Daddy’s Second Chance Little by Scott Wylder

CHAPTER EIGHT

 

 

 

 

 

 

Michael

 

I pronounce what she already knows. She’s in trouble and there will be consequences. I quickly ask, “Why were you afraid to tell me?”

Her bottom lip trembles and though I want to comfort her, now is not the time. “I . . . I was afraid I’d disappoint you.”

I sigh. “Bullshit. Try again, little girl.”

She looks confused for a moment and says, “But . . . ” Then, she sighs and kind of deflates completely. “I was afraid that, if I told you, then you would make me face it.” She’s quiet now, not crying. “I didn’t really realize that until now. I mean, I knew I couldn’t face it but I thought . . .” She shakes her head.

“Little Girl,” I say. “Do you know what the hardest thing about coming back together with you was?” She shakes her head slowly. I say, “I’m afraid. I’m afraid I’m going to get a text or a call that says you’re breaking up with me, that you’re afraid if you don’t we’ll end up hating each other.”

“But, I would never! I would never do . . .” her voice disappears and her face takes on a horrified expression as she realizes I’m actually quoting her from the breakup long ago. “Oh, God!” she says in a horrified whisper.

“I never stopped loving you,” I say.

“I never stopped loving you,” she whispers back quietly.

“But, we lost all of those years, because you were afraid of what might happen, of how we might fail. You were so afraid of failing at our relationship that you broke up then and there instead of failing later. You were so afraid of failing at your ceramics that you hid it from the world and now, you’ve lied to me for three weeks, because you were afraid of failing, again.”

She swallows hard and says, “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Do you want me to be your Daddy?”

She nods eagerly. “Yes! Yes!”

“And you submitted yourself to my authority about your passion, right? You asked me to hold you accountable for focusing on your ceramics?”

She nods, bottom lip quivering. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Then you need a lesson,” I say.

She stares at me, not sure where it’s going. I say, “Get undressed and go to the studio. You’re going to craft an introductory letter and we’re going to send emails to each of the studios right now.”

“But, Daddy, I—” She presses her lips together when she sees my expression and then nods. “Yes, Daddy,” she says.

She strips slowly, trying to delay things. I just wait, staring impassively at her. Finally, she’s naked and she can do nothing more. I follow her to the studio, where she sits at her desk, and I stand behind her. She crafts the letter and it’s very good. I can’t understand her fear, but I am determined to make her face it. She finishes and we take pictures of her fine art pieces.

When it is all done, we get the first email ready and right when she’s about to press send, I say, “Wait.”

She looks up at me and I say, “It’s up to you. I’m not going to force you. You can click send or not. But, you need to face this, without my threatening you to make it happen. If you don’t send the email, there won’t be any punishment and we’ll work on building your confidence.” With that, I step out of the room and return to the living room.

God it’s hard!

She’s in the studio for five minutes, and I feel like rushing in. Then, she’s in for another five and five more. She’s in there for almost an hour and I am just about to get up when she comes out. She has been crying and I wonder if I have pushed her too far. She walks up to me and says, “I sent twenty-five emails.”

I look at her and smile. “Good girl. I knew you’d face up to your fears.”

She smiles at the praise and then falls to her knees. I think she’s about to initiate something sexual, but I’m wrong. Her face is crumples and she’s crying. “Oh, Daddy, I’m so afraid. What if they hate my art or even worse, don’t think it is art. What if I’m not good enough?” There are so many sobs between the words that it takes quite a while for her to get everything out.

I lift her chin and I nod. “You’re good enough, Little Girl,” I say. “Even if they hate your art or don’t think it’s art, you’re good enough.”

“But . . .” she sighs and says, “Okay, Daddy.”

I intended to spank her for lying to me, but for some reason it doesn’t seem like it will serve any purpose. “Little Girl,” I say. “What if I’m not a good enough Daddy and you leave me?”

“What? No! Never!”

“But, you might. You might leave me.”

“No! And if I did . . . I . . . I would be the . . . the problem.” Comprehension settles on her and she says, “Oh, Daddy!” and she puts her arms around my waist, crying against my abdomen. The tone of her weeping is different now, these are almost happy tears, or something like that.

Healthy tears maybe?

She pulls her head back and says, “If those galleries don’t like my work, I’ll email twenty-five more, Daddy. If they don’t like it, I’ll email more and if I run out of galleries I’ll just open my own gallery.” She’s still crying, but her voice is completely clear.

“Good girl,” I say.

She hugs me again and I hold her for a while and finally say, “You know, I was going to give you a pretty bad spanking.”

She stops hugging me, nods, and puts herself over my lap. “Okay, Daddy. I deserve it.”

I lift her up so she straddles me and kiss her. “No. It wouldn’t be helpful now. You learned your lesson, Little Girl. You learned your lesson and I’m proud of you.”

“Can you look at all the sent emails, please Daddy?”

“Do you want me to?”

She nods. “I want you to check whenever I tell you something about my ceramics, so you know I’m not lying to you.”

“Okay, Little Girl,” I say. “But, there’s something I want to do first.”

She nods and says, “Okay, Daddy.”

She starts to get off me and I pull her back. “I don’t need you to get out of my way for me to do what I want to do first.” I wink. “You’re exactly what I want to do first.” She giggles and I pull her close and kiss her hard. “And while I’m at it, I want to do that second, third, fourth, and fifth and ten thousand times.”

She giggles and I stand up, throwing her over my shoulder. I swat her ass as something that has nothing at all to do with punishing her, and as she giggles, I carry her to her room. I toss her on the bed and she cries out in surprise as she bounces on the mattress. “Did I mention that what I want to do first I also want to do very, very hard?” I growl.

She looks up at me with the most adorable expression, filled with excitement and just the slightest twinge of fear added to the mix. I unbuckle my belt and stare at my little girl.

“Very, very hard, Little Girl.”