His Babygirl

by Jane Henry

  “That's right,” he said. “And did you tell Daddy the truth, little girl?”

  She shook her head wordlessly as his hand wrapped around her neck, pulling her closer to him. “You said we need to build trust, Alice. Didn't you, baby?” he whispered in her ear.

  She swallowed, her eyes closed tight. “I did. Yes, Daddy.”

  “There's one thing you're gonna learn, little girl,” he said, his fingers massaging the back of her neck. “I always mean what I say. And when you need a spanking, I will always follow through.” He paused, taking in her hitched breath, the pad of his thumb tracing her neck, feeling her pulse beat beneath his fingers. “It's time for your spanking, Allie.” He pulled back from her and her eyes were half-lidded but guarded, her mouth slightly agape, taking in his massive form and the breadth of his wide lap. He chucked a finger under her chin. “You ever been over a lap, little girl?” he asked softly.

  She shook her head wordlessly and he pressed his lips together. She needed stern right now. She needed dependable. She needed her daddy.

  “You'll be bare for this.”

  She began lifting the edge of her blouse, but his large fingers stopped her, palm down.

  “No.” His hands went to hers and held them. “When Daddy spanks you,” he said low, his raspy voice deep and in charge, “and Daddy thinks you need a bare-bottom spanking, Daddy is the one who undresses you.”

  She swallowed hard as her skirt hit the floor, followed by her panties. He ran his hands over her smooth hips, absolutely gorgeous with her pink mound shaved bare. Fucking hell, she was gorgeous. But they had business to take care of. Lifting his hand, he gave her ass one hard, sharp swat. “Over my lap.” She froze, her eyes wide, but she didn't move. He frowned, but as he looked at her, he realized she was suddenly afraid. His voice low, he asked her gently, “Do you need Daddy to bring you across his lap?”

  She inhaled, seemingly unable to speak, and simply nodded her head. Very well. The point was that she take her punishment, and that he establish trust. If she needed a little help from her daddy to get there, then he was happy to provide it.

  “Here, baby,” he said, drawing her over to the side of his right knee, then gently pushing her torso over his lap. He was so tall and she so much smaller, her feet came straight off the floor, her blonde hair flying down to cover her face, her hands grasping his leg just above his boots, anchoring herself. Her bare ass over his lap was a sight he wanted to remember forever, hold onto, the smooth silky satin of her naked skin before he painted it red with his handprint. While she'd been ogling his wares, he'd palmed two small implements. But those would wait. He planned on giving her a long, hard spanking she'd remember.

  He ran his hand from the top of her thighs, over her ass, to her lower back. She squirmed on his lap.

  “You know why Daddy's spanking you, young lady,” he said. “We'll start with the name calling. Do you think you spoke to your daddy the right way?” She shook her head wordlessly. Lifting his hand, he brought it down with moderate force. The crack of his hand on her naked skin sounded loudly, and she gasped. A bright pink handprint covered almost her entire ass. Shit, that was hot. He administered another swat, then another. “You'll learn to speak respectfully, little girl.” Crack! “Daddy will speak with respect to his little girl. And my babygirl will treat Daddy with the same respect.” Crack! Crack! She let out a cry as he built intensity. He could feel the sting in his hand, and no doubt she felt it herself as he upped the swats from moderate force to a bit harder. Now that he'd reddened her whole bottom, she was good and warmed up, and could take more.

  “If we're to build trust between us, we'll do it by building respect,” he said, punctuating his words with sharp, stinging swats of his hand. He was a master at hand-spanking, his hand slightly curved, then flat, varying the feel of each blow, lifting slowly but descending rapidly. A hard swat landed at the crease of her thighs and ass and she jerked from the pain, but he did not stop. Swat after swat fell, her ass a bright pink now, as he deliberately delivered the spanking he knew she needed. Punishing. Intimate. Every stroke of his hand would drive home his point. After several dozen good spanks, his palm slowed, smoothing over her flaming hot skin.

  “Will you be respectful, Alice?” he asked, his hand poised, ready to spank again.

  “Yes!” she gasped. “Yes, Daddy. Yes!”

