Super Daddies: A Naughty Nerdy Romantic Comedy Anthology

by Smith, Maren

  “Got it,” Clearstream said, making himself visible again. He turned to Bob. “See you later for the all-hands?”

  Bob nodded. “Yeah. I’ll present Susan to the council. Keep an eye on what Vic and Charlatan are up to in the meantime, and let me know if there’s a problem?”

  He explained further to Susan as he led her to the elevator. “The all-hands is a meeting the CPE has every Tuesday, where every super who isn’t on assignment shows up to go over the threat-report. Virtueman—we call him Vic—should have wrapped up Charlatan for the moment by then, but there’s always a chance that he’ll need help.

  “For the moment?” Susan asked curiously. “Why can’t you supers ever get rid of your enemies for good?”

  Bob chuckled. “Just not the way supervillainy works. Vic will probably bring Charlatan in tonight and put him in our most secure holding cell, but of course he’ll find a way to break out before morning.”

  “But they’re trying to kill people! Can’t you kill them?”

  “Of course not,” Bob said, frowning. They exited the elevator and he led her down the corridor towards his office door. “The CPE stands for justice, not murder. Seems like we’ll have to discuss more than your energy-flow, as we move forward, Susan.”

  They had reached his door, and as he opened it for her, he saw that her blush had returned. Ultragirl clearly didn’t like to be told she had a lot to learn. All the more reason to provide some old-fashioned discipline, in Nightprince’s experienced opinion.

  She stopped before she went through the door, coming to a halt only six inches from him, since his office-door opened inward. Her eyes narrowed in the expression Bob had come to associate with her Zaxian side. The thought of turning her over his knee and teaching her a lesson for the apparently inherently bratty essence of her alien heritage made his cock swell against his thigh: Nightprince had a serious thing for Ultragirl, he realized with an inward sigh. Very complicated.

  “Go on, princess,” he said, in his most princely tone. “Step inside and stand in the center of the floor, please.”

  The blue eyes widened for just a fraction of a second, and then narrowed even further.

  “Zaxian warriors don’t respond well to being ordered around,” Susan said icily. “And let me just tell you again that your… suggestion… with regard to… I believe you said, punishing me? That won’t be happening.”

  Bob knew when he needed to rise to an occasion and provide firm-handed guidance. He also knew that this volatile, powerful girl could well do some damage if he let her replenish her energy without also helping her control it. What he decided he had to do had a good deal of risk to it, but he couldn’t see any other way.

  He reached his right arm around Ultragirl’s waist and hauled her off the ground.

  “What are you doing?” Susan demanded, so startled that she didn’t even begin to struggle for a full second.

  “I don’t have any doubt right now that you understand why I’m about to put you over my knee and bare your bottom, princess. You pose a danger, and your behavior is reckless, and I happen to know a very good way to deal with that, when a girl like you is the problem. We’ll talk more after I punish you, but a sound spanking is exactly what you need.”

  Then she did start to struggle, but she had only the strength of any other petite eighteen-year-old. Bob carried her through the door and closed and locked it behind them with his left hand, and then he carried her to the high-backed wooden chair in front of his desk. As she writhed against his restraining arm, he thought he could feel her little body respond to the strength in his big one. Bob didn’t have super strength, but the tensing in Susan’s frame told him he didn’t need it to make her feel little, just as he wanted to do—at least when she didn’t have her alien paranormal powers available.

  “You had better hope,” she said in a voice full of Zaxian warrior fury as he sat in the chair and started to put her over his right knee, “I never get my powers back.”

  Bob sighed inwardly. He had hoped he might be able to awaken her need for this more quickly.

  “That’s a risk I need to take, Susan,” he said, very seriously. He had more to tell her on the subject, but he waited until he could manhandle her into exactly the position he knew would best suit the occasion: held down by his left arm securely around her waist, so tightly that she could flail all she wanted without getting in the way of the firm hand he would soon bring down on her bare, upturned bottom; her legs pinioned under his right thigh. Bob finished arranging Ultragirl that way as she continued to struggle, though she had almost exhausted even her conventional muscles now.

