Chapter 8
Trace lifted her off his lap and looked at her sharply, his face taking on a stern expression that made her lady parts quiver.
“Now we need to have a different kind of discussion, young lady. I think your actions require consequences. This would be a sample of what you can expect in the future. What do you think about that?”
A sample? Just the thought of sampling the kind of discussion he was talking about sent goose bumps up the backs of her thighs. She had never been this close to getting what she wanted… what she needed.
As always, he was so calm and friendly, comfortably at odds with his proposal. This “sample” might be what she needed to calm some of her nerves, but it might also erase the guilt of how she'd come to the ranch and snuck out of Trace’s bed in the dead of night.
Funny how, all of a sudden, standing here in front of him like this, in borrowed pajamas, nervously tracing the candy canes on the pajama bottoms with her finger, the sample took on a whole new perspective.
She wiggled on his lap, half convincing herself he wasn’t serious. One look at his broad, thick, masculine hands made her eyes widen at the prospect of getting a “sample,” they could light a fire in a Little girl’s backside.
Those goose bumps on her thighs spread to the curve of her backside as Kip shrugged her consent. “OK. Sure. I guess.”
Trace shifted his feet apart, drawing her attention from his hands to his very capable lap. She already knew how firm his thighs were. The thought of being over them rather than on them sent the flutters back to her stomach. She pressed her hands over it, trying unsuccessfully to quiet them.
“Kip.” His deep voice made her stomach go from flutters to cartwheels, tumbling all the way down to her toes.
“To be clear, I'm going to spank you. You have until I count to three to get across my knee or say your safe word, which for now is red. If you don’t, I'll do it for you, but you will not like the consequences of that on top of what you’re already getting. One.”
Her stomach flipped from cartwheels to back handsprings. He sure looked serious, but looks could be deceiving. Her Little shouted for her to do as he said. But what if she hated it?
He said this was just a sample, right? So, she could have a small taste and still change her mind. That wasn’t how it worked in the romance books. Did that mean he wasn’t serious? That flicker of doubt was crippling.
Please let him be serious. Daddies needed to read the same books Littles did. That way, they would all be on the same page, and no one would have to worry about looking stupid. She’d done enough stupid things in her life. She didn’t need to add one more.
She swallowed hard and cleared her throat. “You know, you sound very serious.”
“That’s probably because I am serious.” He proved his point by adding, “Two.”
The back handsprings in her stomach grew into double backflips. “Wait!” She held out her hand like a traffic cop. “You have to give me time to think about what you mean!”
“I mean, I'm going to spank you, Kip,” he explained with that same deep, stern voice. “You asked for this when you snuck out of the house in the dead of night, traipsed your little butt all the way to the barn in knee-deep frozen snow, and climbed up to the loft to draw out escape routes. Do you know what would have happened if you had slipped and hurt yourself on that icy snow? You would have frozen to death, that’s what. I have no idea what possessed you to do that, but I know how to keep it from happening again. I’ll be generous. Two and a half,” he said.
Yep, her stomach dropped straight to the uneven bars, spinning around and around the high bar. Those goose bumps traveled all the way from the back of her knees to the top of her butt.
She needed more time. “But…but…”
“This is just a sample. You say you're a Little, and I believe you are, too. And when Littles do the crime, their Daddies ensure they pay the fine. That’s how it works. And, Foxy, you have a serious fine to pay. So you have to decide, over my knee or safe word out. And this hesitation just cost you your panties. Three.”
“Wait,” she squeaked.
“Wait is not your safe word.” Her stomach had given up on gymnastics and joined the traveling circus.
She had to think. She had to speak. First, she had to breathe.
You’ve only wanted this forever.
That was true. She’d always wanted a strong Daddy to pull her over his knee and hold her there while he made her a very sorry girl for whatever she’d done wrong. Someone who wouldn’t let her up until she was a sobbing mess, vowing never to do it again.
What hurt the most, what broke her heart, was that she could have that with Trace if only she could stay without putting him and everyone he loved in danger.
If she ever managed to free herself from Reynaldo Rios, she would return to Wild River Ranch and beg him to be her Daddy. She hoped if that happened, or when it did, he would agree.
