Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Stafford eyed her.
She couldn’t seriously be wondering why she was getting a spanking, right?
“You’re getting a spanking because you were up a ladder. You put yourself at risk and that’s not allowed.”
“It was just a ladder. I wasn’t jumping off the roof using a blanket as a parachute.”
“You better not try that!”
“Of course I wouldn’t. I mean, maybe when I was seven I might have thought I could fly. And I might have tried that and broken my arm. But I have learned my lesson.”
“I should hope so,” he said sternly. “But that is beside the point. You could have fallen off that ladder and hurt yourself.”
“But . . . but . . . I didn’t know the rules. So how can I be punished for breaking one?”
Hmm.
That was a good point. Except . . .
“You didn’t realize that not being allowed to put yourself at risk would be a rule? Answer honestly.”
She sighed. “I guess if there were going to be rules that would be one.”
“Also, when I hired you, I told you not to do any outside house maintenance. That you were to leave that to me, didn’t I?”
“I guess so, but I didn’t know you were going to spank me.”
“You could spend some time in the corner instead. And write some lines. Actually, lines could be a good reminder. Writing a hundred times that ‘I will not put myself at risk’ will help keep that rule in your head.”
“I’ll take the spanking! I’ll take the spanking!” She jumped to her feet. “Let’s get it over and done with.”
All right, then.
He sat in the chair and drew her over to stand between his legs. “Why are you getting a spanking, babygirl?”
“Because I put myself at risk of getting hurt and I’m not supposed to do outside maintenance of the house.”
“That’s right. I would be devastated if anything happened to you. You’re not ever to do something that might end up in you getting hurt. No climbing up ladders or onto roofs. No driving over the speed limit or without a seatbelt. No jaywalking or crossing roads while on your phone. Things like that.”
“No jaywalking? Are you serious right now?”
“Very. No lifting heavy things out of the oven. No eating food until it’s been blown on and temperature checked. When you put your pants or shoes and socks on, you must be sitting down. No hopping around dangerously. And your shoelaces must always be tied.”
“Daddy!” she cried, smacking his shoulder lightly. He was being ridiculous now.
Then she froze. Had she really just called him that?
“I, um . . . I . . .”
“I like hearing you call me that,” he told her.
“Really?” she said with such hope in her voice that it nearly made him wince.
“I want to be your Daddy, babygirl. I know I don’t necessarily know what to do or how to show it. But I’ve been doing some more research today and I want to talk to you after this.”
“I mean . . . we could talk now. Skip the spanking.”
“Hmm. I read that if you promise a spanking or punishment that you should follow through.”
Blakely groaned. “That sounds like very dumb advice.”
Stafford grinned. “You would think that. Come here.” He kissed her lightly before arranging her over his lap. He rubbed her bottom. She was wearing purple cotton panties.
He needed to do some shopping for her. Maybe some sexy, silky lingerie as well as some things that his babygirl might want to wear.
Stafford slid her panties down her knees. “You have the most beautiful bottom, darlin’.”
“Does that mean you don’t want to spank it?” she asked, sounding hopeful.
“I’m afraid not. It looks just as beautiful when it’s pink.”
She groaned.
He smacked his hand down on her ass and she jumped like she’d been caught by surprise.
But he didn’t stop until after he’d turned her white cheeks pink and she was slumped over his lap.
He stopped spanking her to rub the tops of her thighs. “How are you doing, babygirl?”
“Badly, Daddy!” she wailed. “My butt-butt hurts and you keep smacking it for no reason.”
“I think I have every reason. Because I want my babygirl to remember how precious she is to me and that I want her to be safe.”
“I won’t forget it now. Can I have cuddles?”
“Oh, darlin’, we’re not finished yet. I was just pausing to check in with you and make sure you didn’t need to use your safeword.”
“Nooo,” she cried.
But ‘no’ wasn’t her safeword. So he kept spanking her until she was kicking her feet and sobbing. Until her bottom was a deep shade of red.
Then he stood and drew her up so she straddled his lap. She slumped against him, crying as he rubbed her back.
“You did such a good job, babygirl. You’re so clever. So gorgeous. I love you so much.”
“I love you too. But you spank way too hard.”
“Poor darlin’.”
She leaned back to give him a suspicious look. “Aren’t you gonna tell me that next time you won’t spank as hard?”
“Nope. I’m not.”
“Well, that’s rude.”
“Aren’t you going to tell me that there won’t be a next time?” he asked.
“Hmm. I try not to make promises I know I can’t keep.”
He had to grin as he wiped her cheeks with his thumbs. Then he moved them around the bed so he could grab the tissues to help clean her up.
