Tears fall. I don’t know what he’s going to do. “I’ll be good,” I repeat.
He cups my face. “I suspect you will, in the long run, Little pet. You don’t strike me as someone who will enjoy being punished. Time will tell.” He grabs my hips and lifts me a few inches. “Turn over, Zoey. I want you on your tummy over my thighs. If you’re not quick about it, I’ll add to your punishment.”
My movements are awkward, but I scramble to obey him. I’m scared. The unknown is heavy in the air. Why does he want me to lie over his lap?
Yozef surprises me when he removes the tabs from the sides of my diaper. He sets one enormous hand on the small of my back. “Fold your arms under your cheek, Zoey.”
A sob escapes me as I do as I’m told.
“That’s a good girl. Do not move them while I spank you.”
Spank me?No. No, no, no, no,no.
He pulls the back of my diaper all the way off and stuffs it between my thighs, exposing my butt. Gripping my entire bottom with one hand, he says, “I’m going to give you six swats for your first spanking. They will hurt. You will remember this and think twice about misbehaving next time.”
I hold my breath. Tears run down to land on my forearms. I don’t dare move. It’s just six swats. Surely, I can endure this. But I’m fuming.
The first slap of his palm against my tender skin takes mybreath away. My entire body tenses as I absorb the pain. My butt throbs, and I grit my teeth.
After a few seconds, he does it again. I think this one is harder. Huge tears run out of my eyes. This is so humiliating. I don’t know if I can tolerate four more.
But I do. I lie very still, not daring to move an inch, while Yozef—Daddy—finishes my punishment.
I’m not the sort of person who gets in trouble. I haven’t been spanked since I was a toddler, and that’s more of an assumption. I can’t remember that far back. I’m furious, but at the same time, my sobbing is causing me to suck in his essence with every breath.
It’s as though he’s filling me with his pheromones, and I’ve been conditioned to crave him. My bottom is on fire, but the space between my legs is swollen and needy.
Instinctually, I rock my hips, trying to rub the tender nub against his thigh.
Yozef moves so fast, I don’t have a chance to pull in a breath before I’m on my back on the seat next to him. He grabs my knees, pushes them toward my chest, and spreads them open.
My eyes bug out. Fear consumes me, but I don’t have time to say a word or beg for forgiveness before Yozef lifts his hand and lands a hard swat to my pussy.
All the air leaves my lungs. I can’t draw in a breath. My private parts are pulsing from the intensity of the slap and something else. Need. Desperation. For something elusive.
Yozef grips both my wrists above my head with one giant hand and leans over me. “You do not rub your clit against anything ever. Do I make myself clear?”
I swallow hard and nod.
“Words, Zoey. ‘I will not masturbate my pussy, Daddy.’”
My lips are trembling. More tears fall.
He waits.
I’m not sure what his words mean, but I repeat them. “I will not masturbate my pussy, Daddy,” I mutter.
“Good. Do you know what masturbate means, naughty girl?”
“No, Sir.”
“It means take your own pleasure. You will keep your naughty fingers away from your pussy and your nipples. If I catch you playing with them, I will swat them. You’ve already found that out, but it would seem you forgot because you’ve tried again to grind your pussy against my leg. Hard rule, Zoey.”
I nod, sniffling. “Yes, Sir.”
“Yes, Daddy,” he demands.
“Yes, Daddy.”
