Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Lola
It was a complete tug-o-war game in my head and I wasn’t sure which side would ultimately win out, which scared me. Both choices were terrifying in their own right.
“If you don’t use either word, then I’m going to assume I can proceed with what I plan to do, which is to spank your naughty bottom for being obstinate and rude. And you will still be getting a spanking before bed for being late to lunch.”
“I thought I already got punished for that! You took my phone away.”
“That was part of your punishment. I’m a firm believer in layers of discipline. Even if you earn lines, cornertime, or restrictions, you will still get spanked.”
“That seems excessive.” I pouted. This had become even more real. With Archer, the only consequence I’d ever faced had been a spanking, and maybe a few minutes in the corner beforehand.
“It’s effective. Right now, though, you’re getting spanked for not doing as you were told. Take your pants off, please. You can keep your panties on. I’ll move them when I’m ready.”
I didn’t like being the one to take my pants down for a spanking, although Archer had also made me do it when I was part of the Rent-A-Daddy program. I’d been hoping Zeke would be different. He was. Just not, apparently, in this way.
“I’m trying to be patient because it’s your first day here, but I’m getting very tired of repeating myself, babygirl. When Daddy issues a command, I expect complete and swift obedience.”
“Can’t you do it?” I whimpered. All of the bravado had left my body and mind, and I truly felt like a naughty little girl. Had it started when he called himself Daddy or when he called me babygirl? Both had done inexplicable things to my tummy. We won’t talk about where else it was doing things. My therapist would be so mad.
“I can, and I might sometimes in the future, but right now you need to be a participant in your own discipline, and this is one of the things you will need to do before I punish you. It’s my way of making sure you’re accepting responsibility for your actions.”
Well, didn’t that just completely suck? But what could I do? Call ‘red’ and just end this all and never get absolution? Call yellow and postpone the inevitable? Every single choice sucked, and it was all my fault.
I dropped my gaze to his lap and unbuttoned my jeans. Hooking my thumbs in my waistband, I tugged them down to about mid-thigh and straightened back up.
Zeke shook his head. “What was my instruction?”
For not having patience like he’d said, he sure did like to draw things out.
I repeated what I thought he told me to do. “You told me to take my pants down and leave my panties.”
“I said ‘off’. Not ‘down’. I’ll be adding extra swats for not listening.”
“Uuuuuugh.” I leaned down and shoved my pants to my ankles before stepping out of them and kicking them angrily to the side. Zeke’s ex-military side was showing.
He sighed. “Go pick them up, fold them nicely, and set them on the table.”
“Okay, am I being punked right now? I feel like I’m being punked.” I looked around like the Rent-A-Daddy crew was going to come out with cameras, all laughing at me as payback for my ridiculous behavior.
Zeke actually cracked a hint of a smile. “You’re not being punked. I just have a very ritualistic way of administering a punishment, and you’re learning the hard way what it is. If you had come to lunch on time and not thrown your little fit, we would be discussing this, and you would know what to expect, but you pushed too hard and I couldn’t let it go on any longer. Just like when you gave me your phone earlier, drop the attitude and do as you’re told.”
That made sense, but it was still a ridiculous thing to have me take my pants off and fold them before I got a spanking. And as I forced myself to control my movements instead of huff and stomp and carry on as I completed the utterly stupid task, I kind of realized why he was making me do it. He didn’t only want me to participate in my punishment, he wanted me to submit to it with grace and acceptance. By forcing myself to calm down and carry out tasks, I had to think about what was happening instead of haphazardly going through the motions. By the time I set the pants next to him like I’d been asked, my headspace had done a total one-eighty. I remembered what had brought me to the club in the first place, and why I’d agreed to this.
“I’m sorry for my behavior.” I wrung my fingers together as I stood in front of my very large, very unamused Daddy.
Because somehow, that was how I was thinking of him now. Like the calm, stern, methodical way he conducted himself and managed me had somehow quietly shifted my thinking.
“Thank you for your apology. Now let's get this spanking out of the way, and we can get on with our day.”
He helped me over his lap, but his thighs were like steel, and as soon as I hit them it felt like all the air was forced out of my body in a loud “oomf”. It was not a comfortable position by any stretch of the imagination, and even less so when he shifted me and lifted one leg higher to raise my ass further into the air. I grabbed his calf for something to hold on to, because it felt like I could slide forward and fall on my face at any moment.
Zeke rested his hand on my panty-clad ass, and I silently wished I’d worn a cuter pair.
No, that's not what this was about. Zeke was my disciplinarian, not my boyfriend. Not even a prospect. It didn’t matter what my panties looked like.
I frowned, angry at myself for even having the thought. It was exactly the kind of thinking I was trying to get away from. It was what doing this was supposed to help me overcome, among other things. And yet, I hadn’t mentioned that when we’d negotiated at the club; not really.
So was I going to just sit there and let Zeke micromanage me in all the ways that truly didn’t matter because there was some part of me that liked the rules and sternness. And the way he called me babygirl? I might.
“Why are you over Daddy’s knee about to get your bottom spanked, naughty girl?”
Shit… umm… I tried to replay everything in my mind to come up with an answer. Thankfully Zeke gave me a moment.
