by Sue Lyndon
“Come now, little one, and we’ll be in and out in a few short minutes. Then we’ll go back home.”
“All right, Papa. I’m ready.”
Chapter Eight
Kingston
* * *
She’s fast asleep.
I stand in the doorway of Faith’s bedroom, deriving comfort from the peaceful expression on her face. I’m glad to have her back home, within the safety of the house and far away from the orphanage and her bleak past.
Pride reverberates in my chest. My little girl had been so brave today as she walked into her former residence, collected her journal, gave away the rest of her belongings that had been tucked underneath her mattress, and said farewell to Mrs. Hawthorne and a few of the other girls.
The noise of the place had been overwhelming, with babies screeching, small children wailing, and dozens of girls running about. The older girls, the ones Faith said goodbye to, reside on the top floor in a small, crowded room. I’d been shocked to find her mattress nothing but a pile of old rags stitched together and arranged on the floor, a thin blanket riddled with holes resting on top. She didn’t have one of the new blankets I’d brought last year. I suppose there hadn’t been nearly enough to go around.
Anger surges through me, at the world and at myself.
I should’ve brought more than food and medicine and blankets over the years. Lords knows I have the funds. I’d inherited three successful factories in Gerrardsville, and I owned dozens of properties throughout the town, most of them businesses that usually paid rent on time. I should have done more, and as I stare down at my sweet bride-to-be, I resolve to do more. It also makes me rage inside, knowing that if Faith hadn’t run into me today, she would’ve likely had no choice but to prostitute herself. The thought of another man touching her…
God, I could murder someone. A growl rumbles in my throat and I clench my fists until they ache. She’s here for a reason. I have to believe that, and I have to believe that when her thirty days are up, she won’t decide to leave. Today, she gave me a taste of her sweetness, her innocence and her light.
But I want more. So much more.
Everything, every little part of her is meant to be mine. I want to strip her nightdress off and have my wicked way with her, yet I don’t wish to frighten her. I’ll have to be patient.
Please let her be ready soon. God, how I need her.
She sighs in her sleep and rolls over, and I can’t help but smile down at her angelic form. She’s curled on her side, her golden curls obscuring most of her face. Watching her sleep brings me a peace I’ve never known, and I vow to do whatever it takes to keep her safe and make her mine.
Forever.
* * *
The next morning, I receive a missive from a minister friend of mine that states he’ll be over around three o’clock to officiate our wedding. My heart races and excitement spirals through me. In mere hours, Faith will become my wife. I pen a quick reply and hand it to Matheus with instructions to deliver it at once. With that errand out of the way, I venture upstairs to see if Faith has awoken yet.
I find my little girl still asleep, but in the most adorable position. She’s kicked the covers off herself, and her nightdress is hiked up to reveal a hint of her flower print panties. She’s lying on her stomach, one arm tucked under her pillow, and the other dangling off the bed. Her back rises and falls steadily, and the sound of her deep breathing interspersed with the tiniest, cutest snores, brings a grin to my face. I sit on the bed and pat her panty-clad bottom.
“Rise and shine, sleepyhead.” I pat her bottom again, a bit harder this time.
“Mmmfffth.” She emits a frustrated noise and shifts onto her side, curling up in a ball and facing away from me.
“Faith, it’s after nine in the morning. Time to wake up and get some breakfast. You have a big day ahead of you.”
“Five more minutes. Wait, no. Twenty more minutes!” She grabs the pillow and pulls it over her head.
“Absolutely not. You get up this instant, young lady, or I’m going to add some color to your bottom cheeks.” If she’d gone to bed late, I might allow her to sleep in a bit longer, but I had her all tucked in at eight last night, despite her protests that it was too early a bedtime. When she continues to ignore me, I yank the covers fully off her and apply five firm swats to her buttocks.
