Daddy Takes the Reins by Kelly Dawson – Extended Preview

Living with the Lewis brothers was great. In their fun-loving company she was able to pretend that her life was normal, her sister wasn’t dying, her family wasn’t dysfunctional, and she didn’t have Tourette’s Syndrome. Because the men all ate on a regular basis, she did too, and she felt much better for it. Regular sex was awesome too; she’d forgotten how good it was to be brought to orgasm almost daily by a loving, attentive man. And afterwards, she also slept well, exhausted from Clay’s lovemaking, feeling so secure with his arms around her all night, cuddling her close as she drifted off to sleep. All three brothers smacked her butt on occasion, sometimes playfully, sometimes seriously, always reminding her that she was cherished and cared for.

The only blight on her happiness was Annie. Now that Rose was nearly ready to race, Clay insisted that Bianca take the standard midday hours off as everyone else did, and she always went to see Annie. Sometimes Clay went with her, sometimes she went alone. Even in these daytime visits, when Annie was at her best, it was clear that she was failing fast. She was usually awake, but didn’t always have the strength to get out of bed. When she did, she wasn’t always able to leave the hospice building before waves of nausea racked her body and she ran out of strength to stand. More than once, Clay had gathered her up in his arms and carried her back inside when she had been unable to walk, even with assistance. And in the evenings, when Bianca’s long day was over and she rushed back to spend time with her sister again, Annie was, more often than not, sleeping. She never ran into their mother anymore; she didn’t know what had happened to the insipid woman, and Annie didn’t say. But it didn’t matter; Bianca was much happier avoiding her.

The evening visits with Annie broke her. Seeing Annie so weak, so ill, was almost more than she could bear, and she was always grateful for Clay’s quiet strength when he went with her. When he didn’t, on her return home she would spend at least an hour as a little, submitting to Daddy Clay’s tender, loving care, before she felt brave enough to face the real world as an adult.

Although living with Clay helped her physical health immensely, he couldn’t do much about her emotional turmoil, which exacerbated her Tourette’s. Her tics were really bad again, and Darren made sure she knew it. He didn’t just say trigger words to her for a joke any more—he did it to torment her. He did it because he enjoyed watching her discomfort as she stood there repeating meaningless words over and over; she knew he got some sort of perverse pleasure out of watching her screw up her face in random, violent tics. And she hated him for it.

“Come on, boy, let’s get you saddled up, shall we?” She always talked to the horses as she led them out of their stalls and backed them into the grooming stalls, cross-tying them securely before grooming them and saddling them up for the morning workout.

“Sausage!” Darren hissed as he walked past, before laughing loudly at her glare.

“Ssss.” She forced the word back. She would not say it. She bit her tongue tightly between clenched teeth to prevent the word from forcing its way out, and she focused intently on her task to suppress the other tics that always manifested when she stopped a vocal one. It was a monumental effort, and her teeth hurt with the effort, but she succeeded.

“Oh, won’t you play along today, twitchy?” Darren teased her, walking past again, laden down with halter, lead rope, and tack bucket. “Sssssssss, sausage!” he declared triumphantly, smirking in her direction.

“Fuck off, Darren,” she snarled at him. “I’m sick of your shit.” Infuriatingly, Darren just threw his head back and laughed, taking pleasure in her frustration. As she watched him saunter down the aisle still laughing, she seethed.

“I’ll be ready for you next time,” she muttered under her breath as she systematically emptied out the tack bucket, lining the brushes, hoof picks, and other grooming paraphernalia up along the wall, before shovelling it full of horse poop. She tucked the bucket against the wall beside her, out of sight, and waited.

“Sssssss, sausage!” She heard Darren before she saw him, and she put down the hoof she was picking out and had the bucket of horse manure in her hand before she’d even straightened up. Stepping out into the aisle, she swung the heavy bucket up into the air and tipped the contents out over Darren’s head before he even realised what she was doing.

Darren let out a shout of outrage so loud that the horse he was leading reared up in fear, breaking away from his grip, galloping away out of the barn.

Bianca was shaking with laughter as Darren stood in the middle of the aisle, horse manure smeared all over his head and running down his face. As a peal of laughter rang out across the stables, Darren took a step toward her, his clenched fists held up in front of him.

“Hold it!” Tom ordered. “You—my office,” he pointed to Bianca. “And Darren, you can go outside to the hose and clean yourself up.”

Bianca’s laughter died in her throat at the sound of Tom’s angry voice, and as she trudged up the stairs to the offices on the mezzanine floor, she started to realise just how much trouble she was in.

Smack! Bianca jumped as Clay’s hand connected sharply with her left buttock. She gasped, then held her breath as the cold steel rod pressed against her bottom hole again.

