I should have just taken the juice and drunk it. He didn’t know that I loved orange juice, especially the kind without any pulp. Without fail, I had a glass at least once a day and it was so much part of my routine that my father had made certain it was delivered once a week with our grocery delivery order.
The last thing I should have done was throw it in his face.
Shocked at myself, I stared back at him almost dumbfounded as I watched the juice drip down his face and down onto his shirt. He didn’t say a word as he sat down and calmly sipped at his glass of whiskey. His lack of reaction was the most disturbing thing of all. He had this dangerous sense of calmness and patience that I’d never seen before in my life. I expected him to fly off the handle.
Why didn’t he reach out and hit me?
Do something, anything really.
Waiting for him to fly off the handle was undoubtedly worse than it actually happening. My clit pulsed and I cursed it, trying to ignore it to the best of my ability and failing completely. I knew I was being irrational, but I couldn’t stop myself. It was almost like I was pushing him just so I knew what things would be like when they were at their worst, or maybe I just needed to know that he wouldn’t turn tail and leave me just like everyone else. From the looks of things, he was a man that was used to things going his way and if they didn’t, he’d just pay enough money to ensure that they did. Most men would have lashed out at me by now.
Why didn’t he?
I couldn’t help it. I kept pushing. He was just sitting there, saying nothing and just calmly sipping his whiskey and for some insane reason, that just made me lose control and the words just toppled out of my mouth.
“Are you going to take off your belt now?” I challenged, making no effort at all to hide the open aggravation in my voice.
His icy blue gaze slid over to me as he sighed softly.
“The belt is for big girls,” he said softly and that made my stomach cinch tight.
“I’m a grown woman,” I snarled, my defiance spiraling forward like a freight train.
What was wrong with me? Did I want more of the belt? My bottom was still sore from it the first time and I watched with a sudden surging sense of doom as he placed his now empty whiskey glass down on the table beside him.
“Pouty, defiant little girls are dealt with very differently,” he stated, and that same impending sense of doom loomed over me.
I hated that a part of it excited me. That should have made me angry. I wasn’t a little girl. I had taken care of myself for much of my life. I was more of an adult than most kids my age. Instead, my clit throbbed harder as I tried to figure out what he might mean. I shifted in my seat again, realizing that I was much wetter than before.
“What happens… to… to… little… girls?”
My tentative voice shook a little with my nerves, and his gaze glittered with promise. I’d steamrolled my way right into whatever was about to happen, and we both knew it.
“Pouty, defiant little girls have their bare bottoms spanked over Daddy’s knee.”
My pussy clenched so hard that I almost toppled over the brink into an orgasm right then and there.
For a moment, my brain short circuited, focusing on several different aspects of that one single statement. First and foremost, Cormac was going to spank me. Unlike the belting in the judge’s chambers, which in some sense felt impersonal over the desk with my skirt lifted, this spanking was going to take place over his knee. Instantly, the thought of that much physical contact between the two of us right now was overwhelming, and it didn’t end there.
He’d said my bare bottom.
That meant that my skirt wasn’t just going to be pushed up. He was going to take my panties down.
Before, I hadn’t been certain he’d be able to see my arousal. This way, he would see it, and not just a hint of it, through the seat of my panties. He’d be able to see everything.
My pussy clenched again, and I bit back a moan. Finally, there was one last thing that made me feel like I had lost my footing.
He’d said over Daddy’s knee.
My clit throbbed as if it had its own heartbeat. The term felt completely wicked and taboo. It was wrong in a way that shouldn’t be right, but it was almost as if I couldn’t look away. It felt like temptation, and I desperately wanted to take a bite.
I watched him stand up in slow motion. He reached for me and gently grabbed my upper arm. I didn’t really fight him, but I didn’t exactly go along with him willingly either. Instead, I pulled away as he led me over to the couch. His grip was strong, but nothing about it really hurt. It just brought into extreme focus that he could overpower me with ease if he wanted to. My stomach flipped up and down as I dragged my feet behind him.
