“I do.” I threw another big handful at him with as much force as I could muster and a direct aim at his face. It was a pretty good shot. Again.
“You’re being a brat.” He came closer still.
“And you’re an asshole.” I scooped more pasta into my hand and sprayed him with it.
He batted it away, though plenty struck target. “I’m warning you.”
“Warning me.” My heart was thudding, adrenaline surging. “And what if I’d warned you not to go the the commune? Would you have listened to me?”
“You don’t even know what happened there.”
“You went, that’s all I need to know. I have no fucking idea why.” I took another shot with the pasta. It was nearly all gone. “But that’s it, fun over. Go. Go now, Mitch.”
“I’m getting pretty sick of you telling me to leave.” In one big stride he was in front of me and had grabbed both of my wrists. He locked them together. The empty pasta bag fell to the floor.
“Don’t come back here.” I glared up at him and tried to wriggle free. “And don’t come to my work.” A tear slid down my cheek. “Goodbye, Mitch.”
“There’s no fucking way this is goodbye.” He sat on the sofa, dragging me with him.
“What? Get off me!”
The man’s strength was a pain in the ass. He moved me like I was a doll, and the next thing I knew I was hanging over his lap, my butt the highest part of my body as I grabbled for something to hold on to and stared at the floor. “Jesus Christ, get off me!”
“No.” He pinned me to him. “You behave like a brat, you get spanked. End of.”
He shoved up my short skirt, exposing my lacy black thong and bare buttocks.
I cried out in frustration and kicked up my legs. “I’m not playing this game any more. Get off me…now.”
“No way, little girl. Your behavior is terrible. You haven’t even let me explain why I went or what I found out.”
“I don’t fucking care, you loser, get off me.” I put all of my effort into escaping. Twisting and turning and kicking and nipping whatever bit of flesh on his legs I could find.
“Brat!” He smacked my bare ass cheeks, hard, his big hand covering both of them in one swipe.
I cried out. The sharp streak of pain was a lick of fire. “How dare you, I—”
Another smack and then another. The high-pitched sound of flesh on flesh pinged around the room.
“Mitch!” Damn it. The man was putting muscle into each strike on my buttocks. “That fucking hurts.”
“It’s supposed to. You need to learn to listen to me and not throw fucking pasta when I’m trying to reason with you.” He continued spanking me. Swift, stinging swipes that layered up the burn on my buttocks.
Smack.
Smack.
Smack.
I gasped and cried out. I bucked and wiggled and tried to escape. No chance.
Tears slipped from my eyes to my hairline, and my breaths were coming in stuttering pants. I refused to sob despite the humiliation and the hurt and the probable redness of my ass cheeks.
“Keep still.” His grip on me tightened. Vise-like. “And take your punishment. Think about your bad behavior. That’s the only reason you’re over Daddy’s knee getting smacked. It could have been avoided if you’d been a good girl instead of such a naughty one. I’m very disappointed in you.”
Before I could answer, he smacked my poor hot bottom again, lower this time, the space between my butt and thighs.
Fuck, that hurt.