“Oh! Ouch! I’ll get up, Papa. I’m sorry.” She tosses the pillow off her and tries to escape my hold, but I have her pinned firmly on the mattress. She peers over her shoulder with wide eyes as I peel her panties down. “No, Papa, please! No more spanking!”
“Yes, little one. More spanking. You’re getting ten more swats to remind you that you’re not the one who’s in charge around here. Now, hold still for your punishment, young lady, or I’ll be adding extras to the backs of your thighs.”
She whimpers but doesn’t move, other than to clutch onto a pillow. Before I deliver the lesson, I let my hand roam over her quivering bottom cheeks, caressing and occasionally squeezing those once creamy white globes. A tinge of pink decorates the center of each buttock. I urge her legs apart by tapping the insides of her thighs.
“Spread your legs, Faith. Wider. Be a good girl and let Papa see your little flower first.”
Hiding her face in the covers, she acquiesces, parting her thighs and giving me a full view of her smooth pink cunny. A hint of moisture glistens between her folds, but I don’t think she’s been touching herself again, or the evidence of her arousal would be far more damning than this smidge of moisture. I simply wish to look upon her, and I suspect the shame of having to spread herself during her punishment will make the lesson all the more lasting.
I settle myself over her legs, to prevent her from kicking or moving out of position. I don’t plan to go hard on her, or even bring her to tears, but she needs to learn fast that I won’t allow her to get away with any disobedience.
A gentle, slow spanking is in order this morning.
One that will reinforce our roles as Papa and little girl.
I cup her right cheek and then raise my hand, preparing to deliver that first swat. “After your spanking is over, young lady, you will stand in the corner for ten minutes with your panties around your ankles, your nightdress lifted up, and your red, punished bottom on display.” I bring my flattened palm down on her right cheek, smacking her just hard enough to sting.
After rubbing her spanked cheek for several long moments, I move to the other one and give it a gentle thwack. A glance at her privates shows her cunny lips are swelling larger and a copious amount of moisture is now evident. I repeat my actions, caress and spank, caress and spank, over and over again, until the tenth blow has fallen.
Then I dip my hand between her thighs.
“So wet, Faith. Is your flower achy right now?”
“Yes, Papa.”
I stroke through her increasing wetness, but purposefully avoid her clit, teasing her with slow drags along the insides of her folds. She attempts to lift her bottom up and press against me, but with my weight still situated atop her legs, she can barely move. Though I long to plunge deep into her flower and pump my digits in and out until she screams her release, I withdraw from her cunny and give her chastised bottom a playful slap.
“All right, little one. Up you go. Time to stand in the corner.”
Chapter Nine
Faith
* * *
Papa is strict.
I stand in the corner with my stinging bottom jutted out to his liking, with my panties around my ankles, as I contemplate what got me into this situation. I’ve never been much of a morning person, and the bed is so comfortable that I hadn’t been able to force myself to get up. Well, tomorrow I will somehow have to make myself get up, because I don’t want a spanking every morning for the rest of my life.
Of course, I suppose Papa could’ve punished me harder than he did. My behind stings, but it doesn’t hurt as much as the spanking I received yesterday afternoon when I got in
trouble for touching my cunny.
“Your ten minutes are up, little girl. Walk to me, please.”
Turning around, I eye Papa from across the room. He’s seated on the bed and looks oh so handsome this morning. He’s wearing a dark suit that fits him perfectly, the jacket stretched across the broad expanse of his shoulders. I shuffle toward him in an awkward manner, slowed down by my panties still tangled around my ankles. When I reach him, he pats his thigh and opens his arms. A jolt of giddiness runs through me, and I eagerly dive onto his lap, arranging my nightdress around me as I slide onto his firm thighs.
“Did you learn your lesson?”
“Yes, Papa. I’m sorry I was grumpy.”
He runs his fingers through my hair, then puts his mouth to my ear. I shiver and the throbbing in my feminine core deepens. Oh, I hope he touches my cunny again. I wiggle a bit on his lap and detect something big and hard.