  “Very good,” he said. She relaxed.

  “Are we done?” she whispered.

  He chuckled low. “Oh, honey. I'm just getting started.”

  Her body tensed as he reached his hand down and picked up the small wooden hairbrush-shaped paddle. It was flat and thick, and he knew the sting would bite deep.

  “Let's talk about your safety, now, Allie-girl. Do you think Daddy wants to keep you safe?”

  “Yes, Daddy!”

  Whack! She screamed out loud as the paddle connected to her pink bottom. He placed one hand around her waist, anchoring her over his lap. The next few swats would be harder for her to take, but she needed them. Whack! He delivered another searing swat. “Tonight, you lied about where you were. That put you at risk, little girl. You were with a fucking dipshit I don't trust. One you didn't even know.” Whack! “That will not happen again. You will tell me where you're going every.fucking.time.” Whack! She let out a little whimper as the paddle hit the sensitive spot above her thighs. “It will be hard for you, at first. But you'll see it's so I can keep you safe.” Another hard swat sounded. “Have I made my point clear about your safety, Alice?”

  “Yes,” she moaned, her voice shaky now, cracking. She was on the verge of tears. He was getting through. She squirmed and wiggled, trying to get away from the bite of the paddle, but she was no match for him.

  “Good,” he said, and the small paddle clattered to the floor as he picked up the strap. She moaned, a shiver going through her as he trailed the cool leather along her ass, now bright red. “It's time to finish your spanking. Would it be fair if Daddy let you go now, baby? If Daddy didn't finish your punishment?” She paused, and stilled.

  “No, Daddy,” she whispered. “I… lied to you.” The words were barely audible. His instincts had been right. She wasn't where she needed to be. He wanted to let her go now, whip the fucking strap across the room and kiss the pain away. He wanted to hold her close and tell her she'd been brave, and he was proud of her. But this was where he built her trust. If she needed consistent and firm he'd fucking give her what she needed.

  The leather strap trailed from the top of her thighs, over her reddened bottom, to the small of her back. She was so perfect, so gorgeous. He was a master musician, and she his instrument. He knew just how to play her, just how to stroke her. His point would be made but she'd be left humming with need. The beauty of a punishment spanking lay not in the intensity but in the method, in the way he spoke to her and brought her over her threshold of pain, just over the edge, emotionally to the state of repentance, so that she well knew he meant what he said. His lecture would remind her that he cared about her. That he wasn't just whipping the hell out of her for his own gratification.

  The strap would bring home just how very serious he was, about her safety and obedience. How could he take care of her if she didn’t obey?

  “You lied, baby,” he said. “Daddy will not allow lying. And you disobeyed me. Daddy's gonna strap you soundly for that.” He paused. “Am I clear, young lady?”

  She tensed as she prepared for the rest of her spanking.

  Her voice was shaking, just a whisper, as she responded. “Yes, Daddy.”

  He lifted the strap, and it whistled through the air before landing hard. She yelped as an angry red stripe rose on her bottom. The strap was serious, but the leather sensual. He could tell, he could feel her stiffen over his lap, braced for the swat. She needed more. “No lying.” Thwap! A muffled cry. “You'll be fucking honest with your daddy.” Thwap! A softer cry this time. “I mean what I say, and I want you to remember this.” Thwap! Thwap! “The next time you even th
ink about lying. You think ‘Daddy's gonna whip my ass.’ ” Thwap! She did not cry out now, and she did not struggle. He paused, holding the strap in his other hand, he gently ran a hand over her punished backside. “You're taking your punishment like a good girl. Such a very good girl. Daddy's proud of you. But Daddy needs to make sure his little girl stays a good little girl.” He switched the strap to his right hand, and dished out three more hard, measured swats.

  “I'm sorry, Daddy,” she choked out.

  Was she crying? He heard a loud sniffle.

  The strap fell to the floor as he ran one hand slowly over her bottom, hushing her now, soothing.

