“Well, brace yourself; it’s not all fun and games. Mark can be a very strict daddy at times and there is nothing he’s more concerned with than my health and physical well-being,” Susan said as she walked to the double doors of a lovely cabinet and opened them.
Inside was an extensive collection of medical supplies, including several rubber bags with attached hoses in various sizes.
“This one is quite nice,” Susan said, pointing to a small red one with a tiny nozzle, “but this one,” she said, shivering as she pointed to a very big black bag with a thick hose and a nozzle that was impossibly large, “well, let’s just say I avoid that one at all costs. It’s mainly for punishment, which is why I’m typically a very good little girl.”
Chéri stood frozen and blinking rapidly as she tried to take it all in. There were boxes and bottles of all sorts of things as well as various instruments she’d never seen, but for some reason she couldn’t take her eyes off those bags.
“Oh, dear, now I’ve frightened you,” Susan sighed sadly. “Perhaps we should leave my closet for another day,” she suggested, closing the doors.
“No,” Chéri replied, squaring her shoulders. “I might as well know what I’m in for, what I’ve agreed too.”
“If you’re sure,” Susan said, gently. “It’s not all horrible, in any case.” Leading the way, she took Chéri’s hand and pulled her from the room. Once back in the nursery, she drew her to the closet and opened the doors. Instantly lights came on revealing some of the most beautiful clothes imaginable.
Chéri let her fingers trail along the fabric of dozens of colorful dresses, obviously designed by someone who knew what they were doing. There were petticoats and crinolines, lace collars and sleeves and almost everyone had a huge bow that tied in the back. There were sweaters and jackets, coats and shoes that matched. Most were Mary Janes with pretty buckles or rosettes, but some were obviously for playing dress up. Pointed princess hats draped with tulle, feathered slippers, boas and the like all had Chéri grinning.
Susan slid back a panel on the other wall and stood quietly after exposing an assortment of implements for punishment. Some items looked relatively harmless, others like they meant business.
Chéri picked up a thin paddle and tested its weight before slapping the flat of her hand.
“Ouch,” she cried, shaking her wrist.
“Yeah, that one is deceiving,” Susan said with a laugh as she took if from Chéri and hung it back up.
“Susan, there’s a cane in there,” Chéri pointed out weakly.
“Don’t I know it,” Susan replied with a grimace.
“Mark does not cane you,” Chéri gasped in outrage.
“Only once,” Susan admitted, closing the panel. “I lied to him, about something quite important. For that act of stupidity, I received six strokes from that bad boy,” she continued with a shiver. “I’ve never repeated that particular offense again.”
Back in the sitting room, Chéri sank onto the settee in silence. She stared at her folded hands.
Susan sat beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“May I tell you something about my personal beliefs?”
Chéri nodded.
“I think there are far more women like us than anyone would ever guess. While the word ‘Daddy’ may never pass the lips of most of them, the sentiment is there. They respect and honor their men and their wishes. Some wouldn’t think of defying the men who provide for them, protect them, nurture and love them. They may not call them daddy, but’s that’s essentially what they are.
“They are the leaders in their homes. They make the decisions and expect their wives to go along, and many do. Not because they are spanked or forced, but because these men are their daddies in nearly every sense of the word, barring the title, deserving of respect and devotion. A daddy can scold with words, a look, or a raised eyebrow and their women or little girls know immediately they are about to cross the line. They watch, they protect and would defend their women with their lives.
“I watch people. It’s probably not the most respectable habit, but I do. Have you ever noticed some of the couples at the club, the ones who’ve been together a long time or are obviously deeply in love?”
“No, not really,” Chéri replied.
“Watch them sometime. The next time we go I’ll point them out to you. Take the Pattersons for instance. You never see them far apart. He’s always touching her in some way, either holding her hand or has his arm around her. If she wanders away to talk to someone, all he has to do is shoot her a look and she’s excusing herself and returning to his side. They’ve been married nearly forty years, but you can see that aspect of their relationship. She would not disobey him. For all intents and purposes, he’s her daddy, her main man, the one she minds. Does he spank her? Who knows, but it’s possible he did in the beginning and maybe still does. In any case, they are happy.
“The Johnsons are very similar except Debbie is much more of a flirt and more likely to get herself into a bad situation. Joe keeps a close eye on her and all it takes is a whisper in her ear and she’s blushing wildly and nodding her head.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really and I could go on and on. The point is, the name isn’t important; it’s how you feel about the man, and also how the man feels about you. Is he protective? Does he care what you do, if you’ve eaten properly, if you’re getting enough rest? Is he ready, willing and able to step up and make sure you do these things? If so, he’s a daddy at heart. If you’re willing to listen to him, obey him, trust his judgment, then it’s quite possible you are a little girl at heart, looking for someone to take good care of you.
“If submitting to him turns you both on, that’s a bonus not everyone gets. I love Mark. He’s the most wonderful man I’ve ever known. He adores me; takes care of me like no one else ever could, and our sex life is through the roof. There’s literally nothing he could suggest I wouldn’t agree to try. If I hated it, he would never ask again, because I’m his babygirl and he loves me and wants me to be as happy and satisfied as I can be. What could I possibly complain about?”