“Right, let’s have a chat.”
“Um, can I do it with my pants on?” she asked.
“Do you really want to put pants on?” he countered.
Hmm.
With the way her bottom was throbbing?
Probably not.
She shook her head.
Stafford brushed her hair back off her face. It had probably gone completely wild.
“Will you tell me about your Little?”
Blakely squirmed. What did he want her to say?
“What age do you like to, uh, regress to? A baby? Do you like wearing diapers and having a pacifier? A toddler? Diapers during naps? Playing with dolls? Or older again? Around four or five? Six or eight? What does your Little like to do? What would she like from me?”
“I . . . well . . . gosh, no one has ever asked me any of that before. I’ve only had one boyfriend, and that was before I figured out that I was a Little. And I’ve only played at a club a few times, as I couldn’t really afford club fees.”
“All right. But you can tell me. I want to be the best Daddy I can for you.”
“You’re already amazing,” she told him.
“I don’t think I’ve been any sort of Daddy to you.”
“It’s in everything you do for me. How you make sure that I go to bed at a decent time. How you leave my favorite mug by the coffee pot in the morning. I know you like to sleep with hardly any blankets, but you pile them over me at night because you know I get cold. And every morning when I wake up, my slippers are sitting by the bed. When I forget to put my phone on charge at night, you always plug it in. It’s those things that show you care.”
“But I haven’t made you feel like you could let your Little side fully out.”
“Maybe that’s about me being nervous. Shy.” She clenched her hands together.
“You don’t have to worry about Grandpa Jack walking in on us. If he needed me, he’d yell out or knock. Okay?”
She nodded. “Okay.”
“I was also thinking that maybe your Little would like a space of her own.”
“Oh, I don’t need that.” Blakely shook her head. That sounded like too much work.
He raised his eyebrows. “Really? Because there are plenty of unused rooms. Maybe she’d like a space to play and nap and have time out from the world.”
Actually.
That sounded amazing.
“You want that, don’t you? It’s all right to tell me what you want, Blakely. It doesn’t make you selfish. I’m not going to get upset with you or think you’re being demanding. All right?”
Blakely hadn’t really had that before. She’d always felt like a burden her grandfather had to take on. She’d tried to be good and quiet and not annoy him.
Then when he’d died, she’d felt even more like an unwanted nuisance, even though none of her foster families had actually made her feel that way. After her first foster family left, though, she’d shut down. Kept people out.
And she’d tried to never ask for anything.
“It might take me a while to believe in that,” she confessed. “And it’s not because I think you’re lying or I don’t trust you.”
“I understand. Some things take time.”
But she could help by talking to him. “I’ll work on communication, though. I, um, well . . . my Little is around six or seven. But sometimes when I get tired or unsure, I like to suck my thumb. So sometimes younger, I guess. You know I like doing magic tricks. I also like experimenting.”
“Experimenting?”
“Like creating things. I like to paint pictures and play with clay, and Play-Doh, and slime. I like mixing it all up. Messy play, I guess.”
“We can do messy play. Would you like any other toys?”
She shook her head. Wasn’t that enough?
He eyed her for a long moment. “You sure, babygirl?”
“I don’t know if I’ve ever played with anything else. I just like messy stuff, crafts, having a chance to do magic. And I guess I’ve always wanted an owl. But it’s not necessary for me to have one.”
“An owl? Um, I take it that you’re not talking about a live owl,” he said slowly.
Her eyes widened. “Is that a possibility?”
“No, babygirl. Daddy was joking.”
She stilled. “You called yourself Daddy.”
“I did.”
A smile broke out on her face. “I like that, Daddy.”
“Can I tell you a secret?” he asked.
She nodded.
“I like it too.”
Blakely giggled.
“An owl, huh? I think we could do that.”
“I don’t want you to spend your hard-earned money on me, though, Daddy.”
“Who else am I going to spend my money on? Besides, it’s my money and I’ll spend it on who I like. Which is you. How expensive are these owls? Ten thousand dollars?”
“What? No, Daddy!”
“A thousand dollars?”
“Daddy!” she cried. “Of course not.”
“Then I think one owl won’t break the bank.”
“Okay, Daddy. Thank you.”
“Are you sure that Mr. Whiskers and Mrs. Flopsy will be all right with a new friend, though?”
“You remember their names?” she asked.
“Of course I do, babygirl. They’re important to you.”
She sniffled. “I don’t know how you’re so perfect.”
“I’m far from perfect,” he countered.
“Then maybe you’re just perfect for me.”