“Keep still.” Clay’s deep voice was throaty with arousal. “Just relax,” he murmured huskily, rubbing his fingertips gently over the pink handprint he’d created on her bare skin. She did as he bid, exhaling slowly, feeling the tension leave her body momentarily.

She squirmed uncomfortably as Clay teased her puckered hole, stretching her wide, as he gently inserted the plug. She sucked in a breath at the pang of pain that hit her as the steel plug was pushed further and further inside of her.

“Stop,” she whispered.

“Stop?” Clay asked incredulously. “You don’t make the rules, princess. This is a punishment; you’re not meant to like it.” But he did stop, and he held the plug still as he caressed her bottom softly with his other hand.

“Just… just give me a moment to get used to it,” she begged, barely able to breathe. She relaxed slowly as Clay continued to trace circles on her bottom with his fingers, the roughness of his skin chafing against the tenderness of hers. “Does… does this mean I won’t be getting a spanking?” she asked him in a small voice full of hope.

Clay chuckled. “Nice try, princess. Nope, you’ll still be getting a spanking.”

He pushed the steel rod in further, quickly ramming it all the way home, and she yelped. But as he held it there and continued to rub her bottom softly, she decided that, although it was definitely uncomfortable, she quite liked the sensation after all. She felt full, and a delicious ache was spreading throughout her pelvis; a wetness was growing between her slightly parted thighs. Clay must have noticed it—she gasped as he slid his hand down and dipped his long finger in her juices, spreading it over her pussy and the very top of her thighs.

“My, my, you are very wet, my princess,” he noted with satisfaction. He took his hand off the base of the plug. “You’ll need to clench your bottom to hold that in there,” he told her. He lifted her gently to her feet and pointed her to the corner. “You can stand in the corner for me with your hands on your head and your legs spread. I want your body on display for me.”

She felt so vulnerable and exposed, naked as she was, with a foreign object in her bottom, but she waddled to the corner as her body figured out how to walk while holding the butt plug in place. She faced the wall, standing just as Clay had instructed, and thought back over her actions that had led her to this predicament.

Why had she risen to Darren’s bait? Why didn’t she just ignore him like she had every other time? She’d been working with Darren for months; why had she chosen that moment to snap? Sure, it had been satisfying watching Darren standing there with horse poop dripping off him, but she’d nearly lost her job over it. If it hadn’t been for Clay stepping in when he did, she would have.

“Why did you react?” he’d asked. “You manage to ignore him every other time.”

She shook her head. “Don’t know,” she’d admitted. “Just sick of it all, I guess. It’s the same old, same old, every day. I have to work twice as hard because I’m the wrong gender to do this job, then I have to work twice as hard as everyone else on top of that because of my Tourette’s. It just all got to be a bit too much.”

“So why didn’t you get me to put a stop to it?” he’d asked her gently. “I would have, you know, I’ve made the offer before. It was your choice for me not to step in,” he reminded her.

“I wanted to handle it my way.”

Clay chuckled. “Well, I daresay he will leave you alone from now on.” Then his smile had faded and a stern frown marred his handsome features. “I can’t wait to get you home tonight, princess. We’ll relieve some of that stress for you. And you can expect a strict punishment as well.” He took hold of her chin gently and tilted her face up to his, leaning down to kiss her softly, his lips barely grazing hers. Her bottom tingled at the thought of the punishment that awaited her in just a few hours, and when she saw the sparks of passion glinting in Clay’s eyes, she knew he was looking forward to it as well.

“You have to be seen to be punished here as well,” he announced, an evil grin on his face. “What job do you hate most of all?” he wondered aloud. “Aha! I know!” he winked at her. “You’re on stall detail. Enjoy!”

“Bastard!” she muttered under her breath, but she knew he was right. Nobody else in the stable knew the intricacies of the relationship they shared, and there was no way she wanted them to. The last thing she wanted was for everyone she worked with to know that Clay bared her bottom and spanked her like the naughty little girl that she was. And at work, Clay didn’t play favourites. She had to be punished just like any other staff member would be, or Tom would want to know why.

“Come here.” Clay’s deep, husky voice jolted her back to reality, and she remembered just where she was: standing in the corner with her nose to the wall, her hands on her head, and a horrid metal rod violating her bottom. The rod had caused an ache deep within her, and as she turned around slowly, the movement in her pelvis sent a tingling all the way through her. She looked at Clay sitting on the bed and her eyes went wide with horror. Right there beside him on the bed was his belt, doubled over, clearly ready for use. He wasn’t going to use that, surely? He’d told her his belt was reserved for serious offences, and she hadn’t been that bad. Not really. Tipping horse poop over an annoying jockey only counted as a minor infringement, didn’t it? If it didn’t, she was certain that it should. Her heart missed a beat. The sight of the belt sitting there unleashed something primal within her and a new rush of heat shot through her already aching pussy.

As she moved toward him with small, staggering steps, he smiled at her reassuringly, then reached out and took her arm, guiding her gently across his lap.

