Chapter 4
Chapter Four
She’d almost forgotten the promised appointment by the end of the day. Or rather, she’d deliberately pushed it out of her mind until he’d brought it up in the kitchen. Her stomach lurched and twisted, the way it always did when she realized she was in trouble.
Punishment was weird. Thinking about it was hot. Remembering it was a turn on too. Actually experiencing it was something else entirely.
On some level, she wanted this punishment. Not for the attitude. Honestly, that had been nothing, and Sam had seen much worse from her.
There was a little guilt about lying to him. Hiding things was one thing, telling him a made-up story right to his face was something else, and she wasn’t comfortable with that. But escalating an argument to make him storm out of the house had been a lot worse.
It was for a good cause, of course. It was to keep his surprise a secret. But despite the justification, she still felt guilty, and she couldn’t seem to set that aside. Sam would, in his usual strict Daddy way, make her pay for it later, but she really didn’t want to wait weeks until Valentine’s Day.
None of that meant she was going to take it gracefully. She stalled through dinner, she cursed and protested when he carried her off. When he told her to strip, she dragged it out as long as possible before her clothes hit the floor.
Charlie was smart enough to know that too much stalling at this stage would make things worse. It only took one warning throat clear from Sam to speed things up. When she stepped out of her jeans and underwear, he was already seated and waiting.
The rush of emotions that blew through her caused her to freeze. Wanting, needing, anxiously dreading… it was all there. “Are-Are you sure we need to do this? I mean is punishment really necessary for a tiny little argument that we’re both taking blame for?”
Sam cocked his head, considering. For a moment she was hopeful that he’d change his mind, until he said, “Well, Charlie, that depends on you. Can you honestly tell me that you’re not feeling any guilt right now?”
She frowned. “It’s not really up to me. You’re just acting like it’s my choice.”
“I didn’t say it was your choice. Punishment is my decision— that’s what you asked for. That’s how you wanted our relationship to go. Right?” He didn’t expect an answer, and he didn’t wait for one. “But if you can honestly look me in the eye and say you feel no guilt at all, then I don’t see any reason to punish you. If you can’t…” The implication was obvious.
She sighed and looked away. She’d told enough lies already; she wasn’t going to add to the list, especially since this one couldn’t be justified. There was still guilt. Maybe not for what he thought, but it was there. “No, I guess I can’t say that,” she admitted finally.
He nodded. “That’s what I thought. So, no more stalling. Let’s get this over with and—” His mouth curved up to one side. “If you take it like a good girl, I might just give you a reward after.”
Does he mean what I think he means? Things low in her body tightened and her mood lifted. Usually the rule was no sexy fun after punishment. Sometimes he even made her wait a couple of days, just to let the message sink in.
If he was suggesting a suspension of that rule, then this was going to be a lot more bearable than she’d expected. “Yes, Daddy!”
She practically threw herself across his lap. Not out of eagerness for the punishment, but for what might come after. She was going to be a very good girl, if that was what it took. She wiggled to get comfortable and then said, “I’m ready.”
She felt, more than heard his laugh, as his body rumbled.
“I can see that. I guess I used the magic words. Hmm.”
“Daddy, let’s be honest. If you dropped that stupid rule about no sex after, I wouldn’t mind punishment nearly as much. I definitely wouldn’t stall.”
The laugh was more audible this time, and his rough, calloused hand settled down on her bare ass. “First of all, we don’t have a no sex rule. The rule is no orgasms for Charlie after punishment, which is a very different thing.”
Didn’t she know it. Sam didn’t believe in denying himself, just because she’d gotten in trouble. Edging and oral (for him) was one of his favorite additions. Sometimes he took her ass instead, and anal wasn’t much fun when the preparations didn’t include coming a few times.
“Second, don’t hold your breath. I have no intention of dropping that rule. The best you can hope for is the occasional exception, on account of extenuating circumstances. I messed up too, so you’re getting some mercy is all.”
She sighed and let her head drop. Her dark hair, tied up in the usual ponytail, flopped over her face to hide the scowl. She hadn’t really expected anything different, but she could dream.
