from reaching back.”

She studied both him, then his lap before bending to lay herself over his left thigh. Bracing her hands on the floor, she tried to get comfortable, but he still felt the tension in her body as he reached under her to unfasten the front of her pants.

“When little girls need spanking, they get it on their bare little bottoms,” he told her, pulling them all the way to her knees. Not that she tried to reach back. She just laid like a proper submissive should, her legs straight out behind her, her hands braced on the floor, her bottom front and center on his thigh—a willing target, although her cheeks did clench when he clamped both her legs between his thighs.

He’d known she would have marked, but the mottle of lingering bruises on her bottom still gave him pause once she was bare, and he saw them firsthand. He hoped he never met the man who’d done this to her. And now he was going to paddle her on top of it before she was completely healed? He weighed his options, her frame of mind, and her needs against the mottle of healing bruises.

His jaw clenched once, but in the end, her needs took precedence.

“Hands, please.”

“Both?” she asked, offering her right so he could grip her by the wrist, pinning it to the small of her back.

“If you would. It’s a rare thing when a little boy or girl can keep their hands out of the way when I have to spank like this. I don’t want to accidentally catch your fingers under the paddle if I can’t stop in time.”

She huffed. “I’m not a little girl,” she grumbled, offering her other hand so he could pin that one too, wrist-to-wrist in the grip of his strong left hand. “I doubt I’ll have a problem with it, either. I didn’t try to stop anything last time.”

It wasn’t said as a boast. Rather, she sounded depressed. The urge to rub her back was painful to ignore. He picked up the paddle instead. Laying it across the swells of her bottom, he let her feel the cool, unforgiving wooden surface.

“I’m going to give you twelve swats.”

Her head snapped up, and her body stiffened.

“That’s not enough. You said—”

“Who’s the Daddy?” he cut her off.

“But you said!” She’d have stomped her foot out of sheer frustration, except she didn’t have the leverage pinned down the way she was. She ended up giving a little kick instead. “I don’t need a Daddy! I’m not a little girl!”

He spanked her, the first sharp crack of the paddle flattening both her bottom cheeks and making her both jump and yelp. If it wasn’t for his leg across the backs of hers, she’d have kicked her feet up in defense of her wildly squirming bottom.

“Ow, owie!” she cried out.

“I’m going to give you eleven more,” he said, soft but stern, and she burst into tears.

“No!” she wailed. “No, my bottom!”

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