His Sassy Girl (Desiring the Forbidden Book 2)

by Michaels, Megan

  He pulled up Brittney’s paper from the internet, and he could tell just from the first page that it was not up to her standards.

  It looked like someone else would be spanked by their Daddy tomorrow too.

  Chapter 3

  Dylan climbed the steps into the contractor’s trailer at the work site where his team was reconstructing an old Mill Road Bridge. He grabbed a cup, putting it in the Keurig machine, popping in a pod of coffee, the satisfying popping sound as the machine broke through the foil top, the pump pulling water into the receptacle. As the hot coffee streamed into the cup, the smell of Arabica bean filling the air, he wondered once again how people lived without drinking coffee. Dylan took his coffee black and strong, no muss, no fuss. He opened his laptop on his desk, checking his e-mail first.

  From: Dr. Maddox Parks.

  Re: Brittney’s Grades.

  To: Brittney Johnson and Dylan Griffin.

  I’m very disappointed in Brittney’s paper. She was given the syllabus for this paper a month ago, and was informed — as were as all class members — that I would be available through e-mail, after class, and by appointment to ask questions and receive guidance along the way. At no time did Brittney come to me with any concerns or questions. However, it is clear by reading her paper that she didn’t understand fully what was required, or the depth one should go into when comparing the two literary works.

  Her grade for this document is a C, and in my honest opinion, I could have made it lower. If either of you would like to discuss this further, feel free to contact me today after eleven in the morning, or before two o’clock. (406) 555-2437. I’m sorry that there is no way for her to raise this grade. After a month given for preparation, there is just no excuse.

  Dr. Maddox Parks

  Dylan sat back in his chair. He really couldn’t say he was surprised. He expected such an e-mail after watching her frantically working on her paper until the wee hours of the morning. They had spent so many days and hours working on her procrastination. He knew that she tried — once she sat her butt in a chair and put forth some effort into it, that is. It was getting her to focus that was the problem. He had no doubt that she suffered from some attention deficit issues, and had even encouraged her to drink a cappuccino before class or homework, knowing the stimulant would have the opposite effect and actually calm her down. It wasn’t uncommon for him to find her sound asleep after a huge coffee. It relaxed and settled her body and mind.

  The trouble was, he had asked her over and over how things were going with the project. Having read the syllabus, he knew what was required and would’ve been more than willing to assist. But her damned stubbornness and pride kept her from asking.

  Another issue.

  He looked at his phone. Eleven-thirty. He had more than enough time to call Dr. Parks. He stood up, opening the door to the trailer. “Bob, I need to make a phone call. You got this for a bit?”

  “Sure, boss. Do what you’ve got to do.”

  Fortunately, his assistant was more than capable of handling the job and the employees.

  “Thanks.” He shut the door, walking back to his desk, dialing the professor’s phone number.

  “Dr. Parks.” Maddox’s voice was deep, distinctive, not one he would have placed as being that of a younger man.

  “Hi, Dr. Parks, this is Dylan. Dylan Griffin, Brittney Johnson’s Da — boyfriend.”

  “Hi, Dylan. Please call me Maddox. We’ve talked enough that formalities aren’t necessary.” Maddox cleared his throat. “I’m assuming that you received my e-mail this morning about Brittney’s grades?”

  “Yes. I wish I could say it came as a shock, but I’d be lying. She stayed up until two in the morning the day it was due, which was my first clue that she wasn’t prepared.” Dylan sighed loudly into the phone.

  “I know. I hate to add to your concerns, but she didn’t even seem to understand the basics of the assignment, and as I said in the e-mail, I’ve been available every day. Many other students sought me out for assistance. Her comparison of the two works was... well, let’s just say it was subpar at a minimum.”

  Dylan felt embarrassed and responsible for her failure. As her Dom and her Daddy, he wanted to see her grow and thrive under his guidance and care, and even though he knew that his support would be instrumental in her excelling in college, he also knew that he could only do so much. Brittney had to be responsible for her shortcomings, and being ill-prepared had nothing to do with his management of her.

  Then why do you feel so guilty?

  “We’ve discussed this time and time again. She starts out with good intentions, and then she falls at the first gate. But trust me, we’ll be talking about it again. How is she doing otherwise in the class?”

  Maddox paused, taking a deep breath. “The class has been reading Wuthering Heights now for a couple of weeks, and they were to read a chapter last night. I called on Brittney today to explain a line of the chapter, and her response was something that a child would have given. She apparently didn’t read the assignment at all.”

  Dylan leaned his head back onto the headrest of the chair, closing his eyes. It was going to be a long evening at his house tonight.

  “I can’t fix this grade. There is no excuse when everyone had so much time to complete it. However, if she contacts me herself, I’ll give her an assignment she can complete for extra credit that may bring her grade up for the semester.”

  Oh, she’d contact him all right. There wouldn’t be a choice about it — and she’d be doing it with a very sore bottom too. “I have no doubt that she’ll be contacting you about the extra assignment. Thank you, Maddox. I know you didn’t have to do that. I appreciate it.”

  Maddox had a pen that he was clicking open and closed, the sound coming through the phone. “Dylan, I may be overstepping boundaries here... but is Brittney your little?”

