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The Rancher’s Little Girl by Emily Tilton – Extended Preview

The Rancher's Little Girl by Emily TiltonWhen the front door had closed behind Kelly, Ross walked back to the kitchen, where Victoria was still getting dinner on the table. “You’d better go up to your room and wait for me there, Victoria. You’ve got a date with my belt.”

“What? You can’t be serious, Ross.”

“Apparently, I need to help you understand just how serious I am. Now get your rear end upstairs, and get your jeans and panties down.”

“You’re joking, right? I can see the thing with interrupting you, and with the bad language—but you can’t seriously whip me for a little tiff with a neighbor.”

“No tiff with a neighbor is little, darlin’, because our neighbors are the people we depend on. This is much more serious than what I whipped you for before, and if you can’t see it, then I’m going to have to make the lesson a lot more thorough.”

Victoria quailed back from him at that, setting the platter of chicken on the table and stepping backward to put herself up against the wooden counter.

“What does that mean?” she asked, her nostrils flaring as her breath came harsher.

“Well, you’re gonna find out a lot more about ageplay now, darlin’.”

“Like what?”

“For starters, you’re going to have a bath, and a barin’, and a trip across my knee, with all your clothes off.”

A wild look came into Victoria’s eyes that Ross couldn’t read: there was fear there, definitely, but also a kind of disbelief that might mean that she actually had felt some curiosity about ageplay, but that she hadn’t wanted to find out more in this particular fashion.

“You wouldn’t,” she whispered.

* * *

“That’s not the kind of thing a girl who’s about to learn about ageplay should be sayin’, darlin’. When your daddy tells you he’s gonna do somethin’, he’s gonna do it.”

No. Not her clothes… Why with all her clothes off? Why… bare, like that? And why did it sound so…

“That’s… that’s just… wrong,” Victoria said weakly. “If you think I’m going to take my clothes off for you, Mr. MacGregor, you’ve got—”

“I don’t see that you have a choice, young lady,” Ross said. “It’s a form of discipline that I believe in, and if you want to leave your room anytime soon, you’re going to comply with that belief. What happened here today tells me that you need the sort of lesson I can teach, and I’m not going to let you remain here without it.”

“You’d send me to my room?” Victoria heard both desperation and disbelief in her own voice.

“I would. You’d stay there until you accepted my discipline. I’d bring you your meals there if I had to.”

She had known, really, how serious he was about this from the moment he had said the thing about the trip across his knee. And she could tell that he really did believe he could help her this way—that Ross’ idea of what kind of person Victoria should be began from her acceptance of the strange, humiliating lesson he intended to give her.

And what did Victoria think? She searched her mind and realized that she couldn’t swear that he was wrong. But to take all her clothes off for a spanking over his lap…

The real problem was that there was a part of it that, well, didn’t want it exactly—but that responded to it, somehow.

“Why with my clothes off?” she whispered, though really she asked just to make sure the answer her rebellious mind told her was the right one.

“I’m going to take you back to being a little girl, Victoria. Little girls aren’t allowed to have secrets from their daddies. When I punish a little girl, I make sure she knows that she can’t hide anything from me. So I’m gonna have you hop in the tub, and we’re gonna bare you down between your legs, too, and take away your grown-up hair down there, to make sure you know you don’t get to hide any part of you from your daddy.”

“Oh, God,” Victoria whispered. “I… just can’t.” That thought—the same thought she had had, standing in the pink bedroom—seemed to batter against her idea of herself as a functioning grown-up. The worst part was that something in her screamed that that idea needed battering. She found herself saying in the same tiny voice, “Can’t you just whip me, Ross?”

“I’m gonna have you start callin’ me ‘daddy’ now, darlin’. You need some real attention from a man who knows how to be a daddy to a girl like you.”

Oh, God. Oh, God. The thing she had tried calling Jack, once. The thing that she thought after that—after Jack had tried to be sweet about it but clearly didn’t like it—she would never try to call a man again, her own father having left when Victoria was three.

“I… please… maybe you can… you can let me think about it for a little while…” Then, as her voice trailed off, she realized that she wanted—she really wanted—to say one word more, and she did although it made her feel that some part of her, some part that kept a lid on something else, had come loose: “Daddy?” She paused, biting her lip, looking into his stern face. He had not advanced; he had not made any threatening moves, physically—nothing like the way he had put her over the bed when he had given her the belt whipping five days before. But the idea that he had become her daddy seemed to make her feel little, and suddenly she wanted to do something to please him—something that might put off the dreadful necessity of the baring.

