Page 47 of Daddy's Lesson
With my hand that wasn’t holding the paddle, I gripped her chin between my fingers. “That’s because you’re an artist, Zoe. Whether you are creating or not, creating art is at the very core of who you are. It’s in your soul. If you aren’t doing it, you aren’t really being yourself.”
I held her chin, but she turned her head, refusing to meet my gaze. I slowly and gently turned her attention back to my face. “Am I wrong? Have you felt like yourself without it?”
She shook her head wildly, until I had no choice but to drop my hold. “No,” she admitted. “No, you’re not wrong. No, I haven’t felt whole in a long time.” Her expression hopeful, she tilted her chin up and locked her gaze on mine. “I’m getting there now, though. You’re helping.”
I nodded. I knew it was true. It was the very reason I believed in Rent-A-Daddy. “And now I’m going to help more.” Pointing the paddle, I gestured toward the large dining room table. “Bend over.”
“Noooo!” she wailed.
I could see on her face that she didn’t mean it. After all, spankings were the very reason she had hired a Rent-A-Daddy. To help her feel something, to help her get back to being herself. As therapy, of sorts. Whether she liked it at the moment or not, that was exactly what I was doing.
“You have to the count of three to obey,” I warned, watching the inner struggle that played on her face. She didn’t want a spanking. And she didn’t want to paint. She wanted to fight and argue, and we could, but she wouldn’t win. Deep down, I knew she didn’t want to.
“Pro-tip,” I said, as I took pity on her long enough to grab her hand and help her into a prostrate position over the top of the hard wooden surface. “The time to negotiate or argue with a rule is when I make it, not a week later when you’re about to get in trouble for not following it.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
She relented with a sigh as I grabbed the waistband of her silk pajama shorts and gave them an unceremonious tug over her hips and down her legs, letting the fabric pool in a pile on the floor.
“My job is to help you be the best version of yourself, and I know you, Miss Zoe; you cannot be that without art. You just can’t.”
“Okay.” Her one-word squeak of disgruntled acquiescence told me we had a ways to go.
“I meant to take care of this when I first got here on Thursday, but I got a little…. distracted.”
“Sorry,” Zoe muttered, in a tone that told me she was not sorry at all.
That was okay, though. Neither was I.
My heart ached to tell her that, but I had a feeling doing so would only lead to us getting distracted again.
“Are you gonna start?” she whined, pressing her thighs together. Her sex glistened and I could smell her arousal.
“I’m going to start, yes.” I tapped her thighs, encouraging her to spread her legs again. “I’m going to paddle your bottom for not obeying the rule, and then you are going to sit on your hot, punished bottom and paint for one hour.”
“An hour!” she cried indignantly, twisting around to stare at me, her expression wounded, her mouth agape. “You said the rule was thirty minutes!”
“It is, but you haven’t been following it, so now you’re going to do extra to make up for all the time you skipped.” I didn’t give her time to argue with my announcement. “Back in position. Eyes straight ahead.”
She obeyed with a soft whimper, stretching her arms out across the length of the table, rising up on her tippy toes.
I wasn’t really buying her reluctant act. I knew my woman craved a good spanking, and she hadn’t really gotten once since our first day together.
With the paddle still in my dominant hand, I used my left hand to give her a warmup, smacking her bare bottom all across the surface until the skin was nice and pink.
“Mmmmm,” she hummed when the smacks started to get harder.
“You like that, don’t you? You like being Daddy’s naughty girl, and you like getting punished for it,” I said with a smirk.
She turned her head to the side. “‘Like’ is a strong word, and this doesn’t really feel like a punishment.”
“Not yet,” I agreed,” but it will.” With that, I adjusted my position and laid the wooden paddle across the fleshiest part of her bottom, letting her feel the wood against her skin. A shudder ran down her spine.
“You’re going to learn what happens when you don’t obey Daddy’s rules,” I told her.
Her only response was a jerky nod and a tensing of her backside, but it was all I needed. Pulling the paddle back, I let it fly, using about half my strength, and smiled when she reared up as it smacked across her bottom.
“Holy crap! Ouch!”