“I love Michael, too,” Chéri admitted softly. “At one time our marriage was on shaky ground. Now we’re strong and I can’t deny I’ve never been more satisfied sexually. I love the attention, in fact, there have been times when I’ve purposely done or said something I know will get me in trouble. Do you think that’s normal?”
“What’s normal?” Susan said with a laugh. “And who wants to be ‘normal’ when this is so much fun?”
Chéri smiled. She had a point. At times she felt she was living a dream and was afraid she’d wake up.
A soft knock sounded at the door and Susan called come in.
“Mrs. Richardson, your husband asked me to come up and tell you lunch is ready. He’d like you and Mrs. Reynolds to come down to the dining room now.”
“Thank you, Adele. Tell him we’ll be right there.”
“Servants?” Chéri asked in surprise.
“Certainly, I am a princess, after all,” Susan drawled, jumping up and grabbing Chéri’s hand. “Come on,” she giggled, “we need to hurry. Daddy doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
“One more thing,” Chéri said grasping Susan’s arm when she opened the door. “Tell me about Dr. Franklin.”
“Him,” she replied, tipping her head to one side. “Well, he’s terribly handsome, which helps a little, but he’s a complete authoritarian. He believes little girls should be seen and not heard and his examinations are embarrassingly thorough. I wouldn’t call him cruel, but don’t cross him. He has no problem disciplining his patients in the presence of their daddies and I believe Mark has picked up quite a few pointers from him. Your best bet is to stay healthy, very healthy,” she finished. “Come on, before we get into trouble. As I said, Mark doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Nodding, Chéri followed her hostess from the room.
Chapter 10
Th
ree weeks later, Chéri sat at her desk, tapping a pencil and watching the clock. It was Friday afternoon and soon she would be able to leave this place and get back to what she considered her real life.
The renovations were in full swing, and while their home was somewhat torn up, she was sleeping every night with Michael. Nearly everything but his examination table and apothecary cabinet had been removed from her room and they were progressing. Basically one entire side of the upstairs would become their suite.
Her original little girl room would become a playroom of sorts and the indications were it would become her daddy’s playroom too, as his medical equipment was staying. The bathroom would stay where it was and would connect to her nursery, which would open up to the master bedroom by way of a large archway with pocket doors.
Michael would retain the master bath for his own use. He’d ordered a tub similar to Susan’s for Chéri’s bathroom. It made sense he’d said. He wasn’t getting any younger and being able to attend to her and wash her without getting down on his knees would be of benefit in years to come because “he sure as hell wasn’t giving that up.”
The contractor had promised he would be finished by the end of next week, which should coincide perfectly with Chéri’s plan to cut back at work. She also nixed the idea of a decorator. For years she’d done most of that herself and she saw no need to bring in a stranger who could possibly question her choices. This would also keep the gossip at bay regarding why Judge Reynolds and his wife were decorating a nursery. The fewer people who knew their preferences, the better as far as she was concerned and Michael finally agreed, providing she wasn’t up on a ladder or taking any other foolish risks while he was not at home.
The garage was rapidly filling up with boxes. Chéri found she was excited, as well as a little unnerved. It seemed there were so many and she couldn’t understand what he could have possibly ordered that took up so much room he could no longer park inside. As tempted as she was to snoop, she controlled herself. The spanking she would get for something like that did not bear thinking about.
Mary and Jennifer developed a real bond and the cosmetics campaign was moving along at a swift pace. They were on schedule and she’d managed to talk Waters into handing it all over to Mary. Chéri had no doubts Mary would do a fine job. She’d been working her butt off and it hadn’t gone unnoticed by the boss or the other advertising executives who were spending an inordinate amount of time sucking up to Chéri.
They were under the mistaken impression she somehow had some influence in who Waters would tap to be the next VP. She didn’t, and found it particularly annoying to see men who’d resented her for years, and had said some pretty insulting things about her, bowing and scraping now. At times, she wanted to tell them they were a bunch of self-serving pussies and to get out of her office, but she controlled herself, barely. She did so want to leave on a positive note and Michael would not approve of that kind of language in any case.
Pleasing him had become very important. If it got back to him she’d had a hissy fit, she was likely to get her mouth soaped or worse. He’d also made it perfectly clear that working out her notice, while important, was not his priority, and that should she show signs of a meltdown, he would demand she leave immediately.
Things were coming to the end now and she didn’t want to screw up in case she should feel the need to be a full-fledged adult once in a while. It didn’t seem likely. Michael kept her so satisfied she couldn’t imagine wanting to go back to work, but one never knew.
After their visit to Mark and Susan’s, Chéri became more relaxed about her decision. She made some suggestions for her nursery she hadn’t thought about previously. She wanted a bigger window and a window seat. For reading, she told Michael, but she really liked the idea of Susan’s little mini bar. Of course, Michael intended to install a security camera and she made a mental note to mention that to Susan the next time they spoke privately in case Mark was leaning in that direction as well. Mark seemed stricter with Susan, but they’d begun when she was very young and had a lot more experience. Obviously, he knew his wife well and was more than a match for her.