  Then, feeling himself get even harder with the dominant freedom of the moment, he reached his right hand underneath her hips to find the button on her jeans.

  “Oh my God,” Susan hissed. “You’re not serious. Don’t you dare.” Her writing grew more intense for a moment, and Bob waited patiently with his hand still underneath her, only an inch or two from the place where he knew her needs must now have reached a furious intensity.

  When she had exhausted herself again, Bob said, “I’m completely serious, Susan. You are going to have a bare-bottom spanking, and whatever you can do about it afterward, there is nothing you can do about it now. Would you like to take your own jeans and panties down, or do I have to do it for you, this way?”

  Her whole body shuddered, and he wondered if in that movement he could feel the success of his ploy—her midwestern upbringing coming back to take hold of her. He thought he could discern that she had never been disciplined properly, growing up, despite the vague handing on of conservative values it seemed Susan had undergone. Nevertheless, the idea of old-fashioned over-the-knee discipline clearly did have a power for her that Bob could work with.

  He moved his hand a little close to the center, stirring, he felt sure, the erotic needs that raged it seemed a good deal hotter in a Zaxian female even than in a healthy human eighteen-year-old. Another shudder racked her frame, and then Susan said, half-sobbing the words, “Please. I’ll… I’ll do it.”

  Bob took his hand away immediately, though rather regretfully. Things had begun to become quite warm down there, even through Susan’s jeans. He released her at waist and knees, leaving her merely suspended over his knee and steadied with his left hand at her back and his right on her outer thigh.

  For a moment he could feel the alien warrior almost returning: a tremor shook her that his night-senses told him must be the bodily idea of jumping up and trying to run from him. Then, slowly, with a little whimper, she reached her right hands underneath her, and unfastened the button on her jeans. Bob didn’t delay: he put his right hand inside her waistband, getting the sheer fabric of her panties in his fingers’ grasp and ignoring the little leap his cock gave at the wonderful contrast between that silkiness and the very different silkiness of the creamy skin of Susan’s trim bottom. He yanked down jeans and panties all the way to her knees in a single motion, as she gave a startled cry at the swiftness of the action, and replaced both his left arm and his right leg in their restraining position. The sweet young backside of his brand new, virginal supergirl rose over his knee, held firmly in place, its round cheeks just plump enough to suggest her womanhood while still also intimating a little girl’s need for a firm hand to guide her to full adulthood.

  “Wait!” Susan cried. “Please…”

  But Bob had no intention of waiting. He meant her first spanking to last a good long while, if only to get Ultragirl used to being over his knee for old-fashioned bare-bottom discipline, but there would be plenty of time to pause, and to teach her about her young body, once she understood her position fully. He raised his big hand high, and brought it down hard. She yelled, and tried to kick, but he did it again, and again, and again. Susan Corday had a spanking coming, and now she would get it—she needed to know that before anything else.

  Her round little cheeks bounced under his hand as he disciplined her, and she screeched loudly at the pain of this first
lesson in obedience from her new mentor. Her bottom quickly got very red, and Bob spread the spanking around, moving down her thighs, too, to turn her whole backside crimson as Ultragirl began to cry.

  “Please… sir… Bob… it hurts so much…” Susan wailed.

  “It’s supposed to hurt, princess,” Bob answered, still spanking hard and fast. “That’s how you learn. You’ll think twice about playing with your little pussy in the bathroom, now, won’t you? This doesn’t feel as nice as touching yourself down there, does it?”

  “Oh, Gods,” Susan sobbed, her Zaxian religion perhaps changing her theistic outlook. “Ow… my bottom… please, stop…”

  Bob heard in her voice then the yielding he always waited for when punishing a naughty girl. He did stop spanking her, and he put his hand on her bottom lightly, feeling his own heart beat fast because of the risk he knew he now had to take.

