Daring Little Daisy Read online

  “You will get all those things and more,” Daddy repeated, holding her in place, “after I am convinced you have well and thoroughly learned your lesson. Now, the warm- up is over. So, let me see what kind of tools I have in my implement bag that will make an impression on such a beautiful albeit naughty behind.”

  Biting her tongue, Daisy held back a whimper, reminding herself that she trusted her Daddy. And she had safewords.

  “I have a great many implements in here, but not all of them are appropriate for naughty girls such as yourself,” he mused, as he dug through the bag.

  She could hear the clanging and rattling together of the different materials as he scrounged. Wood hit against delrin, and acrylic against leather. She was sure there was some bamboo in there as well.

  Daddy knew her limits, she reminded herself with a whimper.

  “Here we go,” Daddy announced, pulling something from the bag. She resisted the urge to peek over her shoulder. She knew Rett would tell her.

  “There has never been such an innocuous-looking implement so guaranteed to reduce a Little girl to tears so quickly as a nice wooden spoon. And I have a very nice one indeed. It’s thick, and sturdy, with a lovely design on the bowl, which is actually quite flat, and I got it in Switzerland. I guarantee my pretty flower has never felt a spoon quite like this one upon her naughty little bottom.”

  “Okayyy,” she whined, not sure what else to say. She just wanted him to stop talking and start already.

  Daddy, however, was apparently a talker.

  “You have managed to rack up quite a naughty list in such a short time. And now you must pay the price for your actions. You didn’t obey me when I asked you to do something, you lied to me, and you said naughty things about my little girl.”

  “Yes, Daddy,” she whispered thickly, wiping at the tears that were already starting to fall. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know.” He sighed. “You’re going to be.”

  With that, the spoon, which she named ‘The Devil Spoon’ immediately, crashed down hard against her left cheek. And then her right. And then her left again, and so on and so forth, with no room or time passing between the swats for Daisy to squeal or sometimes even breathe.

  After the first dozen, Daddy paused, and rubbed the cool wood in a circular motion over the stinging skin. “I was right, little flower,” he purred. “It is a very spankable bottom indeed. I wish you could see the grace with which the spoon leaves its mark, and the way your bottom caves under the impact, and bounces up just as quickly, slightly redder than before.”

  I’d rather not see that, thank you, she thought to herself, wisely staying silent.

  It didn’t matter. Daddy had already finished his poetic waxing and was back to wreaking havoc on her butt with that stupid Devil Spoon.

  “Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!” Her cries matched his swats, pat for pat, but it didn’t seem to faze him. He just spanked harder and faster, until she couldn’t keep up and had no choice but to give in to feeling the pain of her spanking.

  She knew she deserved it. If he had let her, she very well could have given into her fears and wasted the entire trip, too timid to get what she wanted out of it. She still felt nervous, and self-conscious, and knew she would struggle again with finding her Little stride once she was outside of their private room. But here in his arms, there was no more struggle. He was her Daddy, and she was his little flower.

  The assuredness of that made the pain of the spanking almost worth it. Almost.

  Daddy had started to lecture between swats and guilt knotted her gut with every word he spoke.

  “We came here to immerse ourselves in our roles as Daddy and Little in a safe and neutral place where we didn’t have to fear judgement. I will not judge you, Daisy, but it means you have to trust me. You have to give yourself over to me, and you have to obey.”

  “I’m sorry,” she cried openly, feeling quite silly for holding out for even a small amount of time. Control wasn’t what she wanted; he was.

  “It’s fine, little one. You did what you needed to do to feel safe, and it didn’t hurt anyone to have a bit of extra time to acquaint ourselves. What does hurt though, is not obeying Daddy, and fibbing to Daddy, and above all, putting down Daddy’s little girl.”

  On the last three words, the spoon snapped sharply against her sit spot, and she gasped at the intense pain of the wood against the previously untouched stretch of sensitive skin.