My self-preservation finally reared its head at last when he sat down and pulled me forward, but it was already too late. Gravity took hold and I was suddenly falling forward, realizing at the last second that it was too late to catch myself and escape what was happening. I landed with a startled huff with my belly stretched taut against his thighs. I swallowed heavily, noticing something else that I hadn’t paid heed to when he’d bent me over that desk. In this new position, my hip pressed snugly against his waist.
So much so that I could feel that his cock was indisputably hard beneath me. For some reason, the knowledge that he was as aroused as I was made my own spiral even further out of my control. I was so caught up in my head that I startled when his hand smoothed over the back of my thigh. I told myself that I should push up against the leather couch and get away as fast as I could, but I didn’t.
Instead, I just lay there with bated breath, waiting to see what would happen next. I wouldn’t say I welcomed it, but there was an undeniable thread of curiosity that kept me there. So, I waited as his hand slid up the back of my thigh. The lifting of my skirt was just as jarring as it had been the first time. He slid the hem up my sore cheeks as if he was savoring every moment of my slow shameful exposure, and I shivered.
I heard him suck in a breath and I closed my eyes, wiggling my hips in a lame attempt to roll off him just so that I could tease his cock just a tiny bit, and he rewarded me with a second, much huskier intake of breath.
“I’m going to give you a choice, little girl.”
My heart pounded with frantic desire.
“You’re either going to be a good girl and let me take these gorgeous fishnets down without ruining them, or you’re going to be a bad girl and I’m going to have to rip them off you,” he stated.
My core squeezed hard, somehow wanting both and neither at the exact same time. I chewed the inside of my cheek, trying to decide. On the one hand, really testing out his brute strength was a tempting idea all on its own, but on the other, I really liked this pair of tights. Every time I wore them, I always felt like a million bucks.
“What will it be, little girl?”
Why did those two words send me reeling every time they fell off his lips?
“I’ll be a good girl,” I replied, my voice somehow sounding smaller and more vulnerable than I wanted.
It was too late to do anything about it though. The words had already been spoken. Slowly, he slid both hands underneath the waistband of my tights. I closed my eyes as he dragged them down my bottom, and then even further still past the middle of my thighs all the way down to my knees. I shivered, realizing he was seeing my favorite pair of slutty panties for a second time that day.
He didn’t need to tell me that he was going to pull those down next.
My toes drummed against the floor and in one last ditch effort, I tried to roll myself off his lap. Like he had been anticipating that very thing, he grasped my hip with one hand and lurched me forward, pinning both my legs beneath one of his. It dawned on me that I was securely locked in place. I couldn’t rock my hips or even kick my way out of this.
For a minute, he just held me there like that as his fingers slid back and forth above the lacey band around my hips. It was hypnotizing in a way, his touch sending an electric tingle shooting straight to my core. Was it possible that he could feel my clit throbbing against his thigh?
“I think it’s time to bare your bottom, little girl,” he murmured, and I shuddered hard.
There was something about the way that he said it that made the whole thing feel like it was inevitable, and it made my focus center on my backside more completely than ever. He didn’t rush it like high school boys would. Instead, he slipped his fingers just beneath the lace and edged them down, bit by bit. I had thought it was going to be terribly shameful and maybe mildly embarrassing, but it wasn’t.
It was so much worse than all that combined.
He was the first person to lay eyes on my naked bottom in a long time. In the rush of aroused panic, I vaguely remembered the last time being at a doctor’s office for a physical or something, but I’d never been exposed quite like this, facedown over a man’s knee about to get a very real spanking that I had very much earned.
I tried to be brave, but the slow reveal of the most private places of my body rattled me more than I thought possible.
The whole process probably took no more than a minute, but every second of it felt like an eternity. It would have been much less embarrassing if he had just yanked them down, but his fingertips followed behind the waistband of my panties, sliding against every inch of skin he exposed. When they finally brushed against the lower curves of my cheeks, he pushed them down to lay against the fishnets that were already tangled around my knees.
And then, it hit me.
He would be able to see my pussy.
