Chapter 13

I woke in an awkward position,my body and head aching. As I shifted, I felt Lennon's body beneath mine, and the scene from this morning came crashing into my mind. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block it out, but it was no use. It had happened, and it had apparently happened exactly how he'd wanted it to. His words of reassurance and praise permeated my thoughts and I relaxed against him again.

"Did you have a nice little nap?" he asked.

"Yes, Daddy."

"Good. Now we need to get up and have some water because I think you cried enough to dehydrate yourself."

I giggled. "I don't think that's really possible."

"Maybe not, but I'd rather not risk it." He stood with me in his arms and took me to the kitchen.

"I can walk, you know?" I half-heartedly argued, but I didn't actually want him to put me down. It felt good in his arms. Too good.

Lennon shifted, and before I knew what was happening my sore ass was hitting the ice-cold countertop. Squealing, I tried to leap off the counter, but he caught me and plopped me back in place harder than before.

"Ow!" I hissed in pain.

"What's wrong, naughty girl? Sore?"

"You know I am." I pouted. "You didn't have to be so mean."

"Yes, I absolutely did, and I'm not even sorry. Here, drink." He held up a glass of water and I took it, draining it without a second thought.

"I guess I was thirsty. Can you hand me some aspirin, please?" I pointed to the cabinet in my kitchen where I kept a couple of medicines and vitamins.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, but I have a headache. Probably from crying."

He gave a nod and retrieved the requested medicine, taking a couple out and offering them to me with a refilled glass of water.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. How bad is the headache?"

"Not too bad. The aspirin will knock it out shortly."

"Good, because we still have things to accomplish today."

"More lessons?" I couldn't help the whine in my voice. I'd already been caned and paddled, and everything was throbbing. I didn't think my backside could take much more.

"Nothing new, more of a continuation."

"More spanking?" I whimpered.

"No. Unless you are a naughty girl, then I make no promises. But no more spankings are in my immediate plans."

"Thank goodness. Then what are we going to do?"

"You, my dear, are going to sit and paint for an hour like I told you before. You owe me some time and I'm ready to collect."

I vaguely remembered him saying he was going to make me do that, but it really was hard to listen and comprehend when I was getting my ass pummeled. I didn't want to paint. Well, okay, I really wanted to paint, but I couldn't. I could feel the panic bubbling in my chest. Apparently, Lennon noticed it.

"Hey, Daddy is here and this is not a stressful thing. You do not need to paint the next Mona Lisa. It's just paint on a canvas. And I'll be right there the whole time, okay?"

"Okay." I nodded, hating how pathetic I sounded. It really was just paint on a canvas, so why was it so scary and hard?

Helping me off the counter, Lennon led me to the dining room, where the craft items had been sitting since he bought them, along with the new paint he'd ordered to replace the bottles we'd wasted during our paint fight.

"Pick your poison, little Picasso." He started moving bags and items from the pile in the corner of the room to the table. "You can do anything you want, as long as that includes putting paint onto a surface."

I watched him unpack everything, the anxiety building in my chest. My aversion to painting was really starting to get old, and I was tired of it, but even after that wicked spanking I was still dreading picking up a paintbrush. I was going to do it anyway, but it was making me nervous. That is, until I spotted the paint-by-numbers set he had picked out. I could fulfill my obligation to the rule without having to stress about it in any way. It was a win-win.

Reaching across the table, I picked up the set and gave him a questioning look.

"Paint on a surface with your sore bottom in a chair for one hour. Those are the only stipulations."

"But I usually paint standing up," I pushed.

"Too bad. Today you sit. Behave and maybe you can stand tomorrow."

And if I don't behave?

I kept the thought in my head for self-preservation's sake, but the skin of my bottom tingled in response. I knew the answer.

The determined look on his face was enough to tell me that he wasn't in the mood to play games, so instead of pushing my luck I sighed. "Yes, Daddy."

"Good girl."

"What are you going to do for an hour while I do this?"

"I'll entertain myself, don't worry about me."

He opened the set, unwrapping the shrink wrap and laying it all on the table while I filled a cup with some water and grabbed a few napkins. I didn't want to use multiple brushes for something so simple, and I certainly didn't want to break into the expensive brush set he'd gotten for me in order to complete a child's art project. Another thought I decided to keep to myself. Unfortunately, when I returned, he already had the good brushes open and laying on the table.

Pulling out the chair, he gestured for me to sit.

"You're sure I can't stand?"

"Positive. Consider this part of your punishment."

Unable to argue with that, I lowered myself gently into the chair, knowing it was going to be uncomfortable with the paddling I'd received. I couldn't remember Archer ever spanking me that hard when I'd been his client.

My bottom ached as I shifted, trying to find a comfortable position.

"Your timer starts once I see paint hit that paper," he informed me, looking down at his watch.

"Yes, Daddy." I sighed, ignoring the pain for now and getting to work so he could start the damn timer. Sitting for an hour was going to suck enough without that time being prolonged for any reason. Picking up the brush, I forced the negative feelings to the back of my mind and just started with number one.

