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Daddy Commands by Maggie Ryan – Sample

Chapter One

Hannah

“Take off your panties and hand them to me.”

“What?”

“I have absolutely no doubt that you heard me,” Brett said.

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack. I don’t know what got into you, but it ends right now. Perhaps sitting on your bare ass will remind you that we made a commitment. You to obey and me to enforce that obedience.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Couldn’t process what he’d just asked me to do. We were seated in a restaurant, one filled with people, and while, yes, there was adequate space between the booths and tables, it was still a very popular choice on a Friday evening. I could hear people laughing, see them enjoying chips and salsa or sipping on jumbo margaritas. True, no one was staring at our table or appeared to have any interest in what was happening, but I was suddenly positive that every ear in the place had just turned toward us. I could feel my entire body heating, knowing my face had to be the same shade as the red booth we were seated in.

“For God’s sake, lower your voice!” I hissed softly. “There are people here! They can hear you.”

His dark head nodded, though his eyes remained fixed on me. “True, and I’m sure that if they’d heard you this morning, they’d understand exactly why I’ve given you the command.”

Command?

Before I could wrap my mind around the fact that he had indeed just said ‘command’, he leaned back in the booth and continued. “Did you or did you not sign an agreement this morning?”

“Yes, but—”

“An agreement that detailed quite explicitly the rules and consequences for the breakage of those rules, correct?”

Unexpectedly, a memory popped into my head. Brett had taken me fishing when we were dating. It had been a beautiful day, the sun shining, causing the water to sparkle like diamonds where it cascaded over the rocks upstream. I’d been startled when I’d felt a hard pull on my line, sure I’d done something wrong. Brett had smiled, pointing toward the water where the red and white ball he’d attached to my line was bobbing up and down in the river.

“Good job. You’ve caught your first fish, babe.”

I’d tried to hand him my pole, but he’d shaken his head.

“No, this is your catch. Just give a yank to set the hook.” When I’d given a little tug, he’d laughed, put his arms around me, and with his hands covering mine on the pole, he’d given it a much harder yank. Stepping back, he’d said, “Now, just reel it in.”

While I cranked the reel, the fish had wiggled and jumped, trying to break free. When it was close enough, I pulled the line out of the water, landing my catch on the riverbank. It was a great memory.

But that had been then. Right now, sitting across from my husband, I wasn’t thinking about how proud he’d been that day. I was thinking that I most likely looked just like that poor trout, my mouth opening and closing as if unable to garner enough oxygen to breathe, let alone speak.

Brett evidently decided he didn’t need to hear a response as he nodded again. “Precisely, so there is no reason for you to be so shocked, now is there?”

A burst of laughter had my head whipping around, sure I’d see every customer in the restaurant agreeing with this man seated opposite me. Realizing the amusement came from children seated around a large table witnessing a waiter plopping a ridiculously large sombrero down on an elderly man’s head before wishing him feliz cumpleanõs, I found my voice.

“Look, you might be a major, but that doesn’t mean you can just… command me to do something.”

“Wrong. It means exactly that. The moment you put pen to paper and signed, you gave me that right.”

“I’m your wife, not one of your recruits!” I hissed, wondering how he could be so calm when I felt as if my entire world was careening out of control.

Leaning forward, he reached to cover my hand that was clenching the edge of the table as if to anchor myself in place. “You understood the consequences and, frankly, Hannah, wife or not, consider yourself enrolled in my own special boot camp. Your choice of behavior has brought you to this point, and the longer you take to obey me, the longer you’ll be across my knees getting your ass heated.”

Boot camp? What did that mean? I gasped as I zeroed in on what else he’d just said. “Wait… you think… you think you’re going to… spank me?”

“No. I know I’m going to spank you.”

Who was this guy? Granted, he appeared to be my husband, his hair the same ebony black. Eyes of the deepest green, flecked with hints of gold that had always reminded me of the tranquility of an ancient forest were locked on mine. But it was the slight quirk of his eyebrow, the absence of even the tiniest upturn of his lips, the total lack of humor in his expression that had my entire being questioning who had taken Brett’s place. Yes, I’d seen him direct a gaze at some poor soul who’d done something Brett considered the epitome of stupidity, making the poor soldier shake in his boots, but I’d never seen my husband look so… so… what? Nothing in his expression or body language telegraphed that he was angry. It was like he’d lost any indecisiveness. He continued to look at me with a self-confidence that was both reassuring and unnerving.

