Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

"Please don't be mad," Chloe said as he opened her car door, physically putting her into the front seat before leaning in, grabbing her seatbelt, and buckling it across her lap.

"Move from this spot," he warned, "and I'll dust your britches right here and now."

He shut the door, and if it was a little harder than he intended, at least it should be telling her how much trouble she was already in.

Walking around the back of his vehicle, he slid in behind the steering wheel, dropped the fob into the console between their seats, and pressed the start button. Beside him, Chloe was working her fingers, pulling and wringing at each individually.

"Are you mad?" she asked again, her small voice shaking.

Pulling out of the parking space, he joined the sparse traffic and headed back out of town. "What do you think?" he finally replied once St. Abbs was in the rearview mirror.

"But, nothing bad happened," she protested.

"I only had a handful of rules, all of them designed with your safety in mind," he immediately countered.

"I lost track of time! I was trying to hurry!"

"Neither excuse being good enough to warrant the breaking of my rules. Did I or did I nae just see you nearly plastered over the hood of that car back there?"

Her shoulders slumped, her tummy twisting so hard she felt sick in the pit of it. "But nothing happened," she repeated, in an even smaller voice than before.

Neither his tone nor his expression softened. "Did you look? Did you look even once before running across the road? No, you did nae!" he snapped, answering his own question before she had a chance to. "And the bicyclists, did you look then?"

Oh. He'd seen that, had he?

"No!" he snapped. "No, you did nae, and that's twice you disobeyed me. Within minutes of leaving my sight, you broke my rules and put yourself at risk. What else? What else did you do when you thought I was nae watching? Answer me carefully, little girl. It's nae often I ask a question I dinnae already know the answer to."

Every nerve was standing on end in a dreadful, sexual anticipation she had no idea how to combat. She didn't need to think about it. She knew exactly what he was referring to, and that sinking sense that she was about to dig herself even deeper into trouble nearly broke her. If he already knew, he knew. She wasn't a liar either. It never even occurred to her that was an option.

Flopping her hands in her lap, she fought back the tears his censuring tone were already dragging up out of her. "But I had to! I didn't want to spend all my money in the craft store. I didn't know if I had enough!"

He immediately pulled the car over onto the non-existent side of the road. They ended up on the grass, the car tilted halfway into the ditch before it was safely out of the street. Jerking out of his seatbelt, he shoved the door open and got out. She froze where she was, her stomach falling all the way to her toes as he came around the front of the car. His hands were on his belt, unfastening the buckle and in a single jerk, whipped off that length of leather and doubled it over in his fist.

"No, Daddy!" she begged when he opened her door. "Please, don't spank me! Not here! Please, please, please!"

She didn't want to be spanked at home, either. But here, in the middle of the road? She covered her face, wanting to cry. Once with that implement had been more than enough already!

Just not enough to follow his rules , her brain whispered.

If only she could go back in time. She would change everything.

"Look at me," Hamish ordered.

She didn't want to. She didn't want to see the look he must surely be giving her. And yet, he'd given a command and it just wasn't in her to disobey. So she lowered her hands. He wasn't happy, but beneath the grim express pulling at the corners of his mouth she thought she glimpsed sympathy flash through his green eyes… right before he held out his folded belt for her to take.

She held herself as if it were a snake, coiled and ready to bite her. Her bottom crawled. She couldn't imagine any snake's bite being worse than Daddy's belt. He held it patiently, waiting for her to take it, his frown deepening it seemed with every reluctant second that passed.

Holding her breath, she took the belt, her hands fighting hard not to drop the folded length. She might not know Hamish as well as someone in Daddy/Little girl relationship should, but she knew better than to disobey. Or maybe it was the Little inside her, having finally obtained a Daddy–albeit a temporary one–for the first time in her life. To be honest, as much as she feared what was coming, she wanted to be good for someone. Anyone. Especially Daddy Hamish.

"You're going to hold onto that for me," he told her sternly. "When we get home, I'm going to whip your bahootie raw. I want you to think about that until then. Understand?"

She nodded, her throat too tight to speak.

He was ruthless. "Use your words, my pretty, wee bairn."

Closing her eyes briefly, she nodded again. "Y-yes, Daddy. I understand." She peeked up at his face. "And I'm sorry."

"Sorry you got caught?" he challenged. "Sorry you're going to get a well-deserved skelping?"

Well… yes. But it was more than that.

"I'm sorry I made you mad at me." Her shoulders slumped, the belt making her fingers tremble. "I was trying to hurry, but I know that's no excuse."

"For risking your safety, no, it's not. It feels like you waited for my back to turn and then broke every rule I gave you just as soon as you thought I wasn't looking. I'm not happy, Chloe."

His use of her name instead of one of his endearments made her sink in her seat. "I'm sorry," she whispered again.

He waited, but when she said nothing further, neither did he. He shut the door instead and back around the front of the car he went. Slipping in behind the steering wheel, he started the car and off they went.