  “Are you going to pull down your panties without permission anymore?” he asked.

  “Ow! I have to go to the bathroom, don’t I?”

  Bob smiled—he had asked the question that way for just this reason, to see how much spirit she had left in her. Her response pleased him greatly. He lifted his arm again and brought his hand down hard with another spank.

  “Ow!!!” A moment before her struggles had died away, but now again she writhed in his grasp.

  “You know what I mean, Susan,” he said sternly. “I have half a mind to tell you you’re not even allowed to do that without permission. In fact, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

  Chapter 5

  “What?” Susan demanded, trying to turn her head over her shoulder to look at Bob. Her ass—that’s what He’Vopra’Mertuq called it anyway, even though her midwestern Susan-ness blushed and corrected to bottom—felt like Nightprince had taken a hot frying pan and held it against her there. Really, she knew he couldn’t have been using all his strength—the guy didn’t have super-strength or anything, but did have impressive muscles and Susan felt certain he could have truly hurt her if he had wanted to. That fact seemed to her wounded pride to make the whole spanking thing even worse, though: Nightprince, who had apparently become her super mentor due to some rule governing the induction of new supers into the council, had pulled his punches. Or swats, or whatever. He had to: he couldn’t spank Ultragirl with all his strength because Ultragirl didn’t have any powers, because she needed to recharge her powers by doing a naughty thing.

  Naughty.

  Naughty princess.

  Goddammit.

  Midwestern Susan mechanically corrected: Goshdarnit.

  He’Vopra’Mertuq and Ultragirl and Susan herself all wanted to scream, and not from the burning pain of having her bare bottom spanked by a man who had turned her over his knee and held her there so that she could learn her lesson for being naughty. For pulling down her jeans and her panties in the bathroom and playing with her wet pussy, which shouldn’t have been wet in the first place because good girls didn’t get their panties damp, did they?

  All those confused and conflicted thoughts and emotions had just gone into Susan’s What?, because Bob had just said something so outrageous that her mind had recoiled in stark, genuine disbelief. Her brain, even with its lightning-fast Zaxian capabilities—a capacity unaffected by her current lack of power because it was locked in her DNA—had literally taken a full second even to figure out what he could mean.

  But inside that disbelief, at the very same time her mind had managed to figure out the insane “meaning” of his words—that he apparently intended Ultragirl would ask Nightprince’s permission to go to the bathroom from now on—something else had occurred. That same full second had made the heat blossom in front. There, a few inches away from her thoroughly spanked bottom, her pussy lay naked upon his meaty thigh, covered only by the sparse blonde curls that Susan blushed even to glimpse in the mirror, so strongly had her mother impressed upon her a girl’s duty to keep that part of her hidden.

  “I think you heard me, Susan,” Bob said in a quieter voice, though still one conveying the strictness that seemed to make the human part of her feel small.

  That would be alright, she reflected miserably, if being made to feel small only roused He’Vopra’Mertuq’s anger, so that she could defy him. In that case she could have waited it out, and gotten away from Nightprince and the Council of Paranormal Entities, and either set up as a supervillain who incongruously saved chihuahuas and children but lived outside the super law nonetheless, or just lived celibate and never used her powers again.

  But being made to feel small, and being told she wasn’t allowed to pull down her panties without permission, didn’t only rouse Susan’s anger. It also made her worry that she would leave a wet spot on Nightprince’s skin-tight darksuit.

  She had never even dreamed she could get this horny, and she couldn’t even feel entirely sure it had to do with the Zaxian female—legendary across seven systems for their sexual voracity—coming out in her DNA. At the moment, as Bob’s big hand held her little bottom, and she thought about what it would mean to ask his permission whenever she needed to go potty, it seemed like maybe the need between her thighs came from the same place all her princess games as a Iowa girl had started. She might be an alien warrior, but she had never been made to confront the essence of her individual human femininity before.

