His Sassy Girl (Desiring the Forbidden Book 2)

by Michaels, Megan

  He rubbed her bottom, squeezing her flesh roughly. “Are you going to fight again, Sassy?”

  “Ow! Oh, G-god. Please stop rubbing, it hurts. N-no, I won’t fight again. I p-promise. Can we be done, p-please can we be done?”

  Dylan paused, long enough that she thought he might relent. “Who decides when punishment is over? Is it you, Sassy?”

  She felt like a blubbering child. “N-no!” Her voice broke into heartbroken sobs. It wasn’t her decision. But damn, she wished she could decide — just once.

  “Time to reinforce the lesson. These will be to your sit spots and thighs, girl.”

  It was always the worst part, and no mental preparation seemed to help. She just took a deep breath and on her exhale; he lashed her thighs and ass — hard. It didn’t last long, thankfully. She heard the belt clatter to the floor and his soothing murmurs above her. He kissed her temples, face, and hair, stroking and caressing her.

  Brittney swore she’d never think of fighting again. She’d remember this. But she knew, deep inside, that someone would upset her, and she’d forget. Maybe. Maybe this time she’d remember. Maybe this time his lesson would stick.

  “Jesus. I hope you’ve learned this time. I’m not going to be able to use the belt more than I did today. Next time you’ll be switched. Do you hear me?”

  “Y-yes, Sir. I won’t do it again, Daddy.”

  “I certainly hope so. I hate seeing my girl like this. Let’s get you up and cuddle a bit.”

  He undid the strap and handcuffs, helping her off the table. Scooping her up, he held her in his lap as he sat down in the nearby rocking chair. Brittney nestled her nose in his neck. She loved the smell of him, his slow, steady breathing, and the rhythm of his heart calming her. And even though there were days that she wondered why she submitted to all of it, there were also moments such as these that convinced her that this life was for her. The moments of peace that followed a punishment, the one hundred percent assuredness that he cared about her — not just about what she did, but about how she grew and matured as a person.

  Her Daddy loved her. He understood her insecurities, her weaknesses, and her foibles. It didn’t mean that he tolerated them all, or that he didn’t help her to try to improve on some of them, but it meant when she failed or did something stupid, she didn’t have to fear that he would leave her or be done with her. He only expected her to try her best to progress, and sometimes that meant he gave her incentive to move in a different direction in the future.

  “How’s my baby?” He kissed her forehead.

  “I’m okay. My bottom hurts awful.” She felt silly saying it, but knew he wouldn’t care.

  “I bet. Daddy wanted you to know he doesn’t like it when you’re fighting.” He ran the back of his knuckles lightly up and down her arm.

  “Well... you succeeded. Maybe too well.”

  Dylan laughed, squeezing her tightly. “My Sassy. I love you, baby. You know that, right?”

  “Yes, I do.” Brittney felt his cock under her — hard, hot, and pulsing. She shifted, rubbing her thigh against the sensitive flesh tenting his pants.

  “Sassy? I know what you’re doing. Stop.” He shifted her on his lap. “Besides, I want you on your knees, giving me a blow job.”

  Brittney sat up straighter to see if he was joking, but his face was grave. When he quirked an eyebrow at her, she practically leapt off his lap, kneeling as requested. She situated herself between his knees, undoing his belt and zipper, tugging on the sides of his pants and boxers. Dylan lifted his hips slightly to aid her in undressing him, his cock springing free from the constraints of his clothes. With one hand she cupped his balls while the other wrapped around the silky hardness of his shaft, the skin hot against her palm. She leaned forward, circling the bulbous head with her tongue, laving the tip with quick licks.

  She drew him into her mouth slowly, pulling on him with suction, chuckling when she heard him suck his breath through his teeth.

  “Brat!” He wove his hand through her hair, taking away her ability to control the blow job. Now, he was in control, just as he liked it. He held her head still as he pounded his cock further and further down the back of her throat, pulling out to allow her to catch her breath.