The rest of the trip back to her home away from home was made in the heaviest silence she'd ever experienced. She was almost glad to finally get there, just so they were that much closer to getting her correction over and done with. That lasted only until Hamish parked and got out to open her door for her.

Offering his hand, he waited silently for her to take it and then he walked her inside. His first command made her blanch. "Strip and find a corner. Nose to the wall and hands on your head."

Uncertainty rising, she tried to hand him back his belt, but he made no move to take it.

"You'll be holding onto that until I'm ready to whip you with it. Go on now. I expect your absolute obedience and for you to take your punishment like the good lass I know you want to be."

She did too, but that didn't make this any less scary.

Blushing furiously, she made her way to the corner of the dining area, squeezing between her chair and the window to put herself in the corner beside an antique cupboard that held the kitchen dishes. Slowly, never putting the belt down once, she removed her sundress, folded and set it on a nearby chair. Folding her hands atop her head, the two halves of his belt hung like the oversized ribbons of a hair bow. Head bowed, she shifted her weight as she stared at the wall.

Within the first five minutes, she realized how nefarious the corner part of her punishment was. She hated it. It was boring counting the knotholes in the pale wood wall panels. She couldn't even look out the window to help pass the time. Not without turning sideways and making it obvious. Before the first five minutes had passed, she was ready to move on. She didn't even care that "moving on" only brought her closer to her comeuppance with the belt. At least she'd be out of the corner for that.

"Come here, Chloe," Hamish finally said, and just like that she was out of time and desperately wishing she could stand here a while longer. Anything to delay what was coming next.

Reluctantly, she turned from the wall and went to where he was sitting, at the head of the table in the same chair he'd spanked her in last night. As she neared, however, he stood up, grabbing the back of his seat and moving it out into the middle of the cabin. He set it down, the carved bars of the backrest pointing toward her.

"Bend over the back and grip the seat," he told her. "Don't let go until I tell you to stand or you'll find yourself right back in the corner, and we'll start all the way over again."

Sniffling, worrying at the belt in her hands, she approached him and slowly bent herself over the back of the chair. The top of the chair nestled against her pelvic bones, a harsh reminder of what position she was in and why.

"Have you anything left you want to say before we get started?" he asked.

Her whole body shuddered. She had a ton of things she wanted to say, most running along the lines of, "Please, please don't spank me," and "I'm so sorry, Daddy," and "I won't ever be bad again, I promise!" None of which was likely to save her, and which might actually make him spank her harder and longer than what she already had coming. All she kept thinking was what he'd said when they'd stopped on the side of the road. About her seeming to wait until she thought he wasn't looking before breaking every rule he'd just given her.

Was that true?

Yes, she realized with a start. That was almost exactly what she'd done. She'd ignored his rules, doing what she thought was best in each moment instead of minding as she'd been told. Had Daddy been wrong? Did that even matter? No, because he was Daddy and it was his job to make sure she was safe. A self-imposed job, to be sure, but that really didn't matter either. This–whatever this was–had blossomed so organically between them that he could spank her without a single discussion or negotiation for what rules governed their play and she wouldn't even try to stop him.

Not that this felt like play. This felt like anything but.

And yet, did she object to the way he'd usurped control over her without so much as a single conversation on what kind of Little she was, or what kind of Daddy he liked to be. They hadn't really talked about anything. It just… was, and she hoped it always would be.

"Belt," he said, his open and waiting hand popping into her field of vision.

Already?

Trembling, she handed it back to him, her bottom and thighs both clenching, even as that wayward tickle of liquid wanting flooded through the folds of her pussy. She had no idea why she was growing aroused, especially when she already knew she wouldn't be once the pain began chewing into her.

Th-whack!

And so it began, and right from the start she felt his disappointment in the hot flash of pain that lashed her quivering buttocks. Once, twice, thrice, Daddy struck in a rapid succession that quickly dissolved her strength of will. She shouted, one foot kicking up high as if that might protect her from more. She quickly dropped her foot back to the floor, but not before he leveled a devastating swipe right across the top of her thighs.

There was no warm-up. He thrashed her bottom and thighs just as if this was what he'd declared it to be… punishment. And it was more than she could stand. She bounced and kicked, waggling her bottom from side-to-side as her toes scrabbled the wooden floorboards.

She threw back her head, bursting into desperate tears, and suddenly, just as fast as it started, it was over. She bawled, even as his hand grazed her shoulder, taking firm hold of her bicep before drawing her upward. Just like with the spanking, he said not a word as he pulled her up to sit on his lap and folded her into his strong embrace. His cheek resting on top of her head, he rocked her, letting his shirt soak in all the tears that poured from her.

She wanted to hold her bottom, soothe away the bonfire-like blaze, but she didn't dare. Because her punishment wasn't over yet. She still had the anal part of it left to go.

She covered her face with both hands, burying herself into his chest, and just bawled.

Stroking her back and hair, he placed a soft kiss upon the top of her head. "Back to the corner," he directed, giving her a gentle push.

Dejected, she went.