“You’re not going to spank me with this abomination in me, are you?” she asked, as he trailed his fingertips lightly up and down her back.

He nodded. “Indeed I am, princess.” He prised her thighs apart gently with one hand and slid his finger into the dewy wetness of her, thrusting it all the way in, exploring the depths of her and kneading her pussy with his knuckles.

Suddenly, he withdrew his finger and smacked her bottom hard. She yelped. “Why are you getting this spanking, Bianca?” his deep voice rumbled softly.

“For tipping horse poop on Darren.” Saying it out loud, she was aware of how childish and petulant her actions had been, and she was embarrassed. She clenched the muscles of her bottom tightly, feeling the intrusion of the metal plug once again.

He smacked her other buttock. “Yes, your glaring lack of self-control is one of the reasons. What is the other one?” He smacked her again, waiting for her answer.

“I don’t know, sir.” The smacks were arousing her even more, and her breath was coming in short, shallow gasps as the ache between her legs intensified.

“Stress release,” he told her cheerfully. “You’ll feel much better after a good cry.” He intensified the power behind the spanks then, and she gripped his ankles tightly as he rained spank after spank down on her upturned, naked bottom. The line between pleasure and pain had been crossed as he put more power into his swing, and she bit her lip to prevent herself from crying out as the sting continued to build. She tried to count the spanks, but they were coming too rapidly for her to keep up and she lost count at fifteen. After that, nothing mattered anymore except escaping Clay’s punishing hand. She wriggled as much as she could, but that wasn’t much—Clay held her firmly. And with every movement, she was reminded of that metal rod that was still inside her bottom, sending tingles through her every time Clay’s hand landed. Pressure was building inside her; she felt like she was going to explode.

The spanking went on and on. Clay continued spanking, not saying a word, until she let out a sob and her shoulders shook with the effort of trying to hold back her tears. At the first sign of her submission he increased the strength behind the swats, setting her behind ablaze again, and she howled. “Ow, Clay, that hurts!” she moaned, sobbing properly now.

“Nearly finished, princess,” he whispered to her. Gently, he twisted the base of the metal plug still embedded firmly in her ass, then deftly extracted it, dropping it to the floor. She sighed in relief, the tension leaving her shoulders. Automatically, her buttocks clenched and relaxed, and that tingling feeling shot through her again.

Clay picked up his belt, palming the ends, and raised it high. He brought it down hard right across the crest of her buttocks and she bucked and screamed, clutching at his ankles frantically, her feet kicking, desperate to escape the line of fire he’d lit across her backside. He whacked her again, slightly below the first one, but this time she was sobbing too hard to scream. She buried her face into his pants legs and was holding on for dear life, sobbing brokenly. She couldn’t form a coherent thought beyond how much pain she was in, and she cried noisily, tears dripping down her face to land in a puddle on the floor. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried this hard. Had she ever cried this hard? She heard the whoosh of the belt as it whizzed through the air again, a split second before it landed and her bottom was once again branded, right across the crevice where her bottom met her thighs. She was crying so hard her breath was coming in short, ragged gasps, interspersed with desperate sobbing. Her whole body trembled; her bottom was one huge mass of pain. All she could do was cry. She could feel the tension, the built-up stress leaving her body, flowing out of her with her tears. All the rejection, all the pressure, all the devastation over Annie… she could feel it all melting away.

She stayed there like that, dangling limp across his lap, for what seemed like forever, while he rubbed her back and neck gently. Slowly, her sobs subsided and she coughed, trying to catch her breath.

Clay eased her gently down onto his bed, stretching out beside her, cuddling her into his chest. Despite the punishment he’d just given her, she smiled. She turned to look at him, and he dropped a tender kiss on her forehead, brushing her hair back off her face with the hand he’d just used to spank her.

“Feel better now, princess?” he asked.

“Strangely, yes,” she admitted. “Very sore, but much happier.” Smiling, Clay held her tighter. She was exhausted—the crying on top of a very long day had worn her out completely, and she felt so safe and contented in Clay’s arms. She closed her eyes and pressed her body against him, her cheek against his chest, the steady beat of his heart lulling her off to sleep.

When she awoke sometime in the night there was a sheet covering her, and Clay still had his arms around her. Smiling contentedly, she went back to sleep.

She awoke to Clay’s fingertips trailing gently over her body. She opened one eye and moaned gently, his touch electric. She could feel his erection pressing through his satin boxers against her hip and she smiled. But that smile turned to a grimace of pain when he rubbed her bottom. She was so sore that even the soft touch was too much.

“You’re sore.” It was spoken as a statement rather than a question, and he leaned forward and kissed the welts on her bottom gently.

“Yes,” she agreed simply.

“Just as well you’re not riding today then, isn’t it?”

