"Stay with Daddy" (Free story!)

 Annalise and Winston are supporting characters in Begin Again, which is scheduled to be released next month. D/s for a full decade, there are no more warnings or second chances when Annalise breaks a rule. She knows what to expect. Their story is underway, an exploration of a deeper side of the Daddy Dom/little girl dynamic, and this is one of their short stories. 

~~~~~

There was no question Annalise was going to get a spanking for this. She knew it. Submissive to Winston for a decade meant she knew a thing or two about what he expected from her, and one thing that was unacceptable was neglecting to come home on time. He was so overprotective, at times it frustrated her, but mostly she loved that he cared so much about her well being. Frankly, she was lucky she'd been allowed to go out alone to begin with. That was a rarity.

It was hard when her sister was in town, though. Though her sister ostensibly understood the basics of their dynamic, she never failed to get her into trouble. Winston had taken her over his knee right before she left for the evening.

“I expect you to be on your best behavior, little girl,” he'd said, his large hand resting on the softness of her bare skin. “And what happens to little girls who don't behave?”

“They get a spanking,” she'd whispered, just in time to narrate his actions as his hand came down with a loud, resounding slap.

And she'd tried to be good, she really had. Normally, he'd accompany her to such an event – a family reunion, no less – but he'd had another obligation and couldn't go with her. Her sister drove instead. Annalise sighed.

Would Dorothy try harder if she knew Annalise would be spanked for not coming home on time? Nah. She'd probably give her a harder time than ever.

She'd skipped all the alcohol and the dessert table, and checked in with Winston after dinner, but his phone had gone unanswered. It was shortly after that she dropped her phone, shattering the screen and rendering it unusable. She'd even managed not to swear when she broke her phone, and she borrowed Dorothy's to call Winston. But not having a phone meant she couldn't be in touch with him as often as she'd prefer, and...well, she'd lost track of the time.

Annalise pulled into the driveway, and noted that the light was on in the living room, but not their bedroom. Maybe he'd fallen asleep. Maybe she'd get a bit of a reprieve and could catch some shut eye before she had to face the music. Sometimes, he was a bit more understanding when it wasn't the heat of the moment...

Opening the door as quietly as she could, she tiptoed to their bedroom. He was nowhere to be seen. She hung her bag up and turned to their bed, and as she did, a stream of moonlight fell on the armchair in the corner of the room. The chair where Winston sat, in the dark, his arms crossed on his chest. Annalise jumped.

“You scared me!” she gasped.

“Scared you?” came Winston's low admonishment. “Did it occur to you that you may have scared me?”

Annalise shook her head silently as he beckoned her to come closer. Without a word, he pointed to the floor in front of him. She knelt obediently in front of him, and as the moonlight streamed from the window, she got a closer look at his ice blue eyes. He kept his salt and pepper hair short, a throwback from the time he'd spent in the military, and his sharp, angular jaw was clean shaven. But those eyes – those eyes could penetrate her very soul. There was no forgiveness in those eyes now. There wouldn't be until she was writhing in pain underneath his discipline.

“No, Daddy,” she whispered. “I didn't know I scared you.”

He reached for her chin and grasped it between his large fingers. He held so firmly it hurt a little.

“I told you to be home by ten. What time is it now?”

She gulped and glanced at the bedtime table without moving her chin. “Eleven, Daddy,” she whispered.

He nodded shortly. “Did you speed home?”

She shook her head vehemently. Being late was no reason to be stupid. Speeding and being late would land her the kind of spanking best reserved for fiction, and certainly not okay in real life. No way.

“No, Daddy.”

He expected her to refer to him as “Daddy” with every response when he was correcting her.

“And what does Daddy expect you to do when you're late?” he asked, his gaze impenetrable, voice so low she could barely hear him.

“Call, Daddy. But I – I broke my phone, Daddy.”

“I know you did. I spoke to you, remember? Could you not borrow another phone before you left?”

Her eyes looked downward. “I...should have, Daddy.” The word daddy died on her lips. She was ashamed, and it always seemed so clear when she was in trouble what she should have done.

He didn't respond at first, and her heart pounded. She hated the lecture, when he drew things out and made her nervous about what was coming.

“Yes, you should have. We'll deal with that. First, the disobedience in coming home late, and second, your failure to call me when you were late.”

She swallowed. “Would I have not gotten spanked if I called?”

His eyes narrowed and he leaned in closer. “We'll not deal with 'what if's,' young lady. Does daddy give you warnings?” She shook her head. There were no warnings, not now, when they'd been dedicated to this for so long.

“No, daddy,” she whispered.

“Stand, and clasp your hands behind your head.” She closed her eyes, obeying him, fingers interlocking behind her head as she awaited what she knew would come – the warmth and feel of his hands undressing her as he prepared to punish her. Still, she gasped when she felt his hands on the clasp of her jeans. The prelude to a spanking always made her quake. Her clothing quickly fell to the floor with a swift sweep of his powerful hand. He stood and marched her to the bed.

Her punishment would be severe, and she only hoped it would be swift.

“Present yourself.”

