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“Okay. Then I want you to turn your head and look.”
I didn’t understand what he meant at first, but when I got it, I really got it. I took a tight hold on the blankets and shook my head. He swatted my ass hard, right across the center, and goddamn, it stung.
“Turn your head and look,” he repeated. “You like to watch, you can watch this.”
When I opened my mouth to complain, a moan came out, and when I tried to shake my head again, I turn to the side instead, and maybe I thought I didn’t want to watch, but my body had other ideas, I guess, because there I was staring at my reflection in his closet doors, my big jock ass draped over his knee like a little boy, and his hand gripping the waistband of my sweatpants, ready to tug them down.
That feeling was back, that sick, spinning, raging hard on feeling, humiliation turning me on like a mother fucker, and I watched with my mouth open as he peeled my sweats down and suddenly my bare ass joined the party, looking plump and tender and fuckable and impossibly fucking pale, not a bruise or a blush in sight. I wasn’t sure I was supposed to be turned on, but my cock was drilling right into his thigh and I figured he’d tell me if I was completely fucking up.
“Look at that naughty little boy,” he said softly, and it seemed more like narration than an outright order, because I was already staring, there was no way I could look away at this point. He ran his giant hand across my ass and I watched, somehow surprised when I felt it too, like my reflection didn’t have anything to do with me. “I’m gonna turn your bottom pink, do you know why?”
I swallowed hard and exhaled harder, trying to claw words out of my head. “Because I’m an asshole.”
He squeezed my ass and laughed a little, and god he was hot, even when he was torturing me. Mostly when he was torturing me.
“You had a bratty little tantrum because you got scared,” he corrected me, and goddamn, I hated that he was right, that I was that fucking ridiculous. “It’s okay to be scared, but you have to behave. It’s Daddy’s job to remind you I’m right here when things are scary and all you have to do is talk to me.”
Goddamn it.
I really thought for a second this was just going to be a horny fucking peepshow and here he was getting all internal on me again, hitting that empty spot, filling me up with all that patience and understanding and making it seem like hard things were easy after all. Just talk to him. Fuck me.
“I’m not good at talking,” I told him, and he nodded.
“That’s okay. It’s hard. Especially when people don’t listen like they should. But I will. And I’ll take care of anything that’s upsetting you. Because I care about you. And that’s what you deserve.”
My throat was really starting to hurt from holding back so many things— words and moans and tears and whatever else was stuck in there, and when his hand finally came down hard across my bare ass and I jolted forward, the big ugly wail that broke out of my mouth was a mash up of all of it. It was loud and it burned, and so did his hand on my ass as he laid into me, just quick, strict swats, back and forth, perfect and precise like he was following a fucking blueprint.
Watching him go to work on me was less like porn than I expected. It was like work, like goddamn science, like he wasstudyingme. Spanking and then soothing with a quick rub across my cheeks. A little adjusting of his knee to tip me up higher, tug me closer, and then spanking again. If I hadn’t been watching, I think I would have missed all that, because it all just felt like smacks on my ass to me, a bright red sting that covered me top to bottom and blotted out everything else.
Watching was hot. So hot. But it made me realize he wasn’t bullshitting. Helikedtaking care of me. And then somehow I was fucking crying again.
He noticed right away, maybe because he could see it in the mirror, or maybe he just knew, but he took a break and rubbed the backs of my thighs, shushing that gentle way he had that seemed to go along with my crying instead of meaning to stop it.
“Look at that little boy,” he told me when I caught my breath, and I whined and forced my eyes back to the mirror, wiping at my face so I could see. “He belongs here. With me. Right in this bed at night. Right over my lap when he’s naughty. That ismyboy and this is where I want him. This is where he stays. Do you understand?”
I nodded. I was pretty far from understanding, but technically the words made sense and right now that was the best I could do.
He gave me three hard smacks across the center of my pink ass, and I gasped and moaned when they sent me rocking across his lap, thrusting at an angle that felt too good to fucking ignore.
“Do you—”
“Yes, Daddy. Yes. I understand, Daddy.” I corrected myself in a hurry, staring at the mirror, at my pink cheeks and my kicking legs and the way he put his hand down on my ass, squeezing hard and thorough when I rubbed against his thigh, coaxing me a little, moving with me.
“Naughty,” he scolded me, but his voice was softer now, smoother. So was his face, I could see the difference in his features. I’d done what he said, done a good job, and the punishment was over and this was the reward. It wasn’t a game, but I was winning. I could work with that. “Sit up, baby,” he murmured
I groaned and made a sad attempt at pushing myself off his lap, and he helped me the rest of the way, inching back on the bed and making room for me between his legs. My ass sizzled hot and low when it hit the mattress, the softest blanket I’d ever felt seemed like goddamn sandpaper underneath me, and I moaned back against him, giving us both a good look.
It was sort of perverse really, how I was still mostly dressed and this turned on. Head to toe in his clothes, too— his sweats around my ankles and his tshirt clinging to me and his hoodie making me sweat.
Normally I’d have been stripping it all off, but normally I wouldn’t have been staring full frontal when I was rock hard, with someone wrapped around me from behind, and all of that just made me harder, heavy, thick and aching, the head of my cock such a shiny mess of precome you could see it in my reflection.
“If you enjoy being punished this much, maybe I’m doing it wrong,” he teased me, and I moaned.
“No, you’re doing it right.” I needed him to touch me so bad I was shaking, but he kept his hands still, spanning my thighs and my hips with his long fingers, staring at me in the mirror until I swore I could feel that, his eyes just heating me up, making me crazy.
“Maybe I should put you in the corner for getting so excited.” He kissed the side of my neck and slid his fingers further between my legs and I could barely breathe watching him in the mirror— like I wasobsessed.
“Yeah, sure, if you want me to come all over your walls,” I whispered, my voice so rough it barely worked, and he laughed.