Taking a deep breath, I started backtracking as fast as I could. “You’re right.” At his nod, I shook my head. “No, I mean, not about the span… well, you know. I just meant that you’re right that we both vowed to start fresh. I admit I was being a little bitchy, and I apologize, honey.”

“Thank you,” he said, a small smile finally lifting his lips.

“No, thank you for reminding me that I don’t want to be that person.” Giving him a huge smile, I continued, “So, let’s start over again, all right?”

“That’s exactly what we are doing. We gave each other the gift of paper—and on that paper, we also gave our gift of new vows,” he said. Sitting back, he moved his hand but only to turn it over, his fingers slightly curled. “Now, remove your panties, and place them in my hand.”

Even as my mouth opened to form the ‘what?’ I realized we’d come full circle. “But, I apologized!”

“You did,” he concurred. “Words are easy, Hannah, and we’ve agreed to leave the easy path behind as it wasn’t working.”

“Brett, honey, it’s our anniversary.”

“I’m well aware of that, but what day of the week is it?”

“Fri…” The word froze in my throat as I understood its meaning. That specific day of the week had been chosen for a purpose. A purpose I had agreed to, but it didn’t keep me from swallowing hard and trying one last time. “But it’s our anniversary,” I repeated.

Brett nodded. “It is, and I can’t think of a better date to begin. I’ll ask you one last time to remove your underwear and give them to me.”

I so wanted to ask what would happen if I refused, but I saw a vision of me being pulled from the booth; plates, glasses, bowls of salsa and the basket of tortilla chips swept aside as he bent me over the table. I could practically feel my skirt being lifted and the panties I’d refused to remove raked down my legs a split second before his hand landed on my bared ass. Not one prone to have premonitions, it felt as if every single cell in my body was assuring me that this would indeed be my future if I didn’t obey his… his command.

I began to slide out of the booth.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Feeling my face heat, I whispered, “To the ladies’ room.”

His eyebrow quirked higher. “You may go after you’ve done as I’ve requested.”

“You can’t be serious!”

“We’ve already discussed that point. You’ll remove them right here,” he countered.

“Brett, you’re being ridiculous—”

“Excuse me?”

“What? If you’re expecting me to address you as Major Brett, you can think again,” I said, rolling my eyes. When his gaze didn’t even falter, not a sign of concession in them, I realized what he had found unacceptable in my statement.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean you are ridiculous, though, honestly, you have to admit you’re not being… well, you.”

“This is me, Hannah. The new me. The me you have needed to meet for a long time.”

I wondered if any of the people enjoying their evening could hear my heart pounding in my chest. Why did I feel as if I were in another dimension—one so unknown that I couldn’t think straight. “Look, I promise to behave. Please—”

“I find that hard to believe when you are misbehaving even as you make that promise.” He leaned forward, his open hand still lying on the table between us. “You agreed to this, Hannah. You have been searching for this for a long time. I also agreed, and I will not break my oath to you or allow you to break your promise to me.” He paused but only as if to make sure he had my complete attention before he said, “Now, I’ve asked you three times, which is two too many. Reach beneath your skirt, slip off your panties, and place them in my hand. I guarantee that if I need to remove them for you, you will like those consequences even less than you like the one you are facing now.”

I closed my eyes briefly, trying to assimilate what he’d said, what he was obviously very serious about happening. Not believing I was actually doing so, I slid closer to the wall, knowing the few inches didn’t truly guarantee privacy, but needing the illusion anyway. I slid my hands beneath my skirt and hooked my fingertips into the waistband of my underwear. Another wave of heat suffused my face as I was shocked to discover that just in the few moments of conversation, my panties had become damp. What the hell? Would he notice? What would he think if he did?

Lifting my hips slightly, I pulled the lace over my buttocks, which were clenching as the phantom feel of his hand on my flesh—in a way I’d never felt, never truly imagined becoming reality—flooded through me. Biting back a whimper, I slid the panties down, pausing when they reached the hem of my skirt. I lifted my eyes to see him watching… waiting.

“Please. I-I pulled them down. Isn’t that enough?”

“Are they in my hand?”

“No—”

“Then no, that isn’t enough. I gave you an instruction, Hannah, I expect you to obey it.” He flexed his fingers as if reminding me of where he expected my panties to be.

Catching sight of the waitress approaching our table, I whipped the garment down, drew my feet out, and wadding them as small as possible, pressed them into his hand.

“Thank you,” he said, closing his fist around the black lace. “Now, lift your skirt and sit on your bare ass.”