Sam wasn’t one to wait, once he had her in position. And when it came to punishment, there were no slow starts or long warmups. So when his hand lifted, she had just a second to tighten her muscles and prepare for impact— which did absolutely zero to cushion the sting, but always felt like it might.
His arm swung and his hand slapped down with a stinging swat that made her yelp. One leg kicked up involuntarily, but she forced it back down without being told. She was determined to earn that reward after, no matter what.
The thought of it gave her something to cling to as his arm swung up and down, peppering her skin with hard spanks, until she was sure that every inch of her exposed backside had to be bright red. Intense heat throbbed and pulsed in the center of each cheek.
Silently counting each spank helped, in a weird way. It gave her something to focus on, but as the numbers continued to rise, his arm moved faster. She could barely think of the number before the next landed and she finally stopped trying.
Punishment spankings were always fast in their household. It was part of what made them so unbearable. Sam didn’t want her to enjoy what he was doing. He didn’t want her body to turn the heat and sting into arousal, which it so often did with the long, slow spankings they had for fun.
Sometimes it happened anyway, she couldn’t control her body, and she was a masochist, but when it did, he made sure it didn’t last long. She was definitely not turned on at the moment.
“Daddy! Daddy, I’m sorry,” she blurted as he shifted his aim, and the next spank landed on the back of one leg. The skin was more tender there, and his hand felt as hard as a paddle.
“Sorry for what, Charlie?” He didn’t stop, or even slow as he waited for her answer. His palm cracked down on the right thigh, and then the left without pause.
Don’t kick. Don’t put your hands back. The internal reminders barely helped. She’d begun a kind of rocking from side to side, as she tried to avoid his hand.
“For the attitude, Daddy! I shouldn’t have been sassy.” The confession was high-pitched, full of pain, and very nearly wailed. It was so hard to answer his questions when it felt like her ass was sitting in a brush fire.
“What happens to sassy subs, Charlie girl?”
She bit her lip to hold back what she wanted to say. If she answered him, her mouth would ruin any chance of fun afterwards. Being sassy, while being spanked for being sassy, was always a mistake.
But Sam wanted and expected an answer. He gave her a minute to respond and then suddenly shifted her forward until her head touched the carpet. His knee lifted, putting her ass further on display.
She knew what was coming next and desperately tried to fold her legs up to cover her sit spot. How many times had she tried that over the years they’d been together? Too many.
Sam was expecting it and prepared for it. He pushed her legs right back down. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. In that position they wouldn’t have covered all the vulnerable areas.
“The question wasn’t optional, Charlie.” With no further warning, his hand found the undercurve of her cheeks and began to sear the tender skin of her sit spot with a flurry of punishing slaps designed to be felt long after the spanking ended.
She hissed in a breath between clenched teeth and a second later let it out in a loud wail of pain. “Nooooo. Not there, Sam! Pleaseeee!”
He stopped abruptly and she almost burst into tears from shear relief.
“What did you call me, Charlie?”
The cool warning in his voice wiped away her relief immediately. What had she called him? She thought back desperately and then winced. “I meant Daddy!”
“But that’s not what you said.” One hand came down on her back to hold her in place and she heard a rustling as he shifted and fumbled for something. The clink of the buckle, followed by the hiss of leather whisking through belt loops warned her.
“Daddy, I’m sorry! It just slipped out.”
“Uh-huh. You know better than to call me by name when you’re being punished. It’s Daddy when you’re in trouble and you know it.” He didn’t sound angry, and probably wasn’t.
Things like this didn’t upset him, they just meant she’d earned a little extra. And it wouldn’t be too terrible. Charlie usually liked the belt. There was something sexy about leather and just the thought of him using it on her made her wet, but it was still going to hurt on already spanked skin.
It could have been worse. If he’d actually been angry, he would have gotten up and gotten a paddle. They had far too many of those around for her taste, and each was mean in its own way.
“Since I’m being lenient… I’ll do the penalty over my lap, but you’re going to count them.”
Over his lap meant he wouldn’t be able to get a full-arm swing, which meant it wouldn’t be too bad. She hated counting out loud, but given the circumstances, she wasn’t going to complain. “Yes, Daddy. Um, how many?”
