I went looking for a man to spoil me. I ended up in way over my head.
When I placed an online ad seeking a wealthy gentleman, I expected to snag a lonely old guy I could string along for some quick cash. What I got was Silas Stanton.
Silas is no doddering fool I can easily scam. He’s gorgeous and he’s richer than sin, but he’s old-fashioned enough to know how to handle a young lady who deserves to be taught a firm lesson.
He’s not the sugar daddy I wanted. He’s the stern daddy I’ve always needed.
Author: Ava Sinclair
eBook Price: Kindle Unlimited/$3.95
Length: 32,000 Words
He sits down, and before I can even process what is happening, I am face down over his lap and fighting… what? I don’t even know what he’s doing. But I realize it soon enough. The air of the room feels cool on my bottom as he lifts my skirt. Then there’s the jarring sound of his hand coming down hard on my bottom, and an explosion of pain that jolts through both upturned cheeks.
“Ow! What the… let me go!” The sting causes me to buck and try to tilt myself forward so I can crawl or even fall off his lap. But his arm winds around my waist, lifting me up and back with uncanny ease. I scream in pained outrage as he smacks my ass again, sending the burn burrowing deeper into my skin. I put my hand back and it’s as if he is waiting for it. Before I can shield myself, he catches my wrist.
And then the spanking begins in earnest and I’m between livid and horrified until the pain becomes too much to bear. I’m cursing, then crying, but he’s silent, methodical. The room is full of the sounds of my wails, and as I look back I catch the sight of the arc of his arm as it swings downward right before another searing impact from his hand. He spanks me with a cadence—left cheek, right cheek, left cheek, right cheek. The blows are all hard, the only difference being how high or low they fall. Sometimes they are on the crest of my buttocks, sometimes lower, just above my thighs. Those are the worst. My skin is sensitive, and tears run into my open mouth as I sob.
I’m vaguely aware that I’m begging for mercy, rocking my hips back and forth to the extent that I can, and writhing when that avails me nothing.
“I’m sorry!” I wail. “I’m sorry!” I don’t even know what I’m sorry for, but begging him to stop hasn’t worked, so I try contrition, which is genuine enough. I am sorry. I’m sorry I went shopping instead of paying my bills. I’m sorry I’m irresponsible. I’m sorry I ever thought this was a good idea.
“Please,” I say when that doesn’t work. I breathe the word through gasping sobs. “Please, please, please…”
And he stops, finally, and pushes me to my feet and turns me so that I’m facing him. My skirt falls back in place and underneath my bottom throbs like a heartbeat.
“Lindsay, stop crying.” He has me by the upper arms and gives me a little shake. “Calm yourself down.”
“C-c-calm… calm down? It hurts!” I manage these words before breaking into a fresh gale of tears.
“Calm down,” he repeats, but he says it softly, and the kindness in his tone is so unexpected that I feel my hiccoughing breaths start to level out. He keeps his hold on my arm, his gaze on mine, until I am somewhat collected. It’s not easy, though. My ass feels like it’s on fire, and were it not for his holding me fast, I’d reach back and rub it.
“Do you want to know why you were spanked?”
“Because…” I hasten to answer and stop. I’m an adult and he spanked me. What possible rational reason can he have? I stare at him, my expression obviously belying my confusion. “I don’t know!”
“Hmm.” He lets go of my arms but tells me to keep my hands at my sides. I ball them into fists to resist soothing my bottom. “You may think it’s for your plan to string along and deceive what you thought was a gullible old man. But your detention here is the consequence for that. The spanking was for your rudeness to me when you thought I was a chauffeur and your profanity against me in the drawing room.” He quirks a brow. “Had you been less arrogant, you might have listened to me when I was in the driver’s seat, my dear. I warned you, did I not, that the man you’d come to meet was old-fashioned?”
He crosses his arms. “You may rub your little bottom now.”