“Maybe we can have dinner first, daddy?” she asked. “And pie?”

Ross smiled, and Victoria realized that that was because he could see that the course he had taken with her had already produced results. She didn’t know whether it made her happy to know the same thing, nor did she know whether those results—calling him daddy, wanting to please him, being willing to eat Mrs. Stovall’s pie because it would please Ross—were ones she entirely approved of. She didn’t even know that she wouldn’t, when faced with the necessity of stripping naked for the lesson he planned, tell him to call Jack to come get her.

But for the moment, to sit down with him to chicken and dumplings, and then a meringue pie, and to call him daddy, made her feel that maybe she could face the strange new world of ageplay without the panic that had gripped her when he had first told her that he would be giving her a ‘thorough’ lesson.

“Yes, darlin’. That’s fine with me. Let’s have this lovely dinner you made.”

And they did. Ross didn’t mention anything about the pie, or Kelly Stovall, or ageplay, or his belt. Victoria didn’t call him ‘daddy’ again. But they had the best conversation they’d had yet: they talked about horses, mostly, but also about ranching. Every time a question came to the top of Victoria’s ‘reporter mind’ (as she called that part of her) about government regulation or antibiotics or methane, somehow she managed effortlessly to push it back. She wasn’t conscious of disarming her reporter mind because she was afraid of what Ross planned to do after dinner, but when they were eating Mrs. Stovall’s excellent pie, Victoria realized that the knowledge of what might be coming had indeed held her back, and that it had made for much more pleasant dinner conversation than they had had for the past several afternoons.

Soon enough, though, the food was gone. “Go on and wash up, now,” Ross said. “I’m gonna take care of things in the stable, and then I’ll come back to teach you your lesson. You can go up to your room after the washing up is done. Take off your clothes and sit on the bed and think about how you’ll apologize to Mrs. Stovall the next time you see her.”

Victoria looked at him, and saw kindness in his handsome face along with the calm authority she heard in his voice. She felt herself start to cry, partly out of fear of what would happen when he came upstairs and partly out of penitence for being rude to Mrs. Stovall, who had only brought a pie over. How had she managed to get that so wrong? She had just felt that she was in control, and she wanted to show Ross how in control she was, and how independent she could be even when she had to live as a fugitive in his house.

He put his hand out across the table, took hers in it, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry, darlin’. I think you’re gonna find that you feel much better after your spankin’. Your butt’s gonna be sore, but you’ll feel like you’re ready to try again. Okay?”

“Okay,” Victoria whispered.

“Okay, what?”

“Okay, daddy.”

* * *

She sat on the pink bed, waiting. She had taken off her T-shirt and jeans, and sat in her bra and panties for a while, trying to decide whether she really would do what Ross had told her to do and remove her underwear, too. The idea of being naked—no, not naked as much as bare—in front of him sent continuous shivers through her body. She couldn’t seem to think of anything else but the moment when he, her… daddy… would walk through the door to find her bare in front of him.

Not allowed to hide anything from daddy. Daddy would spank his little girl if she didn’t take off all her clothes.

Daddy would inspect her, wouldn’t he? Why would he bare her between her legs if he wasn’t planning to inspect his little girl there? What kind of a lesson involves a daddy inspecting his little girl between her thighs?

An ageplay lesson. A lesson that would take her back to a time that still lived in her mind, when she had known how to be a little lady who never used bad language and had lovely manners. That little lady would never have told Mrs. Stovall that she didn’t need her wonderful pie.

She had been naughty as a grown-up woman, and so she had to go back to being a little lady, to relearn how to behave. Ross MacGregor—her daddy—was going to take her clothes away, take her grown-up hair away, and teach her to be a little lady again with a trip over his knee, his big hand falling on her bottom over and over.

Victoria stood up. Trying not to look in the mirror, she removed her bra and put it on the dresser, and then she pulled down her blue cotton panties and put them there, too. Then she sat back down on the little bed, with her hands folded to cover the place where her daddy had said he would take away her grown-up curls.

She heard his step on the stairs, and then a knock at the door. He opened it without waiting for her to say, “Come in,” and there he stood, in his flannel shirt and his jeans, with the big belt buckle reminding her of the whipping just five nights before. He folded his arms across his chest and he looked down at her, with a smile on his face.

To her surprise, it didn’t feel horribly embarrassing to be naked in front of him. Something in Ross’ demeanor suggested that it was just right for her to be that way. He didn’t seem to be looking at her lecherously, or erotically at all: his smile said that he had a lesson to teach her, and that the time for that lesson had come.