  “I’m coming.” He thrust into her again, the warm streams of his semen shooting down her throat. He pulled out and Brittney sucked every last drop out of him before the head popped free of her lips. She licked him clean while his heavy breathing slowly returned to normal. “That was beautiful, Sassy. Thank you.”

  He pulled her up from the floor to sit on his lap again. Both were quiet, sorting through the evening in their minds, exhausted from everything that had occurred.

  Dylan tilted her chin up. “Your father called me today. He wants us to join him on the Fourth of July for a vacation. Hope you don’t mind, but I agreed for both of us.”

  Brittney groaned, resting her forehead against his chest. “Fuck!”

  His platter-sized hand slapped her sore ass so hard, tears immediately overflowed from her eyes. “Sassy, you know better. What’s that for?”

  “I just... it’ll be so... I’m going to be in trouble all the time with you and my father watching me.” And she meant it. How would she survive a vacation with the two of them? And how would Sunni factor into things?

  Daddy burst out laughing. “I think that’s hysterical. It’s not an issue if a certain grown woman — who is definitely my bad little girl — would behave. Is it that hard to follow the rules?”

  She didn’t even know how to answer that. “Well, on some days, yes. On other days, most definitely yes.” She shook her head, closing her eyes and muttering, “I’m doomed.”

  “You’ll be okay. Daddy will always take care of his Sassy. It’ll be a great vacation, you wait and see.”

  Chapter 1

  Brittney had classes at the University of Los Angeles. She was close to finishing up her third year of her teaching program. When Dylan had met her, many of her grades were below her ability, and she had been on the verge of failing an English course. He was no stranger to hard work and challenging classes though, having completed and received his Bachelor’s and Master’s in Architecture and Civil Engineering at the same college Brittney attended.

  He appreciated that her father hadn’t given her a free ride to the college of her choice, and that she had been required to work part-time while completing her education. But Brittney found the college life, and going out with friends, much more fun than doing her homework, and her grades reflected it.

  Besides handling her sassy mouth and reining it in, he worked on her grades and attendance at school. If left to her own devices, she’d miss at least one class a week. He also knew that she neglected to tell her father that she’d been put on academic warning the previous semester. Dylan understood that she didn’t want to upset her dad — he had heard that the man was pretty strict — but they had agreed that if she didn’t want Dylan calling her Dad for her, then she needed to keep bringing those grades up.

  He stared at her as she slept, her body sprawled out face down, stretched diagonally across the mattress, covers strewn to the foot of the bed, her delicious, plump ass beckoning to him. His cock stirred, and he quietly sauntered to her, whispering in her ear, “Time to get up for school, Sassy.”

  Brittney’s reaction to be woken up always surprised him, and it shouldn’t have. Brittney turned onto her side, her eyes still closed and swung a fist at him. He grabbed her by the wrist with one hand and slapped her bottom — hard — with the other. “Sassy, you do not use your fists.”

  Her eyes flew open, glazed over with foggy, half-asleep haze, and both hands cupped her now pink ass.

  “You’ll learn to curb that reaction. It’s time to get up, or you’ll be late.”

  “God, I’m so exhausted, Daddy. I didn’t go to bed until two o’clock finishing my paper.” She threw her arm over her eyes, looking as if she might drift off again.

  He grasped her elbow, tuggi
ng at her to get up. “I know what time you came to bed. Keep in mind that if you had planned better, this paper would have been done earlier in the week. Do you think it turned out well?”

  Her eyebrows furrowed. “I never know. I finished it, and I think it’ll be okay.”

  Dylan stared at her quietly for a moment, letting some uneasiness rise in her. “Well, doesn’t that sound questionable? We made an agreement with the Professor about this course. I’ll be notified at the same time as you with your grade on this paper. If it’s not at least a B, your little ass will be a lovely shade of red. Bank on it, Sassy.”

  “But, Daddy! He grades hard. Getting a B in his class is like an A in others. Can we drop it to a C?” She sat up, putting on her best pleading face.