“You’ll find out when I stop.”
“Yes, Daddy.” She did her best to keep the sigh out of her voice, in case it made him change his mind about being nice.
The first stroke landed right across the center of her ass, and she was so surprised she almost forgot to count, only belatedly spitting out “One!” before he could say anything. It hurt, sure, but not in a punishing way. It was more on the level of what they did for fun.
The second one was just a little harder and a little lower across her seat. She hissed in a breath, but had no trouble saying, “Two!” In fact, as he continued to rain down the leather slaps, she realized she wasn’t having any trouble counting at all. That wasn’t normal for punishment.
Punishment was meant to be really hard to bear, counting was supposed to be a struggle, and maybe earn her extra if she didn’t try really hard to focus. This… this was barely worse than his hand.
Actually, by the time she counted “Ten!” she’d decided it was better than his hard hand. The leather cupped her ass sensuously when it came down, molding to her flesh in an exciting way. The next few were harder to take, because they were striping her thighs, but still nothing like she would have expected.
“Spread your legs for me, Charlie.” Sam’s voice was husky. The sternness had leaked away at some point.
She gulped and a shiver rolled through her. She loved having her pussy spanked for foreplay, but it could be horrible during discipline scenes. She wasn’t entirely sure this was still discipline, but it would be a terrible way to find out it was.
“Um, Daddy? Am I-Am I still in trouble?” she asked.
His laugh was low, and the vibrations rumbled through her body. “What do you think?”
“It doesn’t feel like it,” she admitted. Her inner thigh tickled, and she felt a drop of arousal trailing over her skin.
“I guess you’ll find out, but maybe I’m being too nice, since I noticed those pretty legs of yours are still clamped shut. Do I need to be meaner, Charlie?”
Yes, be meaner, please. The thought ran through her head, but she didn’t let it escape her closed lips. “No, no, Daddy. You’re being plenty mean,” she assured him, as she quickly wiggled back on his lap. Once her toes could touch the carpet again, she slid her trembling legs apart and planted her feet for balance.
“That’s my good girl.”
The words brought a physical sensation, causing her pussy to clench. The praise had her soaked and she loved and hated knowing it would make the leather sting more. Her whole body was taut, every muscle stretched tight as she waited.
But it wasn’t the kiss of leather she felt first. It was his fingers stroking lightly over her soaked and swollen pussy lips. He tugged at a curl, gently at first and then hard enough to make her go up on her toes with a little gasp.
“Looks like someone was enjoying their punishment. You’re absolutely drenched, Charlie girl.” He didn’t sound like he minded much.
She was too shameless to be embarrassed about it. “That’s your fault, Daddy. You know what leather does to me.”
“Mhmm. Well, I did promise you a reward if you took your punishment well. I’m just not sure you’ve been punished enough yet.” He parted her folds, dragging the tips of his fingers through the slippery wetness he found.
Her clit began to throb, demanding his touch and a soft whimpering sound escaped as she tried to press back into his hand. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been punished enough,” she assured him. Liar, said a little voice in the back of her head.
But she didn’t want any more punishment, she wanted him to finger her until she came on his hand. And then she wanted him to fuck her until she was empty of thoughts, worries, and anxiety.
“But that’s not your decision is it, darlin?” He cupped her mound, squeezing possessively. “You’re mine and I decide when you’ve had enough. Isn’t that right?”
Her answer was immediate, and full of pleading desperation, “Yes, Daddy. You’re right. You decide.”
“Good girl.” He eased a finger into her, and slid it in and out a few times, before adding a second.
Her heart was racing as she made breathy little panting sounds. She couldn’t resist rolling her hips and working herself back on his fingers. God, it felt so fucking good. She loved his cock, loved when he fucked her, but this, right here, was almost better in some ways.
When they had sex they were equal partners, generous to each other, but each still had their own journey to make. Sometimes the rhythm was what he needed and not her. Sometimes she was slowing down when he needed her to go faster. That was all perfectly normal and fine.