My core squeezed tight, and a soft gasp fell from my lips before I had the forethought to stop it. He had to have heard it, but he didn’t say anything.
He doesn’t need to say anything because he’s too busy looking at your dripping, soaking wet, and very needy pussy right now.
My face flamed red hot, and I cursed the demon that controlled my inner voice. With a trembling breath, I realized I could actually feel his eyes on me.
And they felt heavy.
Feeling shy, I pressed my thighs together as hard as I could. I had a feeling it wasn’t doing anything to hide what was between my legs, but it was at least something. There wasn’t the slightest bit of doubt that he wouldn’t see my wetness. My inner thighs were slick with it, so much so that they slid against each other as I tried to ignore its presence as much as humanly possible.
This is really happening. You’re about to get your bare bottom spanked over Cormac’s knee and he knows that turns you on, you dirty little slut.
I blanched, taking solace only in the fact that he couldn’t hear the terribly naughty thoughts bouncing around in my head.
His hand on my hip squeezed a little, bringing into sharp focus that I was pinned in place, with both my bottom and my pussy bare for what was undoubtedly the most shameful experience of my life.
Don’t forget arousing, you dirty girl.
His palm finally settled on my left cheek, and I caught myself imagining those rough hands for the thousandth time. Until that moment, I hadn’t fully realized how broad they were. It nearly covered the entirety of one side of my bottom, and I bit my lower lip, worrying it as I tried to reconcile the stark contrast of my current position with the powerful bad girl I had felt like walking into the courtroom this morning.
It was a heady difference.
“Pouty, defiant little girls who throw their juice in Daddy’s face get their bare bottoms spanked bright red,” he announced.
My lips opened and the words sprang from me before I could stop them.
The silence that followed was so dense that I could feel myself shrinking against him to hide at the same time knowing that I couldn’t.
His hand lifted and the first crack against my naked cheek was so loud that it made me cry out solely from the sound. A second gunshot rang out as he smacked the other side just as firmly and I slammed my lips shut, vowing to keep quiet for the whole thing.
I’d show him how brave a pouty, defiant girl could be.
This whole scenario was harrowingly different from the belting before. That had been a tool that meted out a consequence, just like kids at some private boarding schools were spanked with a paddle or a cane. That had been a spanking.
This was a punishment, one that I had flung myself headlong into earning.
The physical touch shared between us was startlingly intimate. It felt far more personal to be pinned like this against him with my panties pulled down to my knees.
It was far, far more arousing too.
Maybe it was because he could see my pussy and that I couldn’t hide my body’s reaction when he held me close like this.
Did I even want him to know?
More important, would he do anything about it?
My pussy clenched down hard at the same time a firm strike bounced off my right cheek. The first few spanks had been shocking more from the sound and the glaringly different position, but now it was being replaced by something else.
This stung. His hand actually hurt. The belt had functioned both to sting and to build my fear, but when he’d first said he was going to spank me with his hand, I’d assumed it would be easier to take.
Somehow, in some ways, it stung even more. Maybe it was because he kept his hand a little loose, so that the shape of it curled around each cheek in a way that the belt was too solid to do, or maybe it was just because I’d been so naughty that he had needed to deal with me right then and his hand was the thing that would teach me a lesson the fastest. It took a moment to realize that his pace was gradually increasing and maybe that had all been a warmup. I hoped I was wrong.
If I didn’t know that he was using just his hand, I would have thought that it was a paddle, but I knew it was his hand and somehow, that made the unexpected sting turn from mild to overwhelming in nothing short of a minute. I thrust my arm backwards and successfully commandeered control of my right bottom cheek for half a second before he grabbed my wrist and easily pinned it behind my back.
“Naughty girl,” he scolded, and my core squeezed tight.
I sucked in a shaky breath, trying to hold onto the reins of my arousal even as it was quickly barreling well past the point of control. With every passing moment, I would tell myself that this was the hardest it could get and then he would prove me wrong, time and time again. I held on for as long as I could without making a sound. My lips slipped and I cried out, the sound barely audible but I knew he’d heard it because his cock hardened like an iron spike beneath my hip. I sucked in a breath when its size hit me. His cock was a man-sized cock, the kind that would stretch me open and probably split me in half if I took the whole thing.
