Page 146 of Hunt Me, Daddy

I was also, I noted with my characteristic tendency toward honest self-assessment, very aroused.

I had been for approximately the last forty minutes because I had known that I would come home, and I’d known that my daddy would spank me for being naughty and that was the single most arousing thing I’d ever experienced in my life.

I heard the belt swish through the air before it landed.

I pressed my forehead into the duvet and breathed through the hot sting. It was not the same as his hand. His hand was warm and immediate and left a specific blooming sting that built and receded in waves. The belt was different. It was sharper, more linear, a stripe of heat that sat on the skin differently,concentrated and hot and significantly more difficult to outpace with argument or analysis.

It landed again.

I yelped and gripped the duvet, and the belt began to fall faster.

He was methodical about it the way he was methodical about everything, with full attention and no wasted motion. He did not rush and he did not ask me if I was all right because he already knew that I was, the same way he always already knew, and the knowing was its own specific kind of thing that I had stopped resenting and started being grateful for somewhere around day three of living in this apartment.

The belt came down again and again and I stopped counting, cataloguing, and doing anything that resembled analysis. I pressed my face into the duvet, felt the heat building across my bottom, and thought about nothing except the specific, present reality of being here, in this room, having chosen this, with this man.

It was the most present I had been in seven years.

Possibly longer.

At some point—I had lost track of how many times the belt fell—the tears came, real ones, the kind I had been very careful about for years, the kind that came when you ran out of infrastructure to contain them. They came quietly and I did not try to stop them because stopping them would have required reassembling the infrastructure and I had chosen, intentionally, to leave it down tonight.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” I cried out into the duvet.

The belt finally stilled and his hand came to my lower back, warm and comforting.

“There’s my good girl,” he said.

The heat across my bottom was significant. The stripes would be visible tomorrow and possibly the day after and I had absolutely no objection to that.

I waited, my face still pressed to the bed.

When he finally spoke again, his voice was lower.

“You understand why Daddy spanked you, don’t you?”

I nodded.

“Tell me.”

I swallowed and my voice was rough when I answered. “Because I didn’t tell you about the meeting.”

“Even though we agreed that when your safety is in question, you would tell me first.”

I nodded again.

“And now that I’ve punished your bottom properly, you understand that your punishment isn’t over yet.”

My breath caught because I hadn’t expected anything more than a spanking. Maybe a fucking, but no more than that…

He moved around me, his hand sliding through my hair and clenching into a fist at the back of my scalp. Then he lifted me up by my hair, so I was looking up at him. I whimpered at the ache and his eyes darkened with want.

“You took your belting like a good girl,” he said quietly. “Now Daddy’s going to finish your punishment with his cock.”

My body tightened all over.

He waited.

“Are you ready to be a good girl for Daddy’s cock, little girl?”