It was tough at first; my artistic mind warred with my perfectionist side as I tried to stay inside the allotted lines perfectly, but at least I didn't have to think about anything besides that. Number one paint went in all the spots that had a one in them. I didn't have to make any choices or even think at all, really. It was mind-numbing, and honestly could not have been more perfect. Just the act of holding the brush in my hand, dipping it in the paint, the feeling of it brushing against the paper. All of it felt good. Felt right.

Before I knew it, I was halfway through the project when Lennon's watch beeped.

"That's one hour," he said from somewhere behind me.

"Really? Already?" I asked, making no move to stand or even set the brush down.

"Yes, already."

I finished the spot I'd been working on and turned to find him with his back to me.

"Are you painting on my wall?" I pushed the chair out and stood, my body stiff from being in the same position for an hour.

"I am. The splatter in this section inspired me," he explained, as if it was a perfectly normal practice to start painting on someone's dining room walls without consulting them first.

When I stepped up to see what he had done, though, I couldn't find a modicum of frustration for the liberties he'd taken. Somehow Lennon had managed to turn some random colorful paint splatter into a stunning, eye-catching image of a horse. Well, the head of a horse, at least. Most of what he'd painted so far was scenery, sky, and a field with a giant willow tree. The horse was off in the background, but somehow still the focal point.

"Horses are known for strength and resilience. They're strong and noble and beautiful. They remind me of a certain woman I'm becoming quite fond of."

Tears burned the backs of my eyes as he explained himself.

"Maybe I was less inspired by the paint splatters and more inspired by you," he confessed, finally taking his focus off painting and turning his attention in my direction.

"That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."

He didn't say anything else, just smiled as he turned to see what I'd accomplished. It was a little embarrassing that I'd spent all that time on something so juvenile and he'd begun an entire mural in the same amount of time. But that was my own thinking. The smile that crossed Lennon's face told me he didn't feel that way.

"I like this," he praised. "When it's finished, I want to frame it and hang it in my office."

"What? That's ridiculous. No way are you doing that!"

"Are you telling Daddy ‘no', naughty girl?" I unconsciously took a step backward.

"I… it"s just…. it"s a silly little art project. It's not worthy of being on a wall for anyone to see."

My bravado began to slip further as he set the canvas back on the table and turned to face me fully. My mouth went dry and my stomach clenched when he crossed his arms over his chest and raised a brow at me.

"Are you telling me what I should think is worthy of space on my walls? Are you the be-all and end-all on what is worthy and what isn't?"

"Of course I'm not, but…" I waved my hand toward the table, not really knowing what else to say.

Lennon clicked his tongue and shook his head. "I think it might be time for lesson number three." He held out his hand to me.

My pulse began to race as I remembered the results of lessons one and two. "I don't want another spanking," I whimpered, shaking my head.

"I"m not planning to spank you again today unless you force my hand and don't obey. There are other ways to teach a stubborn girl her lessons."

That felt really ominous, and I suddenly wished more spankings were on the table.

"How many lessons are there?" I asked with [caution and skepticism] laced in my tone.

"As many as there need to be."

"Does that mean you're making this up as we go?"

"I'm pivoting and adjusting as I see fit. No more questioning my methods."

I sighed heavily as he went back to the blackboard. Crossing my arms over my chest, I watched as he wrote ‘Lesson Three: Daddy Knows Best'.

I barely refrained from the eyeroll that was begging to be set free as he turned a cheeky smile at me. A smile I got lost in. A smile I was quickly falling in love with. My heart rate picked up as he closed the distance between us.

"Any questions about this one?"

"I…" I swallowed past the lump that had formed in my throat. "I think it's pretty self-explanatory."

"You sure?" He hooked a finger under my chin and captured my gaze with his own.

"I think so."

"Good girl." He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on my lips. "But just so I'm sure, I think you should wear a butt plug for the rest of the day."

"Ugh." I let my forehead fall against his chest.

"Daddy wants to train your bottom so that when its time for me to fuck your ass, you'll be ready. You'll thank me later."

Without any further discussion, Lennon lifted me over his shoulder and took me to the bedroom. I knew better than to fight as the memory of him inserting the plug in the mall bathroom made my insides melt. I didn't hate the plug at all. As a matter of fact, it was a huge freaking turn-on that ensured I was thinking about him and his promise every time I moved.

"Lose the robe and lay over the side of the bed, please."

Eager to get this over with, I obeyed immediately, assuming the position he requested and hiding my face in the duvet. I listened to him move around the room, playing games in my head about what he was doing until I heard a weird sound, and my curiosity got the best of me. Peeking up from between my arms I saw he'd moved my free-standing mirror right next to the bed. When he caught me watching, he winked. How was he ridiculously adorable, over-the-top sexy, and relentlessly commanding all in one go? It was almost maddening. Almost. Except my body loved every second of it.

"Reach back and open those cheeks for Daddy," he instructed once he and the mirror were positioned behind me.

"Are you serious?" I whimpered.

"Unless you'd like me to add some stripes from my belt to this beautifully marked ass, I suggest you not question me. What is lesson three, Zoe?"