  “That is the main reason you are getting spanked, little flower, in part, a punishment spanking for the unacceptable way you spoke about yourself, and in part a therapy spanking to help you remember how Daddy sees you.”

  “Yes, Daddy,” she breathed, wishing for a minute that it could already be over.

  “I’m going to use my spoon on your sit spot for the punishment, and my belt for the therapy,” Daddy informed her gently. “When it is time for the belt, we will move back over to the bed.”

  There was no time to say ‘yes Daddy,’ or even to nod her understanding. He started in with the spoon against the curve of her thighs immediately.

  “You are not allowed to say mean things about yourself,” he lectured as he worked away with the hard bowl of the spoon, smacking it in an even cadence against the tender flesh. “Not only are the things you said ugly lies, it’s akin to self-harm to speak such thoughts out loud. When you let them into the universe like that, they hurt your heart, and bring your spirit down.”

  For some reason, the idea of not being able to speak those things out loud when she felt them to her core angered her, and she said so.

  “If I don’t say them out loud,” she argued, resisting the urge to reach back and grab the stupid spoon out of his hand, “then they just bounce around in my brain and fester until I feel worse.”

  To her utter relief, instead of being upset with her for arguing, he paused. She peeled over her shoulder to see him tapping the spoon against his chin, lost in thought.

  “How about this?” he began again, when he finally spoke, tapping the spoon against her tender crease once more. “Whenever yucky thoughts rattle around in your brain like that, instead of letting them out, say this instead: My Daddy thinks I’m beautiful.”

  “I guess I could try that,” she agreed with a piteous sniffle. She would have agreed to nearly anything at that point to get him to stop spanking, but she supposed that his idea just might work.

  “Great. Let’s practice.”

  Confused, she braced herself for a harder spanking, but the spoon clattered as it fell back in his gear bag among the other implements, and he tapped her bottom with one finger.

  “C’mon,” he coaxed. “Up off my lap and over to the bed. It’s time for your therapy spanking.”

  She let him help her up, but instead of walking across the room, she stood there staring at him, with big crocodile tears trailing down her cheeks.

  Daddy’s brow crinkled as he peered at her sternly, and then, without a word, opened his arms, and gathered her into his loving embrace.

  “Daddy forgives you, little flower,” he whispered against her hair, as he hugged her tight. “You took your punishment like a good girl. I’m very proud of you.”

  Daisy sniffled against his shirt and basked in the warmth of his words. Her ass had a mild throb to it and felt like she had just sat a spell on the hot cement, but all of that was worth it to hear the pride in Daddy’s voice where disappointment and correction had once been.

  She sat there basking in his comfort, thankful for him, his care and correction, and even for her aching ass for as long as he let her.

  When the tears had dried up, he spoke the words she had known were coming.

  “Okay, it’s time now. Move on over to the bed. Let’s get this taken care of so we can enjoy the rest of our evening.”

  He released her from his embrace and nodded toward the bed with raised brows and a look that had her scurrying to obey.

  When she reached the bed, she hesitated again, and stood there worrying
her lip.

  “Head down. Ass up. Feet on the floor,” he barked, instructing her sternly. He waited until she was in the desired position before coming to stand behind her and give his final instruction. “Eyes on the mirror.”

  Chapter Ten

  Making sure that her eyes were locked on his in the mirror, Rett lowered his hands to his waist, and made a great show of working the buckle on his belt. When the ends hung free, he gripped the buckle end and smiled as he pulled it free from its loops with a “whoosh”.

  He didn’t miss the shaking of Daisy’s back as she shuddered. He also didn’t miss the fact that she was trembling from anticipation rather than fear.

  She might be nervous about feeling the bite of leather across her reddened ass, but she wasn’t afraid of him.

  “Good girl,” he purred, walking around to stand on her opposite side so as not to block her view in the mirror.

