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She exhaled hard, air whooshing out of her lungs not because it’d been knocked out of her—he hadn’t let her fall over his substantial thighs—but because she couldn’t simply sigh in relief. That wouldn’t be big enough, forceful enough. This feeling of gratitude and anticipation was so huge it was pushing at her skin, making her dress feel tight and her head pound with her pulse.
She hadn’t been this excited about a spanking since… Well, probably since the first time she’d got up the nerve to ask to be spanked.
“Are you going to be a good girl and accept Daddy’s discipline or are you going to fight me?”
The way his hand settled on the small of her back made her moan softly. Fuck she was horny. So goddamn kink starved.
She thought he was asking if she needed to be held down. As much as she loved being restrained, that felt like it might nudge at her better sense and make her panic because Vance was huge. When push came to shove, he could take her, do whatever he wanted with her and there was little she could do to stop him. Same reason she never did bondage on the first playdate. That was a privilege her tops had to earn with trust and it felt beyond foolish to allow it just because she wanted it desperately.
“I’ll try to be good, Daddy.”
Her eyes watered and her throat felt thick. This felt so good, she’d missed it so much, and it was such a stark contrast to Chester prowling around the desk and telling her to get on her knees.
If Vance told her to get on her knees? She’d do it. But she was enjoying a whole lot more that she was ass-up over his. Loving how it felt to call a man Daddy again and to have faith that he was decent enough to have earned at least an hour of the title. Because that’s what this was: Rent-a-Top. Put your quarters in the machine and a loaner Daddy popped out. Definitely not for real. Kink of convenience.
She ought to remember that even as he hauled her closer, snugging her up to his thick midsection, and resting a hand just beneath the hem of her short, black lace tutu on her thighs.
Drawing a shuddery breath in, she wiped away the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. What the fuck?
She was not going to ruin her chances at getting a good thrashing for the first time in months, never mind make her mascara run, by crying. Vance would think she was a weakling and take it easy on her. She might be a little, but she was tough. Fragile like a bomb.
