And now that she’s been properly punished, I can give into the need that’s been burning through my veins since the first moment I laid eyes on her. Stroking my hands over her warm skin, I let my fingers drift lower to where she is delightfully soaking wet for me.
“Hmm. Seems like someone enjoyed her spanking a bit more than she let on.”
Melanie squeezes her legs together as much as she’s able, but with her position over my knee it isn’t enough to keep her from my touch. “I didnot,” she insists, her voice pitching up to an adorable whine that shoots straight to my already aching cock.
“Really?” I let the fake surprise color my tone as I shift her over my knee, spreading her wide again so I can slide one thick finger into her wet heat. “Perhaps you wet yourself, then. It’s a good thing I have plenty of diapers on hand if you can’t control your bladder, little one.”
“Oh my god, I did not piss myself!”
Pulling my soaked fingers free, I use her arousal against her, stroking her swollen clit as she whimpers and grinds herself against my thigh. “Then tell the truth, little one. Did getting your bare bottom spanked like a naughty Little girl make your pretty kitty all wet for Daddy?”
“No.”
“Hmm.” Now I push two fingers inside her, pulling a shocked gasp from the naughty girl over my knee as I force her to stretch for me. “Do you know what happens to Little girls who lie to their Daddies, Melanie?”
“Th-they get spanked?”
“Sometimes. And sometimes they get put on their knees so they can take Daddy’s cock down their throats and they get sent to bed without being allowed even one single orgasm.” Pumping my fingers in and out of her tight sheath, I let my voice drop to a low growl. “So this is your last chance to be honest with Daddy before you find out exactly how mean I can be when I put my mind to it. Did your spanking make your little pussy wet for me, Melanie?”
It takes several long seconds, full of her pitiful whines and gasps, but finally she gives in, her voice trembling as she gives me the words I want to hear.
“Y-yes, Daddy.”
“That’s my good little girl.” Pulling my fingers free once more, I sigh heavily. “But unfortunately for you, naughty girls who put themselves in danger don’t get rewarded with orgasms.”
Over my knee, she stiffens, but she doesn’t argue. “That’s fine. I don’t want you to touch me anyway.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
Letting her have her delusions for the time being, I bring my fingers to my lips and suck her juices from my skin.
Fucking delicious. And all mine.
Scooping her up into my arms, I cradle her panting form against my chest. And to my utter delight, she curls into me with a soft sigh, clinging to me as if I’m her only source of comfort.
“That was beautiful, baby. Thank you for being honest with Daddy. And with yourself. It’s okay to admit you enjoy Daddy’s discipline.”
“But Idon’t,” she whines, pressing her face into my neck. “It hurt and I don't ever want another spankin’ again.”
Does she realize how young she sounds? How her words, her voice have changed ever so slightly?
Pointing it out now seems destined for disaster, so I keep those observations to myself as I rise from the couch with her still cradled in my arms. “Let’s go see about that hot cocoa your Auntie Gray promised us.”
It doesn’t shock me to find my sister parked beside the stove, steadily stirring the contents of a large saucepan. What does surprise me, though, is the pure longing in her eyes as she takes in the soft, sweet bundle in my arms.
“It’s almost ready,” she says, abandoning the pot to run a hand over Melanie’s dark curls. Her voice is firm, unforgiving.“But only Little girls whopromiseto never go outside without a grown-up are allowed to have any.”
Melanie hesitates, but either all the defiance has been spanked out of her, or she really, reallywants that hot cocoa because she slowly nods. “I promise.”
Gray’s expression softens just a fraction. “Good girl. Have your Daddy help you choose a mug for your hot cocoa.”
Shifting Melanie to settle her on my hip, which is something of a feat with her voluminous skirts, I open the door to the cabinet where our mug collection has gathered.
“Oh! There's so many!”
A sense of wonder infuses her voice, reminding me even more of a Little girl. “Your Uncle Colt has a fondness for them, and he picks a new one up whenever he travels.”
“I keep telling you, I don’thave?—”