He put out his hand. “Let’s go down to the bathroom,” he said. “It’s time for your bath.”

Victoria put her little hand in his big one and let him pull her up. She saw him glance up and down her naked body, taking in her little breasts and the triangle of dark hair that covered her pussy. He gave a little nod, and his smile broadened.

“How does it feel to be bare like that, in front of me, darlin’?” he asked gently. Victoria could imagine someone saying the same words and intending to humiliate her, but although Ross clearly wanted her to think about having to take off her clothes in front of him as an embarrassing punishment, his question seemed to be meant to make her think—to make her articulate the essence of that punishment.

“It’s embarrassing, daddy,” she said softly.

“Why am I embarrassing you, darlin’?”

“To teach me to mind my manners?”

“Yup.” He turned and led her through the bedroom door and down the short hallway to the floral-tiled bathroom. There he let go of her hand and bent to turn on the hot water in the big tub and to squeeze some strawberry bubble-bath into the stream from the faucet. Victoria couldn’t help smiling, despite everything, at the scent that seemed to come from childhood: the smile came automatically, as if the strawberry bubble-bath part of her could win any argument.

Then he got a low stool, like a milking stool, from the corner of the room and sat upon it. Victoria realized that his eyes were nearly level with her pussy, and she felt herself blushing furiously. Suddenly Victoria found herself wondering about Ross’ cock: was it hard? Did he want her? At that moment, she thought that maybe she wanted him to be hard at the sight of her naked body.

“First thing we need to do,” said Ross, looking up into her eyes, “is cut this hair down here nice and short, darlin’.”

Victoria saw that he had taken a pair of hair-cutting scissors from his pocket.

“Hop up on the towel that I put on the counter, and spread your knees wide now, right in front of me. You can put your feet on your daddy’s shoulders.”

Part of her rebelled at that thought, and she said, “Oh, please, Ro—daddy. Couldn’t I do it myself?”

“Nope,” said Ross. “This is part of your lesson. While I’m barin’ you, I want you to think some more about what you need to do not to get this kind of lesson again.”

She felt her brow furrow as she looked at him.

“Don’t fuss now, darlin’,” he said. “I don’t want to have to spank you twice.”

She gave a little whimper and turned to pull herself up onto the counter.

* * *

Ross watched with satisfaction as Victoria opened her knees to show him her cute little pussy, covered with the coal-black curls of which he would now deprive her. Not only did this form of discipline send the message Ross wanted to convey to the girl, that she needed to earn the right to be treated as an adult, but it also seemed to him to distill the essence of ageplay: Daddy would make the decisions about how his little girl covered herself—or didn’t.

And, of course, it got her thinking about being a little girl, and what that meant to her: whether it was something that she needed. Ross didn’t think he’d ever met a woman who didn’t need it, deep down. Certainly no woman he’d ever gotten to know well lacked a little-girl-in-need-of-a-spanking-and-a-cuddle side to her personality. He could already tell that Victoria Mason had that side: the evidence for that conclusion came straight from the little noises she couldn’t seem to help making as he gently took little bunches of her grown-up pussy curls in the fingers of his left hand and snipped them off with the scissors in his right.

The question of whether his new little girl got wet in what Ross liked to think of as her special place was one that Ross preferred not to discuss with her—or at least not to discuss with her directly, for the moment. If, some day, they had bedroom time, he could ask naughty questions like “Did you get wet when I bared you down here, darlin’?” For now, though, he did the best thing for both of them and ignored the lovely scent telling him Victoria had a little girl side.

Ross could see no point in denying that he enjoyed the sight of a girl’s pussy—especially one he had made her show him in the course of disciplining her. Victoria’s little slit, with its neat triangle of dark hair that hid her secrets almost completely, pleased him more than most: he could tell that when he had her bare down there, she would look very cute indeed.

Nor could he see any point in denying that it got him very hard to see her revealed to him that way, her outer lips showing just the barest hint of the coral pink inside, and her adorable bottom showing him a hint of the little dimple there, with a few stray hairs that he would have to clear away leading down from her pussy to her anus. Ross enjoyed the sight, and he enjoyed the way the sight got him hard.