My heart pounds. Could it be?
I squirm once more, and his breath catches and he tightens his hold on me and grinds his center up against my sore bottom.
“You’re making Papa’s cock very hard, little one, but we cannot go any further than this, I’m afraid. We aren’t yet married, and as I’ve said before, we will not consummate the marriage until you are ready.”
His jaw clenches when I shift to the side and reach for the hardness in his trousers. His nostrils flare and he grabs my hand before I can touch him.
“There will be none of that, young lady. Now, let’s get you dressed in a cute outfit, and then you can see the surprise I have for you downstairs.”
“All right, Papa.” I grin. “I love surprises. I wonder what it could be?”
“You’ll have to wait and see.” He leads me to the walk-in closet, where the dresses he had bought for me yesterday are hung up in a neat row. “Let’s put you in the light blue gown today. Lift your arms up, little one.”
* * *
I gasp.
Papa’s surprise is better than anything I could’ve imagined. It’s a fully decorated Christmas tree, complete with an old-fashioned toy train beneath it and a big shining star on top. It looks like something out of a storybook, especially considering the tree stands in front of a large window, against the backdrop of a winter wonderland. Large snowflakes are falling outside, and it must have been snowing all night, as the street and trees are entirely covered in sparkling white.
The scent of pine needles fills the large sitting room, adding to the joy of this experience. We never had a Christmas tree at the orphanage, and I only possess vague memories of helping my mother decorate a small tree one year.
“I bet if you’re a very good girl, Santa will come down the chimney and bring you presents.”
I giggle and run to Papa, then wrap my arms around him. “Oh, Papa, this is perfect. Thank you. It’s beautiful.”
He kisses the top of my head. “I’m glad you like it.” After my stomach rumbles, he says, “Come now, let’s have breakfast. Mrs. Summers made pancakes.”
We enjoy a leisurely breakfast in the dining room while gazing upon the snowy landscape. The dining room overlooks a field behind Papa’s estate that stretches outside of town to the mountains beyond. All that stands between his house and the mountains are a few barns and a vast forest. Situated on the edge of town, it feels like we’re in our own little magical world, far away from all the heartache I once knew.
I keep smiling at Papa, and he urges me to finish my breakfast so he can give me a proper tour of the house. After taking the last bite of my pancakes, I inhale the sweet rich aroma of the hot chocolate Mrs. Summers surprised me with. Taking a sip, I revel in the warmth that fills my tummy and spreads through my body. Once I’ve finished the hot chocolate, I set the mug down and soak in the pretty view one last time, before announcing that I’m all ready for Papa’s grand tour.
We start in the darkened basement, where most of the food stores are kept. There’s also a shelter hidden within the basement, with large concrete walls that surround several cots and emergency supplies.
“When my grandfather built this house, Gerrardsville was often under attack by raiders who came down from the mountains. He wanted to see his family kept safe, so he built this shelter in the basement. It locks from the inside. Luckily, the raiders don’t often venture near Gerrardsville anymore, and they certainly don’t dare to enter the town. These days, we are better armed and keep our borders well-protected. All the able-bodied men take turns keeping patrol.”
“Even you, Papa?”
“Yes, sweetness, even me. Every Tuesday from dawn to dusk, I take a shift on the western side of town.”
I’d known the men of Gerrardsville guarded the borders from raiders, but I hadn’t realized every man, even a wealthy man like Papa, was expected to join the guardsmen. I imagine him riding a horse, a gun secured in a holster on his hip, the wind blowing his dark locks around, as he gallantly serves and protects the citizens of this town.
Little flutters besiege my stomach, and I squeeze his hand as he leads me back upstairs, to show me the library, his study, the sunroom, and various guestrooms.
As we continue the tour, he explains the history behind each room and how his household functions. I listen carefully, as I plan to take the job of lady of the house seriously, even though he’s insisted that I’m his little girl. I won’t sit idle all day while the servants do everything. I’ll contribute to the running of his estate as if it were my own, and perhaps at the end of our thirty-day trial marriage, he will view me as a helpmate and a true wife.
