She nods, and I shake my head.
“Say it, Nola. I need to hear you say it.”
“I understand,” she says clearly. “If I say ‘lighthouse,’ everything stops.”
“Good girl.” The praise comes naturally, and I’m rewarded with another flush of color across her cheeks. “Now stand up and take off your pants.”
She hesitates for just a moment before rising from the bed, her hands moving to the button of her slacks. I watch, hungry and impatient, as she slides them down over her hips, revealing a pair of white cotton panties that somehow manage to be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Those, too,” I instruct, nodding toward her panties.
Another moment of hesitation, briefer this time, before she hooks her thumbs into the waistband and pushes them down, stepping out of both garments.
“Bend over the edge of the bed,” I growl. “Chest down, ass up.”
She turns and positions herself as instructed, bending at the waist to present her perfect ass to my gaze. The sight steals my breath. Pale skin, gentle curves, and between her legs, a glimpse of pink that tells me she’s as aroused by this as I am.
I move behind her, placing my left palm against her lower back. My right hand hovers over her exposed ass, anticipating the contact.
“Count them,” I instruct. “And thank me after each one.”
I don’t give her time to process the command before delivering the first swat, my palm connecting with her right cheek with moderate force. The sound is obscenely loud in the quiet room.
She gasps, her body jerking forward slightly under the impact. For a moment, I wonder if I’ve gone too far, if this was a mistake. Then:
“One,” she says, voice steady despite the slight tremor in her body. “Thank you, Daddy.”
Christ. Those words in her sweet mouth. I fight to maintain my composure as I raise my hand again.
The second swat lands on her left cheek, matching the first in intensity. Another gasp, another delicious shudder through her body.
“Two. Thank you, Daddy.”
My hand stings pleasantly with the impact, her flesh pinkening beneath my palm. I’m rock hard now, straining against my pants with an urgency that’s almost painful. But this isn’t about me. Not yet. This is about teaching her a lesson, about making sure she never scares me like that again.
I deliver the third swat to the sensitive spot where her right cheek meets her thigh, slightly harder than the previous two.
She sucks in a sharp breath, fingers curling into the bedspread. “Three. Thank you, Daddy.”
Fourth swat, left cheek this time, same intensity. Her response is immediate: “Four. Thank you, Daddy.”
But there’s something different in her voice now. A slight huskiness that wasn’t there before. I pause, studying her body language. Her thighs are pressed tightly together, shifting slightly. Not in pain, but in an effort to create friction where she needs it most.
She’s enjoying this.
The realization sends a fresh surge of blood to my cock. I knew she responded to my dominance, knew she liked it when I took control.
The fifth swat is harder, deliberate, landing squarely in the center of her right cheek. This time, her gasp has a different quality. A little higher, a little breathier. A sound of pleasure rather than pain.
“Five,” she says, and there’s no mistaking the arousal in her voice now. “Thank you, Daddy.”
I lean closer, unable to resist the urge to taunt her. “You like this, don’t you?” I murmur, my mouth close to her ear. “Being punished turns you on. I can see how wet you’re getting, baby girl.”
She makes a small, inarticulate sound, somewhere between embarrassment and need. I deliver the sixth swat without warning, harder than any of the previous ones.
“Ah!” The sound she makes is definitely not pain. “Six. Thank you, Daddy.”
“Look at you,” I continue, running my palm lightly over her reddened skin. “Taking your punishment so well. Such a good girl for Daddy. Even when you’re being punished.”
