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“Is this some sort of revenge?”
“No. It isn’t,” he replied softly.
“Then what is this?” I pressed.
“This is Daddy taking control and giving you exactly what you need, little girl.”
Yes, Daddy.
I froze, horrified that those words had been on the tip of my tongue just as the belt thrashed my naked cheeks for the first time. At first, it simply felt slightly more painful than his hand, but then it began to build.
And build.
And fucking build some more.
The simmering burn turned into a scalding hot line of fire and it caught me so off guard that I wailed. A second followed. Then a third.
He was right. The belt was so much worse than his hand and the fact that I couldn’t make it stop made it that much more so. The wicked leather whipped me over and over again, from the top of my bottom all the way down to the fullest part of my backside and then it descended even further than that.
He didn’t stop at the tops of my thighs.
He went even lower.
He thoroughly punished the entirety of my bare bottom, making sure that even my thighs were welted from the terrible implement. He even laid a single stripe across the fullest part of my calves. That one made me scream.
Oh, God. Please let this end soon.
It didn’t. It felt like it was going on forever and ever and soon my desperate pants became pitiful cries and then my breath hitched in the back of my throat.
He was going to make me cry.
I wasn’t going to be able to stop it from happening. I squeezed my eyes so tightly that it was painful, but I could still feel the tears brewing. They were going to fall. It was simply a matter of time now.
I whimpered. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.
“Dean, please,” I begged.
“Refer to me properly, little girl,” he demanded.
Would it be so bad to say it? Would it do anything but wound my pride to utter the words he wanted to hear so badly?
“Please,” I pleaded.
The first tear rolled down my cheek unbidden. Then a storm of tears followed. One fell after the next until I was sobbing, my scalded bottom and wet little pussy on complete display. My shoulders shook and my once quiet cries escalated into weeping wails and it hardly even registered in my head that the belt had stopped.
“Please, Daddy,” I wailed. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
My voice was thick with emotion, but it no longer mattered.
I’d called him Daddy.
The cuffs holding my ankles captive released and I cringed nervously. Was my punishment over?
Please, Daddy. I’m so sorry. Please believe me.
Almost tenderly, he placed the folded belt next to my face and sat down beside me.
“There now, that’s a good girl,” he said softly, and the words fell down around me like a warm embrace. I swallowed, trying to grapple with that unexpected feeling as his fingers softly massaged my shoulders and then continued down the length of my spine. His tenderness was so unexpected that it caught me off guard even as my tears continued to fall, rolling down my cheeks unbidden.