  He wanted her to see every inch of her beautiful bottom as he marked it with his belt. He wanted her to see, not just feel the lesson he was about to impart.

  She eyed him expectantly and cocked a brow.

  Shaking his head, he walked closer and leaned over to smack her ass hard with his hand.

  “Eyes on the mirror,” he repeated. “Next time I see you close your eyes or move your head, it’s five extras with my belt that it will cost you.”

  Her eyelids fluttered, and she obediently turned her head to face the other direction. “Yes Daddy.”

  He knew she had been testing him. He also knew that he had passed the test.

  “We need to get a few things straight,” he stated, doubling his belt over and smacking it loosely against the palm of his hand. “First of all, my pretty little flower, in case you haven’t yet gotten the message, and regardless of any self-conscious body awareness you might have, I happen to think you are perfect, and having just thoroughly inspected and tasted almost every inch, I consider myself an authority on this matter.”

  That made her giggle, which was his intention. “Yes Daddy,” she whispered, rubbing her feet together, as she snickered into her hands.

  “In fact,” he continued, “because I find your body so deliciously appealing, I think it is only appropriate that I have full access to it at all times. So,” he continued, knowing full well she would protest his next point, “From now on, whenever we are in the privacy of our own room, you will wear nothing but whatever marks I have given you, unless I specify otherwise.”

  As he had expected, her spine stiffened, and her mouth dropped open. She did not turn her head to look at him but met his gaze in the mirror and slowly shook her head.

  He mirrored her action and smacked the underneath crease of her bottom with a splayed hand. First one side, and then the other.

  “You don’t get to tell me no, little flower. Daddy has made a rule, and like all the rules Daddy makes, this one is not arbitrary. And I was kind enough to let you have clothing privileges outside of our room, but just so you are aware, I didn’t have to do that. Here at the Ranch, nobody gives a second glance when they see a naughty sub roaming around the halls wearing nothing but the marks of their punishment. Now, you don’t have to like it, but it is a rule, and you do have to obey your Daddy. So unless you’re going to use your safeword, the only thing you need to say here is: Yes, Daddy, I understand.”

  He could see her fighting the urge to hide her face, but she managed to refrain. Her timid whisper was thready and barely audible, but she managed to choke out the words he was waiting to hear.

  “Yes, Daddy, I understand.”

  “Good then. I can begin your spanking.”

  Her gaze locked on his in the mirror and she nodded. “I’m ready.”

  “While I spank you, I want you to focus your mind not on the pain, but on the lessons you have learned today. I want you to remember not only to not speak unkind words about yourself, but to speak the truthful ones instead. And every time you feel badly about yourself, you stop and reflect on the memory of this day. Remember the feel of Daddy’s lips, and Daddy’s spoon and Daddy’s belt.”

  He stopped speaking then, and let his actions speak for him.

  The whoosh of his belt as it whipped through the air was the only sound that could be heard in the room, until that was quickly and predictably followed by the hearty crack of the folded leather against skin, and the soft gasp of a naughty little girl feeling the wrath of her Daddy’s punishment.

  Music to his ears.

  He leaned over to touch the quickly rising welt where the belt had crossed over the center of her buttocks.

  He gave it a rub, and then returned to position, pulling his arm back, and cracking the belt through the air, flying toward its target.

  She gasped at each fall of leather against her tender skin, and Rett didn’t leave much time between lashes for her to do much of anything else.

  He landed the belt a good dozen times before he spoke. As promised, this was half punishment, half therapy, and words were important to both.

  But Rett had said everything he needed to say. It was time for his little flower to do the talking.

  “Now,” he said as he paused to rub the welted flesh. “We can finish up here soon. But in order to prove to me that you have learned your lesson, you are going to choose the sentence that you will speak, out loud, ten times. Once after every strike of the belt.”

  He watched as she winced and drew a shaky breath, considering his instructions. Her eyes met his in the mirror, and she nodded.

  “Yes, Daddy. I’m ready.”