  “That's my good girl, such a good, brave girl,” he crooned. This was his favorite part and why he had to be a daddy. He couldn't just take what was his. He needed to give back. The sweet give and take made him hard as fucking hell. Her trust, her naked skin soothed under the very hand that had punished her, her soft sniffles as she lay repentant and undone over his knee. “Baby,” he said. “You've been holding so much in. Let it out, Allie-girl. My sweet girl.” Massaging out the sting was a daddy's prerogative. If he wanted to soothe her, he would. Sure as hell he would. Reaching to the small table beside his chair, he removed a tiny bottle of lotion, and shook some out into his palm. He rubbed his hands together to warm it, then smoothed the warmed lotion over her reddened skin. She sighed, still sniffling, as he gently soothed her.

  “Come here, baby,” he whispered, lifting her up and into his arms. He bent down and kissed her forehead. His cock strained for release, pushing up against her bottom nestled in his lap, but there would be time for that. Being a patient man meant he would wait for his. She needed him now. She'd just taken one hell of a spanking, and she needed her daddy.

  “You all right, baby?” he asked, and she nodded, sniffling.

  “Holy shit, you spank hard,” she said, but her eyes were bright. She looked as if she would float away right off his lap if he wasn't holding her tight enough.

  He fought the smile that threatened to break through, piercing her with a stern look. If he let her off now, thinking that'd been some sort of a game, his efforts would be in vain.

  “Damn straight I spank hard,” he said in a low growl. “And if you ever fucking do that again, you'll see how hard I can spank. That spanking bench over there isn't for show, little girl. I'll strap you onto that and take Daddy's belt to your ass. You get me?”

  Her eyes widened and sobered. “I get you,” she whispered.

  “Good girl,” he said, dipping his head low and taking her mouth. She moaned, her body arching as he kissed her.

  He pulled his mouth off and whispered, “Such a good girl,” in her ear, while his hands found her breasts once again. His babygirl had been punished. She'd taken her spanking. Now it was time for her reward.

  Chapter 5

  Alice dumped the pasta into the boiling water, hit the button to start the timer, and gave the pot a half-hearted stir, wishing with all her might that she had time for just a quick nap. She was pretty much BFFs with fatigue, between her jobs, her parents, her volunteer work, and taking care of Charlie, but today she was feeling a special kind of tired. Her emotions were running high, her thoughts were running wild, and she couldn’t keep her mind from drifting back to Slay and reliving the night before—the long, hard spanking and the sweet, blissful lovemaking that followed.

  Sadly, she knew for a fact that Slay hadn’t spent his day thinking about her. He’d dropped her off to get her car last night, then followed her in his truck to make sure she got home safely and locked her door after Nora left. But today? Only one quick text this morning, reminding her of Daddy’s rules and letting her know he’d be busy all day, and then dead radio silence.

  She hated feeling like a needy, high-maintenance submissive, but God. Even Gary the Jerk, with his high-powered finance career, had found time to call or text her at least twice today, not that she’d ever replied to his messages. But Slay, a part-time tattoo artist and club bouncer, couldn’t take a quick break to text?

  She grabbed a block of cheese from the fridge and began to grate it.

  The rhythmic thump of a small foot hitting the kitchen island had her darting a look at Charlie. He’d been perched on a stool there for the past hour, swinging his legs and sketching in his notebook when he should’ve been doing his daily math worksheet. His tousled, blonde curls bounced in time with his leg, and above his pink cheeks, still smooth and rounded from babyhood, his deep, serious blue eyes were fixed on his pencil as it scratched lines across the paper. It was on the tip of her tongue to call him out, to remind him angrily that he needed to focus on his work, but she held back. Hypocritical much, Alice? A litany of all the things she hadn’t focused on that day swam through her head.

  She’d nearly been late getting Charlie to school this morning. She’d messed up orders during the lunch rush at Cara. She’d neglected to call and remind the landlord to fix the sink. She’d dropped an entire carton of eggs on the kitchen floor while putting away groceries. And then, putting the cap on her shitty day, she’d completely forgotten (until ten minutes ago) that she had to make two dozen chocolate cupcakes tonight to bring to the Winter Concert fundraising bake sale at Charlie’s school tomorrow. The very thought of all that baking, on top of everything else, nearly had her in tears, which was completely unlike her. Somehow neither her body nor her brain seemed to be under her control.

