Discipline by Lena Little
2
Daniel
Something about this little thing has stirred an almost…paternal instinct inside of me. After five years locked up in prison, where I spent the entire time looking over my shoulder and watching out for myself, it’s like something inside me has done a complete one-eighty and I need something, or someone, new to watch out for. I had no idea when I agreed to this gig that the sorry sap who hired me had such a fine ass daughter.
I haven’t been laid in five whole years, and I can’t even remember when the last time was I had a woman before I went to prison. The fairer sex never did it for me. I was always more addicted to adventure, breaking the law, and other masculine pursuits. Women never moved me to do much of anything, including chasing them. Now I know why, and it’s clear as day. All this time I was waiting on her. Her and her alone.
I lower her to the ground, the second her feet making contact with the floor she spins away from me, a cloud of blonde hair flying everywhere as she takes off in the opposite direction.
Anger tightens bolts in my neck, and like the predator she’s turned me into I pursue like I’m shot out of a cannon, taking five long strides that eat up the room and put me right on top of her in no time. My hands close around her waist, I spin her and pin her body to the wall, caging in her hips. My cock was hard the minute I laid eyes on her, but with her body so close to mine now it’s pounding with blood, demanding to be set free and rammed so far up inside her that it would take the entire fire department to get it out.
Leaning in I sift one hand through her hair, my nose taking in her citrusy scent as my lips trail from the curve of her shoulder to the notch in her throat, my lower body playing tug of war with hers. She leans into me, then pulls away, only to resume the pressure that’s making us both so damn hot.
When she pulls away a second time I jerk her body up against mine, lifting her so her tiptoes scrape the tiles below as her breasts squash into my chest. “You eighteen?”
She swallows hard.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“I put my hands on you I get in a lot less trouble.”
“You touch me you’re in deep shit. Nobody lays a finger on me.”
Looking her up and down as I put some space between our bodies, I state the obvious. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve never even put a pinkie finger in it, on it, around it, anywhere near it.”
“Uh,” she gasps. “How dare you talk to me like that in my own home.”
“Seeing that I just got out of prison and I don’t have any place to go, this is my home for the time being.”
“My dad hired a felon?”
“Your dad hired a man who knows how to survive one day at a time. A man whose life hinges on the daily discipline needed to stay above ground in a world where everyone’s trying to put each other six feet under. That’s discipline, and that’s what I’m going to instill in you, Little Girl.”
“Why didn’t he just hire some military guy? And quit calling me Little Girl.”
Leaning in closer, I put my forehead less than an inch from hers. “Because a military guy would have been way more predictable, and probably easier for you to manipulate. Not me. Plus I think he wanted the two of us to become really close, Little Girl” I add, quickly giving her a kiss on the cheek before flashing her a shit-eating grin.
My goal with that kiss was to rattle her, but in reality, all it did was shake me. I reach down and adjust the bulge in my pants, my cock turning to iron as the fucker wants to pry her legs apart like a crowbar so I can sink into that tight hole between her legs.
I can’t help but trail a fingertip straight down between her breasts, goosebumps rising in their wake. Moving my hand back up her flesh, I curl four fingers around the back of her neck and allow my thumb to come to rest on the hollow of her throat, strumming it like a guitar. “This is why I’m here, Princess. You need me here to take you from a Little Girl to a Big Girl. That’s my job, and I’m not going to stop until I finish.”
Her reaction to my words is a thunderstorm, but there’s a knowingness just beyond those clouds that lie behind her eyes.
“It’s not true,” she says softly, her voice sounding like crushed glass. “You’re not going to bend me to your will. You can’t. And I’m not your little girl or anybody’s little girl for that matter,” she pouts.
Scooping her up and tucking her into my hip I carry her toward the dinner table, placing her right up against it.
“Lean forward,” I rasp, the palm of my hand sliding up her spine as I guide her down until her cheek is pressed to the wooden surface less than a foot away from where she was eating her dinner not five minutes ago. Just a handful of minutes before I showed up and flipped her world upside down. “I know what you need.”
“And what do you think that is?” she challenges, but I don’t take the bait, instead leaning my weight into her from behind, causing her hands to grip the edge of the table for leverage.
“Credibility.”
“You have none as far as I’m concerned.”
“Oh, see that’s where you’re wrong. See, I can sniff you out a mile away, Little One.”
“I said quit calling me Little Girl, Little One, Little anything! I’m an adult.”
“If I pulled these little sweatpants down now would I find evidence that you’re an adult, or would my credibility shoot sky high when I see something that tells me you are most certainly not an adult.”
A beat passes where she says nothing. “What would we discover, Delilah?” I ask one crooked finger sliding into the band of her sweatpants and tugging down the cotton until I feel the top of her panties.
“Leave me alone. Who cares what kind of panties I have on.”
“What kind of panties do you have on?”
“Just something I grabbed this morning, in a rush.”
“Are you sure?”
She shakes her head no and then nods yes, a clear conflicting playing out in her little head.
“Are you sure I’m not going to find little girly panties under these sweatpants, Delilah?”
“Maybe,” she whimpers.
“Maybe, or definitely.”
“Yes,” she replies and I inch her sweatpants down to reveal a pair of hot pink panties with a bunch of little blue puppies chasing bones all over the fabric.
