Page 15 of Daddy's Temptation

“You’re not supposed to enjoy your punishment. Now, turn around.”

With a sigh of resignation, she does what I say. I sneak glances at Candace at least a dozen times while I clean up from dinner. A man could get used to having a sweet little submissive like her around. Especially if she’s sassy and gets herself corner time with her sexy, spanked ass on display.

Yeah, I could definitely get used to this.

11

Candace

I’ve never likedcorner time. I hate having time to think. I would rather be spanked into submission than be forced to think about my actions. Even more so when I deserve it. Why didn’t I just eat the stupid veggies? My mind drifts from thinking about my sassing back to Andre to the bigger issue…

My job.

My stupid boss and his stupid, wandering hands. His not so veiled threats that if I don’t fall in line with his advances that I’ll never move up in the company. Hell, just the fact that I hate the work I do. I didn’t enjoy school. Bored to tears basically summarizes my mood for my whole college career. With the exception of the two design classes I took as electives. I loved every second of those.

I jump when large arms encircle me from behind. I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t hear Andre's approach. He turns me around and cradles me to his chest. His big, strong hands run up and down my back soothingly. It’s then that I realize I’m crying.

“Shh, angel. It’s okay.” Andre’s voice is a rough growl that says he doesn’t like my tears. “You’re forgiven, sweet girl.”

I nod, acknowledging his words. I knew the moment he spanked me that I was forgiven. That’s how BDSM works. Punishment wipes the slate clean. The infraction is officially forgiven, not to be brought up again. It’s easier to let him think my tears are from the punishment instead of them being a much deeper issue altogether.

I sink into his arms, soaking up his strength. This is what I needed—why I came here tonight. Andre is the perfect escape from the real world. He’s my steady rock in a tumultuous storm—a safe haven to protect me from the outside world. A small part of me wishes that I could have this always. I squash that immediately. There's no way that can happen. I don’t want a commitment.

Do I?

“Why are you so upset, angel? This is about more than a few bites of asparagus and light spanking.”

I pull out of his arms and wipe my tears away. “It’s nothing.”

Andre crosses his arms over his chest and levels me with a hard look. To anyone else, it would be intimidating as hell, but it just makes my core clench. I’ve always been attracted to the man. He’s big, imposing, and screams sex appeal. It’s one reason why women throw themselves at him like horny puppies every night at Bidden and Bound. Jealousy burns through me at the thought of Andre with another woman.

I mentally slap myself. Feelings are not what we have. Not something that I can afford right now. It would be entirely too easy to lay out all of my problems at his feet and let him take care of them. No doubt, he would. I can see it written all over his face. Despite our agreement, he wants more. Though, I guess I knew that going into this thing… Didn’t I?

So do I; the thought pops up from a dark needy part of me. I quickly stuff the dangerous thought back into the hole it lives in, this time throwing up an impenetrable door with a dozen locks.

I shore up my will to keep Andre at an emotional distance. I can’t give an inch, if I do, Andre will slip in behind my defenses, and I’ll never have the strength to push him back out again.

“It’s nothing.” I cross my own arms on my chest, giving him my best hard look. I’m the first to admit, it’s not the least bit intimidating. My bark is definitely bigger than my bite. It’s only sheer desperation to protect my heart that keeps me from wilting under Andre’s disapproval. “I thought we had an agreement, no messy feelings…”

Bitter disappointment flashes in his dark eyes for a moment before melting into indifference. My heart clenches and my eyes burn with unshed tears. At this moment, I hate my parents for completely fucking me up, and I hate myself a little for letting the sins of my parents lay a veil over my heart. I’m hardly the first person who watched their father be unfaithful time and time again. Nor am I the only one who has spent their life trying desperately to seek approval from the very same parents who fucked them up to begin with. Logically, I know it’s ridiculous, but matters of the heart rarely make sense.

“You’re right,” Andre growls lowly, “we do have an agreement.”

His words don’t ring true. It feels more like he’s just playing a part than conceding that we have rules and limits to this thing between us. Andre draws himself up, his expression turning indifferent. Why does his abrupt change fill me with overwhelming sadness? I don’t have time to consider it because in the next moment, Andre picks me up and throws me over his shoulder, striding through his apartment with purpose. I squeal when he tosses me on the bed, bouncing twice before my body settles.

Andre doesn’t give me time to get comfortable, he grips my ankles in his vise-like hold and yanks me to the end of the bed. Within seconds he’s stripped me of my pants and panties so that my whole bottom half is on display. He doesn’t hesitate to tug off my shirt and toss it aside. My bra quickly follows, leaving me completely bare while he’s fully clothed.

Because I don’t sleep with the men that dominate me, I’m used to being stripped naked while my temporary partner is not. This feels completely different. It feels wrong. So does the look on Andre’s face. There is no sign of the caring daddy I’ve come to know him as, instead, the unfeeling sadist who doesn’t give an inch is present in his steely eyes.

I gasp when, without a word, he flips me over to my stomach on the edge of the bed. It’s so tall that I can hardly touch the ground with my tiptoes. I feel tiny and downright petite despite my five-foot seven-inch height. My breathing accelerates when I hear the jingle of his belt buckle being opened.

Submissives the world over are conditioned to both fear and love that sound. This fact explains both the pounding of my heart and the arousal coating my thighs. I think part of it is the unknown. Is he taking off the belt to fuck me or will my bottom feel the hot lash of leather? I have no doubt which of the two Andre plans.

I swallow thickly at the sound of him pulling his belt free from the loops of his pants. I’m practically panting in anticipation. Andre is a true master at keeping his play partners balanced on the edge of fear and excitement—or so I’ve heard. It’s obviously true based on the current emotions roiling through my body as I await his decision.

I don’t have to wait long because a line of fire erupts on my exposed bottom in the next second. He doesn’t give me time to catch my breath before the leather comes down in another harsh stroke. This isn’t my first belting… I’ve been spanked, flogged, paddled, even caned once, but none of that compares to the intensity of this whipping.

On the fourth stroke, hot tears blur my vision, and when I squeeze my eyes shut, they trickle out soaking into the bedsheets underneath me. By the sixth stroke, my hands involuntarily fly back to protect my bottom from more. Andre makes quick work of pinning my wrists to my lower back, not losing the unforgiving rhythm of the falling belt he set.