  Maybe because you obey Daddy now.

  And just that one stray thought was enough to have her wayward mind spinning back to last night. Her visit to Slay’s dungeon-that-wasn’t-a-dungeon had been her every fantasy come to life, the spanking so thorough, so erotic, and so perfect that she knew she’d never experience the like again. And call her petty, but she’d be lying if she didn’t admit that maybe one of the biggest turn-ons was that she was the first girl he’d ever invited in there. There weren’t a lot of firsts left to a guy who’d been around the scene as much as Slay had, and she found that she was incredibly possessive of this one.

  He’d worked her over so well. God. Her ass clenched in memory as she stood in front of the stove, and she could feel the sweet ache again. It was only the second time he’d punished her, yet he’d been able to read her instinctively and know just how far to push to get her to emotional release. She’d been a sub long enough to know how very rare that was.

  And that instinctive understanding went even deeper than that. He’d known that she needed to be held and soothed after her punishment. Then he’d known the exact moment when her emotional release gave way to overwhelming arousal.

  He’d picked her up, his two enormous hands gently cupping her sore ass and lifting her like she weighed nothing, nudging her to wrap her legs around his waist. He’d stalked out of the playroom he called his office, and then across the living room to the bedroom, his giant tree-trunk legs eating up the distance, all while his busy tongue explored her mouth relentlessly, making her wrap her arms around his neck and hang on for dear life. Then he’d laid her down on his green coverlet, stripped off her blouse and bra, and stood back, drinking in the sight of her, while his eyes burned with raw lust.

  She’d tried to reach for him, tried to cover herself, but he’d refused.

  “Daddy wants to look at you, baby,” he’d said, his voice clogged with desire. And then he’d reached out one calloused finger to feather gently over her nipple, watching it furl, watching her belly muscles clench. His hot eyes had met hers.

  “Christ, you’re beautiful, Allie-girl,” he’d said, lowering his gorgeous mouth to suck on one stiff peak, and then the other. Then his tongue had moved lower and lower, until she…

  “Momma? Mom!”

  Jesus! Alice whirled away from the counter. “Huh? What?” she demanded.

  From his spot at the kitchen island, Charlie giggled. “Momma, the timer has been going off for, like, eighteen seconds,” he said, his blue eyes dancing with patient humor.

  Belatedly, Alice noted the shri
ll beeping and turned around to shut off the timer. Good Lord, she was a wreck.

  She took a deep breath to collect herself, then quickly drained the pasta and set another pot on the stove to start the cheese sauce.

  “Sorry, honey,” she said. “My mind was a million miles away for a minute there.”

  “That’s what happened to me this morning when I was brushing my teeth. I was imagining I was a superhero, and then I looked out the window and saw the bad guy from the X-men movie.”

  “Magneto?” Alice asked with a smile as she grabbed butter and milk from the refrigerator.

  “No! Gosh, Mom! What would Magneto be doing out on our street?” he shook his head and Alice shrugged helplessly.

  “I meant the senator—you know, the blonde guy with the glasses? Only not as old. Anyway, he was standing in the street outside our house and I knew I had to defeat him with my powers, and it took me a long time to plan the whole thing, and then you were yelling that we were gonna be late.” He said the last bit in a reproachful tone that had Alice smothering a chuckle.

  She paused to run a hand over his silky blond curls and thought, as she often did, that no matter how many jobs she had to work or cupcakes she had to bake, there was no luckier woman on the planet than she was.

  “Mmhmm. Well, next time you see a bad guy out on the street, let me know and we’ll defeat him together, okay? That way you won’t be late.”

  “You can’t defeat bad guys,” he scoffed. “You don’t even like to kill bugs!”

  “But I do it, Charlie,” she said firmly. “Moms do whatever they have to do, even when they don’t want to. Including not giving dessert to boys who haven’t finished their math by dinnertime.” She raised one eyebrow and tapped his half-finished worksheet with her fingertip, before sliding away the paper he’d been covering with pencil sketches of superheroes. “You can work on this more when you’re done.”