If anyone could stop the man after her, it would be Trace. He was so strong, so handsome, so happy and confident in himself. But she couldn’t risk it.
So even though she wanted to feel what being spanked by him was like…wanted to know what it felt like to yield to him in every other way, too… she had to walk away.
Trace cleared his throat, patting his thigh and quirking a brow.
This was just a sample, nothing permanent. That’s what Kip told herself as she lowered herself over his thighs. She couldn’t dampen the excitement, though. She was finally going to get to experience discipline from a Daddy. No, her Daddy, at least until tomorrow.
That was if she didn’t pass out first. She still needed to breathe.
Luckily, her Daddy took care of that when he slid his fingers under the top of her pajamas and tucked them under the waistband of her bottoms. Without hesitation, those calloused, confident fingers pulled her bottoms down to her ankles.
When he’d told her the consequence of her not putting herself over his knee earlier was losing her panties, she forgot to mention she wasn’t wearing any. Who wore panties to bed under their pajamas?
She didn’t have time to think about that. It wasn’t an issue since the pajama top fell halfway down her thighs. Her lady bits clenched, and the skin of her bottom tingled as if someone had attached a live wire to it.
This was what she had been looking forward to, what she longed for. She tried to guess what her Daddy would do next.
"Listen to me, naughty girl."
Kip stilled, trying to silence the voices in her head.
"Since this is just a sample, I’m only giving you five swats.”
What? Only five? How was she supposed to experience the event of her dreams if he only gave her five?
Not to mention, she’d hoped to rid herself of the terrible guilt she felt for putting everyone in danger in the first place.
If anything happened to one of them because of her, she’d never forgive herself.
You’re just being greedy.
She tried to convince herself not to feel disappointed, but it was difficult. Would she even feel it at all? Probably not. Not the way she needed, anyway. It took her a second to realize he was still talking.
…when I’m done.
Wait. When he was done with what? Was he doing something, or was it something she was supposed to finish? Darn it!
“Then after we’re finished, we’ll go back to the room and talk. Do you understand?”
No, because she’d been trying not to plan revenge for him only giving her five swats. Still, she thought it was wiser to nod, so that’s what she did.
“Good.”
She was too nervous to think after he finished. She shouldn’t be. It was only five spanks. Grr. It did feel a bit awkward to be draped over his thighs like this. Was she doing it right?
She squealed when he shifted her and moved his right leg, nudging her forward to teeter over his left leg. Before she could fall face-first, he pressed his right leg down on top of her left, locking her in place. It seemed like a lot of trouble for just five swats.
A gentle breeze of cool air brushed against the back of her legs. Thank goodness Joy was so tall. Her private parts stayed covered. That was until those calloused fingers lifted the hem of her top to her waist.
He just uncovered her unmentionable private places.
Count her private places as thoroughly mentioned.
Her Daddy now had a bird’s eye view of her bare bottom. More than that, he now rested his warm right palm on the crack of her rear. He ran that hand over every inch of both cheeks and thighs. Was he warming her up? For five swats?
“Five swats," Trace echoes, and for one heart-stopping moment, she thought she had said something else aloud.
Even though it was only five swats, she found herself doing an unpracticed version of Lamaze breathing. The rapid thudding of her heart remained unchanged. She made another mental note, this one to forget Lamaze breathing if she ever had a baby. She was evidently immune.
She tried to focus on the experience, brief though it was. She’d waited her entire adult life for this. She needed it. She deserved it. She deserved much more, but at least she was getting a sample.
“Rules before I begin. Do not kick your feet. Toes go on the floor.” She turned her head to see him as he spoke, but her thick hair made it hard to breathe.
Instead, she focused on stretching to get her toe to touch the floor.
“If you try to stop your punishment with your legs or feet, I will start over, and you will get an extra swat.”
Hmm, that had potential. She wouldn’t have been so upset if she’d known she could earn extra swats. She could kick like an Olympic swimmer when needed, and she was feeling motivated. She nodded. “Okay.”
"The same applies to your hands. I don’t plan on using implements this time, but I don’t want you to get used to reaching back. You could get hurt if they get in the way. Same penalty. If you reach back, we start over, and you get an extra. Got it?”