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Then he took off his belt, very slowly.

He made sure I was watching as he unbuckled it, the soft click of the metal buckle echoing in the quiet room. He pulled it from his belt loops, the leather whispering through the fabric of his trousers. He held it in his hands, and my body tensed with fearful arousal.

He doubled it over, the leather creaking softly as he folded it in two. He tested its weight, slapping it against his palm. Then he pointed the folded end of the belt toward a spot several feet in front of the fireplace.

“There.”

I moved where he directed, stopping far enough from the hearth that the fire warmed my skin without becoming uncomfortable. The thick wool rug was soft beneath my bare feet.

He walked slowly around me, his footsteps almost silent. I could feel the intensity of his gaze as he inspected every inch of me. He took his time, letting the anticipation build until it felt like something alive in the room.

Then he stopped behind me.

“Turn around.”

I obeyed.

“Bend over. Hands on the hearth.”

My breath caught.

I crossed the few feet between us and placed both palms against the warm stone ledge surrounding the fireplace. The position tipped my hips backward toward him, leaving me painfully aware of how exposed I was.

“Spread your legs.”

Heat rushed into my face.

I moved my feet farther apart.

“More.”

My stomach tightened, but I obeyed, widening my stance until there was no mistaking what he wanted.

“Good girl.”

The praise sent a shiver through me.

I stared into the flames while he moved behind me. Every instinct told me to look over my shoulder, to watch him, to brace for whatever was coming.

I didn’t.

He had told me where to stand.

How to stand.

And I was going to stay exactly where Daddy put me.

I heard him breathing behind me, slow and steady while my own breaths came much faster. The heat of the fire warmed my face and chest while cooler air moved over the rest of my bare skin.

Then, I felt the first caress of his hand.

His touch was gentle, almost like he was worshipping me in a sense. His fingers traced the line where my cheeks met my thighs, and then the cleft between them, exploring the sensitive skin there. I mewled softly, enjoying the feeling of his tender caress.

“You have a beautiful ass, little pet,” he crooned. “It was made for this.”

Then, the first swat landed.

It wasn’t hard, not yet. It was just a quick, stinging smack, almost like a warning of what was to come. Heat bloomed across my skin, making me gasp. He spanked me again, on the other cheek, a little harder this time, and I bit back a startled gasp.