“First time a man’s ever seen these?”
She nods.
“First time anyone’s ever seen you in your panties?”
A second nod.
“Because that ass belongs to me, always has. That’s why.” I run my thumb across the little bow in the middle of the back of her panties and then slide my finger down the side hem, finding a little lacy barrier. They’re innocent as fuck, but they’re making me have thoughts that are anything but.
“Do…do you like them?” she asks.
“I do, but I’m going to like them a lot more when they’re around your ankles and I give you the spanking you deserve for mouthing off to me and telling me I was wrong when I was clearly right.”
“No, don’t spank me. I’ll be good.”
As fucked up as it sounds this reminds me of an inmate’s first day in prison when they come in all tough and you break them down, letting them know they aren’t shit anymore. There’s this moment when they finally submit, melting in your hands like hot chocolate on a summer day. After that, they accept their position in the pecking order, and clearly, Delilah is like a little puppy, ready to roll over onto her back and submit to the big bad Rottweiler who just came in and instituted a new world order.
“How do you know you won’t like being spanked? Has your father ever spanked you?”
“No,” she says in a girly tone, shaking her head.
“That’s why he’s your father and not your Daddy.”
That word, when it slides off my lips is like the combination to a vault has just been hit and the door is ready to swing open with all the riches inside. As if some treasure that’s been hidden an entire lifetime is suddenly revealed, and the exhilarating rush of freedom and relief that comes with it. The word rocks me.
“Maybe I need it if you think so…Daddy,” she adds, unprovoked.
I lose all control, grabbing her panties and yanking them so hard down her legs the material audibly rips. “Fuck this round little muscular ass is so perfect. I’m not sure if I want to slap it or sink my teeth into it first.”
I raise my hand back and up cocking it before bringing it forward and connecting on her right ass cheek, the muscle rippling and then flexing under the force of my blow. My fingers grip her flesh and my mouth falls open as my cock jerks in my pants as a shot of electricity travels through me.
Lifting my hand I immediately miss the feeling of her skin on mine and quickly rectify the situation by bringing my hand back down on her, making contact in a different position this time so as not to harm her.
I spank her a third time, this time closer to her center and I catch sight of the wetness spreading in the folds of her sex and sliding down the insides of her legs.
“I’m a bad girl. Spank me harder.”
Although I’m the one in control, and it needs to stay that way, I oblige, bringing my hand down with more force.
“Oh my, God,” she whimpers. “How did you know I needed this so bad?”
“Because I’m your Daddy. It’s my job to know what you need and to give it to you whether you want it or not.”
“I want it. I want more, Daddy.”
“And I want you to come. Come for your Daddy.”
I spank her again and again as if I’m in the middle of a long rally in table tennis, striking her globes with my forehand and back as the mixture of her citrus scent becomes intertwined with the aroma of her lust, as they combine to wrap around my neck like a noose, pulling me tight and guiding me to what might just be the death of me.
One calloused hand kneads her globes while the other steadies her by wrapping around the nape of her neck. I spank her again, this time my hand settles right in the middle of her cheeks, and a single knuckle brushes against her juncture. I slide my hand back and lick the knuckle bone dry then run my finger right between her legs and swipe up her center, scooping up another dollop of her juices and bringing them to my mouth.
“Fuck,” I grunt, dropping to my knees and spreading her ass cheeks wide, licking her pussy as I pound her ass like a drum, her cheeks vibrating like a snare drum as I motorboat her sex with my face.
Her body jackknifes, but I just press my face harder into her, pinning her to the table as I growl into her flesh as she shudders into me, her body convulsing as she unloads and my tongue slides out to catch every last drop of her gift. But it comes so damn fast and milky that I have to elbow her legs open wider and lick up and down the inside of her thighs as her knees quiver.
In one movement I slide into her chair and scoop her up in my lap, tucking her chin into the nape of my neck and rocking her back and forth as she struggles to catch her breath. My touch had just been one of passion, lust, unbridled heat and now it’s that of holding her like a precious gemstone, treasuring the gift to this world that she is. Running my thumb up the nape of her neck, I soothe the shock of the spanking with a slow massage.
Seconds turn to minutes and minutes to damn near half an hour until I carefully rise up from the chair and carry her upstairs, carefully opening all the doors until I see the room with the pink walls and the stuffed animals in the corner.
I lie her down gently on her bed, pulling the covers up to her chin.
“You’ve had a long first day, but you did good, Angel. You did real good.” Moving toward the doorway I just watch her. She kicks the blanket down past her waist and I want to sit there and stare at her nearly exposed cunt the rest of the night, take a chair and post up in the corner, guarding the body that belongs to me now so that no other man can even come close to getting a look.
At the same time, I want to put her on my lap, feed her popcorn and watch a scary movie with her, covering her eyes during the gory parts and hugging her tight in the scary moments. I want to rub her shoulders, hold her hand, and toss popcorn in the air as we take turns catching it.
Fuck, this is what life’s all about, isn’t it? I never would have known if it wasn’t for her. But now that I do, I’m not letting her go…ever.
Even though I know she’s not going to be made to obey easily. I look forward to the challenge. She’s worth it because she’s everything.
