Page 11 of Daddy’s Hunted Bride

“I wasn’t faking!” she protests as I toss her over my shoulder and make my way back toward the front of the house. “Ohhh, my head! I need to go to the hospital!”

“What’s wrong?” Gray appears seemingly out of nowhere, worry twisting her expression as she takes in my moaning babygirl. “I thought she was in the exam room with you and Ford.”

“She was. Until she faked a concussion and tried to climb out the window.”

My sister’s mouth forms a small “O”, mischief sparkling in her eyes as she tries to look stern. “Well, that was very naughty.”

“Very. Did you get your hairbrush for me?”

“I did. It’s in the living room, along with everything else we’ll need for the ceremony.”

“Perfect.”

From her position over my shoulder, my little fox struggles, fighting against me with everything she has. “No! No hairbrush! Let me go, you sadistic bastard!”

I have to admit, I’m a bit impressed with her fight. Not that it’s going to stop me from giving her the discipline she needs, but I am impressed, nonetheless.

The rest of our family is gathered in the living room, watching the proceedings unfold with varying degrees of alarm. My nieces, of course, look the most worried while my brothers are smiling rather smugly as I drop onto the dining room chair someone so thoughtfully moved into the middle of the room.

With Vanessa still kicking and fighting, I flip her over my left knee, using my right to pin both her legs down.

I’m not taking any chances this time.

“You were a very naughty Little girl, Vanessa Marie. But don’t worry, Daddy is going to teach you to be his good girl.”

Wriggling her shoulders, she fights against my hold. “That is not my name!”

“Yeah, well, my name isn’t ‘sadistic bastard’, so I guess we’re both wrong.”

An impressive snarl curls her upper lip as she twists around to glare up at me. “Fuck you.”

“Gladly.” Holding my hand out to my sister, I take the wooden brush she’s offering and tap it against the leggings covering my Little girl’s bottom. Normally I would bare her, but I can’t risk loosening my hold on her even a little bit. “As soon as we say our vows.”

Vanessa

Pain explodes across my right asscheek, momentarily distracting me from the terror that’s lodged itself firmly in my chest. The thin material of my leggings seems to offer no protection from the heavy wood of the hairbrush and a howl rips from my throat before I can swallow it down.

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” my captor mumbles before laying down a second searing swat on the opposite cheek.

“Let me go, you asshole!”

Two more swats land, lower than the first, along the sensitive crease where my ass and thighs meet, the area I know is called the “sit-spots” thanks to Marjorie’s books. And I’m dismayed to realize it hurts just as much, if not more, than she described.

“Keep racking up those punishments, little fox, and you won’t be able to sit comfortably for a month.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. As much as I hate to admit it, he makes a good point. Pissing off the man who has me trapped over his lap isn’t going to get me anywhere. Especially when that man is wielding a heavy implement of ass destruction with military precision.

Swallowing my pride, I force myself to go limp over his lap. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, praying my tone sounds properly penitent. “Please, Sir, I’m sorry. I’ll be good.”

His stomach vibrates, and it takes a moment for me to realize the motherfucker is laughing at me. “Oh, my clever little fox. You really think I’m going to fall for that?”

“It’s not a trick!” The lie rolls easily off my tongue, though my tone is a bit too sharp. Hopefully it sounds less like I’m furious and more like I’m holding back tears, especially since both are equally true at the moment.

“All right.” He taps the brush against my burning backside. “Daddy’s going to let go of you, just long enough to get these leggings off so you can be properly punished. If you cooperate, I will stop once your paddling is done. But if you don’t, I promise this will be much, much worse than a few swats with your auntie’s hairbrush, little girl. Do you understand me?”

I understand, and I hate him for forcing me to choose between letting him strip me naked in front of a house full of strangers or some terrifying hypothetical punishment. But because I have no doubt that hypothetical punishment really will be worse than a spanking, I force myself to choose the lesser of the two evils presented to me.

“Yeah. I understand.”