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From inside the cabinet, he pulled a small, individually wrapped bar of soap similar to what hotels usually had in their bathrooms. “You don’t have to do that. I promise I’ll never use another bad word ever again.”
“Sorry, babygirl. That’s not how this works.” With a shake of his head, he unwrapped the soap and flipped the faucet on, holding the small white bar beneath the stream of water until it was good and slick. “Open.”
For a split second, she considered fighting him. But that would probably just get her an even worse punishment. She wasn’t really eager to learn how bad things could really get, so she forced her lips apart.
“Wider. Tongue out.”
“Dean, please,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes. “I can’t.”
“You can because you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. Strong enough to accept the consequences of your actions. Isn’t that right, babygirl?”
She wasn’t sure what had inspired the switch in endearments, but she wasn’t complaining. Anyone could be ‘sweetheart’, but she didn’t imagine he went around calling random women ‘babygirl’. Which meant she was special, even if he wasn’t quite ready for a real relationship just yet.
But there was hope. And that, along with his unwavering belief in her, gave her the strength to open her mouth even wider and stick her tongue out for her punishment.
“Good girl. Keep that tongue out.”
The ‘or else’ seemed to be implied, and her mind couldn’t help but conjure up images of whator elsemight mean.
But then the soap was in her mouth, sharp and acrid and absolutelygross. And she was gagging, the tears in her eyes spilling down her cheeks as he scrubbed the disgusting bar over her tongue. Suds filled her mouth, tickling her sinuses, and it took every ounce of willpower she had not to jerk out of his hold and scream her safeword.
“Naughty words are not appropriate for Little girls,” Dean lectured, his voice somehow firm and unyielding but gentle at the same time. “Especially when those naughty words are directed at other people. And good Little girls definitely do not call their Daddies rude names.”
There it was again.Daddy. Was he her Daddy now? Did that only apply to punishment time? Would he be upset if she called him Daddy?
Her mind was still racing with questions when he pulled the soap away and nudged her toward the sink. “Rinse, babygirl, and then we’ll finish your spanking.”
Coughing and sputtering, she desperately scooped water into her mouth to rid herself of the taste of soap. Unfortunately for her, no amount of water seemed to fully rinse the disgusting taste from her tongue. After several attempts, she sighed and turned the faucet off. Dean was holding out a towel, and she took it to dry her face and hands.
Tears were still streaming down her face when she turned to face him, giving him the most pitiful look she could manage. “I don’t need another spankin’. I’ll never be naughty again, Daddy, Iswear.”
CHAPTER12
Daddy.
Hearing that word from MaryAnn’s lips was like having ice water thrown in his face. Belatedly, he realized he’d been using it ever since she’d called him an asshole. But that had been almost like a reflex, and he’d been too deep in his role to really think twice about it.
But hearing someone else say it, someone who wasn’t Annie… it wasn’t right.
It wasn’t entirelywrong, either.
God, he was fucked up. And he had no business dragging someone as broken and vulnerable as MaryAnn into his issues.
“All right.” Even to his own ears his words sounded clipped and cold, and judging by the confusion on MaryAnn’s face, she hadn’t missed the change in tone, either. “You still owe me fifty lines, little girl, and then you’re done.”
“But… yes, Sir.”
Forcing his tone to gentle, he gave his best attempt at a smile. “Go on. Back to the living room.”
She hesitated, but just for a moment before shuffling past him. Despite his annoyance with himself and his desire to put some distance between them, his cock twitched painfully at the sight of her reddened ass as he followed her down the short hallway.
When she pulled the chair away from the desk, he was reminded that he’d had something else in mind for this part of her punishment. “Just a second.”
Crossing the room to a large steamer trunk, he lifted the lid and scanned the contents. There was an array of implements to punish a naughty bottom, including several unopened plugs in various sizes. He’d restocked it just before…
No. This is not the time for a trip down fucking memory lane. Doing his best to ignore the other items calling his name, he reached for the stack of pads he’d had made to fit the seat of the wooden desk chair. With one in hand, he closed the lid again and returned to the desk, where he placed the pad down.
“Now you can sit and do your lines.”