Bianca groaned. Stall detail. She’d forgotten.

Clay pressed a brief kiss against her lips and threw back the covers. “You get dressed. I’ll get us coffee.” He walked out to the kitchen wearing just his boxers, and she ogled him eagerly. His tight butt made the monkeys on his boxers dance with each step he took. The muscles in his back rippled as he walked, the power in his shoulders evident. His shaggy hair hung down the back of his neck and she itched to reach out and run her fingers through it, to gather it together in her hands. He was one fine specimen of manhood!

It hurt to stand. It hurt even more to get dressed. Bending down to retrieve her jeans off the floor was murder as the skin stretched tight across her bottom, and when she dragged the denim up over her hips she hissed in pain. This was bad. It hurt so much more now than it had last night, and it had been plenty sore last night. She hoped the pain would ease as the day wore on.

“Ready to spend the day cleaning stalls?” Clay handed her a chipped white mug and she sipped the hot coffee slowly.

“That’s not fair,” she argued. “You already punished me. Why did you punish me last night if you were going to make me clean stalls today anyway?”

“You know why.” Clay put his coffee on the dresser as he pulled on a shirt and his jeans. “You needed a good cry. I just helped it along.”

“Why do you think that spanking me until I cry solves everything?” she snapped at him, suddenly angry.

“Does it not?” He wore an amused smile, which irritated her even more.

“No, it does not!” she insisted.

Leaning down, he kissed her head and squeezed her bottom, chuckling when she yelped. “I think it does.” With that, he left the room.

Clay had been watching the interaction between Darren and Bianca all morning. Like Bianca, Darren was on stall duty. As a licensed jockey he wasn’t usually around during the day, he was normally off racing somewhere around the country, but today, he was at the stables all day, so Tom had taken advantage of that to make him clean stalls until they shone. Darren would never have listened if Clay had given the orders—but when Tom gave them, he listened. Tom had a reputation as one of the best trainers around, his stables were prestigious, and Darren didn’t want to lose what he had, both the job as a salaried track rider and the opportunity to have first pick of the top racehorses to race.

Although they were working at opposite ends of the big building, they would each stop periodically to glare at each other, their eyes shooting daggers. Whenever they walked past each other there would be a hissed conversation complete with furious expressions and angry hand gestures, and he suspected it would only be a matter of time before another fight broke out. His princess was nothing if not brave and defiant, and Darren didn’t scare her one bit. It was time to stake his claim publicly, he knew that now. So he waited for the perfect moment, when Darren and as many of the other staff members were watching as possible.

She leaned on her rake and looked at him as he strolled casually into the stall she was mucking out, his pose laid back but his fists clenched in tension. How would she react? She backed up as he approached; did she recognise the passion in his eyes? When she was trapped up against the back wall of the stall, unable to go any further, he blocked her exit with his body, planting his hands on the wall on either side of her head, and fixed his eyes on her face. Her breathing was as ragged as his, her eyes were shining brightly with longing, and her lips were parted slightly, as if waiting for his kiss. She looked up at him, unmistakable challenge in her eyes. Did she think he wasn’t going to go through with it? Did she think he wouldn’t lay claim to her, right here, right now? He determined to show her that he would.

His erection was straining against his pants as he lowered his head to kiss her, her soft lips responsive, her eyes closing as her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers entwining in her hair, pulling him close. Sparks were flying as she pressed her body against his, kissing him back with more passion than she ever had before.

He smiled to himself as he broke apart from her, recalling their conversation that morning. Yes, he decided, a good spanking went a long way to solving everything.

Bianca stared after Clay as he walked down the stables, his long strides taking him quickly away. What game was he playing? She bent to pick up her rake, wincing as her jeans chafed against her sore bottom. As she stood up, she caught a glimpse of the expression on Darren’s face and a lightbulb went on in her head. Aha! So he’d finally seen fit to claim her, in the hope that his possession of her would halt Darren’s tormenting in his tracks. She looked over at Darren again. His mouth was hanging open and he looked completely shocked. She smiled. Maybe Clay’s plan would be successful after all!

Annie was having a particularly bad day when Bianca arrived. She tried her best to be cheerful, but Bianca could tell the pain was too much for her. Annie wasn’t knitting or crocheting, she wasn’t reading, she wasn’t doing anything. All she was doing was lying back against her pillows with her eyes closed, moaning in pain every so often as the cancer decimated her frail body. Lying sideways on the bed next to her so as not to hurt her sore bottom any more, Bianca clasped her hand gently, casting her mind back over their childhood for entertaining stories so they could reminisce together. Occasionally Annie would smile at a memory, but her face was etched with pain the whole time and it broke Bianca’s heart. The end was drawing near for Annie, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could to do stop it.

Annie was sound asleep by the time she left, and she had to fight hard to hold back the tears as she kissed her sister goodbye.