His palm struck the tops of my thighs and this time, the cry that fell off my lips sounded far more frantic than I intended. After that, there was no more keeping quiet. His palm peppered the backs of my thighs almost exclusively, and that stung far more than the rest. He’d been accurate with his belt, but he was a master with his hand. He punished from the tops of my cheeks all the way down to the middle of my thighs. I imagined his thoroughness had turned my whole bottom bright red because it felt like my ass had fallen straight into a campfire.
“I get it,” I screeched, struggling as much as I could even though I knew I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Tell Daddy you’re sorry,” he demanded, punctuating each word with a hard strike right where my ass met my thighs.
I knew from experience now that tender spot was the place that I would feel sitting down for the rest of the day, but I bit my tongue. I likely would have tasted blood, but several hard smacks to my upper thighs made me howl out loud.
This is how he would deal with me when I was naughty.
Why was my body reacting this way? What the fuck was wrong with me?
The spanking went on, turning more and more punishing the longer it lasted. I didn’t know how to make it stop, and somewhere deep down, a part of me fundamentally understood that it wasn’t up to me, that’s why he’d pinned me over his knee like this, so he could spank me just as hard and as long as I needed to be spanked. My clit wouldn’t stop throbbing and I yearned for the big strong hand to stop punishing me so that it could slide between my legs and give me that orgasm my body was screaming for.
Could the pilot hear this? Did he know what was happening?
I blushed hard, unintentionally arching my back, and lifting my hips just a little. He took advantage of my slight movement to reposition my bottom a bit higher. With my ass angled like this, I felt even more vulnerable, and when the spanking inevitably resumed, my cries had taken on a more desperate tone.
It hurt. A lot.
And it wasn’t ending anytime soon. If anything, it intensified, and my eyes started to water. I blinked, trying to do anything to hold them back. I tried to keep my breathing steady, but soon things started to spiral, the sting scalded even hotter, and the first tear dripped down my cheek. The spanking kept going for a little longer after that, really hammering in the message long after I was sobbing with my bottom burning over his knee.
I expected to be angry. I thought I would want to lash out and hurt him right back, but instead, I didn’t feel any of that. By the time the spanking finally ended, my tears had turned into tiny rivers that flowed readily down my cheeks and dripped off my chin, making a tiny little puddle on the couch.
“I’m going to take care of you, little girl, and you’re going to let me. Every time you fight me, it will result in this. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” I wheezed, my shoulders shaking as I continued to cry.
His hand settled protectively on my burning backside and the possessiveness in that single touch took me by surprise. Maybe he meant to do it or maybe it was a happy accident, but somehow everything seemed lighter. This morning, I had been facing serious jail time and life as a felon and right now, a stranger had come for me and plucked me from that terrible fate. If the worst part of that whole thing was that my mysterious savior had a firm hand, I was lucky.
With grace, his hands curled around my waist, and he lifted me up and sat me down in his lap, my panties still wound around my knees and my skirt bunched up around my waist. Without a second thought, I curled my arms around his neck. There was the slightest bit of hesitation on his part, but when his strong arms wrapped around me, I let go of everything holding me back.
I tried not to focus on how comforting it felt to finally have someone in my life that cared about me enough to take me in hand when I needed it. I tried not to think about how I’d needed something like this for a very long time.
His fingers traced up and down my spine in soothing circles as my crying slowed. He held me like that for a long time. It could have been minutes or hours, but he didn’t shove me away or tell me to get a hold of myself like other guys would. He simply held me until I stopped crying and then some more after that.
I buried my face in the crook of his neck, allowing his scent to surround me. When I leaned my head to the side a little, it pressed my ear against his chest and the comforting sound of his heartbeat caught me by surprise. I stilled and listened to its steady drumming, timing my breathing to its constant beat as I calmed down, safe and sound in his arms.
