Trained by her Daddy. Shelly Douglas
my body with the realization I was about to be spanked by my publisher’s father, it also occurred to me my ass was naked under my pajama bottoms. Surely, he wouldn’t take my pants down.
“Are you coming, Lori? Because the second time I need to ask, the elastic waist in those pants will be lowered to your knees,” he warned in a husky tone while folding his arms, “and then the spankin’ you deserve will be administered to your bare behind.”
The event that was about to take place seemed surreal as I cleared my throat and made the decision to slowly move toward him. Instantly, he lifted me over his knees, repositioned my bottom until it was tipped upward, and then his large warm hand rested on the small of my back.
“Here’s what will happen when you disobey the rules.”
Instinctively, I reached to shield my covered backside. “Noo, wait!”
“You don’t get to direct how this discipline will be carried out,” he scolded, his voice lowering a notch as he caught my wrist and pinned it to the base of my spine. “It was your decision to defy me, and as a result, this little hide of yours will be spanked good and hard.”
“Jesus, you’re treating me like a fucking five-year-old,” I grated through gritted teeth as the first smack landed on my shuddering behind.
“Oh, and did I mention what will happen when you use nasty language in my home?” His tone was smooth as silk as he hooked his fingers under the elastic waistband of my pajama pants and tugged them down my legs. “Yes, I’m sure I did.”
“Whoa! You can’t do that! I…”
But just as my second thought began, he peppered the bottom of each globe with a hand that didn’t feel human at all.
It felt like a piece of wood.
“Oh, yes, I can, young lady,” John said with a quiet nonchalance before he slapped the backs of my thighs.
I’d always wondered if the description of flesh connecting with flesh really had the same sound as multiple gunshots at close range.
Unfortunately, I’m not wondering anymore.
“Jesus Christ! That hurts! Are you fucking crazy?” I tried my best to buck upward while wiggling away from this solid man who easily weighed over two hundred pounds, but he snaked my waist in closer to his body with one arm while landing a resounding smack across the middle of my ass.
“To answer your question, I prefer to think of myself as a disciplinarian who insists rules will be followed in his house. So, you’ll either start behaving, my dear, or there will be consequences. Painful consequences.”
The slaps continued coming fast and hard on my bare cheeks, most of them landing in the same spot, and I could only imagine the color my pale skin was turning. In my entire life, I’d never experienced a burning pain quite like it. Fuck! It felt like my ass was on fire!
“Please stop! Please! Please!” My howls were loud and intense as I begged, rocking and writhing over his knees trying to escape, which just resulted in him drawing me tighter to his broad frame while he continued to rain down a steady barrage of heavy smacks onto my poor burning behind.
“You owe me an apology, little one,” he scolded, stopping to cup my fiery globes with his massive hand.
The smart choice would’ve been to answer him quickly, but it was difficult to speak and sob at the same time. Agreeing to be trained by this man was probably the dumbest decision I’d ever made, and with that thought, I slumped over his lap and dropped my head toward the floor in defeat. This disciplinary spanking was not how I ever imagined it would be, and it certainly wasn’t close to anything I’d described in my novels.
“I. Am. Waiting,” he growled, landing a stinging swat to the area that joined my ass and thigh with each deliberate word.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I really am!”
His fingertips ran light circles around my back. “Lori, do you really want to stay here as we planned? Because I can call Jake right now to pick you up if you’ve changed your mind. He only lives an hour away.”
The tiny voice that emerged from my parched throat surprised me. “No. I’ll stay.”
“Good. Because we obviously have a lot of work to do together. Don’t we?”
“I-I was just trying to be funny. I thought you’d appreciate a quick repartee.”
“There is a difference between being a brat and having a sense of humor,” he advised, smoothing the hair on the back of my head. “Tell me, were you crying because of the physical pain from the spankin’, or from the embarrassment?”
“You took my pants down,” I quavered, tears once again falling from my eyes.
“Yes, I did,” he acknowledged in a measured tone as his hand patted my sore behind. “Did your father ever take you over his knee for a serious tannin’?”
“N-No. My father didn’t pay much attention to me. He’s a salesman and spent a good bit of time on the road.
“Ahh, I see.”
“You know, I’m not feeling this is the best moment for me to fill you in on my family history,” I said, trying to wiggle my bottom away from his sizable fingers.
Squeezing my inflamed flesh, he apparently took a minute to ponder my logic. “Mmm, and I would argue that point. I think this position is ideal for any future important discussions we might have. Honestly, I’m finding it quite convenient that your bright red behind is resting comfortably under my firm hand.”
“Yes, I’m sure you are.”
Instead of words, his immediate response to my cheeky comment came in the form of several sharp swats right across my flaming ass.
“Come on! That hurts!”
“In case I haven’t made myself clear, the sass needs to end, and it needs to end right now.”
“Okay, Dr. Freud, what do you really want to know? Wait, let me guess. You’re wondering if I started writing Daddy Dom stories because I’m secretly craving the loving care of an older dominant man. Is that it?”
“I think when you finally accept who you really are, everything else will fall into place.”
“You’re not only a Daddy Dom, but you are also a psychologist. Wow, didn’t I hit the fucking jackpot?” Five smacks instantly rained down onto my thighs, and they came harder and faster than I ever thought was possible.
“For the remainder of the week, you’ll be held responsible for even the slightest bit of disrespect that comes out of your sassy mouth. I’ll not tolerate any misbehavior from my little girl. Is that understood?”
I parted my lips to speak, but no sound emerged. When Jake first proposed that I be trained by his father, the idea seemed preposterous. But as I looked over my shoulder and noticed John’s bushy dark eyebrow was raised, it was crystal clear he was serious. Yes, indeed, this was my publisher’s strict father who wanted to teach me about the world of D/s, the man who invited me into his home for a week to be my Daddy Dom, and his determined expression revealed he was nowhere near finished disciplining my bare ass for testing him.
“When I ask you a question, young lady, you will answer me.” Though his tone was deep, it sounded eerily calm and collected.
“Yes, sir. I understand.”
“Good girl,” he said as his rock-hard palm fell onto my bare behind like the steady beat of a metronome. Though I tried my best to be stoic, the high-pitched shrieks that emerged from my dry throat displayed my obvious low tolerance for ass pain. Which is so ironic, because I’ve been told by more than one editor that I’m a pain in the ass.
“Now, what do you have to say for yourself?”
“That hurt like fucking hell!”
“Try