  Dylan wasn’t even sure how to respond. “How did you guess?”

  “Well, I’ve suspected since our first meeting, and then today you started to refer to yourself as Daddy. Before you become embarrassed, I have a similar relationship with my girlfriend too, so I’m probably more perceptive when it comes to this... dynamic.”

  “I didn’t think you’d notice the slip-up.”

  “As I said, I probably wouldn’t have noticed if I wasn’t already suspecting. Having lived the lifestyle for a few years, I’m aware of how it looks. Do you two have any other friends who live in the lifestyle?”

  Dylan hesitated to answer, feeling uncomfortable with a stranger there. “No, we don’t.”

  “You can feel very isolated if you don’t have others to talk to. It’s nice to have someone to discuss things with.”

  Dylan chuckled. “Yeah, tell me about it. It would be a great thing to have. How long have you been a Daddy?”

  “I’ve been in a relationship with Libby for four years now. That first year was great, but it had its low points too. That’s when a friend of mine helped me find a community that lives just as we do.”

  Dylan couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. “Community? Where the hell is there a community?”

  “Have you ever heard of or been to the Playpen? It’s a club for Daddies and their Littles. It’s located out on Main and Liberty Way. You may want to check it out. It’s a way to network with others and play in a safe environment. It was eye-opening to find a supportive environment to learn and network in, and I think you’ll feel the same.”

  Dylan was relieved that he wasn’t alone in such a dynamic. He knew from the internet that there were many people out there, but the possibility of talking to other men in real life, and getting their input, would be a huge relief. “I think we may like something like this.”

  “Great. I’ll send you the Playpen’s address and my cell phone number, so you can call us when you’re ready. We’ll meet you there and escort you so you don’t feel alone.”

  “And, Dylan? Don’t be too hard on her. She’s improved dramatically since the b
eginning of the semester, even though she slipped up this time.”

  He laughed. “Professor, would you be lenient if this was your little girl?”

  Professor Maddox sighed. “No, I guess not, but I’m just commenting as an outsider. You know what to do with your girl.”

  “That I do. I hope to see you sometime soon at the Playpen. Thank you for writing.”

  “I hope to see you soon also.”

  Chapter 4

  Brittney flopped into a chair in the lounge, opening her laptop to check Facebook and her e-mail.

  Oh, fuck! Dr. Parks sent an e-mail.

  She read it, her heart galloping in her chest. He’d given her a C! She knew it wasn’t up to even her standards, but that grade definitely wouldn’t be acceptable to Daddy. Lying to him that it was her best effort wasn’t the smartest thing she’d done lately. It wasn’t her best work— at all, and she knew it.

  The semester had started well. She kept up with assignments and had started getting ahead, planning for her next one. Then a couple of weekends of backing off, and she started to fall behind. She knew she should have told Daddy, asked for help. But wanting to avoid punishment or a lecture had kept her from telling him she felt things were spiraling out of control. Now, looking back, it would have been easier to take the speech. Dylan would’ve sat down, assisting her with getting back on track.

  Failing wasn’t an option for this class. The thought of having Dr. Parks again frightened her. Too strict. Too stern. She had enough of that at home. She didn’t need it at school too.

  Brittney looked at the time, closed the lid on her laptop and walked briskly down the halls. She knocked on the oak door, peeking through the window. Dr. Parks, sitting behind his desk, crooked his finger at her, rising as she entered the room.

  “Ms. Johnson, I didn’t expect to see you so soon. I’m assuming you’ve read the email?” He motioned for her to sit in a chair next to his desk.

  “Yes, I saw it.” She sat down, clearing her throat. “I know it wasn’t a great paper, but I thought I’d do better than a C.”

  His eyes narrowed, as he took his glasses off. “Brittney, you didn’t meet most of the parameters of the paper. I did you a favor giving you the grade I did. Have you talked to your... boyfriend?”

  “No, Sir.” She stared at her hands clasped in her lap. “I’m waiting until I get home.”

  “I talked to him not long ago. He’s very disappointed.”

  “I’m sure.” Her neck and face flushed hot with shame. The disappointment she knew Dylan felt would be transferred into her punishment later; she had no doubt. “I’m wondering if I’d be able to get an extra credit assignment, or something to help bring my grade up? I know we don’t have much time before the semester ends, but I’m willing to work hard on it.”

  “Good girl. I’m proud of you. You came on your own asking for an assignment. I had told your boyfriend that I’d give you an extra credit assignment — if you asked.” He rifled through the papers on his desk, pulling out a folder. “I have it right here. Take a look at it, and after class tomorrow we’ll discuss it to be sure you understand what’s required.”

  Brittney gave the paper a cursory glance before putting it in her book bag. “Thank you, Sir. I’ll look at it tonight.” She rose, reaching out to shake his hand as he stood.

  “I hope your evening goes better than you anticipate. I have a similar relationship with my girlfriend that you and Dylan have. I’m hoping when the semester ends in a couple of weeks we can all meet.”

  She paused at the door, looking back at him, trying to judge by his facial expression what he meant. “Meet? Like, go out together?”