  Dylan shook his head, although part of him wanted to relent. He knew that Professor Parks was a difficult English Lit teacher, but it just meant that she had to work harder, not look for sympathy. “Sorry, Brittney Leigh, but we agreed.” He pulled her to stand. “Off to the shower. I’ll fix your breakfast.”

  * * *

  Brittney sat in the lounge at the college, her laptop open, her cursing only barely suppressed as she frantically added and deleted passages from her paper. She had hoped Daddy would relent and take into account how difficult Professor Parks was with his grading. Although she didn’t want to admit Dylan was right — ever —if she had finished the paper a couple of days earlier, she knew she’d probably feel a lot better at that moment.

  After receiving her last D in class from Professor Parks, she’d received a harsh hand spanking from Dylan, and she’d agreed to bring a note asking the Professor to copy Dylan on all emails. It had been an incentive for quite a while, the result being that her grades were higher than normal. However, she suspected it would bottom out on this paper, and as was normal for her, she had procrastinated for so long that she found herself rushing to finish on the day it was due.

  The clock on her desktop flashed. It was time to get to class. She typed in the professor’s name to her online document to share it with him, taking a deep breath and expelling it loudly as she hit the Enter key.

  Done.

  Brittney walked into class, barely able to make eye contact with her teacher. Professor Parks was near Dylan’s age, with wavy brown hair, and pale blue eyes the color of a wolf’s, but his demeanor made him seem so much older. He never spoke in slang like younger people, but rather he always used perfect diction and grammar all the while managing to avoid being haughty about it.

  She slipped into her desk, opening her book to the appropriate page. She hadn’t read any of her homework, needing every spare minute to write the paper. She hoped and prayed that he wouldn’t call on her with questions.

  Professor came around his desk, leaning against the front and crossing his arms casually, waiting until everyone sat down and quieted. “I just checked Google Docs, and it appears that a few of you submitted right before class. I hope that means you finished days ago and you were rereading it rather than waiting until the last minute to complete the assignment.” He raised an eyebrow right at Sassy. She immediately picked up her pen, doodling a box on her paper, the shape symbolizing how his gaze made her feel at that moment. Boxed in.

  “Everyone open up to the reading we had last night — Chapter Thirty-Four of Wuthering Heights.” He flipped open his book, walking between the aisles. “Catherine, can you please read it aloud?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Once her classmate had completed her passage, Professor Marks stopped next to Brittney. “Ms. Johnson, explain why Nelly would ask if Heathcliff had become a ghoul or a vampire?”

  Shit!

  “Uhm...” Brittney quickly wracked her brain for a response; any response, the ticking of the clock suddenly loud in the silent room. “She’s wondering if he’s sick because he’s pale like one of those.” She bit her lip, hoping it was the right answer.

  He took his glasses off, putting the bow in his mouth, narrowing his gaze at her. “You didn’t read this, did you, Brittney?”

  “Well, of course—”

  “I know that Catherine just read it to the class, so you’ve heard it. But you apparently didn’t take the time to read it and analyze it as you should have. I want to see you after class.” He continued walking. “Amelia, can you answer the question?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Brittney glared at Amelia — always the perfect student. “Heathcliff had professed that Heaven was near, and Nelly said he stared out the window like a ‘goblin.’ Her superstition is speaking when she realizes that he has only one name, and no one knows where he came from — like a vampire or ghoul.”

  “Good job, Amelia.” He spun on his heel. “And that, Ms. Johnson, is the answer a prepared student gives.”

  And someone who likes to kiss asses all day. Why is he still looking at me?

  “Yes, Sir.” He expected a response for every statement and question he directed at a student.

  As soon as class ended, Brittney thought perhaps she could simply slip out unnoticed.

  “Ms. Johnson, you were requested to see me after class, were you not?”

  Caught.

  She pivoted in the doorway and walked up to his desk. He sat on his left hip on the edge of the desk. “So what happened with your homework last night? Tell me what you did.”

