Page 13 of Hunter's Baby Girl
Chapter 7
We decided that it would be better for me to keep our playdates at my house, at least in the beginning. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Hunter, after our conversation in the tub, and afterward as we dried off and then ate popcorn while watching a movie in the living room. I trusted him implicitly. He was a genuine, good guy. And he was very open to talking about anything I had in mind. Still, because this was so new to me, we agreed that playing in a familiar atmosphere would be more fun for now.
I felt deeply indebted to him for his understanding and generosity. And he was generous, for sure. The fact that he focused so much on my comfort and pleasure went a long way. I still wondered why he wouldn’t let himself become consumed, as I had. It felt as though he was just as concerned over controlling himself as he was over controlling me. But I’d already asked enough personal questions in the bathtub; I thought it best to let sleeping dogs lie for now.
We decided on Tuesday for our next playdate. And I was surprised I didn’t get fired somewhere between Monday morning and Tuesday evening, so completely out the window was my concentration.
“You okay?” my boss asked at one point on Tuesday afternoon, after handing back a typo-riddled contract I’d given to him for review. “You seem distant so far this week. Distracted.”
I could hardly meet his eyes. It was true; I’d been daydreaming, again, while I typed up that document. I couldn’t get my mind off Hunter and the memories of what he’d done to me so far, not to mention fantasies over what he might do to me next.
“I’m so sorry,” I said hurriedly and snatched the contract from him. “I’ll fix this right up and have it over to you in a few minutes.”
But my meager apology wasn’t enough. He looked at me, stern and concerned at once. “This isn’t like you. I give you much more leeway than anybody else in the office because I know I can depend on you. Is everything all right? Do you need help with something?”
I smiled sheepishly. Ian was very sweet. I’d been working with him for over five years, since I left college. This was only supposed to be a “temporary” position until I found my “real” job one day. Funny how time flies. Now I was the right hand of the company’s president.
“Really, Ian, I’m okay. It’s nothing serious, just a few personal things that cropped up recently.”
“Do you need any help?” he asked.
“I don’t think so. It’s nothing I can’t handle. I’ll be more careful with my work and not let it affect me any further. I promise. And thank you as always for being so understanding.”
As soon as he went back to his office, I set myself to the task of getting the darn contract right this time. Just because I was having fun in my personal life didn’t mean I could take advantage of my boss’s kindness. I’d seen what happened to others who took things too far with him, and it wasn’t pretty. I’d also never seen those people in this office again.
Of course, there was always going to be a part of me that didn’t exactly hate the idea of never seeing this office again as the work I did was complete drudgery compared to what I really wanted to do. But it was better than nothing. For now, anyway.
* * *
Still, even with the concern over my job, I managed to find a way to use the situation to my advantage in terms of working it into my playtime. The run-in with Ian had given me an idea.
When I got home, I put on dinner. Or, at least, fake dinner. I had no intention of eating burned food.
By the time Hunter arrived, I had the smoke detector going off. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect.
“What did you do?” he asked, all anger and brusqueness.
“I got distracted!” I shouted over the sound of the alarm. I used a broom to press the button on the detector while he opened the windows. It wasn’t extremely smoky; the alarm had just sounded when he walked through the door, in fact. He was prompt, and I relied on that promptness to avoid any actual danger.
“How did you get distracted while cooking dinner?” he asked. He walked over to the frying pan where a couple of charred hot dogs were still smoking. I could see a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, but he managed to stay in character.
He sighed heavily and turned to me. “How many times do I have to tell you not to take your attention from the stove for a single minute?” he asked, exasperated. “I don’t just say these things to hear myself speak!”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled.
“I don’t think you really are,” he said. His voice lowered dangerously. “I think you don’t understand how severe this could have been. A kitchen full of smoke is the least of what could have happened! You could have hurt yourself or burned the house down. And then what would I do?”
I shrugged, my eyes on the floor. I heard him sigh again, then heard the sound of him removing his jacket. “It looks like you’re going to have to be taught a lesson, Little Girl,” he said. “I can’t have you doing this again.”
He looked around the kitchen and found the ceramic jar in which I stored spatulas and wooden spoons. I glanced up from the corner of my eye and saw his hand dance over the tops of the tools. “How can I make sure you don’t forget this lesson?” he asked himself. I bit my lip in anticipation.
Finally, he selected a sturdy wooden spoon. “Bend over the table,” he said. I sighed dramatically and dragged my feet to stand in front of him, then bent over with my forearms resting on the table. I’d worn the same plaid skirt I’d worn on Friday, if only because the idea of working jeans over my sore butt afterward did not appeal to me.
He flipped up the back of my skirt with one motion; I’d worn a pair of briefs, which covered me fully. He yanked them down to my knees with force enough to make me gasp in surprise.
“Such a nice, ripe ass,” he murmured. “I hate to have to mark it up like this. But you need to learn, for your own good. Do you agree that you need to learn?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I retorted. “I need to learn my lesson. I need you to spank me.”