Page 6 of Daddy's Claim
“Can and did. Are you going to listen to me or am I going to pull up your dress and blister your bare ass so everyone can hear?”
“You wouldn’tdare.”
“Try me, princess. I promise my hand can take a lot more than your ass.”
My heart was pounding against my ribcage so hard I wondered that it hadn’t burst out of my chest. “Fine. You have my attention, you big bully.” I’d meant it to be haughty, maybe a little sneering, but even to my own ears it sounded whiny and petulant.
“Good. You are going to go in there and apologize to that girl. If I don’t like your apology, we’ll come back in here and I will light your ass up until I think you’re ready to try again.”
“I will do no such thing! She ruined my bags!”
“I’m sure they’re not ruined. And even if they are, that’s no excuse for treating your people that way. Consider this your only warning that I won’t tolerate that kind of nastiness when we get home.”
A prick of guilt jabbed at my chest but I ruthlessly squashed it. “Who the hell died and made you king?”
“Nobody had to die, princess. The second you said ‘I do,’ you became mine. And I won’t allow my wife to be a rude, snotty little brat. Now,” he continued, ignoring my outraged gasp, “are you going to apologize?”
“No!” Just the idea of it had my cheeks burning with humiliation.
“Have it your way.”
Hah! I win!
My feelings of triumph lasted for all of about two seconds, which was approximately how long it took him to shove my dress up over my hips. Since the possibility of having my ass paddled hadn’t been on my radar that morning, I’d unfortunately selected a skimpy thong that left every inch of my backside bare.
“God, you’ve got a great ass. Let’s see how it looks painted red.”
That was all the warning he gave before his hard, heavy hand slammed into my bare backside. Pain radiated out from the spot where his hand landed, and I gasped at the unbelievable sting.
And he didn’t give me so much as a second to recover before he repeated the process. The spanks fell fast and hard, so all I could do was grit my teeth and cling to his leg as he paddled the resistance out of me.
When he stopped and let his hand rest on my scorched bottom, I went limp with relief over his knee, panting and gasping for breath.
“Ready to apologize, princess?”
Was it my imagination, or had his voice gentled? It seemed so paradoxical to the fire he’d just lit on my ass that I was certain I must have imagined it.
The hand on my bottom squeezed, large fingers digging into my abused flesh, and I whimpered in response to the flash of pain.
“I’m waiting, little girl. Are you going to be a good girl or do I need to spank you some more?”
Good sense dictated that falling in line was the best option, at least for now. Unfortunately for me, my mouth often had a mind of its own and rarely listened to good sense. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”
“This isn’t a debate, Leonora. You’re either going to apologize, or I’m going to spank you again. Pick one.”
“But I don’t want to,” I whined, falling back on the pleading tone that had always seemed to work on my father.
My new husband, however, seemed immune to my pleas. “One.”
“Wait! How high are you counting?”
“Two.”
“Stop counting!”
“Three.”
Apparently three was the magic number, because the spanking started all over again. Only, instead of my bottom, he targeted my thighs. The pain was so much sharper, so much more intense, it took only a handful of swats for me to scream out, “I’ll do it, I’ll do it! Just stop, please!”