Page 17 of Ace

“Ouccch!” Lizzie cried, wiggling her bottom over his lap. “I changed my mind! This was a bad idea.”

“Really? I think it’s a great idea,” Ace teased, smacking her again on the right cheek this time, watching with fascination as a perfectly formed red handprint bloomed on her milky-white skin.

“It hurts!” she cried, throwing her hand back to obstruct his view.

“It’s a spanking. It’s supposed to hurt.” He grinned. “Imagine how much more it would hurt if you were getting it because you were naughty.”

“I don’t like that,” she said with a pout in her voice.

“And I don’t like you blocking my view of your pretty pink bottom,” he said, moving her hand out of the way and pinning it behind her back, holding it in place. “We said we were going to do this, so that’s what we are going to do. You’re going to get twenty, and if you move your hand or try to wiggle off my lap, I’ll hold you in place, pull down your panties to spank your bare bottom, and we’ll start over,” Ace said, secretly impressed with himself and how easy this was coming to him.

Lizzie must have been impressed too, because she immediately stopped wiggling, squeezed Bert tighter and shut up.

“Say ‘Yes, Daddy’ so I know you heard me and you understand,” Ace instructed.

“Yes, Daddy,” she responded rotely.

He raised his hand again and brought it down with another satisfying smack, watching the pink bloom and spread. “Count them,” he told her.

“Three!”

“Nice try. Start at one. The first two were just practice.”

“Ugh!” Lizzie cried, as he smacked again. “Two!”

He spanked in earnest then, watching as her bottom slowly turned a lovely shade of pink that matched her panties. His cock got even harder underneath the fabric of his jeans, and he shifted, feeling like a cad for getting aroused while spanking her.

“Three,” she cried when he smacked her again. “Four, five, six!”

“Seven, eight, nine, ten.” He counted with her.

She began to wriggle again after the tenth one, but just slightly as if trying to avoid the sting.

“Don’t reach back,” he reminded her, only to be greeted with a muffled groan.

God it was exciting to watch her wriggle and listen to her sweet, distressed whimpers. He pictured tears falling from her eyes as she cried out her sorries and almost couldn’t wait for an opportunity to spank her for real. “Eleven. Twelve! Thirteen!” she shrieked as he pushed the fabric of her panties further into the crack between her cheeks and gave himself a larger canvas. He concentrated all his power into the last seven smacks, challenging himself to paint the top parts of her cheeks to match the lower parts.

“Twenty!” The scream broke from her throat and she immediately jumped off his lap, clutching her bottom as she glared at him.

Well, that wouldn’t do. Wrapping his hands around the soft curves of her waistline, he pulled her into his lap, pushed the loose hair from her eyes, tucking it behind her ears, and brushed imaginary tears from her cheeks with the pad of his thumb. She hadn’t cried any real ones, but her eyes were red and puffy.

“How do you feel?” he asked gently.

Her response was a strangled laugh. “No longer curious.” She puffed out her lip and buried her face in Bert’s soft fur. “It was pretty awful. I don’t think I’d want to experience that if I was actually in trouble.”

“Really?” Ace countered. “Funny, I was thinking exactly the opposite. I kind of can’t wait.”

Her mouth fell open as she gaped at him with wide eyes. “That’s so mean!”

“It’s not mean. You have no idea what a pretty picture you make over my knee getting your bottom smacked, and watching it turn pink under my hand. Watching you wiggle, listening to you moan and whimper… well, I’m not proud of it, but it did things to me.”

He was ashamed admitting that out loud, but it seemed to relax her as she took a shaky breath and leaned her head against his chest. “It kinda did things to me too,” she admitted.

“Oh yeah? What kinda things?”

Her cheeks turned purple as she buried her face in his chest. “Not Little things.”

He felt like the breath had been knocked out of his chest, both from her simple admission and the weight it carried. She’d been dressed in Little clothes and acting like a child all day, and yet he wanted her. What did that say about him?