  “Okay, little one.” He smacked the belt against his hand again, and got into position once more, drawing his arm back, and preparing to swing. “Ten more. Sentence of your choice. Make it good. Let’s go.”

  The belt whooshed through the air and landed with a heavy smack against its intended target.

  Rett waited with bated breath to see what she would say.

  A sharp intake of breath. A long pregnant pause. And finally she spoke. Clearly, loudly, proudly. “My Daddy thinks I’m beautiful.”

  Rett’s chest puffed with pride as her voice carried through the room. He knew he would have to work on the fact that she couldn’t base her self-worth in the opinions of others, but for today, the lesson was the exact one he had wanted her to learn.

  “Good girl,” he praised. “Very good. Nine more to go.”

  They went on like that, in silence four more times. The only sounds in the room were the snap of leather against skin, and Daisy’s proud voice affirming the lesson he was driving home.

  On the fifth strike, her voice broke, and he paused, giving her a minute to compose herself.

  “You’re doing so good, baby girl,” he cajoled, sweetly, leaning over to rub her back. “Five more. You can do it.”

  Her back shook under his hand as she drew a long shuddering breath between cries. When she spoke, her voice was tearful but filled with spirit and determination. “My Daddy thinks I’m beautiful.”

  “Very good,” he answered with a chuckle. “But you already said that, and I haven’t spanked you again yet.”

  “Oh.” Her laugh was a nervous titter. “Well, I’m ready.”

  “Okay.”

  They fell back into the pattern. He swung the belt, and she spoke her sentence.

  Crack.

  “My Daddy thinks I’m beautiful.”

  Crack.

  “My Daddy thinks I’m beautiful.”

  Crack.

  “My Daddy thinks I’m beautiful.”

  Her voice was softer now, more strained. Her words were spoken between soft, breathless sobs, and there was more time lapsing between the cracking of the belt, and her speaking, but there was no less pride in her words when she spoke them, and her body language remained stoic and determined to finish out the punishment her Daddy had decided on.

  The last two had him holding his breath, moving his aim lower to make fresh marks on a yet mostly untouched portion of her welted bottom.

  “Last
two,” he announced, gritting his teeth as he geared up to swing.

  She rose up on her toes and cried out when the leather hit the sensitive spot between her ass and thighs, but she didn’t falter from his expectations. Her back flattened and her hands stayed folded under her head. “My Daddy thinks I’m beautiful.”

  “Good.” He nodded, sharply making sure to catch her gaze in the mirror.

  He didn’t tell her it was the last one, she knew.

  He just shook his head and drew his arm back, just as he had the nine times before.

  This time, when the belt cracked against her sit spot, the words came out half scream, half hiss. Her body sagged into the mattress and he almost missed the fact that she had changed it up on him.

  His little girl, his beautiful flower, had gotten the message loud and clear, and learned the extra lesson without him having to teach her.

  As he dropped the belt onto the floor at his feet, Rett’s mouth fell open, and his heart swelled with love and pride as he climbed onto the bed and gathered Daisy into his arms.

  This time when she spoke, with the final strike of the belt, instead of saying “My Daddy thinks I’m beautiful,” she had said, “I am beautiful.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Her ass throbbed beneath the welts of his belt, but her heart was full and her head felt free of all the self-conscious worry and body-image anxiety that had plagued her since she had committed to this weekend.

  Was she a hundred percent happy with herself and her body right now? No, certainly not. But he was, and for now, that was enough.

  Daddy sat down on the bed, and pulled her into his arms, kindly parting his legs so that her sore bottom rested in the gap between them rather than atop the scratchy fabric of his jeans.

  It was a small kindness, but one she was inherently grateful for.

  They sat in a desperate embrace, her crying softly into the fabric of his shirt, whispering the lesson that had been sorely imparted over and over again. “My Daddy thinks I’m beautiful. My Daddy thinks I’m beautiful.”