I swallowed hard, but obeyed, grateful that I’d worn a pleated skirt that flared out around me on the booth’s seat, disguising my nudity beneath. I was even more thankful when his hand disappeared to tuck the intimate lingerie into his pocket, seconds before the waitress reached our table.

“I hope you saved room for dessert,” the woman said with a large smile. “We’re known for our sopapillas.”

“I don’t—”

“That sounds wonderful,” Brett said, cutting me off. “We’ll have an order of those. I’d like a cup of coffee as well. Hannah, would you care for something else to drink?”

God, yes. I wanted the largest, most tequila-laden margarita on the planet, but I simply shook my head, reaching for my glass of water.

“I’ll have those right out.”

“I really don’t want any dessert,” I said, as the woman left.

His lips curled up and he chuckled. “We both know that what you really don’t want is to have to remain seated, sans panties, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir.” The ‘sir’ slipped out of my mouth without thought. Chalking it up to the bizarreness of the situation, along with the question of why my tummy kept doing little flips at the way he looked at me, his words, and the tone he was using, I refused to consider that there was something about the quiet, controlled, stern tone of his voice that instantly made me feel both contrite and… well, horny. How that was possible, I had no idea.

The crisp fried dough was delicious, and I accepted every bite he offered me. I knew he could have extended his hand further, yet didn’t. I also knew he was aware that every bite meant I had to lean forward, the movement something I would never have noticed but for the fact that my bare skin would lift a bit to accept the offering, then lower against the leather of the booth as I chewed and swallowed. Up and down, forward and back, my thighs having to clench tighter and tighter as I felt moisture gathering between my legs when he waited for me to lick his fingers free of the sticky honey he’d drizzled the sopapilla with before offering it to me. Finally, the last crumb was eaten. Brett signed the credit card slip and stood, extending his hand. I slipped mine into it and allowed him to help me from the booth, putting my free hand behind me to assure my skirt dropped to cover my butt. Though I’d kept my thighs pressed as tightly together as possible, I barely refrained from looking back to see if there was any evidence of my embarrassing arousal left on the leather.

Suddenly it all made sense. I’d always been the less adventurous one. Brett was the opposite. He was a born and bred military man. He was in Special Forces, for God’s sake. He had no qualms about taking life by the horns, and the moment I had admitted that I felt my life was out of control, he’d evidently come up with a plan of operation. This was just his way of setting the stage for some sort of sexy play, one that pushed my boundaries. I instantly relaxed, understanding why I was turned on.

I snuggled into his side as we walked out of the restaurant. “You know, you really had me going there for a moment.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, pressing a button on his key fob to unlock the car.

“Being so stern and sexy, making me squirm and getting me all hot and bothered. So what’s next? Are you going to slip me a room key to your hotel suite where we’ll pretend to be strangers meeting for some kinky sex?”

Opening my door, he looked down at me. “Skirt up,” he instructed.

That caught me off guard, but considering the fact that we’d yet to reach whatever hotel he’d booked to finish our little game, I lifted my skirt and practically jumped into the car. Brett reached across to buckle my seatbelt, and I caught a whiff of his cologne, the scent zinging straight through me to settle between my legs. I was about to reach to cup his face and pull him in for a kiss when instead, I dropped my hands to my lap, attempting to push down the skirt he had lifted to tuck into the seatbelt.

“Brett!”

“Hands at your sides.”

“But what if… if someone sees?”

“Then they will know that you’ve been a very naughty girl, won’t they?”

Taking my hands, he placed them at my sides. I felt his kiss brush the top of my head before he closed my door. Where had he come up with these… these things? And why did I feel exactly as he described—naughty?

As we drove, I wondered if he had some sort of hidden device that assured every single light turned red. My eyes would instantly flick to the side window, praying that any car beside ours was not high enough to allow the occupants to look down into our vehicle. The third time we stopped, I squealed when a swat on my thigh had my head whipping to Brett.

“Ouch! What was that for!”

“Since you can’t keep your hands down, sit on them.”

“What?”

“Perhaps we need to add a hearing test to your next doctor’s appointment,” Brett said. “Lift your ass, slip your hands beneath it, and sit down.”

“Wouldn’t you rather I put my hands on you?” I asked, reaching over and running my fingers along his thigh.

His answer was to pull to the side of the road and put the car into park. I smiled, loving that he was just as excited as I was. But when I moved to run a fingertip along the front of his zipper, his hand caught mine, lifting it away.

