Papa’s Little Bride: Dark Embrace, Book 3

by Sue Lyndon

  “Faith, look at me.” I wait until she withdraws partly from my embrace to stare into my eyes. “I am not getting rid of you. You are still my little girl, and tomorrow, you will become my wife. As your papa, it is my job to teach you and guide you, and when you err, it’s also my job to correct you. Broken rules have consequences, and when you break a rule, you will be punished. But when I chastise you, it is not to be cruel, but rather to help teach you what’s right and wrong. A good papa would never, ever get rid of his little girl, Faith. A good papa helps his little girl be the best little girl she can possibly be, and that’s exactly what I intend to do with you.”

  “Do you truly promise that you won’t get rid of me because I’m bad? Wh-what about the end of our thirty days…what if—”

  “I promise, Faith. I swear it with all my heart. As for the thirty-day trial marriage, that will have more to do with whether or not we are compatible with one another, however, I very much doubt that will be a problem.” I tuck her hair behind her ears and press a kiss to her forehead. I haven’t had her for a full day yet, but I can’t imagine letting her go at the end of our trial period.

  God, why did come up with that idea? I don’t want her to have the option to leave, but at the same time I’d be a complete bastard for forcing her to stay with me, if she eventually realizes she’s made a mistake.

  Holding her closer, I stroke her back.

  “You’re mine, little girl. I’ve got you. You’re mine.”

  Faith

  * * *

  My heart soars, knowing that Papa won’t discard me for breaking his rules. At the same time, my tummy flips because I’m in big, big trouble.

  I touched myself.

  Without permission.

  After Papa threatened to spank my bare bottom if I ever did such a naughty thing again.

  I swallow hard. My behind tingles. Nerves keep fluttering in my stomach and shame washes through me, sharp coursing humiliation over my grave misdeeds.

  Not only did I stroke my flower, but I lied to my papa as well. My pulse skitters under the anticipation of my impending chastisement. I bury my face in his chest in an effort to hide my deep mortification.

  “It’s best we get this over with.” He pulls back and settles a stern look upon me. “Stand up, young lady. Naughty girls must be dealt with firmly.”

  His deep, scolding voice resonates inside me, reinvigorating all the aching that had not so long ago led to my downfall.

  Oh no. Not again.

  What will he think if he notices me growing wet during my punishment? I resolve to keep my legs clamped tightly together, lest he glimpse this fresh moisture gathering in my cunny.

  I stand up, and to my surprise, he guides me to an empty corner. Then, to my embarrassment, he lifts the nightshirt up to reveal my naked bottom.

  “Hold this around your waist and keep your nose in that corner, little girl.”

  “Papa?”

  “You will stand there for several minutes and contemplate your misdeeds. Think about how naughty it was of you to touch what doesn’t belong to you, and think about how naughty it was to lie to your papa. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, little girl.”

  Oh, I am ashamed. Deeply so. I remain in place, with my nose to the corner and my soon-to-be punished buttocks on display. I hear his retreating footsteps, but he doesn’t leave the room, and I’m not sure where he’s standing. But I know he’s staring at me, because I can feel the heat of his gaze. It’s overwhelming, but at the same time it’s also comforting. He’s here with me, sharing this moment, no matter how uncomfortable and tense it might be for both of us, and best of all—he’s not going to toss me aside as if I’m nothing just because I misbehaved.

  The minutes tick by, and I wonder how long he’ll make me stand here like this. Not that I’m in a hurry to get to the spanking part, but it’s difficult to stand here and not fidget, especially when I know he’s staring at my bare bottom.

  A desperate moan builds in my throat as the heat in my loins quickens, but I somehow manage to keep quiet, and I also succeed in keeping my thighs pressed together to hide my growing arousal.

