Her Daddy now had a bird’s eye view of her bare bottom. Morethan that, he now rested his warm right palm on the crack of her rear. He ran that hand over every inch of both cheeks and thighs. Was he warming her up? For five swats?
“Five swats," Trace echoes, and for one heart-stopping moment, she thought she had said something else aloud.
Even though it was only five swats, she found herself doing an unpracticed version of Lamaze breathing. The rapid thudding of her heart remained unchanged. She made another mental note, this one to forget Lamaze breathing if she ever had a baby. She was evidently immune.
She tried to focus on the experience, brief though it was. She’d waited her entire adult life for this. She needed it. She deserved it. She deserved much more, but at least she was getting a sample.
“Rules before I begin. Do not kick your feet. Toes go on the floor.” She turned her head to see him as he spoke, but her thick hair made it hard to breathe. Instead, she focused on stretching to get her toe to touch the floor. “If you try to stop your punishment with your legs or feet, I will start over, and you will get an extra swat.”
Hmm, that had potential. She wouldn’t have been so upset if she’d known she could earn extra swats. She could kick like an Olympic swimmer when needed, and she was feeling motivated. She nodded. “Okay.”
"The same applies to your hands. I don’t plan on using implements this time, but I don’t want you to get used to reaching back. You could get hurt if they get in the way. Same penalty. If you reach back, we start over, and you get an extra. Got it?”
She didn’t want her hand smacked. She’d had them swatted with a ruler once in school, and it stung for hours. She nodded again. “Got it.”
“I’ll keep track of the count this time. Your thoughts will be focused on other things.”
Her heart tightened at his words. This time would be her only time.
“That means the only things you need to worry about are listening to Daddy and saying your safe word if you need to. Are we on the same page?”
She managed a tight, “Yes, Daddy.”
“What is your safe word?”
“Red, Daddy.” Kip was beginning to think she might not be giving enough credit to his five-swat limit. But five smacks? How hard could they be?
“Good girl. And since you haven’t used it yet, it’s time to start.” He paused to give her one more chance to stop this, she supposed, but that wasn’t going to happen. “Right. Remember your rules.”
His hand, which had been caressing her skin the whole time, lifted from her bottom. She should have heeded that warning, but she was too insulted that he thought she wouldn’t follow the rules. She was nothing if not a strict rule follower.
In a flash of panic, Kip grabbed his ankle with one hand and tucked the other under the edge of the hay bale.
Seconds later, a seat-shattering whack landed on her bottom, zapping white-hot pain over her right cheek. Kip shrieked like a banshee doused in holy water while Trace calmly said, “One.”
All thoughts of rules vanished. Her free leg shot up, pressing her foot as close to the center of her fanny as she could manage. She couldn’t get her left hand past his thick chest, but her right hand swept back, covering her very abused posterior.
“No!” she cried out. “No, no, no. No!”
What happened to warm-up swats? There were always warm-up swats in the romance books. And based on what she’d read, that wasn’t one. Holy heffalumps! One smack and her right cheek was on fire.
“I hate to tell you this early in your punishment, but that earned you two extras,” Trace informed her. “I’d hoped youwouldn’t earn any because, as you’re about to learn, extras are always worse. Now lower your foot and move your hand. Do it now or the penalties get worse.”
Worse?Worse?
Kip struggled to slide off his lap, but he held her firmly in place. “You can always say your safe word if you need to stop. You remember what it is, right?”
Gritting her teeth so she wouldn’t say something that would really get her in trouble, she nodded. This was exactly what the phrase “caught between a rock and a hard place” was for.
"Then move your hands and feet."
Everything in her wanted to wiggle her fingers and feet, but she wasn’t crazy. Yet.
Taking as much time as she could get away with, Kip eased her foot to the floor.
“Alright, let’s try that again. One.” Once more, his hand delivered a scorching smack to her bottom. Was the man trying to flay her alive? If she could remove her backside and give it to him, she would. Then he could beat it like a bass drum. For now, she did her best to stay in position to limit her total spanks to seven.
Before she could figure out an escape plan, Trace wrapped his free arm around her back and held her hip in place. What, now he was a mind reader, too?