But lying across his knee, with her ass hot and stinging, with his fingers between her legs, she was the center of attention. He was focused entirely on her journey and what she needed to get there. It was all about her and making her come (or keeping her just on the edge of it) and she loved that attention sometimes.
He probably felt the same intense one-way pleasure when she was on her knees sucking his cock. She hoped he did. She wanted him to feel like he was the only thing in the world that existed for her in those moments, like he was the only thing on her mind, because that’s how he was making her feel right now.
“Such a good girl,” he crooned as his fingers thrust in and out, faster, deeper, driving her towards the edge.
And then he stopped. “But… you weren’t so good earlier, so I think you’ve still got a little more punishment coming.”
“Daddy no! Please, I’m so sorry. I’ll never give you attitude again,” she swore, and meant it, at least for the moment. Her pussy clenched around his fingers, as if trying to hold them there.
He slid them free and wiped her juices on the back of her thigh. “I bet you mean that, darlin, but we both know better. Anyway, I changed my mind. I think I want you on the bed for this. Up you go, Charlie.” He gave her ass a light smack to get her moving.
She was frozen for a second as her mind tried to catch up with the sudden changes. What did he mean by changing his mind? Was he regretting letting things slide in a sexual direction? Was he going to turn this back into real punishment?
It was too late for that! Her skin felt like it was stretched too tight across her body. Every nerve was tingling, sensitized, and waiting for more pleasure. The evidence of that coated the inside of her thighs as she pushed off his lap and got to her feet.
Nothing he did was going to feel like punishment now—well, within reason. He’d have to be really harsh to bring her back from that edge, and she didn’t want that. She snuck a nervous look at him, trying to gauge his mood, but his face was blank, probably on purpose.
Charlie hesitated and then looked at the bed. “How do you want me?” That had to be proof of how hard she was trying to be good.
“On your back, darlin.” He stroked the leather belt with two fingers as he pulled it through his hands, doubling it over and then snapping it.
The loud popping sound made her jump, but her pussy pulsed deliciously. She eased herself down on the bed, enjoying the tenderness he’d left on her backside, as her heated skin rubbed across the blanket. She pushed herself back and got comfortable. “Like this?”
“Mhm… spread those legs nice and wide for me, sweetheart.”
It was so hard to make herself do it, but she obeyed. Sam snatched a pillow from the head of the bed, and tucked it under her hips, raising her pussy and putting it on display. It wasn’t especially comfortable, lying like that, but she barely noticed.
All of her attention was on the belt in his hand, waiting, watching. Her mouth felt dry, and her tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip in an anxious gesture. “Please, don’t be too mean, Daddy.” Why did her voice sound as if she wanted the exact opposite.
“How mean is too mean? Would ten be too mean?” He watched her face as his hand stroked lightly over her calf.
What was the right answer to that? It felt like a trick. “Yes… maybe. I think so.”
“Hmm. How about one? Would one be too mean?”
It was definitely a trick. It had to be, but if the choice was ten or one... “No, I—wait.” Her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed as she considered her answer. “How hard would they be?”
Sam laughed. “Fair question. How about one hard one, or ten not as hard. What would be meaner then?”
“What if I say it’s all mean?” She shifted on the pillow, drawing her legs a little closer together when her inner thighs began to ache from the stretch.
“I guess I’d come up with a third option. Do you want to find out what that would be?” His mouth was tilted up at one side. His blue eyes were half-lidded, giving him a sensual look that invited her to try it.
She did want to find out, but she wasn’t willing to risk it. She was left with the original two choices. One hard, but over and done with, or ten that wouldn’t be as bad, but she’d have to suffer through them.
“What if?—”
He shook his head once. “No more questions. Pick one, or I will.”
Ugh . It was so hard without more information, but that was the point of course. It was a game, and the choice was an illusion anyway. Whichever she picked, Sam would still guide things in the direction he’d already decided on. “Okay, then one.”
“You sure?” He drew out the second word, implying she was making a mistake.
She stuck with it. “Yes.”
“Okay, since you’re only getting one… we’re going to make sure it really counts.”
Charlie swallowed hard as her insides twisted. She just had to hope she hadn’t made a big mistake.