Please Daddy(6)

By: Maggie Ryan



“But I was holding my briefcase, and the elevator door was already open and—”

“And you decided that ignoring your daddy was perfectly acceptable.” Removing her coat again, he rehung it in the closet, adding his own. As he spoke, he began to slide the pearl buttons of her blouse through their buttonholes.

“Instead of taking a few seconds, you stood right here this morning and ignored my instruction which was given to assure that you were nice and warm.” The last button free, he gave a gentle tug to pull the blouse free of her skirt and then slipped it off her shoulders. “You also ignored Mr. Porter and finally, Harrison, didn’t you?”

“I-I just thought…”

She stopped speaking when, with a deft movement, he had the front closure of her bra undone, and it was quickly removed as well. Her nipples instantly pebbled, and he knew the temperature wasn’t the cause as the apartment was nice and toasty.

“You decided that you knew better than your daddy—”

“No, I just was—”

A quick swat to her bottom given to remind her that interrupting was not wise. “I’m not interested in hearing your excuses, little girl. You did and will now pay the price for that decision.” Unzipping her skirt, he allowed it to fall to the floor, leaving her standing in nothing but her heels, stockings and, of course, her “Spank Me” panties. Her shoes and stockings were quickly removed before he spoke again.

“I want you to think about the fact that your daddy loves you and when he instructs you to get a coat, it is because he knows you will need one.” Taking her by the shoulders, he turned her to face the closed door. “You will stand here, contemplating the fact that your choice to save five seconds has earned you a spanking.”

“Yes, Daddy,” she said softly, her hands fluttering as if wanting to cover her breasts from possible view, facing a door that he was willing to bet she suddenly wished she’d opened that morning.

“Nipples and nose to the wood, young lady.”

Her soft moan was drowned out as another voice filled the foyer.

“I’m so glad you’re home. I was a tad bit worried with the snow. Dinner will be ready whenever you…oh, goodness.”

“Goodness isn’t the word for our little one,” Dalton said and gave a soft chuckle. “I’m afraid dinner will have to wait a bit.”

“I see,” Anita Dyer said, tsking and shaking her head as she looked down at the mistress of the house who stood in the foyer in nothing but her “Spank Me” request in full view. “Of course, sir. Just let me know when you wish it served.”

Dalton saw Coco’s shoulders slump and knew she was fighting feelings of embarrassment at being seen in her state of undress as well as her sorrow at hearing the disappointment in their housekeeper’s voice.

“I shall, thank you.” As he spoke, he stepped closer to the little miscreant and slowly peeled her panties down to her knees, smoothing out the cotton to make sure the prophetic words remained in full view. It took him only a few moments to pluck the pins in her hair free. With her golden locks falling down her back, the tips almost reaching the crease of her perfectly heart-shaped bottom, plump globes quivering just the slightest, the pale surface’s normally smooth texture pebbled with tiny little bumps of gooseflesh, panties at her knees, she was absolute perfection. Their home had many incredible works of art hanging on its walls, and yet he knew that he was presently looking at the masterpiece of their collection.

He gave her rear a light pat before turning to walk further into the apartment. It would make dinner a little late, and yet he was a very firm believer in corner, or in this case, wall time. By the time he called her to him, her mind would have left her professional lawyer role behind, leaving his little one in her place.

Dalton took the time to remove his suit coat, hanging it in the large closet in the master bedroom. It was a room that exuded masculinity, a huge king size bed dominated the space opposite floor to ceiling windows. Large leather chairs sat in front of a hearth, an oversized ottoman offering more than a place to set one’s feet…often holding a naked woman on its surface, kneeling or lying in one of many positions given with the order to display herself. The hardwood floors were softened by Persian rugs, the walls adorned with art. Dalton had eyes for none of these as his mind was occupied with the task at hand. Opening the door of a huge armoire, he scanned the interior, making his choices. Returning to the living room, he could smell the aroma of dinner and yet was not tempted to hurry the evening along in order to sit down to what he knew would be a delicious meal. Just like he never rushed choosing his little one’s panties each morning, he never hurried through the preparations required to ensure that by the time Coco sat for dinner, she’d be one very contrite little lady.

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