“Hannah, I’m not sure what you think you are doing, but it’s not going to work.”

“Well, I’d use my lips instead, but the last time I tried that when you were driving, we almost ran off the road.”

“Baby, do you truly think this is some sort of game? Some type of foreplay? Because I assure you it’s neither.”

“It’s not?” Suddenly I could feel my face blooming with heat, and I yanked my hand free, tugging my skirt from the seatbelt.

“Stop.”

“This isn’t funny, Brett. I thought it was… well, a bit too kinky, but I was willing to play along.”

His right hand took both of mine as he used his left to once again arrange my skirt to bare me. “I told you exactly what this was about and that it had nothing to do with kink or sex. I’m not sure when your brain made the switch, but let me be crystal clear. You are sitting on your bare ass, skirt up, in order to focus on the fact that you are not in control. To give you a visual reminder that you will be getting a spanking. Not getting off—getting your ass blistered.”

I could do nothing but gape at him, every word spoken sounding like the absolute truth, and he still wasn’t done.

“Sit on your hands and spread your legs. You’ll learn that it is far preferable to obey my first instruction than to force me to add another element to your lesson. And, if I have to reach over and spread your legs myself, you can be assured that your ass will not be the only part of your anatomy receiving a spanking.”

It was the strangest thing I’d ever done, feeling my hands pressed between the leather seat and my bare butt, but I obeyed and even spread my legs apart. It was embarrassing as hell, but I sure as shit was no longer worrying about red lights and voyeurs. Instead, all I could focus on was the fact that my husband was actually going to spank me. Me… a twenty-five-year-old woman was going to be turned over his knees and spanked like… like a naughty little girl.

It wasn’t until he pulled up to the gates of the base that I started whimpering. I knew exactly what happened at these posts. Brett reached into the backseat and then dropped the blanket we always had on hand over my lap. When I moved to adjust it, he shook his head.

“Hands under your ass or the blanket comes off.”

Blushing furiously, I could only nod when the soldier on duty bent to check the IDs Brett handed him through the window against our actual faces. The moment the cards were back in Brett’s possession and we were through the gate, he snagged the blanket and tossed it into the backseat. When he gave me a pointed look before dropping his eyes to my lap, I opened my legs once more.

Finally, we turned onto our street and were home. I had my legs closed and my hand on the doorknob when I yelped again as another slap stung my thigh.

“I didn’t give you permission to release position,” he said, turning off the engine and opening his door. By the time he opened mine, my legs were apart again. He unbuckled my seatbelt, and I was grateful he’d pulled into the garage because I was positive I would not have been able to obey his next instruction if he’d parked in the driveway.

“Keep your skirt at your waist. When we get inside, drop it by the door and go stand in the center of the living room.”

“Ye-yes, sir.”

He nodded and took my arm, helping me from the car. Once inside, I unzipped my skirt and let it fall to the floor. It wasn’t far to the living room, but it felt like a mile as I covered the distance with my entire bottom half exposed.

“Turn to your left. Legs shoulder-width apart, arms folded across your back, eyes straight ahead. Do not move out of position until I release you.”

Seriously? He really expects me to stand ‘at ease’ half-naked in the middle of the room? A swat against my butt and the single word, “Now,” told me he did. My eyes flicked to the window, glad that the drapes were drawn. It made it slightly easier to obey, though I couldn’t help but wonder what adult woman—especially a civilian—obediently stood bare-assed in a position that could hardly be called sexy. A woman who agreed to try a dynamic based on one person being in charge. And that person wasn’t me. It was the man I can hear moving about behind me.

I could feel the breeze from the AC wafting over my ass and between my spread legs, could feel the goosebumps rising on my skin as cold air met the heated, damp pouch of my pussy. With my eyes staring straight ahead, I focused on the framed wedding photo on the wall across from me. I loved that picture of us running beneath a canopy of raised swords. As memories of our wedding day washed over me, I couldn’t help but compare the expression on his face in the photo with the one I’d seen tonight. He wasn’t smiling, didn’t have that look of anticipation for a wedding night in his eyes like he’d had a year ago. Tonight I’d seen a look of steely determination. Why that image had a trickle of moisture slip into the folds of my sex, I had no clue.

I also had no idea how long he made me stand ‘at ease’, but found myself wishing he’d allow me to stay when he called me to him. Being released could only mean one thing. It was time to accept the consequences for my choices. Swallowing hard, I turned and made my way to where Brett stood.

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