“Why is Daddy going to blister your bottom, Coco?”
“I-I didn’t obey you, Daddy.”
“That’s right. You ignored Daddy when he told you to wear your coat. Going out improperly dressed is a safety issue, isn’t it?”
Her could see her fight to swallow, both of them knowing that discipline for ignoring safety rules was harsher than discipline for simple disobedience. He watched as the adult lawyer within her struggled against the little girl who had taken the vows she’d given on their wedding day to a different level…a level that required her submission to his wishes, obedience to his rules, and acceptance of punishment delivered by her daddy when she broke those rules.
“Answer me, Colette.”
“I-I guess…” Her eyes dropped for an instant then lifted to give the true answer. The answer that would not only justify her upcoming spanking but force her to admit she’d made a big mistake that morning. “I mean, yes, Daddy.” Evidently the adult attorney was still not fully banished, as she looked once again at the table and said, “But I was in a—”
“No,” Dalton chided, shaking his head. “I’m not interested in excuses, little girl. I’m interested in making sure that the next time your daddy tells you to do something that instead of ignoring me, you’ll obey.” He reached for her, taking her arm and guiding her between his spread knees. “It doesn’t matter if I’m instructing you to brush your teeth, mind your manners, or put on a coat. Let this spanking remind you that my little one is to obey every single instruction she is given.”
“Yes, sir,” she whispered, her lower lip trembling as he pulled her down and positioned her draped over his left leg with her bare bottom perched on top of his thigh. Her hair fell to shield her face, her hands moved to grip the legs of the chair, and her toes were barely able to touch the floor behind her. He gave her bottom a pat before reaching for the first item on the table. Once the jar was open, he lifted the lid of the black box sitting next to it and removed the long glass tube.
“You could have caught a cold out in the snow—”
“No, I wasn’t outside long enough for—”
The moment his palm cracked against her right buttock, her protest ended. With the imprint of his hand, each individual finger painted in red against her pale flesh, he continued. “If you are running a fever, it will not keep you from receiving your spanking, but it might require a change in our vacation plans. I am going to take your temperature now and several additional times until I am satisfied that you aren’t becoming ill.”
She whimpered, her bottom clenching at his words. “Please…please, Daddy. Not there.”
“Not where?” he asked, not needing an answer but knowing requiring one would help her accept the proper mindset of her role.
“Oh, Daddy, please don’t make me say.”
A matching handprint bloomed on her left buttock. “You will answer any questions I ask you, little girl. Now, use your words and tell Daddy where this thermometer is going to go.”
She gave a little sob but he knew it was from embarrassment and not pain. His little one had a hard time voicing certain things and those pertaining to her body always caused her to hesitate. “My…my hei…heinie hole,” she finally managed, stuttering the words he’d taught her were proper for his little girl to say. Her head turned back, her eyes welling with tears of humiliation, the trembling of her bottom lip more frantic. “Ple…please, Daddy, it’s too embarrassing. Please put it in my mouth.” Her shaky voice, her uttered plea told him his precious little girl had completely driven the attorney from this moment.
“No, Coco. Naughty little girls don’t get to decide where their daddy takes their temperature. Daddies make the decisions and, young lady, this thermometer doesn’t go between a good little girl’s lips.” He paused as his cock twitched at the image of those sweet trembling lips, imagining them parting to wrap around his shaft. Ignoring the erotic image, he concentrated on the task at hand.
“No, this is the thermometer that Daddy is going to push into your heinie hole before he spanks your naughty bottom until it is as hot as those logs in the fireplace.” Shaking down the thermometer, he watched as her head fell forward, a soft cry given as he used the fingers of one hand to spread the globes of her ass apart to expose her puckered little hole. It too was clenching with both the embarrassing exposure as well as the knowledge that it was soon to be invaded. He swirled the tip of the glass tube into the jar of lubricant, coating it with a large dollop of the emollient before placing it against her anus. The sound of her sharp inhale didn’t deter him in the least. Pressing the thermometer past the tight ring of muscle he said, “Don’t clench, and don’t move. I don’t want to lose the tube inside your little hole. Be very still for Daddy.”