  “I spent all afternoon and evening writing my paper. I didn’t even finish until two o’clock in the morning.” She felt her anger rising, her voice growing shrill.

  “Sir.”

  “I didn’t finish until two o’clock in the morning, Sir.”

  His jaw clenched, and he stood, closing the gap between them. “That means you delayed completing a project you were given for... about a month. If you had worked on it weekly, it would have been completed easily. So, was I correct in assuming that you didn’t read Wuthering Heights at all last night?”

  She stared at his tie and tie clip, which were eye level for her, his height dwarfing and intimidating her. “Yes, Sir, you were correct.”

  He stood, and she peeked up at him finding his blue eyes staring at her.

  “Does Dylan know that you finished at two o’clock?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Does he know that you procrastinated for a month? And that you didn’t do your homework for class?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

  “No, Sir.” Sassy just knew where this would be going.

  “Well, he will know. So, if I were you, I’d make sure you let him know before the e-mail alerting him arrives. And before your grade for your paper arrives on Sunday.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  God, she didn’t want to tell Dylan. He’d find out through the e-mail. That way, she’d only get spanked once. There was always a chance that she’d tell him and get paddled immediately — and then get punished all over again when the e-mail came. She was not going to take a chance like that.

  “I’ve seen this a thousand times, Ms. Johnson. I know exactly what you’re thinking. It will not work in your favor to wait for the e-mail. You might want to tell him as soon as you get home and hope such an action may gain you some support.” The corner of his mouth curved into a smile. “Trust me on this. Confession is always best.”

  Smart man, but his common sense must be addled.

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  Chapter 2

  Maddox sat behind his desk, shaking his head at the plight of submissives. He had no doubt that Brittney and Dylan were in a Dominant/submissive relationship, but more than that, he suspected that they had the same sort of Daddy/little girl relationship as he had with his own submissive. And no matter how much those special sorts of women knew they should confess and not hide any misbehavior from their Daddies, they always seemed to end up hiding something, hoping to avoid any retribution.

  He had been a dominant to his little sub for over four years now, and no matter what Elizabeth did — Libby when she was his little girl — she struggled with obedience and submission.
There was always the glimmer of hope that Daddy wouldn’t find out, that he’d never guess or have to be told.

  Daddies always found out.

  And more often than not, it was the evasive and delinquent behavior of their little girl that first alerted them to possible deception.

  Maddox had been twenty-six when he’d met Libby Langdon, who at that time was forty-one years old. She’d been a student in his classroom. They had immediately butted heads — her behavior not unlike Brittney’s — his Libby proving to be unorganized, a procrastinator extraordinaire. But it wasn’t until the quarter had ended — and with it her participation in his class — that he’d contacted her to see if she’d be interested in going out for drinks.

  Elizabeth had been divorced for almost two years and had teenaged children that were nearing the end of high school, getting ready to enter college themselves. Her self-esteem had plummeted in the wake of a brutal divorce, ground down by the lack of social life or someone to boost her mood and confidence daily.

  She had a mid-level management position in Human Resources, and had been able to care for herself and the kids. Elizabeth had been independent and successful, respected by her peers, but lacked a relationship, a person to love. When they’d first met, she hadn’t believed that someone fifteen years her junior would be interested in her. That self-doubt had never really changed, either. Libby anticipated a farewell note and abandonment almost weekly. Maddox stroked her ego daily, and her self-image had improved dramatically. Once they started dating, she transferred her credits to UCLA and received her Bachelor’s Degree in creative writing.

  Now, he was thirty, and Libby had just turned forty-five years old, and he couldn’t imagine being any happier with anyone. He’d never been someone attracted to women his age. Young women lacked the wisdom and life experience that he liked in a female. Conversations were deeper and more meaningful with a seasoned lady. When given the choice, he’d choose the woman with a little gray at the temples or laugh lines on her face versus the bouncy trouncy twenty-one-year-old whose only goal in life seemed to be seeing how many Jager bombs she could drink in one night before vomiting.