"Daddy knows best," I grumbled as I reached behind me to grip my bottom cheeks, burying my face deeper into the covers to try to convince my bed to swallow me alive.

"Good girl. Now I want you to turn your head sideways and open your eyes. You're going to watch everything that is happening in the mirror."

I barely held back the expletive that was on the tip of my tongue. I didn't want to watch. I didn't want to participate. Couldn't he just get it over with already?

I didn't say any of that, but it took me a lot longer to talk myself into doing what he was asking me to do.

"Do you need an incentive to obey, young lady?"

"No, Daddy." I answered, flipping my head to the side and slowly opening my eyes.

"You will keep your eyes open and watch everything, do you understand? For every reminder I have to give you, you will earn a punishment that I will not be delivering until before bed."

Having to wait for some random punishment all day was a punishment in itself.

"Yes Daddy," I responded, determined to do what I was told.

"I know this is hard and awkward, so if you're a good girl then Daddy will give you a reward before bed."

"Yes, Daddy." I smiled, comforted by the fact that he was acknowledging that this was difficult.

I watched in the mirror as he held up the plug and then the bottle of lubricant so that I could see it. My stomach clenched as he drizzled the lubricant on the plug before slowly lowering it to my bottom hole. Swirling it around, he coated me with the cold substance before applying pressure a bit at a time, so as not to overwhelm me. This was still such a new and awkward sensation. When he started to push a little more incessantly, I bit my lip to keep myself from moaning, and forced myself not to look away.

"Tsk tsk. Don't deny Daddy any of your sweet noises. I want to hear it all."

"It's embarrassing."

"I know. But it"s just us. It"s nothing I haven't seen or heard before. You can do it," he encouraged, giving the plug a wiggle.

I gasped at the jerky movement.

"Good girl. That's what I want."

He took his time pushing in and pulling out. Swirling and wiggling and basically subjecting me to torture until my hands and arms started to shake from the awkward position.

"Please, Daddy. I can't hold on much longer."

Lennon smiled. "I'm proud of you for speaking up. We're almost done."

He stopped playing and pushed the plug all the way inside. I squealed as the widest part entered my tight hole.

"Daddy cannot wait to fuck this ass good and proper." He sighed dreamily. "You can let go. I'm going to wash my hands, and then we can figure out how we want to spend the rest of the day."

I crawled up onto the bed and snuggled in as soon as he was in the bathroom. A weird sense of calm and peacefulness settled deep in my soul, and I just wanted to float with it for a minute.

Lennon came out of the bathroom and knelt next to the bed. "I like that blissful look on your face, babygirl. I like even more knowing I'm the one who put it there." He gently kissed my forehead. "You like your plug, don't you?"

"I think so," I muttered, not bothering trying to lie.

"How about we relax in bed and turn on a show?"

"I don't have a television in here."

He looked around like I might be lying.

"Albert didn't believe televisions belonged in bedrooms."

Lennon shook his head and sighed. "Add that to the list of things I will be remedying this week. There is nothing wrong with relaxing in bed with a good show."

"Okay, Daddy." I sighed, not having any energy to argue. He could change anything he wanted and I wouldn't give it a second thought.

Lennon chuckled and kissed my forehead again. "I have an idea. I'll be right back."

I closed my eyes and sighed. "Okay, Daddy."

"Be careful, babygirl. Keep it up and I'm going to get used to this sweet subbie side, which means you'll have a plug in your ass a lot more than you'd prefer."

His threat did nothing to break through my peaceful haze. All I could do was smile. If it made me feel like this every time, I'd gladly take it.

Lennon grabbed my laptop and moved things around on the nightstand before situating it in a way that we could comfortably see from the bed.

Opening my laptop, he made quick work of locating a streaming service with my favorite show, Golden Girls.

"We don't have to watch this. We can watch something you like."

"Who doesn"t like the Golden Girls? They're hilarious, and Blanche is kinda hot," he teased as he climbed in behind me and pulled me into a spooning position. The movements jostled the plug, and I moaned in response.

"God, you are the perfect woman." He kissed my temple. "I can't wait to give you your good girl reward later."

We stayed there through three episodes, just snuggled in a companionable silence, enjoying the ridiculous sitcom.

"As much as I don't want to leave you, I need to feed you."

"You don't have to do that. I'm not really hungry."

Lennon growled close to my ear. "What kind of Daddy would I be if I let my woman waste away before my [eyes]?"

"I'm not going to waste away." I rolled my [eyes]. I'd eaten more since we'd been together than I usually did. If I wasn't careful, I was going to start gaining unwanted weight. That would be bad.

"Well, I might, so I'm going to whip us up something."

"With what?" I asked, knowing my refrigerator was actually pretty bare at the moment. I didn't keep much since I lived alone and tended to eat the same few things for ease. Who wanted to make a big to-do about meals when they lived alone?

Not me.

"With the groceries I got delivered. Don't worry your pretty little head. Daddy will take care of everything."

"Yes, Daddy," I replied, not even surprised that he'd managed to do a grocery order, as well. "But you should be careful, I could get used to being taken care of like this."

"That's one of my many goals. Enjoy your show, I'll let you know when lunch is ready."