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Ada giggled. “Mommy says we’re just making oatmeal raisin ones.”
“Ah well,” said Mabel. “Next time I see you, we’ll make double choc chip cookies with extra chocolate on top. Okay?”
“Deal,” said Ada, laughing.
Mabel finished the call with a huge grin on her face. In a way, it was a nothing call — just a simple, small discussion with her niece. But in another way, it was everything. It was normal, it was gentle, it was easy, good love, and she was massively grateful for it.
She was about to get on with her work, but Rip put down his whittling knife and stared at her. “You don’t think you’re going to get away with the naughty language you used before that call do you, young lady?”
Mabel had used the “f” word! She’d forgotten all about it! “I, erm, I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said. “I thought I was allowed to be a little bit naughty on green days?”
Rip gazed at her with an even greater intensity. “I think it’s time you experienced a red day, babygirl. Don’t want you thinking your Daddy’s a soft touch.”
Mabel pouted and fluttered her eyelashes at him. “I don’t, Daddy. I’ll be good now. Just one more green day while I recover and—”
“Nope,” said Rip firmly. “You were just telling me your hand doesn’t hurt anymore. I think it’s time we made a different part of you hurt now.” He patted his thighs. “Get on Daddy’s lap, naughty girl.”
Mabel would have tried to stand her ground, to fight and stamp her foot and be defiant, but right now, she didn’t want to. Her Daddy wanted to spank her, and her butt practically ached for it.
She went over to him, and he motioned at her legs. “Skirt up, panties down. You know the drill.”
Mabel nodded. She knew the drill alright. It’s part of the reason she’d taken to wearing skirts lately. Normally, she was a tomboy, through and through. She wore shorts, combat pants, trackpants. Since she and Rip had defined their relationship, she’d gotten a whole heap of second-hand skirts off Billie and Winter. Their tastes were quite outrageous. Billie’s skirts were all bright and garish and punky. Winter’s were dark and old-fashioned and gothic. Mabel enjoyed wearing them though, because it felt like she was wearing a costume. She didn’t just dress as a queen these days. She was a steampunk, an artist, a nurse, a clown. Whatever she wanted to be.
Today, she was wearing a long dark purple petticoat from Winter, and she saw herself as something of a witch.
A naughty witch who needed her ass spanking.
She pulled down the skirt, looking around to check that nobody was in the vicinity. They were outside, after all.
“Nobody’s going to see you,” Rip told her. “But even if they did, this is Liberty. Folk would hardly blink an eye here.”
It was true. Since coming here, Mabel had grown used to the sight of punishments being doled out. Littles getting spanked on their front porches, or walking around on leads as they were taken for walks by their Daddies, of ball gags or bondage gear or all manner of naughty things. Normally, of course, Liberty was a peaceful place full of people happily living in the countryside. But that didn’t stop the town from getting a little spicy now and then. In fact, it’s what made Liberty so interesting.
Mabel pulled down her panties and lay across her Daddy’s lap.
“Five spanks today,” said Rip.
“Is that because what I did wasn’t too naughty?”
“No,” said Rip. “It’s because I’m impatient. I want to get to what happens after the spanks.”
Mabel swallowed. Was he talking about…? She hoped so.
“Just because there are only five,” said Rip, “that doesn’t mean I’ll be going easy on you.”
She felt his fingers on her jaw, prying open her mouth and filling it with her panties.
“This’ll help you stay quiet,” he told her. “Even less chance of being seen now.”
Mabel clenched her teeth together, biting down on the soft fabric of her panties, tasting herself on them.
Then, she felt Rip’s hands, squeezing and pinching her buttocks, as though preparing them for what was to come.
“You are to remain silent,” said Rip, “until it’s over. When I get to five, you are to thank me and beg me to make love to you.”
Mabel felt sparks in her tummy. She was about to say something goofy, something about how excited she was, but the panties reminded her to keep quiet.
“First one’s one its way,” Rip told her. She appreciated him warning her like this. Got the impression that he was treading carefully because of her recent injury, but he really didn’t need to worry. She felt good. Better than good. She felt on top of this—