But his intention was disciplinary, and so though a part of his mind wondered whether there might be bedroom time with Victoria in his future, he had no trouble concentrating on the task at hand. He glanced up once or twice as he cut her nether tresses, to see that she had closed her eyes and furrowed her brow, as if to keep out not only the sight but also the consideration of her punishment. Her little feet rested lightly upon his shoulders, and made Ross think of the kind of intimacy that ageplay discipline established: an intimacy that seemed to him to go beyond bedroom intimacy in important ways.

When her hair down there was down to a stubble, he looked up again and said, “Time to get in the tub, darlin’.” Victoria’s eyes flew open and looked into his. She couldn’t help, Ross saw, seeing what he had done to her special place, which had already begun to look distinctly little-girlish. She drew breath in an almost-gasp at the sight.

Ross removed her feet from his shoulders gently and helped her off the counter. “Go ahead and get in now, and get yourself nice and soapy, while I clean up a bit.” Victoria turned her face over her bare shoulder, reaching up to pull the ponytail holder out of her hair at the same time. The look on her face was apprehensive but also somehow trusting, as if Ross had proven to her, by not saying anything about her pussy or about the scent of her arousal, that he could be a kindly daddy. She gave him a little smile, then she put the ponytail holder on the side of the tub and stepped into the warm water.

“Oh,” she said, at the feeling. She cast her eyes down at the bubbles in the tub, her face visible to Ross in profile. He could see that her mouth had a little smile, as if she had a secret. Then, mostly gracefully, she sat in the tub and sighed as the water covered her.

Ross cleaned up the hair that had escaped the towels he had put down, stealing brief glances at the adorable sight of Victoria naked in the tub. Her little breasts, with their quarter-sized pink nipples, bounced just a bit as she soaped herself with a washcloth. Ross loved bathing little girls more than just about any other part of ageplay.

When he had put the towels in the hamper, he brought the stool over to the side of the tub, fetching a washcloth of his own and getting it sudsy in the strawberry bubbles. Victoria turned to him with a shy smile.

“Are you feeling punished, young lady?” he teased.

“I… I guess… Ross…”

Ross looked at her admonishingly.

She blushed and said, “Daddy.”

He smiled. “I know it’s strange to think of having a nice bubble bath as a punishment, but sometimes things like that are the best for making you feel like the little lady I need you to be.”

“Oh,” she said, pursing her lips adorably.

“Now we need to get everything nice and soft down here, darlin’,” Ross said, and without further warning he reached between her knees, pushing them gently apart, and he started to move the warm, soapy washcloth against her pussy.

“Oh!” Victoria exclaimed. “Oh… daddy! I…”

“Shh. That’s alright, darlin’. I know little girls feel funny in their special place sometimes. Even little ladies.”

Ross continued calmly soaping her between her thighs. Victoria’s breath came in short pants, and each one was accompanied by a tiny little whimper inside her chest.

“Does that feel nice, young lady?” Ross asked gently.

“Yes, daddy,” Victoria replied weakly.

“Well, you are being punished, so we can’t let that go too far,” he said putting a very small note of sternness in his voice.

“Yes, daddy,” she replied as if chastened.

Ross gave her one final rub with the sudsy washcloth, right up at the top where he knew Victoria could feel it the most. Then he put the washcloth on the side of the tub, stood her up, and got the big fluffy towel he had put on the rack for her. It was pink and green, and when he wrapped her up in it, she looked so sweet that he wanted to kiss her on the tip of her nose.

Quickly he laid out more towels on the counter and on the floor, and then he held out his hand to Victoria and helped her out of the tub and back over to the counter.

“Back the same way, now, darlin’,” he said. He took the big towel and held it over his arm while she scrambled up onto the counter, then he wrapped it around her shoulders to keep her warm while he sat back down on the stool and got the razor ready.

“This is going to tickle a little bit, darlin’,” Ross said as he began to shave her, working a little shaving lotion in before each stroke of the razor, and doing his best to keep his fingers away from the naughtiest parts of her special place.

“Yes, daddy,” Victoria said with a little giggle that made Ross’ heart feel light.

“Do you like the way you look down here now?” he asked when he had finished removing all the stubble. He looked up into her eyes, and then followed them down to where she peered along her body to look at her special place all bare and tidy.

“Yes, daddy,” she whispered.

“Did me shaving you make you feel a little funny?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Alright, well, that’s enough of that for now. You’ve got a spanking coming, I’m afraid.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Go on back to your room now, and wait on your bed.”

Victoria hopped back off the counter, wrapped herself up in the big fluffy towel, and looked up at Ross, who had stood up to clean off the razor.

“Do you understand why I bared you?” Ross said gently.

