Page 8 of Daddy's Lesson
I saw it in her eyes. The fire, the passion she’d once had, consumed her. The love of the art. And then, just as quickly, the loss, the fear, the self-doubt. The longing.
“It’s been years,” she admitted.
“Now that,” I whispered, emotion catching in my throat, “is a damn shame.”
Her shoulders lifted and fell in a gesture of hopeless despair. “I just… I try sometimes. But I’d end up just staring at a blank canvas. My chest would get tight and I’d start to cry. Eventually I just quit trying.”
Her voice broke on the admission and I could tell the loss of her passion was a source of great pain. I knew in that moment I would do anything in my power to help her find it again.
“See, there are things you need help with.”
A tear pooled beneath her eyelid, and I brushed it away with my thumb. The air around us seemed to crackle with the electricity of our touch. Or maybe it was static, or my own wishful thinking.
“I guess.” Her answer was shaky, and she looked away, rolling her eyes as she brushed at her cheeks.
“You’ll paint this week.” It was a command, not a question.
“What if I can’t?”
“You can, and you will. It doesn’t have to be a masterpiece, or the best thing you’ve ever created. You can fingerpaint, use a paint-by-number, for all I care. The important thing is that you create something.”
She nodded, but I could tell she wasn’t quite convinced, and I knew it was time to move on. We were discussing the future, but we still needed to deal with the past.
Releasing her chin, I patted my knee. “It’s time for your spanking. We can discuss the rest of the things after.”
Relief lit her eyes, but only for a moment. She looked at me, her expression wary with trepidation. “Do I just…?”
I chose not to answer her unspoken question with words, instead taking her hand and pulling her face down across my lap in the center of my oversized couch. “Are you comfortable?” I asked when I had her where I wanted her.
Her laugh was a light and melodic chuckle. “As much as I can be, I suppose, considering the circumstances.”
“Do you have a safeword?” I was quite certain she wouldn’t need it, not this first time, or probably ever, but having it established ahead of time was ideal.
“Picasso.”
I grinned widely at her choice. “I like it. Picasso it is. Now remember, this is a punishment, so you cannot use it lightly. Only use it if something is wrong, if you need me to pause, if something doesn’t feel right, et cetera.”
“I understand.”
“Can you keep your hands out of my way, or do I need to pin them?”
“I can keep them out of the way, but… could you hold them instead?”
I could tell how much it had taken for her to ask that. “I’ll hold them.” I gathered them from her sides, and pinned both hands at the small of her back, clasping them with one of mine.
“Thank you,” she whispered shakily.
My skin seemed to sizzle from the heat of our touch and I wondered in the back of my mind if Archer had held her like this. The question ignited a burning stab of jealousy I didn’t need to feel and was pointless to entertain. I knew Archer had been strictly professional with all his clients; his heart had already belonged to someone else.
I looked down at the flowy fabric of her skirt draped over my legs, cognizant of the fact that beneath it she wore panties, and beneath that, nothing. In a few short minutes, she’d be bare-bottomed over my knee.
I swallowed hard to dislodge the lump of heady arousal in my throat, and prayed she couldn’t feel my erection through her layered skirt.
My free hand wandered to her waistband, and her back visibly tensed as her breath hitched. I had to remind myself that it was a normal submissive response to the realization that you were about to have your bottom bared and mercilessly spanked, but I still explained myself as if it wasn’t. “Zoe, I’m going to lift your skirt now, and then lower your panties. I will always spank you on your bare bottom. Say ‘Yes, Sir’ so I know you understand.”
“Yes, Daddy.” My heart grew in my chest as she did me one better, going a step beyond what I’d asked for. The awkwardness was still there, but it was fading by the second, and we were both pushing past it with everything we had.
With that hurdle cleared, I caught my fingers under her waistband, and tugged the fabric past her hips, revealing cheeky panties in a deep purple satin.