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“Thatiswhat I get out of it. Letting you be Little, taking care of you… I can’t explain it, but it fulfills a need in me the same way it does for you. Just opposite, I suppose. But you don’t need to worry about me, okay?”
“It just doesn’t seem very fair. You get all the responsibility.”
“Which is exactly how I like it. So, let’s go over the ground rules. All your other rules are the same, but the kitchen is now off-limits when you’re Little. If you need to leave the room we’re in, you’ll need to ask permission.”
“Even to…” Embarrassment already heating her cheeks, she gestured vaguely toward the door behind him.
“Yes, even to use the bathroom. Let’s see… no more scary movies or shows. What and how much TV you watch has to be approved by me. Ten pm bedtime, and you are to stay in bed after you’re put there unless you need to potty.” He seemed to make a show of tapping his finger against his lip as he pondered the list he’d already given her. “I think that’s enough for now. Why don’t you go sit at the desk and write them down, and we’ll hang them up somewhere so you don’t forget.”
Already, she could feel herself sliding into that mindset of being a Little girl. And her Little was feeling rather bratty at the moment. “What if I don’t wanna?”
“Then you can sit on the scratchy pad with a freshly spanked bottom while you write your new rules instead.”
As curious as she was to see how this new arrangement might work out, she wasn’t quite ready to experience the scratchy pad again just yet. “No, thank you.”
“I thought that might be the answer.” Grinning, he rose to his feet and held his hand out to her. “Come on, babygirl. As soon as you get your new rules written down, we can go play for a bit. The weather should be nice again today if you want to play on the swings.”
“Okay!”
Letting herself be pulled to her feet, she followed him into the living room and hoped his plan worked. Something had to give, because she wasn’t sure she could live with the giant rock of guilt that had settled itself in the pit of her stomach.
CHAPTER20
She earned two spankings during the day. One for sneaking off into the kitchen for an unauthorized snack. The cupcake she’d managed to scarf down before he’d caught her had been the most delicious thing she’d ever eaten, and totally worth the ten swats with the spoon she’d gotten for it.
The second spanking had happened right when she was supposed to be going to sleep, because she’d thrown what could only be described as a full-blown temper tantrum over her ten o’clock bedtime. Lying in bed, staring up at the gauzy white canopy above her, she was a little embarrassed by her actions. But Dean had taken it all in stride. He’d stuck her in a corner until she’d calmed herself down, and then he’d put her over his knee and spanked her until she’d been very sore, and very sorry.
Unfortunately, neither one of those punishments had lasted very long. And while they had made her feel all warm and fuzzy and floaty for a little while, eventually all those yucky, guilty feelings came back.
Which was how she found herself wide awake a good two hours past her bedtime, trying to decide if it was worth the risk of another spanking to sneak over to the next room to find something to watch until she felt sleepy enough to come back to bed.
After another ten minutes of staring at nothing, she threw the covers off and eased out of the bed, careful not to make the frame squeak the way it sometimes did if she moved too fast. She didn’t bother with the lights, not wanting to risk him seeing them under the door, which meant she had to move extra slowly across the bedroom to the sitting area.
When she made it without being caught, she snatched up the remote and did a little booty wiggle dance before dropping onto the sofa and hitting the button to turn on the TV.
“Shit, shit, shit!” she whispered when it flashed on with a chime loud enough to wake the dead. Glancing at the door to the hall, expecting to see his shadow any second, she frantically hit the button to turn the volume down.
She managed to get it turned down low enough that hopefully he wouldn’t hear from… wherever he was. Had he gone to bed in his own room? Or was he still downstairs?
Either way, she should be safe for a little while. And if he caught her, well, she’d just get another spanking and hopefully be able to sleep. It was really a win-win situation, even if the thought of being in trouble again did make her tummy clench uncomfortably.
As much as she enjoyed the after-effects of a punishment, she still felt nervous over breaking the rules. Probably just one more way she was a weirdo.
After her third pass through the Disney app, she huffed quietly and switched over to the app where she’d found the ghost show she’d been watching the last time Dean had caught her. If he caught her, she was going to be in trouble for being out of bed and not asking permission anyway, so did it really matter if she picked a show she knew he didn’t approve of?
Just like that first time, the show sucked her in. The fear that pounded through her veins as she watched doors slam when nobody was there and listened to strange noises coming through the speakers wasn’t the same as the fear she’d felt during her nightmare. It was almost like a more diluted, easily processed fear. Was that why people liked scary movies so much? Because they wanted the heart-pounding adrenaline rush of fear, without the ‘realness’ of living through something horrible?
“What are you doing, naughty girl?”
A scream exploded out of her before her brain could process what was happening. As she scrambled to her feet to face her assailant, the lights in the room flashed on, momentarily blinding her. Mouth dry, heart racing, breaths ragged, she squinted at the man behind the couch as he picked up the remote and turned the TV off before crossing his arms and fixing her with a stern glare that had her heart hammering even harder in her chest.
Uh oh.
“I’m waiting for an explanation, little girl.”
“Ummm…” What kind of excuse could she possibly give? She’d broken two rules at once and judging by the look on Dean’s face, her bottom was about to pay the price. Dearly. “I couldn’t sleep?”
“Are you asking me or telling me, babygirl?”