He’s given me the impression that he’ll want me at the end of thirty days, as long as I want him in return, but there’s always the chance he might grow tired of me or decide I’m bothersome. I can’t let that happen, and I resolve to watch my behavior—no more grumpy mornings—and succeed in seducing him as soon as possible.
“The minister will arrive around three in the afternoon, Faith,” he says as we enter yet another guestroom. He turns and cups my face in his huge hands, and I can’t miss the longing in his gaze.
Heat pummels through me at the memory of his hardness pressing up against my sore bottom earlier. I want to feel it again, and I really, really want to touch it.
“Papa?”
“Yes, little one?”
“I hope you do not think me too bold, but I would very much like to consummate our marriage today, after we speak our vows.” I hold my breath, nervously awaiting his response.
Batting my eyelashes and giving him a coy look, I step closer, so near the front of his trousers press against my stomach.
“Please, Papa. Please.”
Chapter Ten
Kingston
* * *
Christ. How do I resist her charms?
Especially when she’s begging me to claim her.
Does she have any idea the beast she’s tempting? The first time I take her, it will be a struggle to be gentle. At this moment, with a bed mere feet away, it’s all I can do to keep from lifting up her skirts and petticoats, tearing off her panties, and shoving home inside her tight, virgin cunny.
“Faith, I’m not sure you realize what you’re asking for. You are an innocent, in so many ways.”
“If I’m an innocent, why does my flower keep getting so achy and wet, Papa?” She presses harder on my groin, and I move my hands to her shoulders and force her back.
“I want you to trust me before I take you into my bed, little one. That means we must get to know one another better first,” I explain.
“We have over four hours until our wedding,” she says matter-of-factly. “That’s plenty of time to get to know one another better. Besides, Papa, most marriages are arranged. Some of the women who work at the orphanage, including Mrs. Hawthorne, have said they never met their husbands before their wedding day.”
She speaks the truth and has a point, and my resolve to wait days, even weeks, before taking her into my bed, falters hard and fast. Tremors race up my inner thighs, my balls tight
en, and my cock thickens and pulses so hard that dark spots momentarily cloud my vision as all the blood in my body rushes southward.
I exhale a harsh breath, growl, and yank her against me.
“Do you want Papa’s hardness in your little flower, Faith? Is that what you want?”
A needy whimper escapes her, and she thrusts her hips forward, her nearness driving me wild and close to the point of no return. If we’d already said our vows, I wouldn’t hesitate in this moment to give her exactly what she’s asking for.
“Yes, Papa. I want your cock in my cunny, pounding me hard. I want you to…fuck me, Papa. Please.”
Her crass words stun me, and despite the heat of the moment, I can’t ignore them. I’m still her Papa, and she’s still my little girl.
“That kind of language is a big no-no, Faith.” Still holding her flush against me, I raise up her skirt and petticoats to deliver a sharp swat to her panty-clad bottom. “If I hear another naughty word come out of your mouth, young lady, you won’t sit down for a week. Understand?” I give her two more swats.
“Ouch! Yes, Papa. I understand. I’m sorry.” With a pout, she steps back and rubs her chastised bottom.
“No rubbing. Hands at your sides. Good girl. Now, let’s go to the sunroom and have a chat.” I make a show of looking at my watch. “We have precisely three hours and fifty-five minutes to get to know one another better.”
A beautiful grin spreads across her face and she jumps up and down, while reaching for my hand. “Yay!” Her blonde waves bounce with her movements.
Her excitement is contagious. I return her smile and lead her downstairs, all the while hoping my rigid cock doesn’t bust through the front of my trousers. The sunroom overlooks the same field as the dining room. The ceiling and walls are made entirely of glass, but a small woodstove in the center of the room gives off enough heat to keep us warm.
