Chapter Twelve
She was still crying when someone knocked on the door a few minutes later. Wiping her face with the back of her hand, she did her best to appear normal as she pulled the door open. A grin spread across her features as she saw her Papa standing there, looking concerned as he stepped inside. “Are you all right, little Abbey? You look upset.”
“Of course I’m upset,” she replied. “He told me I can’t see you anymore. He called me a whore.”
“That was my fault, I shouldn’t have put the plug in you.”
“Why did you?”
He sighed, walking past her into the nearest room. Throwing a box off an armchair, he sat down, looking round at all the chaos the removal men had left. “I need to be honest with you,” he said, motioning for her to sit. She perched on the edge of a box, the plug pushing itself further into her as she did so. “The plug was mine, it was not part of the nursery, nor is it part of being a little.”
“What is it for then?”
“It was to test you, to see how obedient you were. I didn’t think you would agree to keep it in but when you obeyed me all the way to the village hall, I panicked, I thought maybe if I said nothing, no one in there would notice but damn that Watson, he’s like a bloody hawk.”
“But why did you need to test me?”
“Don’t you get it, Abbey? It’s because you’re special. I thought that from the minute I saw you enter the club. I spilled the drink on you to test you and by God, I was right. I never had anyone come through my door who has been such a completely perfect little girl for me. You made me feel things I have never felt before. The first time I spanked you, I had to resist fucking you there and then. You are beautiful and submissive yet defiant, you’ve a brain in your head and you do things to me with that mouth of yours that…” He fanned his face. “I must stop talking about it, I’m not your Papa anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’ve told me I’m not the village Papa anymore, I’m not fit to discipline anyone after what I did. You don’t need to be with me anymore.”
“What if I want to be with you?”
“What? What are you talking about?”
Abbey stood up, walking over to him and climbing onto his lap, curling up against his chest. “What if I remain your little Abbey and you my Papa?” She blinked innocently up at him. “How does that sound?”
“You mean, permanently?”
She nodded. “Maybe.”
“I…I don’t know. Are you sure you’ve thought this through? Would you really be happy submitting to me like that? Wearing what I tell you? Doing what I tell you?”
“You’re my Papa,” she replied, running a hand down his chest. “You know what’s best for me.”
His hand went to her back, stroking it gently. “That’s right,” he said quietly. “I do know what’s best for you. Now stand up.”
“Yes, Papa.” At once she was on her feet, standing with her hands behind her back, wanting to please him.
“This place is a mess,” he said, waving his arms at the boxes behind him. “A good little girl keeps her rooms tidy for her Papa.”
“I am sorry, Papa.”
“Sorry is not good enough. Put your hands on that windowsill and do not move.”
Abbey did as he asked, bending forwards, staring at the garden outside as he moved towards her. He lifted her dress to expose her bottom and she wondered how she looked with the plug still sticking out of her. His hand slammed down on her buttocks a second later, pushing the plug deep into her. It had barely returned to its normal place before he spanked her again. His hand slapped down on her right buttock with enough force to make her cry out, her mouth still open when he did it again.
Her bottom began to heat up as he spanked her, a heat that spread through her until she barely knew where she was. She looked out at the trees, the leaves blowing in the breeze, her mind leaving herself as his hand landed again and again, the echoing smacking sounds spreading through the room. His blows moved lower and then he landed a single smack on her pussy, a stinging sensation that sent her shooting upright.
“I told you to stay in place,” he growled, shoving her back down. “Do not move again.” He struck directly over the plug and she screamed, a loud primal scream of freedom that seemed to exorcise her past even as it sent her regressing back. The pain was good, the pain was love, the ragged breathing of her Papa was evidence of his desire to teach her, but also his desire to have her. When she heard his clothes being removed, she didn’t look, not wanting to incur his wrath.