Though there was absolutely no chance he’d ever lose the tube, he knew the mere possibility would freeze his girl in place. Yes, her little cheeks would continue to clench, and her whimpers would continue to waft on the air, but her bottom would remain still until he, and only he, decided to remove the tube. With her as immobile as a statue, he pressed the thick thermometer past the second ring of muscle.
“See, no need to be scared. Your heinie hole is swallowing the thermometer just fine.” How he adored hearing her soft little gasps of humiliation at his use of the words that caused both her face to flush and her tummy to twist at the knowledge that she, a twenty-six-year-old woman, was across her husband’s knees in front of a bank of floor to ceiling windows in a lavishly-furnished penthouse apartment overlooking Central Park. Instead of enjoying an evening cocktail, clothed in some designer’s newest collection, she was completely nude except for the little girl panties at her knees and having her temperature taken anally. He pulled the tube almost free of her passage before sliding it in again as if to demonstrate his point. Repeating the process, he heard her little whimpers change to soft moans. Regardless of her protests that she hated any attention to that specific portion of her anatomy, her buttocks finally relaxed, and with her anus loosening its tight grip, he slid the tube in fully until only enough remained to hold between his fingers. “There, that wasn’t bad, was it?”
“N…no, Da…Daddy, but I don’t like it,” she said, obediently answering yet maintaining her stubborn streak.
Dalton chuckled, giving the thermometer a twist, eliciting another moan. “It doesn’t matter if you like it or not, Colette Grace Windsor. What matters is that Daddy will make sure that his little girl isn’t burning up with a fever. The only part of you that Daddy wishes to be on fire is your bottom after your spanking. Now, just relax and let the thermometer do its job.”
A soft sigh of acceptance sounded as she went limp over his thigh. Keeping the thermometer in place far longer than necessary, he continued to twist, withdraw and replace it deeply within her for several minutes, enjoying every whimper, gasp, squeak and moan his actions produced. Finally, he pulled the tube from her and checked the reading. Her temperature was fine, and yet he’d do as he’d promised and continue to check for the next few days. Returning the tube to its box, he pulled his fingers from between her nether cheeks, allowing her little rosebud to return to its hiding place. The handprints that had decorated her bottom had faded to a light pink and would quickly disappear altogether beneath the crimson color that would soon cover her entire ass. Laying his palm against the center of her bottom, he splayed his fingers wide. She was so much smaller than he that his one hand practically covered the entire, plump surface. Giving her a little pat, he lifted his hand and began.
Chapter Three
It only took a half-dozen swats before her knees bent, calves folding back in an attempt to cover his target with her feet. “Naughty,” he scolded.
“Daddy! It hurts!”
“I should hope so,” he said, pushing her legs down and placing his free leg over hers. “If it didn’t, it would be a rather useless exercise now wouldn’t it?” He didn’t wait for an answer, landing a cracking smack against each of her upper thighs.
“No! Daddy!” she wailed as his next swat caused her left cheek to lift and wobble when the stroke connected to that very tender area he considered her sweet spot. Ignoring her plea, he painted his handprint beneath her right buttock as well.
“Little girls who fight their punishment get a harder spanking,” he said calmly returning his swats to her bottom, alternating left and right again and again, each stroke audible in the room as the cracking sound bounced about the abundant space.
“I’m sorry! I’ll be go…good. Daddy! Daddy, please! Owie! Owie! Please, Daddy, please! No more spanking!”
She squirmed and wiggled, attempted to swim off his lap, and continued to beg for him to stop. Instead, his hand continued to rise and fall in a steady cadence, covering the entire surface of her bottom for the second time after completing the first round.
“Who decides when the spanking is over, Colette?”
“Da…Daddy does,” she cried, her back arching after two harder swats landed.