Disciplining Little Josey

by Laveaux, Serafine

  “How does this place exist?” she asked quietly, holding her breath for fear the question might be off-limits.

  “You mean the complex?”

  “I mean all of it. Mr. Green. The complex. You too, I guess,” she added. “One day my boss gives me a business card, next thing I know I’ve got you. It’s, well…” she shrugged.

  “I give you ice cream, and you want boring details?” He laughed, his blue eyes twinkling at her as he ruffled her hair. Annoyed, she pulled away and glared at her ice cream. She got that he enjoyed treating her like a child. Truthfully, she enjoyed acting like one. It felt natural, almost right. But right now she wanted a grown up answer and wasn’t in the mood to be played with. Perhaps sensing this, he settled back in his seat and began to speak.

  “I came to be here much like you did. Someone I barely knew gave me a card, I called the number, and I met Mr. Green. I know as much about him as you do, to be honest,” he admitted, pausing to thoughtfully scratch his goatee. “He told me that he specialized in bringing ‘special people together’. You know how cryptic he likes to be. His ‘little birds’ and all that. ‘Little birds' translates to video and audio surveillance as well as more paid informants than you care to know about, in case you haven’t already figured that out.

  “Bringing special people together means that people like me pay him a retainer to locate people like you, and once he does, we pay him an even bigger finder’s fee. This gets me, and by extension you, access to this facility and all his organization’s facilities—and believe me there’s a lot of them—as well as anything else his organization owns. The first year’s membership fee is included with the finder’s fee. After that, there’s a yearly fee if I wish to continue using the facilities and the ‘little birds’.”

  “It’s like a dating service but with lots of clubhouses then,” she mused.

  “Pretty much.”

  An expensive one too, I’ll bet. Suddenly, the handsome cowboy across from her looked more oil baron than cow puncher. As if reading her thoughts, he waggled a warning finger at her and ordered her to finish her ice cream so she could get home at a decent hour. She’d already been late to work once that week, and he was determined she would not be late again. She didn’t wait for him to tell her twice, eagerly licking the last of her chocolate ice cream and hurrying to the shower room for her bath.

  * * *

  The next two days were tough at work, with Thursday bringing a pizza delivery guy. The entire room smelled of pepperoni and cheese sticks, and by the time five rolled around, she practically ran out the door to get away from the mouthwatering aroma. Friday saw everyone going out for Chinese, and to her surprise, Kelly Walder had even invited her to come along with the group. Visions of heaping plates of Kung Pao Chicken floated before her, but the faded bruises from Monday’s spanking persuaded her to stick to the tomato soup and garden salad that Daddy had approved for lunch.

  She’d been supposed to meet him at the complex that evening, but something had come up and he’d canceled, promising to make it up to her Saturday. He hadn’t said what he’d planned, but she’d been eagerly looking forward to it ever since he’d mentioned it on the phone.

  However, Friday night found her lonely and alone, and before she realized it she was staring into the freezer at the last piece of frozen cheesecake. Why didn’t I throw that away? The only reply she got was her stomach growling and her tongue lightly licking her lips in eager anticipation. How would anyone know? If she’d been at work she wouldn’t have even considered it. She still hadn’t figured out how they knew everything she had eaten on Monday; it was impossible that they’d had time to get some sort of spying network in place so fast, but obviously they’d managed it somehow. But she wasn’t at work now, she was home, and how would Daddy ever know?

  Just one little piece of creamy, delicious cheesecake. Maybe with a little caramel drizzled on top. Who would know?

  Her mouth watered as she looked at it on the counter. She couldn’t even remember taking it out of the freezer, but suddenly it sat on the plate, inviting her to take a bite. Frozen, but still eager to make her acquaintance. Even so, she couldn’t help but look over her shoulder as she drove the fork into the tip and pried a small bite loose. Silly, she thought with a laugh, and then quickly stuffed the morsel into her mouth.

  Almost immediately her cell rang, startling her so badly she dropped the fork on the floor.

  “Hello?” she answered nervously, her mouth still full of the forbidden cheesecake.

  “Baby girl.”