“I’m sorry,” I ventured in a hushed whisper and his arms squeezed tight around me, revealing in unspoken words that maybe he did actually care about me.
“You were forgiven long before I took you over my knee, sweet girl,” he reassured me, and I settled in his lap once more.
Eventually though, the throbbing between my legs became far more incessant than the burning state of my bottom, and I rubbed my thighs together, hoping that it would offer some sense of relief.
“Stand up,” he directed.
There was a slight firmness to his tone, but it was more in a guiding way than a scolding one. Blushing deeply, I slowly climbed to my feet. My skirt was a little bunched up and I turned my head as his fingertips glided against the sides of my thighs. I couldn’t stop myself from watching the direction of his eyes.
Would he look at me there? Would he like what he saw?
My pussy was just as bare as my bottom. I’d never much liked hair down there, so I’d been shaving it ever since it had first appeared, and I’d shaved just last night. My cheeks flared red hot when his gaze dropped downward.
Then he looked. My core squeezed so tight it hurt.
Without a word, he slowly dragged my panties back up into place and I audibly sighed with relief once my swollen pussy was finally covered. Next, he pulled my tights back into place and adjusted my skirt to its normal position. I tried not to notice how nice it felt for him to dress me.
“Now, sweet girl, let me tell you what’s going to happen next. You’re going to sit down in your seat. I am going to get you something to eat and pour you a fresh glass of juice.”
I stiffened and his hands pressed against the outside of my thighs.
“You will eat and drink what I give you like a good girl unless you want to go back over Daddy’s knee for another spanking that will leave you sobbing and very sore after which you will sit down, and I will serve you again.”
I nodded with a soft sniffle. My defiance from before seemed mostly tempered for the time being. He wasn’t asking me to do circus tricks or anything, or even taking advantage by demanding odd sexual favors. All he wanted was for me to eat. All in all, it was a perfectly reasonable request. My stomach chose that exact moment to growl like a damn dinosaur and to his credit, he silenced a chuckle, but he couldn’t hide the amused glint that sparkled in his eyes.
“Okay,” I offered.
He stood and slowly guided me to my seat. When I sat down, I flinched, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t gloat or say anything to make fun of me. It was almost as if the spanking hadn’t happened, but we both knew it did. He strode to the back of the plane and poured another full glass of orange juice. I listened as he started to prepare some type of food and when he finally returned, I was delighted to see what appeared to be a first-class meal on a tray. There was a basket of warm bread and a plateful of spaghetti and meatballs still steaming hot. He put the glass of juice down, along with water, before he passed me some utensils.
“You don’t need to eat every bite, but I want you to make a good dent in your meal.”
He sat down in his seat, staying next to me as I dug in. The food was absolutely delicious, so good it seemed almost criminal to be airplane food. I used several warm pieces of bread to sop up the extra sauce, delighting in the spicy flavor. The sauce was clearly handmade and not the cheap store-bought stuff I was used to.
His gaze was warm as he watched me out of the corner of his eye. I was certain that my face was cherry tomato red, feeling very much like a scolded little girl with a sore bottom. I had to admit that it was nice to have someone watching over me instead of only having myself. My pussy was practically weeping at this point and my clit never ceased its endless throbbing.
Was that part of the punishment too?
Why did the whole thing make me yearn to reach between my thighs and come with what would most certainly be the hardest orgasm of my life?
He stayed with me until I’d eaten my fill. When I was done, he glanced over, and I blushed as he assessed my work. The pasta and bread had been really filling, so much so that I’d only polished off about half of it. I blushed, suddenly worrying that I’d be put back over his knee, but then he smiled, and he said the words that I didn’t know I wanted to hear.
“Good girl. Would you still like a tequila sunrise?”
For the first time that day, I smiled, a very real smile that made him break out in one of his own.
“Yes, please. I’d like that very much.”
For a second, he lingered, his gaze meeting my own, and I got the feeling that he wanted to say something more but didn’t. Eventually, he turned and headed to the back of the plane. I watched him, wondering what would be waiting for me in Boston.
I had a feeling that my whole life was about to change.