Page 18 of Lesson In Honesty
Her man ticked all the boxes, inside and out.
He filled the mug, no milk, no sugar, and sipped the black brew as he returned to the table. The scent was bitter enough to anger her sensitive stomach; she wasn’t a coffee person at the best of times. “The rules of today’s fun time are as follow, babygirl—one, Mistress Violet is in charge. Listen to her, do as she says. Two, you’ll eat properly; I’ve already asked her to schedule in a snack break and a lunch date. Three, you take this opportunity and run with it. I don’t want to see a report from Violet stating you spent hours tucked into a corner, refusing to come out.”
Sierra’s brows drew together. “She’s reporting back to you?”
He sipped his coffee again, lifting an eyebrow. “Would a Daddy not require some form of report from his babygirl’s caretaker? On her behavior, whether she’s been a very good girl who deserves a reward or a bad one who needs a damn spanking? I think he would.”
Okay, that was a point in his favor. Maybe if she refused his terms, the impromptu playdate with Mistress Violet wouldn’t go ahead, and Sierra’s day would return to her normal, stuffie-fixing routine.
Bliss.
She slid her eyes toward the reindeer, then over to Liam. “Mistress Violet isn’t the boss of me. I don’t want a snack or lunch, and if you make me go, Iwillspend all afternoon in the smallest, darkest corner I can find.”
“I see.” Nodding gravely, he tapped his fingertips on the table in an idle rhythm. “Well, I suppose you don’t have to spend any time having fun today.” He tilted his wrist, checking his watch, then shrugged. “I’ve got enough time before I need to go to work for a caning. Why don’t you go upstairs and fetch my play bag? A five-bar gate should teach you to appreciate a nice gesture when it’s offered instead of being a brat.”
The spoon plopped into the half-empty bowl, splashing milk and a couple of floppy loops onto the table top. Caning was her most hated punishment—she’d rather ride a fucking machine with its biggest dildo up her ass than endure two seconds with a thin switch of wood.
Five horizontal strikes with a diagonal one laid over them all was too much.
She began to wonder if having a Daddy with sadistic urges might be more than she could handle. She loved rough sex, butt sex, all the sex with him, but the cane was definitely on her borderline hard limit list.
“Uh…”
“Something you’d like to say?” He asked nonchalantly.
She averted her gaze, drawing submission around her like a cloak. If needed, she’d grovel to escape the bite and burn of that wicked implement; better to sacrifice her pride than her ass at this point. “Please don’t use the cane, Sir. I’m sorry for being a… brat.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Please?”
“I don’t know, it seems to me I’m not going to be the Daddy you need if I renege on a promised punishment whenever you act sad and repentant.” The mug thudded heavily on the table. “Are you going to be a good girl and do what Violet tells you?”
She nodded hastily. “Yes, Sir, Daddy, I will. I promise.”
“All right then, just this once, I’ll let the punishment skate. However,” he added ominously, “if Violet gives me any indication you’ve been a brat in my absence, you’ll be sleeping on your stomach tonight with welts on your ass and my cock buried in it.”
Oh, now that was torture. Pleasure and pain in equal measure—she’d discovered early on in their relationship how much she loved having him in her ass, even if she tried to hide that sinful little shame.
“I’ll be good, Daddy.”
“We won’t have an issue then, will we? Now, I need to get you over to the Nursery in thirty minutes, so finish your breakfast and then go get dressed.” He rose, taking the mug with him. He rinsed it out in the sink, stuck it in the dishwasher, then rummaged in the cupboard next to the refrigerator, bringing her two Advil. “Take these with your juice.”
She didn’t hesitate to obey.
Her Daddy was apparently much better at keeping Littles in line than they’d both expected.
Chapter Three
Liam
By midday, he completed his initial stock take, both pleased and impressed with the range of products he had to work with over the coming months. High end liquors, scotch, beer, and wine, just to name a few. His last minute suggestion for stocking the local brewery’s wares was positively received, and he was expecting a delivery to arrive the following morning.
The list of inadequate and missing items he compiled was shorter than he’d anticipated for a new venture, and he only had six items to chase up, none of which were vital to the day to day running of the bar.
As the clock ticked on, rapidly approaching two p.m. without effort, Liam checked his phone for the umpteenth time, not sure whether to be happy or disconcerted that he’d heard nothing from either Violet or Sierra.
It was good news, he assured himself as he buffed the last booth, polishing the wood until he saw his reflection in the shine. No texts meant they were getting on well, having fun and losing track of time just as he was; no calls told him if there were problems, they hadn’t reached emergency level.