  At least I know what it is that makes my flower so achy. I’m not sick. There’s nothing wrong with me. I just crave my papa’s touch. If he notices my moisture while he spanks me, will he decide to help the throbbing in my core? The thought of his hands on me, down there, makes the pulses come faster and hotter. My breasts feel heavy and my nipples tighten against the soft fabric of his shirt I’m wearing.

  His footsteps sound behind me, and then he’s right beside me, cupping my bottom and speaking into my ear.

  “Have you thought long and hard about why you are standing in this corner, young lady?”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I-I touched my flower and gave myself a release without permission.”

  “And why is that wrong?” His hot breath tickles my ear.

  “Because my cunny belongs to you, Papa.”

  “Very good. What else?”

  “The lies, I told some lies. I didn’t really go to sleep right away, and I also lied about touching myself at first. I’m sorry for everything, Papa,” I say, my lower lip trembling as my throat constricts with emotion. How badly will the spanking hurt? How long will it last? I’ve never actually had a spanking before, and not knowing entirely what to expect increases my nervousness. Quick breaths shudder in and out of my chest, but despite my fears, the aching in my center doesn’t abate in the least. If anything, it deepens.

  “That’s correct. You should never lie to me, Faith. Little girls are never to lie to their papas. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir. It won’t happen again. Any of this. I swear it.”

  He grasps my hand and leads me to the middle of the room, then releases me to go retrieve a chair from against the wall. Not the rocking chair, but a different one with a tall straight back. He drags it close to me and takes a seat, then urges me to stand between his spread legs.

  When I peer down into his dark stern gaze, I feel just like a naughty little girl about to be spanked by her papa.

  It doesn’t feel like pretend at all.

  It feels very real, I think, as he lifts an eyebrow at me and points at my bare cunny.

  “When you touch yourself without your papa’s permission, young lady, you are debasing yourself. I won’t have my little girl behaving in such a manner. If this becomes a recurring problem, you can expect more than a simple hand spanking. If I have to spread your legs wide and smack your smooth flower petals to get through to you, I will do just that.”

  I gasp and start to shield my cunny, but I quickly remember what got me into this situation in the first place, and I move my hands back to my sides. He tucks the shirt high around my waist again, and I obediently hold it up, clutching the fabric tightly so as not to be tempted to cover myself up.

  “As for the lies,” he says, shaking his head in disappointment, “you will soon learn that Papa doesn’t tolerate any untruths from his little girl. Even little fibs will be strictly punished. I expect nothing but absolute honesty from you, Faith. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  “Good. Now, let’s get on with it. Papa is going to spank this naughty bottom of yours bright red. Over my knee, little girl.”

  Chapter Seven

  Kingston

  * * *

  My sweet, but naughty, little girl obediently lays over my lap. A thrill jolts through me to have her in this position, with her bottom jutted up high and her legs slightly parted to reveal the slickness glimmering at the slit of her smooth pink cunny. She soon gasps and tries to place her thighs together, and I respond by shifting her over one knee, forcing her legs to fall open. I clamp my free leg atop her fidgeting ones and cup her behind cheeks, each in turn, massaging and inspecting her luscious pale globes.

  “You will remain spread like this during your punishment, young lady. There will be no hiding from Papa. Your
cunny will remain on full display at all times while I’m reddening your bottom cheeks. I realize this might embarrass you, especially because I’ll be able to see every little glimmer of moisture, and no doubt when you squirm, your secret inner folds, but you were a naughty little girl and this added embarrassment is part of your punishment. This is what happens to naughty little girls. They get turned over their papa’s knee for a good, hard spanking.” With that, I raise my hand and let the first strike fall. My palm descends on her right cheek with a resounding smack, and I waste no time in delivering the second blow to her left cheek.

  “Oh! Ouch!” She wiggles, but I easily hold her in place.

  “None of that,” I scold, alternating smacks from one reddening cheek to the other, peppering her entire bottom with sharp swats. “You’re getting this spanking whether you like it or not.”