When she wasn't on the verge of being punished, she would reflect on how this played out – the sternness in his voice, ordering her to present. The sound of his hand on the clasp of his buckle, and the whoosh as he pulled it through the loops of his pants. The clink of the buckle as he folded it and stood behind her, the heat from his anger crackling in the air behind her. And when she reflected on the details of her punishment, she would find it turned her on.

But right now, in this moment, all she could do was obey, her knees hitting the bedspread, bottom in the air, arms straight in front of her. When he corrected her for a milder infraction, he would take her over his knee, and even then his spankings were always firm. But for a more serious offense, he wanted all of her exposed to him – her bottom, and the sensitive spot where her thighs met her bottom. She cringed in anticipation of the sting of his belt on that sensitive area, her knees trembling, hands flat on the bed in the submissive position Winston demanded. And she couldn't help but feel the distance between them added to the punitive effect of a spanking when she was presenting.

“Sixty minutes late, Annalise,” he said. She inhaled. Mention of a number could mean only one thing.

The first blow of his belt had her reeling forward. Though she'd been spanked so often she'd lost count, the first few swats never ceased to surprise her with their intensity. Again and again his belt fell as he lectured her.

“Does Daddy like having to punish you?”

“No, Daddy!” as the belt fell.

“Does Daddy want his baby home safe when she says she'll be?”

“Yes, Daddy, always Daddy!” She squeezed her eyes shut as she lost count of how many he'd given her. It was so hard to speak when he was spanking her. Even a swat from his hand took her breath away; a strapping from his belt made her virtually incoherent. But he demanded answers, and if she failed to give them, she would regret it.

“You came home late when I was waiting for you,” he said, his belt falling in a steady rhythm as she gasped and squirmed, the sting of the spanking flaming hot, and she knew she would feel this for days. “And didn't call when you knew you'd be late.” A sharp swat fell just above her thigh and she squeezed the bedspread in her hands, prepared to take whatever he gave her and determined to accept her punishment.

She was vaguely aware of his belt falling to the bed, but even then she knew he wasn't done with her. No. Not for an infraction like this. If she'd made him worry for her safety, the spanking she earned would be intense, one round of the belt not satisfying his need to teach her a lesson. She waited, desperate to rub the sting from her hot skin, barely breathing in anticipation of what he had next. The drawer next to the bed opened and she heard him lifting something out.

Not the paddle. Please don't be the paddle.

A spanking with his heavy paddle over a freshly-strapped bottom was wicked, and he knew it, which is precisely why she knew without looking that he held his paddle in his hand.

“Stay in position, little girl,” he warned low. “Daddy's going to make it very clear how seriously I take your safety and obedience to me.”

Crack!

She whimpered with the first heavy swat of the paddle. Another fell, and she muffled her cries on the bed as he continued to lecture.

“I watched that clock, knowing I had no way to reach you, no way to know if you were safe, and I'd have come and gotten you if I knew if you'd left or not,” he said.

The paddle fell, seemingly heavier when magnified with his verbal chastisement.

He didn't speak for a moment, as the heavy wood met its mark and she accepted what she knew she deserved. Though she wished she could go back and do things differently, she couldn't, and the best she could do now was take her punishment. The paddle struck the same spot twice in succession, then a third time, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out before he moved to another side, again striking several times in rapid succession.

“I'm sorry, Daddy!” she blurted out, her eyes moist but in the moment, unable to shed the tears while still being punished.

He gave her several more sharp, stinging cracks of the paddle before he dropped it to the bed. Both hands on her waist, she felt him come up behind her, his hardness pressed against her screaming hot, punished skin. If he wanted her now, she'd accept that, as often spanking her in presentation form would end with him taking her from behind. She knew spanking her turned him on and a spanking followed by lovemaking that ended in only his pleasure would underscore the punitive effect of the paddle and belt.

But as she felt him behind her, the tears that she held at bay began.

“You're forgiven now, baby,” he said softly. “Daddy forgives you.”

Her tears dampened the blanket, and she felt him climb up on the bed next to her. This was when she needed him. Sore, so sore from her spanking, the emotional torrent of having let him down and being punished, and the knowledge she'd caused her Daddy to have to punish her, swept over her. He held her tightly on his chest, still bared to him and so sore it hurt to roll over to him, as she cried into his shirt.

“I can't imagine losing you, Annalise,” he said softly, brushing her mass of curls back from his face and down her back. “And when you're late, and I'm unable to reach you, every thought crosses my mind. That you could be hurt. That you could be somewhere alone, without me, and that you need me and I'm not there for you.”

His love for her was unfathomable, and in those moments of quiet and intimacy, after having bared herself to him both physically and emotionally, it was one way they drew closer. He soothed her until her crying slowed, kissing her dampened cheeks and holding her on his chest.

“Stay with Daddy,” he said, and she wondered in the moment if his instruction was for her, so she knew he would comfort her, or for him, because he didn't want to let her go.

But she knew it didn't matter.

She was staying right where she was, chastened, humbled, and brought to submission by his side, but loved beyond measure. 



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