Page 17 of Tiger's Little Waif

“Yes, sir,” the girls answered in unison.

Shaw moved to the sink to quickly wash her hands. Once they were clean, she took off her apron and hung it on a hook near the back door. Crossing the kitchen, she stopped to brush a kiss on her papa’s cheek.

“Thank you, Papa,” she whispered.

“No shenanigans or you’ll feel my spoon,” he said with a serious expression, which had her swallowing hard before she nodded in response.

When she turned to join the others, he gave her a sharp smack on her ass, causing her to jump and squeak in surprise. But she heard him chuckle as he returned to his workspace and continued making stew.

Once the doors swung closed behind her, she slowed as she approached the women she hoped to become friends with. “So, what are we going to do?”

The buzzer going off at Shaw’s workstation startled Marshall into throwing a handful of sliced salami over his shoulder. After picking up the meat, he stalked across the kitchen to turn off the timer.

Shaw was late. She should have been back fifteen minutes before. Well, as promised, he would be introducing her ass to his wooden spoon. Once she returned.

He moved to the sink to rinse off the salmi as he decided whether he should be worried or not, and what his next move should be. Should he call the other Daddies and ask if they’d seen the girls? Or call Kodiak and send the security team out to search for them?

Before he could do either, the back door slammed open, and a flustered Shaw scurried into the room.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she panted as she grabbed her apron and pulled it over her head before hurrying toward him.

He didn’t say a word as he stepped back and allowed her to wash her hands. She did not seem to notice his silence as she quickly washed and dried her hands before going to her workspace.

“We were playing hide and seek, and I lost track of the time, and then I couldn’t find anyone to tell them that I was leaving, but I’m here and the rolls will be done just a few minutes late!” Her words came out in one long, rushed sentence, without a single pause for breath.

Marshall waited until she stopped speaking and looked at him. He kept his expression neutral but stern as he said, “Come to my office once the rolls are in the oven.”

Without another word, he grabbed his big wooden spoon and stalked to his office. It would not take long for her to shape two dozen rolls – pinching off bits of dough to turn some into turtles and teddy bears - before popping them into the oven. He needed to get control of his emotions before she did so her punishment would be given with a cool, rational head and hand.

While he waited, he pulled out a blank menu form for the next week, and the folder of menus for weeks’ past so he could begin planning ahead.

Pulling for earlier menus, he wondered if he shouldn’t standardize a two or three schedule of menus and just rotate weeks instead of trying to come up with something new and different at least two nights a week.

“Chef?”

“Papa,” he corrected as he waved his mate into his office.

“Excuse me?”

“Until we finish with your punishment, I’m Papa. When we walk back into the kitchen and get back to work, I’ll be Chef again.”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Good girl. Now take down your pants and panties and lay over my desk,” he ordered as he rolled his chair back from the desk.

“Why?”

“Because you, my sweet waif mate, are about to get a spanking with my wooden spoon. How many minutes late were you?”

He remained seated as she thought over his words. He gave her the time she needed to process. He was surprised when she did not argue with him about the spanking. Instead, she sighed as her shoulders slumped with acceptance.

In the next moment, she pushed her lightweight cotton pants and the bright red panties she wore underneath to her knees. As she bent forward and rested the upper half of her body across his desk she whispered, “I don’t know, Papa.”

“Well, I know. You were eighteen minutes late. Your punishment, therefore, will be eighteen spanks with my spoon. Hopefully, this will keep you from losing track of the time and worrying your Papa.”

Shaw sucked a breath and tensed in fear, but did not bolt. Her expression as she looked over her shoulder at him nearly had Marshall tossing the wooden spoon away and cuddling her instead.

But she needed him to stand firm and follow through with her punishment. She needed to know and trust that when Papa said something, he would always follow through.