  “Shit!” she yelped without thinking. It was him. Panicked, she immediately ended the call and turned the ringer off, then threw the phone on the counter. How could he have known? It was impossible… unless.

  She scuttled across the room and peeked out the living room window, searching for signs of some passerby who might be looking up into her house, or perhaps a silhouette of a man with binoculars from one of the apartments across the street. There was nothing to see, no suspicious person in a dark coat or unusually idle tourist who just happened to keep glancing her direction. How could he have known? Quickly, she drew the blinds shut and hurried to the kitchen to throw away the evidence of her crime. “So stupid,” she groaned as she tried to bury the remaining cheesecake in the bottom of the trash beneath old newspaper and used paper plates. Running to the bathroom, she immediately brushed her teeth to remove any tell-tale crumbs that might be caught in them. “Twenty-eight years old, and I can’t even say no to a stupid piece of cheesecake!”

  Just as she was beginning to relax, the call box by the door buzzed. With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she pressed the button and asked who it was.

  “Josey, I’m Mr. Green’s driver. Mr. Black sent me to fetch you. Please come down.”

  She let go of the com button and sunk to the floor. It was only a bite, one stinking bite, and he knew before she’d even had time to swallow it. I shoulda spit it out, she thought angrily, but it was far too late now. Reluctantly, she pushed back to her feet, slipped on some flip flops, and went down to be escorted to her punishment.

  * * *

  He came to his feet when she entered Mr. Green’s office and fixed her with a stern, disapproving look as he folded his arms across his chest. Josey’s stomach sank when she saw his eyes, their blue skies now dark and stormy with disapproval.

  “Did I say you could have cheesecake, Josey?” he asked as he reached out to take her hand.

  “No, Daddy,” she said miserably, following him out of the room and down the hall towards the exercise room. She badly wanted to ask how he knew she’d eaten it, but the look on his face told her now wasn’t the time to talk. It was unlikely he would have told her anyway, lest she set about to disable it.

  “And yet you disobeyed me and ate it anyway, and then you said a bad word and hung up on me when you realized you were caught.”

  She cast wide and low for an excuse that might settle his temper but came up dry. There was nothing she could say. It wasn’t as if the cheesecake had accidentally fallen into her mouth. As he led her into the gym and straight to the scale, she took a deep breath and steeled herself for what was to come. Unlike before, he undressed her this time and quickly guided her onto the scale. The weights were adjusted, the bar settled, and she heard him tsk softly behind her as he marked the number down in the notebook.

  “Not an ounce down from Monday, and yet you reward yourself with cheesecake. Really, Josey, I don’t know what to say.” He took her hand and led her to the fitness ball, where he quickly took a seat and pulled her down over his lap. As always, the mirrors reflected the humiliating truth back at her, and she closed her eyes against the sight, but he saw and quickly ordered her to keep them open.

  Through tear-filled eyes, Josey watched herself shake and bounce as he vigorously smacked her bottom, his weathered brow furrowed in concentration. Almost immediately a fire began to build across her backside, licking outward from the point of impact to reach
the backs of her thighs and the base of her spine. Unlike the first time when he was careful to never spank the same spot twice, this time his determined hand landed a sizzling, stinging slap unerringly upon the exact same spot over and over.

  “Josey, tell me, do you believe you should be punished?” her daddy asked as he delivered another wallop.

  She didn’t want to answer him. Wasn’t it enough that she was naked and being spanked? Even worse, her bottom hurt like hell, and it was all she could do not to scream and kick. Every strike sent a shock of misery through her, and try as she might, she couldn’t stop the tears from flowing or the unhappy yelp that escaped with each smack.

  “Josey?” he asked again, and finally she gave in.

  “Yes, Daddy, I was bad, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it!”

  Mercifully the spanking stopped, and he laid his hand gently across her dimpled cheeks, caressing the unhappy flesh that only seconds before he had been punishing. She’d been holding her breath without realizing it, and now let it out in a rush as she relaxed against the soft denim of his faded jeans. The sensation of having her butt stroked and caressed moments after being so painfully punished sent tiny shivers of delight up her spine, and for a moment she allowed herself to relax and enjoy the feeling.

