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Eight
Cole
Iwas seated at a table in one of the finest restaurants in France, enjoying a meal that would most likely cost me more than most people made in a week, and I hadn’t tasted a single bite. My entire focus was on the woman across from me, and all the things I still didn’t know about her.
Who are you, Adele Bernard?
We’d made all the usual small talk, discussing the weather, the events of our day. Something had happened at work, but she wasn’t telling me what. There’d been a flash of what I would swear was panic in her eyes when I’d asked, but she’d simply said work was fine and quickly changed the subject.
More lies. More skeletons in her closet.
I didn’t want to talk about how dreary and cloudy the weather had been. What I wanted was her in my bed, writhing under me as I fucked every last one of her secrets from her.
“Adele.”
Looking up from her plate, she offered me a shy smile and again I found myself wondering if this sweet, demure Adele was the real version. Or was the real Adele the bold hedonist who’d begged me to fuck her ass in the backseat of a limo? Two completely different versions of the same woman, and yet they both seemed to fit, making it aggravatingly difficult to figure out who she really was.
“Yes?” she asked softly, tilting her head to the side like an eager puppy awaiting a command.
“Are you wearing any underwear?”
Pink color slashed across her cheeks, and she glanced around as if checking to see if anyone had heard me. “Why?”
Setting my expression in stern lines, I raised an eyebrow. “I asked you a question, little girl. I expect an answer.”
“Oh.” Even in the dim light, I could see her pupils dilate even further. Her breasts strained against the fabric of her dress—the same dress she’d been wearing the night we met which told me her wardrobe was sadly lacking—as she drew in a deep breath.
Enjoying her discomfort far more than a gentleman should, I leaned in so I could lower my voice a bit. “Answer Daddy’s question, Adele. Are you wearing any panties tonight?”
“N-no, Daddy,” she whispered, her cheeks flushing an even darker pink than before.
“Good girl. I think you deserve a reward.”
Her eyes lit up. “A reward?”
“Yes. Come here.”
Rising from her chair, she slid onto the bench beside me. The restaurant had a modern flair, and each table had a bench long enough for three or four people, with a high, rounded back which gave the occupants a good bit of privacy. The tables to either side of us could see half of our table, but not us once she was seated beside me, and the white tablecloths hid everything from the waist down from view.
“Legs open,” I murmured, waiting for her to obey, which she did far more quickly than I’d expected. Another point for bold, hedonistic Adele. “Good girl. Now, Daddy is going to finish feeding you dinner and you’re going to show Daddy how you touch yourself when you’re all alone.”
“What if someone sees me?”
“If you get caught, then I’ll have to punish you, won’t I?”
Her breath caught at the threat, but her hand disappeared between her thighs. Pulling her plate across the table, I scooped up a bite of cassoulet and held it up to her lips.
While she chewed, I leaned in so my breath would caress her ear with every filthy word. “Would you like Daddy to tell you what will happen if you get caught?”
A small whimper and a quick, jerky nod were my only answer, but it was enough for me. “First, I’ll make you stand in the middle of the restaurant and tell everyone what a naughty little girl you are. You’ll apologize for ruining their evening, and you will assure everyone that your Daddy will properly punish you when we return home.”
I wouldn’t, of course, but the fantasy of being publicly shamed had an immediate effect on my sweet little maid. The scent of her arousal greeted me as her fingers worked furiously at her clit.
“Once we get home, your punishment will start with a long, hard spanking over Daddy’s knee. And I won’t stop until your cute little bottom is a nice, bright red and hot to the touch. You’ll be crying and promising to never touch yourself in public again, but I’ll need to make sure you learn your lesson. After all, you were very, very naughty, weren’t you, sweetheart?”
“Uh huh,” she managed to gasp out between shallow breaths.
“So even though you’ll be a sobbing, whining, begging little mess, your punishment won’t be over. But what’s next? Daddy’s belt or the hairbrush he bought just for his naughty little girl? I think the brush,” I continued without waiting for a response. “Yes, a good, hard paddling should drive my lesson home, don’t you think? A naughty girl like you might enjoy the belt too much, and I need you to know this is a punishment.”
