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I pressed my legs even more firmly together.
“I won’t tell you anything,” I whispered hoarsely.
“Let me tell you something, little girl. Your bare little bottom is propped up for a reason. Sure, it makes it easier for Daddy to make sure that you’re thoroughly punished, but it also serves another purpose, doesn’t it?”
I almost didn’t want to know but I couldn’t stop myself from asking anyway.
“What do you mean?”
“Your thighs are strong and extraordinarily well-shaped, little girl. You work hard for the body you have, and it shows,” he said.
I could feel myself blush. With my bottom bare and thoroughly punished, I hadn’t expected his praise and it caught me off guard.
“What are you getting at?”
“Your thighs curve in beautifully right here,” he added, sliding his fingers upward until they took a precipitous turn toward my pussy. “When you’re on display like this, I can see everything. I can see the arousal glistening on your bare little pussy. You’ve never been this wet for me, little girl. Ever.”
Every single smart-assed retort died on my lips. There was nothing I could say. I had thought the evidence of my traitorous body had been hidden, but he’d been able to see it the entire time.
The gravity of that was heavy and it left me reeling.
“Please,” I pleaded.
What was I even asking for?
I don’t know. None of this made sense.
“Would it make you blush to know that Daddy always thought you needed to be given a hard spanking over his knee to remind you of your place, little girl? Would it make you blush even harder to know that he thought about doing exactly that on our wedding night?”
I could do nothing but whimper in response.
His palm cracked firmly against my backside.
“It makes Daddy’s cock very hard to see this bare little bottom bright red, but it makes him even harder to see that it makes you so incredibly wet even when you’ve got so much more coming, little girl,” he continued.
I had no words, but it turned out that I didn’t need to say anything at all.
It was then that the real spanking truly began. What I thought had been hard had just been a gentle introduction to the terrible punishment to come.
His palm turned harsher still. More punishing until I couldn’t speak or think. The only thing that mattered was that cruel hand smacking my bottom and thighs so firmly that I could only cry out with how much they hurt.
Daddy wanted to punish me. He’d called me a bad little girl. I deserved this.
Oh, please. Let this end soon.
I’m sorry.
I didn’t mean it.
I only did it because I had to.
His palm was ruthless. I couldn’t get away and it wouldn’t stop. Before long, I was blubbering and begging for him to stop. My cries increased in desperation. I wanted nothing more than my spanking to stop.
“It hurts,” I wailed.
“I know it does. It’s supposed to, little girl,” he scolded.
I felt nothing more like a naughty little girl in that moment. I’m not sure when it happened, but at some point, the pet name turned to something that felt endearing, like something to hold onto, something special between us that tied us together even as he was spanking me harder than I could have ever been prepared for.