  Without warning he spanked her again, and she yelped in surprised shock.

  “You were done!” she cried indignantly, causing him to laugh lightly behind her.

  “No, baby girl, those were just love spanks to get your attention. A naughty girl like you wouldn’t learn a thing if that were all the lesson she was given!” She tensed against his firm thighs, but as his hand resumed the kind caress from before, she began to relax and allow herself to breathe normally once again.

  “What did I say to you on Monday, Josey?” he asked softly, his fingers never slowing their gentle mapping of the contours of her backside.

  “You said to mind you,” she sniffled.

  “Yes, but what did I say to do when you thought you might not be able to behave?” he pressed.

  She searched her memory for Monday night, filtering through the treadmill, the bath, the dinner and movie.

  “Oh, you said to call you.”

  “Why didn’t you call me when you saw the cheesecake, Josey?”

  She started to say she didn’t know when his tracing fingers came to an abrupt halt and she felt him tense, as if in preparation to spank her once more. Why did I eat that damn thing? Why didn’t I call him? The answer that came to her was both true and painful, and she was afraid it would earn her another spanking, the same as pretending she didn’t know.

  “Because I wanted it, and I knew you wouldn’t let me have it,” she admitted tearfully, and to her amazement his hand resumed its soft caress of her wounded bottom.

  “So you told yourself that what Daddy didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. But, Josey, honey, disobeying me will hurt you every time, even if I don’t find out.”

  “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she whispered and heard him sigh behind her.

  “I know you are, but I’m afraid you still need to be spanked for that nasty word you said. How many spankings do you believe you need in order to stop saying such naughty things?”

  More spankings? Sweet Jesus, she thought frantically. Isn’t my butt red enough? Of course, she didn’t say that out loud, rightly judging little girls would not say such things to their daddies. Instead, she suggested five more spankings.

  “Just five? I think we both know better than that, Josey.”

  “Ten?” she whispered in defeat, fearful he would want still more.

  “Ten sounds fair, and I need you to count them off for me so I don’t lose count and give you too many or not enough. Can you do that for me, Josey?”

  Clenching her teeth, she nodded once, willing it to be over quickly, and almost immediately his broad hand slammed into her left buttock.

  “ONE!” she yelped, louder than she’d intended. She couldn’t help it though; Daddy spanked hard.

  With every smack she called out the last number, although by the time they reached eight she was wailing and sobbing too hard to be understood.

  “NI—UH—NE!”

  The final smack seemed harder than all the others, though she knew her bottom was hypersensitive now from the many spankings she’d received since her arrival, and he was probably spanking her with equal strength each time.

  “TEN!” she squealed in pained relief. The scalding pain of her bottom was seared into her memory now, and for the umpteenth time she silently cursed the bite of cheesecake, swearing she’d never eat another piece as long as she lived.

  * * *

  Richard Black ordered her to the treadmill afterwards, but selected an easier program for her this time. She’d done well all week, even walked longer than the assigned fifteen minutes the day before, and he didn’t see any point in pushing her too hard. No sense in giving her an excuse to lie in bed all day tomorrow. As the belt began to roll, he took a seat on the oversized yoga ball and watched as she settled into her rhythm.

  He’d been unsure of the match when they’d first met. She’d had a pretty enough face, but was overweight and dressed like a bag lady forty years her senior. Mr. Green had gone to great lengths to assure him she was his type: submissive, childlike, utterly without any discipline, and desperate for someone to love her. Even so, he’d nearly called off the whole thing when she first came shuffling though the door, head down and eyes fixed on the floor. He’d expected a free spirit to bounce through the door. Instead, she was cowed and fearful, like a dog that had been kicked too many times. But it had been the socks that sold him, those silly, lacy kitty socks she seemed to be wearing every time he saw her. And the twin ponytails too, long and blonde and almost always secured by something with sparkles or shiny beads attached. If it hadn’t been for those, he wouldn’t have recognized her for what she was.