  As I increase the pace of her punishment, I concentrate a series of slaps to her sit-spot, the sensitive area where her buttocks and thighs meet. She initially twists and howls in my hold, but she soon gives up her struggles and remains somewhat still over my lap. I move higher, spreading the final dozen across the center of her bottom, before stopping to rub her inflamed cheeks.

  Her sobs quiet the longer I caress her. As I care for her in the aftermath of her first punishment, tenderness for my sweet little girl swells in my heart.

  Turning her over, I gather her against my chest and hold her tight, cuddling her on my lap as I stroke her hair and her back.

  “Shh, it’s over,” I say. “You took your punishment well, little one. All is forgiven.”

  “Thank you, Papa. I’m so sorry for my naughtiness. It won’t happen again.” She sniffles and pulls back to meet my gaze. Tears glimmer in her eyes, but she smiles through them and reaches for me, cupping the side of my face and running her thumb along my cheek. It pleases me that she’s not angry or sulking over her spanking. She’s accepted the consequences of her actions with minimal fuss, and she’s remorseful over her disobedience.

  I reach underneath her and give her bottom a gentle squeeze. Her breath catches and she starts squirming. The scent of her arousal lingers in the air. Her cunny had been wet when I turned her over my knee, and the glimmer of moisture reflecting from between her plump pink folds only increased as I chastised her, but I don’t want to reward her for poor behavior.

  I won’t allow her to come now. Perhaps later, when I tuck her in for the night.

  A knock on the door signals the servants have returned with Faith’s new clothing. My little girl jolts and tries to cover herself up with the shirt, but I make a noise of disapproval in my throat and give her a stern look. There’ll be no covering up.

  “Enter!”

  A second later, a red-faced maid enters with three large boxes. “Good afternoon, Master Freemont. Here are the items you requested.”

  “Place them on the desk, please.” I nod at the small desk that sits near the window. The maid complies, then pauses awkwardly in the middle of the room. Faith once again tries to pull the shirt lower, but I swat her hands away and draw it back up. With the position she’s in, snuggled on my lap and angling forward against me while I hold her tight, the maid undoubtedly has a view of my little girl’s freshly spanked bottom.

  “Is there anything else I can bring you, sir?” The maid, a young woman named Gretchen who’s been in my employ for two years now, avoids looking directly at us. Her gaze dances all around the room as she awaits my reply, and her face reddens further.

  “No, Gretchen, that will be all. Thank you.”

  She dips into a curtsey before making a hasty exit and shutting the door behind her.

  “Papa!” Faith says, jumping out of my lap. She stands above me, glaring, and crosses her arms and stamps her foot once. “How could you let her see me like that?”

  “Little girl, you had better calm down and think very carefully about how you are acting right now. You appear on the verge of a temper tantrum, and I will not tolerate an outburst like that, I assure you.” I rise up and tower over her, and she pales a bit and steps back, no doubt realizing the error of her ways. “If it shames you to be seen unclothed with your spanked bottom on display, then I suggest you learn to behave. Gretchen, as well as the other servants, probably heard you getting your bottom smacked, so the fact that you received a punishment from your papa is no secret at all.”

  The anger fades from her expression, and her eyes grow wide as a fresh blush tinges her face. “But it was so embarrassing, Papa. It was worse than the actual spanking.” Her voice is much calmer than before, at least. She heaves a sigh and looks at the closed door from which the maid just exited.

  “Faith, when it comes to disciplining you, I will administer a spanking whenever and wherever you need it. If a maid, or another servant, or even another person outside my estate witnesses you getting your bottom reddened, or witnesses the aftermath of it, then so be it. I will not abide naughtiness in any form. If I take you into town and you misbehave in a store, I will not hesitate to bend you over and give you the spanking you deserve. I won’t care who is watching, young lady.”

  Her eyes widen further and she swallows hard. “I-I’ll be very well-behaved in public, Papa. I promise.”

  “I hope so. Now,” I say, glancing at the boxes on the desk, “let’s get you dressed and then you can visit the orphanage one last time. Take the shirt off, little girl.”

