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To her dismay, they repeated the ritual of the night before, with him standing in the bathroom with her while she relieved herself. Her cheeks burned with humiliation as she finished and washed her hands before he led her out to a small table in the corner of the bedroom.
The table was set with pretty plates adorned with little red flowers. Poppies. Her favorites. Whether he knew or it was some strange coincidence, she wasn’t successful in smothering her gasp of delight when she spotted them.
“Do you like poppies?” he asked with what sounded like genuine interest.
“Yes.” Part of her was demanding she keep her distance, not share anything even remotely personal. But perhaps if she played along, he would let his guard down long enough for her to take him out and escape. “They’re my favorite.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Ever the gentleman, he pulled a chair from the table. “Have a seat.”
She obeyed, surprised to find there was little residual ache from the beatings he’d delivered the night before. Even more surprising was the feast he unveiled after he’d taken the seat across from her at the table.
Then again, maybe it wasn’t that surprising. Crossing her arms, she leaned back in her chair, eyes narrowed. “You first.”
With a quiet laugh, Emilio lifted a piece of bacon from the plate and popped it into his mouth. “Satisfied?”
“No.” She picked up a bite-sized muffin and handed it to him. “Try this.”
“You’re a suspicious woman, Amara.” But he ate the muffin without hesitation.
She chose a blueberry from the fruit salad next. “Aren’t we all, Emilio?”
Pausing with the blueberry halfway to his lips, he raised an eyebrow. “How do you address me,piccolina?”
“Emilio, please. We’re both adults here, can’t we drop this ‘Daddy’ nonsense?”
With a heavy sigh, he picked up the napkin he’d draped over his lap and dropped it on the table. “I can see my lesson from last night didn’t make much of a lasting impression. Stand up, please.”
The memory of the hairbrush was fresh enough in her mind to have the blood draining from her face. “No, I’m sorry, please don’t spank me again,” she swallowed, her throat suddenly bone dry. “D-Daddy.”
“I’m not going to spank you, as long as you do as you’re told.”
She wasn’t sure she believed him, but what choice did she have? Until she found a way out, it was obey or be punished. With a jerk of her head in agreement, she pushed to her feet.
“Hands flat on the table.”
Once she was in position, he stood and rounded the table to pull her shorts to her knees. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to pretend she was anywhere but here, bent over a table in her childhood crush’s house while he inspected her ass.
“Barely a mark left,” he said, running his fingers over the cool flesh. His gentle touch gave her that same pull of desire low in her belly from the night before. “If you’re a good little girl the rest of the day, it can stay that way until tonight.”
“Tonight?” she squeaked out.
“Yes. I have a busy day, so we won’t be able to begin your punishment until after dinner. In the meantime,” he continued before she could voice any of the dozens of questions bouncing around in her mind, “I’m going to give you something to help you remember your manners for the rest of the day. Don’t move.”
Unwilling to risk upsetting him any further, she stayed bent over the table as he moved around the room. It seemed like forever before he returned and placed a wide metal ball with a pointed end on the table in front of her.
“Do you know what this is, Amara?”
“No.” Two sharp swats connected with the underside of each cheek, and she had to bite back a squeal at the unexpected sting. “I mean, no, Daddy,” she corrected herself.
“It’s called a plug. It goes in the bottoms of naughty little girls to remind them to behave themselves.” His tone was even, almost conversational. “This is one of the smaller plugs. If you’re unable to be a good girl today, I will replace it with a larger plug and I will spank your naughty little bottom after I put it in. Do you understand me, Amara?”
“Please, don’t.” Her voice cracked on the plea, humiliating her further, which she hadn’t thought possible. There seemed to be no limit to how low he could bring her.
“Do you understand what I have told you,piccolina?”
Realizing begging would bring her little to no mercy, she gave another jerky nod. “Yes, Daddy.”
Behind her, she heard the sound of a bottle opening, and moments later a cool liquid dribbled between her bottom cheeks. Jesus, the sick fucker was really going to shove a piece of metal in her ass.