  She had never gotten a spanking over a man’s knee before, and she had never…

  Susan moaned, long and low, because the gentle, soothing hand of Nightprince had moved in a definite direction, two fingers working their way further down and further in. She strained against his arm around her waist and his thigh over her own. One more millimeter, it seemed to her, and the power would come flowing back and she would be able to throw him across the room again—no, break his back and have her revenge for saying he would forbid her to pull down her underwear without his permission.

  “Princess,” Bob said softly, “can you ask nicely?”

  If she broke his back with a little flick of her Zaxian telekinetic power, a tiny motion of her will, where would that leave her pussy?

  “Please, sir,” she whispered.

  The fingers moved a tiny bit. The chair under Nightprince started to shake. His desk moved an inch backward, and the papers on it flew off and scattered all over the office.

  The fingers moved away, and Susan gave a tiny cry as the power left her.

  “Can you hold your power inside, Susan?” Bob asked, his voice seeming to come from very far away now.

  For a Zaxian female raised on Zaxia, holding energy inside her cells at the molecular level was second nature—but only after sex, not during it, and certainly not before, when arousal and pleasure mingled so inextricably. Zaxian males, having the answering powers, could withstand the wild mating and enjoy it just as much as their partners. Once they had both experienced orgasm, they were each usually left with enough power to last them at least until their next mating, depending on how much fighting they did in the meantime.

  Susan gave a little sob. “I’m not sure,” she admitted. It felt terrible to have to make the confession, but somehow doing it there over Nightprince’s knee made it feel right, as well. Her inner Zaxian shouted in protest, but suddenly the idea of having her panty-privileges taken away seemed unbearably arousing. Control—could Bob help her learn to do it?

  “Can I try?” she whispered. “I’ll… I’ll be good. I’ll try to be good.”

  A good girl. Gods help her, she wanted to try to be a good girl for Bob.

  “Yes, princess, you can try now.”

  The impression of the word princess seemed to reach her brain at the same time as the sensation of his fingers moving lower again, more insistently now, touching the places where her ancestral power lay, so close to where the slightest caress, in the wake of the humiliating bare-bottom spanking, would send the energy coursing through her molecular structure. Susan cried out, and the chair creaked, but she found something inside that let her dam the power’s
outflow.

  The desire to be a good supergirl… the need to be Nightprince’s princess. If she could be a good girl for Bob, he would reward her. Susan would be allowed to pull her panties down, and go to the potty. She might even be allowed to put her hand inside them sometimes to touch her little clit, as naughty as it was for a girl to touch herself that way.

  Really only the man in charge of you should do that, your husband or your boyfriend, or your…

  Susan’s mind pulled back from that stream of thought, from the word she couldn’t let herself think, because to voice it, that word beginning with D, would make the need explode. She substituted other words.

  Or my Nightprince… my mentor…

  Her mentor rubbed gently, and Susan, soundly spanked for lewdly touching herself in the bathroom, her little bottom-cheeks still burning from Bob’s enormous hand, firmly administered to her rear, upended over his treetrunk-like thigh, whimpered with pleasure and need, and held the pleasure in because she knew he would spank her again if she let it out.

  “Oh, no,” she whispered, as the ecstasy built, with the fondling’s growing intensity. Bob had taken some of the wetness from her pussy and spread it on her clit, and Susan cried out and lost control for a moment. Her hips bucked against his restraining arm and leg. The desk jumped a foot.

  Nightprince took his hand away, and then, a second later, brought it down hard.

  “No, princess,” he said sternly. “Naughty.”

  She wailed as he spanked her again and again. She writhed, and she felt that she had some power in the well that felt as if it opened just below her tummy. She used it, and Bob gave a grunt of pain, but he held on tight and kept spanking.

  The need opened up in Susan even as he punished her, and she somehow kept the last of her power inside. “Please,” she begged, “please, sir.”

  His huge hand stopped spanking, and returned a fraction of a second later lower down, holding her roughly now, fingers probing deeply, thumb now for the first time pressing between her punished cheeks, at the most shameful place of all.