“Because I didn’t do what you said?”
“We can start there, yes. In this house Daddy’s commands will be followed to the letter and without hesitation, or there will be consequences.”
I tensed, waiting for the spanking to start, but nothing happened. Craning my neck, I looked back at him to see what was going on.
He answered my unasked question. “I need a verbal acknowledgment that you’re listening and understanding me when I tell you something.”
“Oh. Umm, Yes, Sir… Daddy… Sir.” I didn’t know which title to use, and the blood rushing to my brain and… other parts of my anatomy, was not helping matters. I knew I wasn’t supposed to be thinking sexually, but I was half naked over a sexy ex-military man’s lap. How could I not be at least a little turned on?
All sexy thoughts flew from my mind the second Zeke’s paddle-like palm made contact with my ass.
“Ah!” I yelled as I reached my hand back. I knew he would spank hard, but holy hell.
Zeke seized my wrist and held it at the small of my back. “Don’t reach back while you’re getting a spanking. I don’t want to hit your hand and cause a real injury.”
“But you spank really hard!” I whined.
“I do. You’ll do well to remember that in the future.” His grip on my wrist tightened as he laid a flurry of spanks all over my quivering cheeks.
To say I did not take the spanking gracefully would be an understatement. I couldn’t. He was too strong. But thankfully it didn’t last long, and before I knew it I was sitting up and cradled against his chest, catching my breath.
“When Daddy needs to give you a swift correction, it will be hard and fast. I want to be able to make my point in a short amount of time. Scheduled punishments will be longer and more drawn out. They will also have more lasting effects.”
“Yes, Sir, Daddy, Sir.” I sniffled. That edict did not bode well for my bottom at bedtime, but at least this punishment was over for now.
“Good girl. Now I need you to eat a bit more food, and then we can discuss some more things.”
The chicken and vegetables were now all but inedible, but I forced down as much as I could, not willing to risk getting another spanking so soon.
After we finished, Zeke insisted on cleaning up by himself and sent me to my room for some free time. Well, free time without my phone, I reminded myself as I made my way down the short hall. Maybe I’d take a bath. That sounded like a nice relaxing thing to do after a very trying morning.
The bath was exactly what the doctor ordered and I emerged feeling fresh and clean and ready to face the world head-on. Or face my commanding Daddy head-on, at least.
He was sitting on the couch reading when I emerged from my room at the exact time he told me to, and I took a second to admire him in his relaxed state. Feet up on the coffee table, book in hand, reading glasses on. He was sexy as sin.
Knock it off, I scolded myself.
He glanced at the clock on the wall and smiled. “Good girl. Did you enjoy your bath?”
“I did, very much. Thank you.”
“Good. Now let’s chat more about this morning and our expectations with this arrangement, shall we?”
I took a deep fortifying breath and sat down next to him. “Yes, Sir, Daddy, Sir.” I still stumbled again over what title to use.
“You know, I’m beginning to like that response. It fits, and I think we’ll keep it.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Of course we would keep it. Of course I would inevitably make things more complicated for myself, I mean why wouldn’t I? It was what I always did.
Zeke
I could see Lola’s mind wander, and I wanted to keep her in the present so I set my book down and gave her my full attention. We discussed her mini meltdown at lunch and I laid out all of my rules for her, having her write them down so she wouldn’t forget them or feel like I was being unfair if she got punished. There were a lot of rules, and they didn’t even cover the little rituals I would have when it came to certain things like spankings and other punishments. Those she would learn in time.
To her credit, she didn’t complain once about my nitpicky little rules. On the contrary, the more rules I gave her, the more she seemed to relax. It was fascinating, and more telling than any conversation we’d had up to that point.
We hung the rules up in her room and then created a daily and weekly schedule. She had to work, and I had to work, and I wanted everything laid out so there were no surprises.
By the time everything was said and done, it was time for me to make dinner. Lola insisted she could take over cooking and cleaning duties, but I shot that down. I’d always done the cooking and cleaning for myself before she moved in, and I would do it after the arrangement was complete.
I also felt like cooking and cleaning for a man was part of the toxicity that had been poured into her. Part of the lies we were trying to purge. She didn’t need to do anything to increase her value as a human. She had value just because she was who she was.
If her time with me taught her anything, that’s what I wanted her to learn. She didn’t like it, and she made it known as she hovered outside the kitchen.
“If you can’t find a productive way to spend your time, I can assign you some lines, or maybe an essay to keep you busy,” I told her without stopping what I was doing or even looking in her direction.
Her little gasp of surprise and the quick patter of her bare feet across the wood floor as she skittered away made me chuckle. If she only knew how fucking adorable she was, and how wrapped around her finger I could see myself becoming, it would be a dangerous thing. I hoped she wouldn’t find out, at least not anytime soon.
We got through dinner without any incidents and even enjoyed each other’s company. I almost hated having to remind her that she had another punishment coming before bed, and that it would be worse than the quick correction I gave her after lunch. I needed to make a point. One of my biggest pet peeves was someone being late. She would learn that soon enough, I had no doubt, and since our earlier talk, I was feeling confident that this was going to work even better than I’d hoped.