Chapter Fifteen #2
He gave her a look of disbelief. “I see. And how does a brush slip from your hand so hard that it flies across the room and bounces off the wall? And remember, Daddy will not be happy if you don’t tell the truth.”
“Oh.” Her voice was quiet and unsure. “I guess I might have helped it some.”
“Really? Just some?”
“Yeah, it slipped out of my hand and flew across the room and hit the wall. I’m kinda strong.” She looked down at her hands as though to verify they could have actually done that.
“You are kind of something, like kind of in trouble and kind of going to get your bottom smacked.”
Her eyes grew big and her hands slipped to cover her bottom cheeks as she bit her lip and looked up into his stern face.
She was so damn cute he didn’t know how he was going to finish this out with her without dropping character and bringing her to a screaming climax. But he would, because she needed it.
Standing tall, he began, “Cheyenne, we do not, ever, throw things when we’re angry. It is dangerous and disrespectful to others. You know better, don’t you?”
“Yes, Daddy, but I couldn’t help it. It really just flew across the room.
I didn’t know it was happening until it happened.
I’m being honest, I promise.” Her voice and expression were so genuine that he knew it to be the truth.
Blinded by her emotions was enough to verify that he was doing the right thing by taking over.
“Well, there are consequences to our actions, beag amháin dána.”
“I know but I’m not dána, Daddy. My brain was just in a red dust storm and couldn’t think itself out of it fast enough.”
“Well, maybe next time your brain is in a red dust storm, you’ll tell Daddy first before brushes start flying through the air, hmm?”
“Yes, Daddy but red dust storms make it hard to think.”
“We will have to work on that.”
Quinn sat on the bed, near where he had tossed the brush, and patted his lap for her to lie over. There was never a doubt as to what he wanted, and Cheyenne hesitated only a moment before clambering over them in less than graceful movements. He grinned. She was so cute.
He pulled her yoga pants and her lace-trimmed panties down as he lectured her on her behavior.
“Cheyenne, Daddy expects you behave and throwing things when you are mad is unacceptable behavior.” He slapped her bottom three times, then moved to the other cheek to repeat the same tattoo.
“You were angry and mean because you didn’t ask for help and got too stressed, causing you to lose control. ”
“Daddy, owie, owie, I’m sorry,” she yelped in time with his spanks.
He stopped to admire her reddened bottom and talked about how that behavior led her to be moody, resentful, and disrespectful towards him and probably others as well. He reached for the brush.
Cheyenne must have thought the little session was done. She wiggled to get off his lap. “Oh, no, naughty girl, you are staying right here.” He pulled her in nice and tight. “Daddy has not finished. You threw it, now it will be my training tool.”
“Wha—” The flat of the brush hit her bottom, and the sound of her screech filled the air. “Daddy, Daddy, no, you can’t use my brush. It hurts too much!”
“Ah, then it is the right tool to train my beag amháin that temper tantrums are never allowed.”
Her arms and legs flailed as she cried out her sorrow at the result of throwing her tantrum.
“Daddy, Daddy please, stop, I’m very, very sorry!” Her cries were shrill. These tears were real and the sobs true. And just what she needed.
He stopped. “Quit squirming and kicking around or Daddy is taking off his belt.”
She hiccupped through her tears. “Okay, Daddy but it hurts. Please can we be done?”
Quinn was amazed at how she could fall so deeply into this persona when she needed it, and was hesitant at first to explore this dynamic.
It was time to finish this and love her thoroughly to complete what she craved.
Unchanging boundaries, unfailing love, and unconditional acceptance were what she needed now, when she was too stressed to handle it as an adult without having a meltdown.
“Okay, baby, four more and we’re done—if you can be still and take it like Daddy’s good girl. Can you do it?”
“I’ll try,” she sobbed.
Two per cheek, rubbing and finally, with a sigh, he delivered the pats on her bottom that would signal her release from punishment, giving Quinn his loving woman back in a much less explosive state.
“Are you better, piscín?” he asked, knowing the answer already.
She was soft and cuddly, practically crawling into his shirt.
His words signaled the end of play if she accepted it, and if not, she would reply to daddy-dom, not her fiancé-dom.
Cheyenne never needed to stay in the play for long, but when she needed it, Daddy/little girl play was the best remedy for her.
She nodded against his chest. “Much better, Sir.” Quinn nodded in acceptance.
As he comforted her a while longer, he listened to her coos of contentment as he discussed the move out of the apartment and her part in it.
Soon, they were eating takeout and packing suitcases.
He knew the transitional time would be all over shortly and they would be living their lives as one.
A little longer was all they had to wait.
He wondered how many more meltdowns they would have before that blissful time.
Quinn kept Cheyenne on pins and needles for the whole week, not referring to the incident at the club no matter how hard she tried to introduce it to the conversation. Quinn, tired of the continual attempts, closed the discussion firmly.
“Cheyenne, that’s enough trying to get me to talk about this because it won’t work. I told you I would talk to you when I was ready. I don’t think you need me to spell out the whole list of possible consequences if you choose to persist in this.”
“Fine but if you leave it very much longer, the subject will be closed, do you get that? It’s giving me nightmares now.”
“Yes, and that’s fair enough.” He opened the subject on Friday at lunchtime.
“I’ll pick you up from work tonight, we’re eating at your favorite Greek restaurant, and then we can have a nice time at the club. I’ll have a change of clothes for you when we get there.”
That concluded all the discussion.