Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Later that night, she lay awake staring at the ceiling as the conversation she’d had with her friends played over and over in her mind.

Too wired to sleep, she slipped out of bed and tiptoed downstairs. Staying in bed after lights out was one of her big rules, one of the ones Ian had first laid down for her when he’d become her Daddy as she’d had a habit of staying up way too late watching movies and such with Noelle.

What would he do now if he caught her out of bed at nearly one in the morning?

Not knowing was even worse than knowing for sure she’d be in for a hard spanking. Feeling even more restless than she had been while lying in bed, she made her way to the kitchen and opened the wine fridge.

Asking permission to have a drink was another of her Daddy’s big rules, one that he’d never failed to enforce. With that in mind, she popped open a bottle of her favorite moscato and poured a generous glass.

She settled on the couch with her ill-gotten glass of wine and turned the Christmas tree on.

God, she loved this time of year. Sipping at her wine, she let the colorful lights of the tree soothe her as they danced over the walls of their living room. Daddy had wanted white lights, but once he’d seen how happy the colored lights made her, he’d caved instantly.

Because that was the kind of man he was. Thoughtful and loving and always ready to sacrifice his wants for hers. Not once in the time they’d been together had she ever doubted how much he loved her.

So why was she being such a brat about this new side of him? Any Little in her right mind would be ecstatic to have a Daddy who spoiled her rotten instead of one who was constantly finding reasons to punish her.

Okay, that last part wasn’t entirely fair. Ian only found reasons to punish her because she gave him reasons to punish her. Like right this very second when she’d chosen to break not just one, but two rules she knew he was very serious about.

“I’m such a bitch,” she muttered to the empty room.

“Taylor? What are you doing up, baby?”

Shit. Fear froze her in place as the consequences of her actions stepped into the living room, a frown tugging the corners of his lips downward. “Umm… I couldn’t sleep.”

“Ah. Still wound up from your big day?” Sitting on the couch beside her, he plucked the wine from her hand and sipped.

“Something like that. Sorry, I know I’m not supposed to be out of bed.”

“No, you’re not. And you know better than to sneak a glass of wine without asking Daddy first.”

Excitement skittered along her skin as her heart rate sped up. “Sorry, Daddy.”

“It’s all right, Tayter Tot. You had a big day. Do you need Daddy to help you… relax?”

Instead of the sternness she’d expected, he sounded almost playful. Teasing in a way that had her clit throbbing with need.

“Aren’t I in trouble?”

“So much trouble.” Setting the wine glass on the end table, he took her by the arm and tugged her over his lap. “Does my naughty girl need her bottom spanked?”

An instinctive denial trembled on her lips. But if she said no, would he change his mind and just send her to bed? “Yes, Daddy.”

“Hmm. I think I can make that happen. Lift your hips, baby, so Daddy can bare your bottom.”

She obeyed, and a moment later came the familiar sensation of her pajama pants and her panties being tugged down to her knees.

“Such a naughty baby,” he murmured, running his hand over the swell of her bottom. “What’s the rule about bedtime, Tayter Tot?”

“Um. Lights out by eleven on the weekends.”

“And when Daddy puts you to bed, where are you supposed to stay?”

“In bed.”

She braced for the first swat, and nearly laughed out loud when it landed so softly she barely felt the sting. It was so reminiscent of the first couple times he’d spanked her that her heart swelled with love for him at the memory.

He’d done this for her. Become her Daddy, given her rules and discipline because it was something she’d needed. How could she possibly resent him now?

But unlike those first times, there was no hesitancy. Although the swats were more gentle than a punishment, they were slow and measured. Deliberate. And with each one she could feel the need between her thighs growing hotter.

Until she couldn’t take another second of his delicious torment.

“Daddy,” she whined, grinding her hips against his thigh, again so much like that first time. Except now there was no embarrassment on her part, no trying to hide her need from him.

“What’s wrong, baby?” There was a sweetness to his tone, but too much sweetness. Almost like he was mocking her. “Do you need something?”

Now there was embarrassment, and she buried her face in her arms even as she continued rocking her hips against him. “Please, Daddy.”

“Hmm. I wonder what could be wrong with my naughty little baby?” She felt as much as heard his chuckle as the spanking stopped and his hand drifted lower. “Perhaps I should check your temperature again, Tayter Tot. But we’ll need some lubrication for your little bottom hole.”

A moan escaped her when his fingers dipped between her soaked pussy lips, plunging deep into her aching, wet heat.

“Ah, perfect. Just the right amount.”

And then his fingers were gone. But only for a moment before one pressed against the tight ring of muscle between her warm bottom cheeks.

“Daddy!” she squealed, fluttering her feet against the cushions. “What are you doing ?”

“I told you. Taking your temperature to make sure you’re not ill.”

“That is not how you take a temperature!”

“Agree to disagree,” he said with another of those low, wicked laughs. “I think this is just as effective as any thermometer.”

“It’s not!”

A sharp swat, harder than any of the ones before, landed on her right cheek. “Daddy knows best, little girl. Stop arguing.”

Pouting, she turned her head to look over her shoulder at him. “I don’t want my temperature taken.”

One dark brow rose in a look that had her stomach and her pussy quivering. “Who’s in charge here, Taylor Grace?”

“Y-you are, Daddy.”

“So if Daddy says you need your temperature taken, what should you do?”

“Let you take my temperature?”

“That’s my good girl.” With his gaze still locked on her, he pumped his finger in at out of her bottom, mimicking the act she so desperately wanted. “And what do good girls get, Taylor?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“They get to make themselves come over Daddy’s lap, while Daddy fucks their pretty little bottom. Would you like that?”

She couldn’t think of anything she wanted more in that moment. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl. Make yourself come so Daddy can feel that naughty little bottom squeezing his fingers.”

Sweet Jesus, when did the man learn to talk like that? Overcome by him, by her own need, she did as she was told and flexed her hips, pressing her clit against his thigh. The action caused the muscles in her bottom to squeeze his finger, reminding her rather forcefully of how she was being violated.

And sending a shockwave of molten-hot need coursing through her.

Burying her face in her arms again to hide her shame, she ground herself into the soft material of his pajama pants over and over, pleasure and pain flashing through her in equal measure with every movement. Her whimpers peppered the air around them as she worked herself into a frenzy over her Daddy’s knee.

“That’s my good girl. Are you going to come for Daddy, Taylor? Are you going to come with Daddy’s fingers plugging your bottom like the naughty little baby you are?”

God, yes. Yes, yes, yes.

Frantic now, she gave herself over to the need driving her. Even her humiliation only served to fuel her desire as she worked herself closer and closer to that shimmering peak.

And when she finally came with a loud cry, her bottom clenching around her Daddy’s fingers just as he’d demanded, the edges of her vision went black as the pleasure overwhelmed her.

“That’s my good little girl,” Daddy crooned, still pumping his finger slowly in and out of her bottom. “I have good news for you, baby.”

“Wh-what’s that?” she gasped out, shuddering from the aftermath of what might have been the most spectacular orgasm she’d ever had.

“Your bottom feels just right. No fever here.”

It was so absurd, she couldn’t help but laugh. “I really don’t think that’s an accurate way to tell.”

“No? Hmm. Maybe I’ll have to try again upstairs, with the actual thermometer.”

“No, no, I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Hmm. Well, if you’re still feeling naughty in the morning, I reserve the right to take your temperature the right way.”

“I’ll be good, Daddy. Promise.”

And she meant it… for a little while.