Chéri also wanted a doll house. Oh, nothing spectacular like Susan’s castle, but something more in keeping with their home. She chose a Victorian mansion with gingerbread trim and it was being built for her by a master craftsman. Her new hobby was collecting wall paper samples and miniatures as she fully intended to decorate it herself. She’d also found several antique dolls she fell in love with and bought them without hesitation, all without consulting her husband. While not happy about the expense, he conceded that this was indeed a time of transition and assured her once the renovations were completed and she was done working, the changes would come swiftly. He hoped she was ready. Secretly, she hoped so too.
At 4:30, she began cleaning up her desk. She was off on Monday and a three-day weekend was appealing. Plus, it was Friday, the night when daddy usually gave her a thorough examination and shaved her. The thought of that alone was enough to make her wet.
Each night, he’d taken to strapping her securely to the stool at the island and feeding her her dinner. A few times she’d balked, and Daddy pulled down her pants, or flipped up her skirt and spanked her to a rosy hue before plopping her back down. In truth, Chéri found this incredibly exciting and enjoyed the warmth radiating from her cheeks, as well as the reassurance her daddy meant what he said. When she did it once too often, he opened a drawer and removed a silicone spatula. That night, she struggled through dinner with a very sore bottom and salty tears dripping down her cheeks as she shot unhappy and somewhat disappointed glances at him.
“You like the sweet spankings, don’t you?” he asked gently as he blotted her tears and presented a bit of beef at her lips.
Nodding, more tears slipped down her cheeks and she tried to stop her lips from quivering.
“Perhaps those are something that need to be earned,” he suggested. “You certainly earn the punishment spankings with little trouble. It might be that when you’re being particularly cooperative, you may ask for a sweet spanking.”
“I couldn’t, Daddy,” she squeaked out.
“You couldn’t earn them, or couldn’t ask?” he questioned curiously.
“I couldn’t ask,” she admitted with her head down.
“I understand,” he replied gently, nodding his head. “Part of what makes this acceptable to you is your ability to distance yourself. If Daddy makes all the decisions, and administers all of the punishments, you hold no responsibility. Admitting you want a spanking would take away that freedom, and maybe some of the allure,” he added wisely.
He was exactly right and from then on she was very careful to avoid that spatula, but she noticed that now and then Daddy would pull her over his lap, bare her and spank her quite soundly for no reason at all.
When she asked him about it, his reply was simple.
“Because I can, and because you need and enjoy it.”
He was right, once again.
She drove home carefully, hating the heavy traffic and anticipating the day she would no longer have to navigate it. As soon as she walked in the door, Daddy took her heavy briefcase from her hand, removed her coat and pulled her into his arms for a cuddle.
“I love Fridays,” he murmured into her hair.
“Me too, Daddy,” she replied, snuggling closer.
“Soon everyday will be Friday,” he said with a smile. “You will be here when I get home and I’ll be able to care for you as I long to.”
“I can’t wait,” she sighed as he rocked her slightly in his arms.
Straightening, he smiled and swatted her bottom.
“I have good news,” he said suddenly. “Come with me.”
He towed her upstairs, his step light and eager. To her he seemed young and energetic, much like he’d been when they first met. His excitement was palpable.
“The contractor finished early,” he informed her, spinning her into their room and openin
g the pocket doors. “Of course we still have to paint and paper, but all the hired work is done. No more strange men wandering through the house tracking plaster dust. No more worrying about someone looking through our things.”
“Oh,” Chéri cried as she walked into the room. “It’s perfect, even the window seat. I can’t wait to start painting and I absolutely love the window. It makes everything look so roomy and bright. Let’s start tonight, Daddy,” she pleaded.
“Not tonight, darling,” he said, “and unfortunately not tomorrow either. We have an appointment. But we have Sunday and Monday. The hardwood floors look wonderful. Come on and see your bathroom. I think the tub will please you.”
“Why can’t we start tonight?” she asked with a pout.
“Because I have certain things I attend to on Friday nights, and you know that,” he answered, pulling her into the bathroom.
“But what about tomorrow? Why can’t we start tomorrow? What appointment do we have?” she demanded, digging in her heels.
Without a word, he sat on the new bench next to her pedestal tub and swiftly pulled her over his knees. Flipping up her skirt he pulled down her pantyhose and panties in one swoop.
“Lord, how I hate these things,” he said dropping them to the floor. “The most obvious answer to your question is because I said so,” he informed her, rubbing at the lines on her skin. “What I say, goes. We will start on Sunday, and that’s the end of it. However, let me reinforce who’s in charge here in the most basic way.”
His huge hand began to spank her with crisp swats that echoed through the nearly empty rooms. While not overly harsh, they stung like crazy and Chéri found herself wiggling to get away.
“You will not question every decision I make,” he snapped, tightening his arm around her waist. “The proper response is, ‘yes, Daddy,’ and I expect to hear a whole lot more of it very soon.”
More Rules For Cheri (New Rules Book 2) Page 10