  He told her a little bit about himself to take her mind off the discomfort of jogging. He’d grown up on his family’s ranch in south Texas but had spent more time riding four wheelers and driving pickups than on horseback chasing cows. Oil wells brought in most of the ranch’s income, and he’d gotten interested in the legalities of oil and gas claims at an early age. Now he divided his time between Dallas and Houston as an oil and gas transactional lawyer. “The big east coast firms called us mud lawyers for years,” he laughed. They weren’t sneering anymore though, not now with the growing wind energy, shale deposits, and the millions upon millions that came from their dealings. He didn’t tell her that part though.

  * * *

  She listened closely, picturing her daddy swaggering into some oak-walled courtroom with expensively suited attorneys all around, his cowboy boots thumping dully against the wooden floor and his sharp blue eyes twinkling at the arguments to come. Not that she had any clue what an oil and gas transactional lawyer actually did, and certainly he looked nothing like any lawyer she’d seen on TV. Maybe he never saw the inside of a courtroom and spent his days in an office, but she liked the imagery she’d dreamed up. A lawyer, she marveled. I never would have guessed.

  Before she knew it, the timer ran down and the belt shuddered to a stop. Listening to him talk had made the minutes fly by, and though she was sweaty and winded, she felt good. I feel great actually, she marveled as he ruffled her hair and led her to the shower.

  He started by having her stand beneath the spray until every inch of her was dripping wet. The first time he bathed her, she thought he would join her in the shower, but he preferred to stand just outside, waiting for her to get completely wet. Once she was soaked, she would shut off the water, and he would begin carefully scrubbing every inch of her body with a sudsy washcloth, even having her pick each foot up so he could gently wash between each toe. The first time she’d been mortified when he’d ordered her to spread her cheeks so he could wash her bottom hole, but now it just seemed natural. The shower gel smelled clean and fresh, and she liked the way the scent lingered long after
the suds had swirled down the drain between her toes. Next came the sugar scrub, which had almond oil in it and smelled sweet but scratched something fierce and would leave her skin glowingly pink afterwards.

  “Raise your arms, baby girl,” he ordered, and she complied, letting him carefully shave beneath her arms. Next came her legs, and he took his time carefully shaving each one from her ankles to her hip, paying special attention to the sensitive backs of her knees and the varied contours of her ankles. When he finally set her newly smoothed leg down, she moved to go back under the showerhead, but this time he stopped her.

  “Not quite done,” he smiled, leading her to the wooden bench against the wall. “I need you to lie down for me, Josey, so I can shave your kitty.”

  Shave my kitty? She gaped at him in surprise, and he laughed at her shocked look.

  “It’s okay, baby girl, I promise I’ll be careful.”

  Wordlessly, she let him lead her to the bench and lay her flat on her back, placing her feet on the floor on either side so that her privates were bared. Oh my god, she thought wildly. He’s serious. When he straddled the edge of the bench and leaned over to take a closer look at the golden patch between her shaking thighs, she couldn’t help but cover her face with her hands. It had been one thing to be bent over his lap with her bare bottom in the air, but to have him sitting practically between her legs and staring at her pussy was… well she couldn’t imagine anything more embarrassing to date.

  When she heard a buzzing noise, she peeked through her fingers to see him holding a small pair of cordless clippers. “Be still now, Josey,” he warned as he ran his fingers lightly through the downy curls. “I’ll need to trim you a bit before I can shave you.” She nodded mutely, still peeking between her fingers as she watched him begin to slide the small clippers up the length of her mound. After every pass, he would gently brush the freed hair away to fall to the floor. Since his eyes were focused between her legs, she felt free to watch as he carefully held first one lip, then the other, stretching them taut as he eased the clippers along the delicate folds. Each stroke of the clippers was followed by a gentle stroke of his fingers as he examined the freshly cropped path left behind, and as his fingers slipped along the narrow paths she felt herself heating up down there. The fact that he rested the insistently buzzing clippers against her throbbing button while he stroked only increased the aching need deep within. Finally satisfied that he’d removed the bulk of the offending curls, he leaned over and lightly blew across her moistened folds, his hot breath blowing away the remaining clippings and inflaming her already feverish lips.