  Faith

  * * *

  Before we depart Papa’s estate, I’m presented to the rest of his staff. Gretchen, the maid, who blushes when we’re formally introduced. A white-haired butler named Bartholomew. Matheus and Tom, the two footmen. And lastly, the groundskeeper, Renny, who also tends to the horses. Renny also brings a two-horse carriage around front and drives us to the orphanage, while I sit on the plush seat inside the closed carriage, holding my papa’s hand while I stare out the small window.

  It hasn’t started snowing yet, but the sky has grown darker than earlier. There aren’t many people on the streets as we approach the poor side of town, where the orphanage is located. I shudder against the chill that’s permeated the carriage and tighten my new cloak around my shoulders. I glance down at my clothing and feel like somewhat of a stranger in my own body.

  Papa has dressed me in a pretty, long-sleeved pink dress. Delicate ruffles decorate the neckline, and underneath the frock I’m wearing thick white petticoats. A flush steals over me as I recall the tender look in my papa’s eyes when he helped me get dressed only minutes ago. He’d held out a pair of flower print panties first, and I’d had no choice but to step into them, holding onto his shoulders for support as he pulled them up over my sore bottom. When I tried to put the chemise on by myself, he’d brushed my hands aside and said, “Papa will always pick out your clothing for you and get you dressed each day.”

  The houses move past the window in a blur, and Papa squeezes my hand after the carriage rocks from running over a pothole.

  “You look very pretty, Faith.”

  His compliment leaves me heated and breathless. Everything he says and does seems to make me all flustered, beside myself with an aching between my thighs even as my heart does a little dance of joy. His undivided attention makes me feel cherished, and my heart pounds as I wonder how soon it will be until he decides to claim me as his wife-in-truth. We will say our vows tomorrow, but he won’t consummate our marriage until he thinks I’m ready.

  How can I convince him I’m ready? I ponder this question for a while, and then it hits me. I need to act womanly and try to seduce my papa. I’ve walked by Madam Angelic’s bawdy house before and seen the scantily dressed women hanging out of windows, calling to men in the street. Showing their cleavage and even their legs. They also tend to shout vulgar things at their prospective customers, and my ears burn at the memory of the naughty words and phrases I’ve heard while walking by. But, if that’s what it takes to get Papa to make love to me, that’s what I’ll do.

  The carriage pulls to a stop, drawi
ng me from my scheming. Dread fills me when I look at the orphanage through the window. It’s a tiny house in poor repair, the blue paint chipping off it and the shutters hanging crooked. While this has been my home for most of my life, I have not found much happiness here. I’ve watched friends come and go—some lucky enough to get adopted, others unlucky enough to pass away from an illness—and most of the older women who run the orphanage are lacking in kindness. Mrs. Hawthorne is cold and distant, prone to yelling and throwing things. But she was nice enough to write me the letter of recommendation and suggest I look for job postings in the town square, and she also tries her best to tend to the girls who become ill, and I suppose I owe her a proper goodbye.

  “Faith? Are you all right, little one? You don’t have to go inside if you don’t want to.” Papa’s deep voice, brimming with concern, comforts me and lends me much needed strength in this moment.

  Forcing a smile, I turn to him. “I’m fine. Just nervous. It’s…very loud here, and a bit chaotic.”

  He rubs my back. “I know; I’ve been here before. I realize it’s overcrowded and not well-staffed, Faith, and I imagine you don’t have many fond memories here. It’s perfectly normal to feel uneasy walking through those doors one last time. But I’m here with you. I won’t let you go inside alone. We’ll do this together.”

  My smile turns genuine. Papa opens his arms and beckons me to lean into him, and I all but throw myself against his big solid chest. When I’m in his arms, I’m certain nothing in the world can harm me. I’m protected and cherished, and the darkness of my past can’t extinguish the new hope that’s flickering to life and burning brightly within me.