“I think I do,” Victoria murmured.

“Do you understand why I have to spank you?”

“Because I have to understand how important it is to you that I learn to act like a lady?” Her face, tipped up to his, seemed to convey all the desire to please him Ross could ever have wished: she gave him a brave little smile, as if to say that even though all this still seemed very new to her, she had begun to feel its rightness.

“That’s right, darlin’. I’ll see you in a minute or two.”

Victoria gave him a tight-lipped nod and left the bathroom. As Ross cleaned up from the shaving and put all the towels in the hamper, he found himself shaking his head at the memory of the way Victoria’s protest had turned to compliance. Sally Mae had come to him already bare between her legs, and while he had claimed the privilege of keeping her that way himself, something about the way he had had to force it upon Victoria, along with the way she had shyly shown how much she really did like it, seemed to have grabbed his heart more effectively than he thought it could be grabbed at his age.

When he knocked on Victoria’s door and opened it, he found her sitting just as he had hoped she would, on the edge of her bed with her hands folded in her lap and her eyes downcast. The fluffy towel was under her bottom but she had taken it off her shoulders, and Ross wondered whether that was in order to show him that she knew she must be bare for this spanking.

“Alright, darlin’,” he said, “why don’t you stand up?”

Victoria obeyed, looking forlorn, as if she knew she must be punished, but still hoped that her daddy might go easy on her.

“Now do you want to hold something soft while I spank your bottom?”

“What?” Victoria seem taken aback.

“Little girls sometimes feel better while they’re getting their spankings if they have something soft to hold. Sometimes they like a pillow, and sometimes they like to hold a stuffy or a ragdoll.”

Victoria looked around the room and Ross watched her eyes light up as they fell upon one of Sallie Mae’s old ragdolls. “Can I hold onto that one, daddy?” she asked, pointing at it.

“Of course, darlin’.” Ross picked it up and handed it to her. Then he sat down on the bed and patted his jean-covered left thigh. “Time for your trip across my knee now, little Victoria,” he said.

Looking so cute that he could hardly believe it, Victoria came around his legs and laid herself over that thigh, with her toes on the pink and white rug and her face—with the blue-gingham-dressed doll held close to it—buried in the pink comforter of the bed.

Ross felt his cock grow hard as iron at the sensation of having a pretty girl whose special place he had just bared over his leg with her bottom ready for his firm hand. He brought that hand down gently upon her bottom and began to rub in little circles, to get her ready. Victoria responded with a questioning little cry of surprise, perhaps that Ross hadn’t begun the spanking immediately.

“Got to get you ready, darlin’,” Ross said. He almost forgot himself and slipped a finger down to search her out to make sure that the spanking would have the best possible effect, but he stopped himself and said, “Alright, Victoria, I’m going to spank you now. You were a bad girl today, and it’s time for you to learn a lesson.”

“Yes, daddy,” she replied in a sobbing voice, that told Ross that the humiliation of having her bottom rubbed that way was working just as effectively as a means of discipline as the spanking he would now give.

“I’m going to spank you until I think your bottom is red enough,” he said. “So there’s no use counting the spanks. A daddy like me knows what a girl sounds like when she’s had enough.”

“Yes, daddy,” Victoria said with the penitent tone growing even more noticeable in her voice, though the sound was muffled by the ragdoll she now clutched even tighter.

Then Ross started to spank her. He spanked harder as he went, landing the blows in his familiar pattern: center, right, left, and then down upon the thighs, right and left. When Victoria started to struggle against him and kick her legs out, he gripped her tightly around her waist with his left arm and spanked harder, until she screamed into her doll, “Please stop, daddy! Please stop. I’ve learned my lesson!”

Ross looked at the color of her bottom, felt the way she struggled, and kept spanking. Finally her entire backside was crimson and Victoria was sobbing into the doll and the comforter. Her struggles had ceased. Ross stopped spanking her, and began to rub her punished cheeks gently again.

“Shh, darlin’, shh. It’s over. You were a good girl for your spanking.”

Then he raised her up gently off his thigh and gathered her, still clutching the doll against her face, into his chest, lifting her up so that she sat on his lap with her blazing red backside hanging off his right thigh, so that he could keep rubbing her there to take some of the sting away.

“I’m very proud of you, young lady,” he said.

“Really?” Victoria asked.

“Yup,” Ross replied. “You took your punishment very well.”

She lifted her face from the ragdoll for the first time and looked into his eyes. Her own shone brightly with tears, but she said, “Thank you, daddy.”

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