Abbey did scream. She cried out until she was hoarse but no one came to help. His hand slapped down on her bottom again and again, sending a heat burning through her that was matched by the heat of her shame, the feel of being so exposed and so helpless. It wasn’t just the pain of his spanking, it was the fact that he seemed to be enjoying it, pressing her down against his lap and humming to himself, as if it was just another mundane chore but one he was rather partial to carrying out.
“Please,” she muttered as his hand slammed down on her buttocks yet again. “Please stop.”
“Not yet,” he replied, his hand moving down so the next blows struck the tops of her thighs. “You are not quite red enough for my liking.”
“Oh for the love of God, please stop. It hurts so much.”
“It is supposed to. Next time you think about misbehaving, I want you to remember today, remember this moment, remember how this feels.”
He was mad. It was the only explanation. She had been handed over to a madman and there was nothing she could do to escape until he let go of her. Having had control of her own life since her mother died, Abbey was not used to someone else making the decisions, deciding what would happen to her. She felt scared and tired and in pain and ashamed all at once and underlying it all was the sense of injustice. She did not deserve this.
“There,” he said at last, his hand sliding over her rear, the tortured nerve endings so sensitive she could feel every ridge of his skin and her own. “That’s better. You look good with a little red to your cheeks.”
“You brute,” she said when he lifted her to her feet. She yanked up her shorts, wrapping the gown around her as her legs gave way and she fell to the floor.
“You might be a bit wobbly,” he said. “Always happens the first time. I’m guessing you’ve not been spanked before.”
Abbey’s face flickered just long enough for him to frown and look at her closely. “Oh, you have? I’m surprised. Who was it? Your father?”
“My mother,” Abbey whispered, not even sure why he deserved an answer.
“When you were very small, I presume?”
Abbey nodded.
“Well, what happens here will be quite different to the spankings of a babe in arms. Trust me on that one.”
“What…what does happen here?”
“I look after little girls like you.”
Chapter Six
When Papa told Abbey to lay on her back, she did as he asked. She didn’t think she had much choice. He was towering over her on the nursery floor and he looked so large, she felt he could probably squash her flat if he chose to put those boots of his on her. But he didn’t crush her. Instead his smile filled with warmth as she rolled onto her back and looked up at him, fear filling her at the sight of his joy. “What are you going to do to me?” she asked, her hands automatically folding across her chest.
“I’ve already told you, your Papa isn’t going to do anything like that. I’m here to teach you how to be a grown up.”
“By spanking me?”
“Not just that. First, I make you little, then I mould you into the right sort of big.”
“You make me little?”
“Exactly?”
“What does that mean?”
“Well first of all, I’m going to take your clothes off you.” He ignored her sharp intake of breath. “Then I’m going to shave you, powder you, put a nappy on you, give you a dummy and then put you to bed.”
Abbey reeled as his words sank in. “You’re what?”
“You heard me. Now let’s begin, shall we?”
“No, please,” she muttered as he reached for her dressing gown cord. She tried to push his hands away but he ignored her, taking the cord and untying it, pulling the two halves apart to reveal her night attire. “Looks expensive,” he said, her hands still fighting his. “It would be a shame to have to rip it off you but if you don’t stop fighting me, I will.”
Abbey’s hands fell slowly away from his. “Please,” she muttered again. “Don’t do this.”
“You do not make the decisions anymore,” he said, pulling her arms so she was forced into a sitting position. He slid the gown from her shoulders as she looked up at him, willing him to stop. He might have said he wasn’t going to fuck her, but what was he going to do? As he took hold of her vest and slid it up over her chest, she tried to stop him, hearing the ripping sound of it being torn in half a second later. “That was your own fault,” he said, tossing the vest aside and shoving her in the chest, pushing her back down to the ground.