  Dr. Parks burst out laughing; his head tossed back. “Yes, little girl, like going out. I know how to have fun too, you know. And if you behave yourself, you may get to see a little more of me.”

  Dear God, say it ain’t so.

  “Oh... sure. That’d be very nice.”

  * * *

  It had been hard to focus for the rest of the day; Brittney constantly mulling over Dylan’s disappointment in her. He’d invested so much time into education and changing some of the flaws in her personality — fighting, mouthiness, and procrastination, chief among them — and she wondered once again if he’d decide that this was the time to leave her. She couldn’t imagine not having Dylan, not having her Daddy.

  The first time Dylan spanked her it had opened the doors wide open for them to start a Daddy/little girl relationship. It worked for them. He craved the nurturing and authority involved, and she liked feeling cared for and protected.

  She pulled into her parking spot, but rather than get out, she simply sat there, staring at their apartment, not wanting to get out of the car. Her belly knotted with trepidation. She knew she deserved what was coming, had almost gone out of her way to receive such a punishment, but now that it was time for her comeuppance, she felt almost paralyzed with dread.

  She contemplated what he’d use on her bottom, which was tingling with anticipation. She started picking at the skin around her nails and biting them. It was a nervous habit that she’d never outgrown. Then it occurred to Brittney that Dylan may call her father this time. He’d left that threat looming over her head on many occasions. Well, she’d find out soon enough. Her father would be calling soon if Dylan actually went through with it.

  Pulling out her phone, she scrolled through to make sure she hadn’t missed any new calls, texts, or e-mails. Everything checked, she found nothing new from Dylan, or her father. A loud rap on the window next to her head startled her, and she yelped, the sound echoing off the car’s windows.

  Daddy.

  He stood next to the car, hands on his hips. “You getting out of the car today, Sassy?”

  She lowered the window only a fraction, shouting. “I’m not sure. Maybe not.”

  “Sassy.” He dragged her name out. “It’s time to come in. If you need some incentive, I can start counting extra swats for every fifteen seconds. Is that necessary?”

  Shit!

  She took a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in her chest. She pulled on the handle, stepping out of the vehicle, her book bag and purse slung over her shoulder. Standing there, she felt tiny next to her Daddy. “I’m sorry.”

  He pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her. “I know, Sassy. We’ll talk about it and get it taken care of.”

  With his arm still around her, he walked her into the house, taking her coat off as the door closed behind them.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” She knew her lips formed a pout. “There’s nothing to say.”

  His eyebrows knitted. “Oh, we have a lot to discuss.”

  God, she hated when it he got gruff like that. Stomping her foot, she crossed her arms over her chest. “I just won’t talk then.”

  “That’ll be the day. You always have something to say.” He snatched her elbow, turning her sideways, yanking her yoga pants down. “Like now! You. Do. Not. Tell me what you will — and will not — discuss.”

  She danced up on her tiptoes, unable to protect her bottom with his arm wrapped around her waist. “Oh, oh!”

  He twirled her to face him again, her pants slowly sliding down her legs. “Now, put your pajamas on and come back here so we can have our discussion. If you’re not back in ten minutes, you’ll get a spanking wherever I find you. Understood?”

  Gazing at him through her welling tears, she nodded. “Yes, Daddy. I understand.” She shuffled down the hallway to their room, hobbled by her pants and panties at her ankles, fighting the urge to rub her bottom.

  Once in the privacy of the bedroom, Brittney briskly rubbed her buttocks with both hands, easing some of the stinging. She wasn’t off to a good start at all; she needed to keep her mouth shut as much as possible from here on out. She couldn’t remember a punishment that she hadn’t worsened with her sassiness.

  * * *

  She still remembered the first spanking he’d ever given her, the one th
at resulted in her nickname of Sassy. The one that made it clear Dylan would be her Daddy.

  “Brittney, imagine my surprise when I walked into the coffee shop today. Abby informed me that you had started shoving her, and that the manager had to intervene before you beat her up. Are you always this volatile?” Dylan had stood with his hands on his hips, staring down at her while she shrunk further into the couch, wishing it would swallow her up.

  “Not always. But, she gave me the wrong coffee, and I don’t think responding nicely is required when you’re a fuck-up — and she’s obviously a fuck-up.”

  “Stand.” He pointed to the floor in front of him.

  It was like he thought she was some damn dog. “I’m sorry. The last time I looked, I’m not named Fido and don’t have a collar. I don’t answer or respond to commands. Trust me on that.” While still sitting, she threw her left leg up, so her ankle was on her right knee, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “You obviously need to answer to someone, and adding a leash and collar to your attire might do you some good. I’ll have to try it someday. But, for now, as the person who has decided that you’re answering to him tonight, I want you to stand up. Now.”

  He had readjusted his stance, unbuckling his belt, quickly pulling it through the loops of his jeans, the sound of the leather slapping making her clench her bottom. “And before you decide to be the stubborn bad girl I can see you are, I rarely repeat commands — and I never repeat them for a third time without consequences.”

  And she’d had no doubt in her mind that the statement was true, his jaw clenched, his brown eyes sparking. She quickly stood up. “Fine. Don’t get your panties in a knot.”