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Chapter Eleven
Well, the barista was better than he could’ve imagined. Both feistier and sweeter than he’d expected, and her bottom was a dream to spank. Plenty of pale flesh to rain his hand down on, and she liked it hard—so hard his palm was hot and he was grateful she wanted him to cane her. He’d take the chance to rest his hand, wrap it around a cool glass of water to ease the sting.
Not that subs had to like being hit hard for him to enjoy a scene—it was more about eliciting reactions from them no matter the amount of force he used. But there was a specific kind of enjoyment that came from having to put physical effort into disciplining the woman across his lap. Fighting against her struggles and breaking a sweat because it was an endeavor to lay swat after hand-tingling swat across her generous backside.
He took a moment in the bathroom to down a glass of water himself before refilling it and grabbing a second.
Would Plum be the sort of woman who would want him to put the glass to her lips, tip it until the cool water flowed into her mouth? Or would she sit up and take the glass because she could do it herself, thankyouverymuch. Either would be fine, although he did sometimes envy the caregivers of littles for the trusting way their little boys and girls would cuddle into them and give over so much control.
When he got back to the bedroom, Plum was still sprawled out on the bed although with knees bent and kicking her feet in the air while tapping on her phone, coverlet bunched between her shoulders and thighs.
She looked over her shoulder when he appeared and smiled.
“Just letting my safety buddy know everything’s cool.”
“Good girl, that’s smart,” he praised. It was one thing to play with strangers at the club who had been vetted by the owners with monitors around keeping an eye on things. It was another to go to an essential stranger’s home alone.
“Thanks, Daddy,” she said offhandedly and it was nice how easily she had adopted calling him daddy. Some women struggled with it and for different reasons. Plum reached for the glass and he handed it to her. She sipped with one hand and texted with the other and those black stockings with their seams were still so very tempting. He’d undo her garters when he caned her so as not to hit the clasps—he wouldn’t want to break them, not to mention there was the chance of an edge cutting her skin. He guessed she would enjoy marks she could savor in the mirror for days but she’d been clear breaking skin and permanent scars were not acceptable.
It was cute, too, how she seemed comfortable lounging on his bed going about her business as if this was a normal Sunday afternoon. God help him, he wished it would become one.
He took another draught of his own water, savoring the way the glass cooled the skin of his palm, and then opened his trunk to make his selections for canes. He had quite a few, and discarded the carbon fiber, lexan, delrin, and acrylics. Rattan for today, he thought. Classic. And should this in fact become a regular occurrence he’d branch out into more of his collection.
Truth be told though—and perhaps this made him stodgy and stuck in his ways—but he liked the rattan best. It felt most comfortable in his hand, like an extension of his arm and not something he was trying to put on a show with. He could almost forget it was there.
He laid his selections alongside Plum on the bed and didn’t fail to notice the rise of pink in her cheeks as he did. Pretty girl. Despite her toughness, she wasn’t immune to having the instruments of her torment set beside her as though it wasn’t a big deal. They both knew better.
She typed more into her phone, took another swallow of water and then rolled to seated, shrugging off the coverlet, and hissing as her ass hit the mattress. That sound was heavenly.
“You’ve reassured your friend that I’m not a murderer?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Are you still up for more?”
“Oh yes, Daddy,” she said, nodding so hard it made him chuckle.
“Very good. Anything else you need to do before we get started? More water? Visit the ladies’? Are you hungry?”
“No, I’m good.”
It wasn’t until then that Gideon really let the anticipation overtake him and become a buzz of wanting, craving. He prided himself on being patient with his partners and part of that was managing his own mounting excitement.
He grabbed two pillows from the head of his bed and laid them one atop the other beside her.
“Then I think you ought to get yourself ass-up over these pillows to receive the rest of your punishment.”
Plum didn’t hesitate, but laid herself where he’d indicated. Once she had, he set to flipping her generous skirt over her backside and unsnapping those sinful garters, tucking them into her belt so they wouldn’t get in the way.
“You said no bondage our first time playing, but would you like something to hold? I don’t want you reaching back and getting your knuckles rapped.”
“Yes, please, Daddy. Thank you.”
A good use for one of his showier acrylics. It was clear with a spiral of dark purple running throughout, and Plum made an appreciative sound as he handed it to her.
“Ooo, pretty!”
“Thought you’d like that,” he remarked as he stroked a hand over her pinked up backside. She was warm to the touch and her skin felt as though it was stretched a bit over her flesh. Nicely warmed up, but yes, his darling girl could take more. “It’s not as pretty as your bottom will be when I’m through with you.”
