Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 147967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 740(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 740(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Drat. He wasn’t wrong.
She didn’t know how long she stood there but by the time he called her out of the corner, she had to pee.
“I’ve got to go pee!” she cried, heading toward the attached bathroom.
But he stood and grasped her around the waist.
“Hey! I gotta pee.”
“Is that the way you ask?” he said calmly.
Uh, well, as far as she was aware she wasn’t actually asking, she was telling.
Ohhh, maybe that was his point. She’d noticed that he didn’t take direction well.
“Please, Papa. I have to go pee-pee.”
Wow.
Where had that come from? She’d never heard herself speak like that before. But it felt . . . good. It felt right. Like this was the way she was meant to be.
Urgh. Was that weird?
“Good girl,” he told her. Then he lifted her up and carried her into the bathroom. He set her down in front of the toilet. She immediately sat and waited for him to leave.
But he just stood there and watched her.
“You gotta go, Papa!” she cried.
“Not when you’re in Little headspace. You might need Papa’s help.”
She shook her head. “I can pee-pee on my own.”
“I don’t think so,” he told her. “But Papa will help.” He turned on the water and started to speak to her quietly in French.
And sure enough she started to pee. That was infuriating. She’d wanted to hold on to make a point. But, as usual, Matthieu was right.
Of course, she would never, ever tell him that.
“Such a good girl for Papa,” he murmured to her as he helped her clean up.
“Can I have panties, Papa?” she asked.
“No point in putting on panties when I’d just have to strip them off again and spank you.”
“But wasn’t the corner time enough, Papa?”
“It definitely wasn’t,” he replied as he picked her up and carried her on his hip back into the playroom.
He set her down before sitting in the chair he’d been in before. Then he grasped hold of her hips and drew her between his open legs.
“Do you remember why you’re being spanked?”
“Is it because you’re a meanie?” she asked, pouting at him.
Strangely, when she was in Little headspace she had absolutely no issues with looking straight at him.
Her Little was brave.
And she certainly had sass.
Part of Maya worried that he wouldn’t like that. But, to her surprise, he just smiled.
“Nope, it’s not that. Although I can be a real meanie if you want me to.”
She straightened at that threat. Um, no. She did not want that.
At. All.
“No!”
“No? Are you sure? Because I was just going to use my hand to spank you, but there’s probably a paddle around here that Papa could use on you. If not, there’s bound to be a wooden spoon in the kitchen I could use."
“Nooo!”
“No? Then Papa isn’t a complete meanie, I’m guessing?”
“Nope, Papa, you’re a good Papa. Not a meanie at all.” She really didn’t want to know what it felt to be spanked by a wooden spoon.
“So, again, why are you being spanked?”
“Because I didn’t tell you about the puppy rescue plan.”
“Right. And?”
And?
Oh, right.
“I said that you wanted to be with me because you wouldn’t love me as much as your dad did your mom.”
“That’s right. I want you to know how much you’re loved,” he told her.
“And spanking me will tell me that?” she asked skeptically.
“Uh-huh. Every time you go to sit for the rest of the day, you’ll remember how much I love you.”
Dear Lord.
Before she could say anything to that, he lifted her and placed her on his lap. She let out a gasp of shock and then he was rubbing her bottom.
“What do you say if it gets to be too much?”
Say? Oh. Safeword.
“Red.”
“Good girl. Remember that. If it’s too much, say red. Otherwise Papa is going to spank you until he decides you’ve had enough.”
Sheesh. Seriously? Had enough? After what? Five? Six?
Then his hand landed. Ouch!
“That hurt!” she cried.
“Good. It’s meant to.”
What kind of sadist was he? His hand landed over and over. And it was definitely more than five or six. In fact, she lost track as he smacked her bottom until it was hot and throbbing.
Tears tracked down her cheeks, sobs escaping her lips as she lay limply over his lap.
Then he turned her so she straddled his thighs. She pressed her face to his chest, crying.
Matthieu rubbed her back and spoke to her quietly in French until she had herself under control.
“Are you all right, Bébé?” he asked her.
All right? No, she wasn’t all right. Her bottom was on fire.
“I’m guessing that you love me a heck of a lot,” she grumbled. “Because I’m pretty sure I’m not going to sit for a week.”
He let out a low laugh. “I do, Bébé. I love you more than I can even express.” Pulling her back away from his chest, he grasped hold of her chin and kissed her.