Ducky and Daddy - Snippets

The slip up

He didn't say a word at first.

Just set the nearly untouched lunch plate down in front of her.

She froze. Eyes flicked from the food to his hand. His jaw was tight. But his voice? Calm. Measured.

"You had time to post a cat video at 1:14. But not to eat the lunch I made you?"

She grimaced. "I... I meant to..."

He cut her off with a look. His 'serious Daddy' look.

"Look at me, Ducky."

She raised her eyes to meet his. Slowly.

"I gave you a rule. You agreed to it. No skipped meals. No excuses."

"I wasn't even that hungry..."

He leaned forward, voice dipping. "You don't get to decide when to stop taking care of yourself. Not anymore."

She opened her mouth — maybe to argue, maybe to apologize — but his lifted his hand in the air.

"Up."

She stood. Knees wobbly.

He pulled the chair back, took his seat, and then? He patted his thigh.

She hesitated.

His voice was low and final: "You know where you go when you break Daddy's rules."He held his hand out to her and guided her down over his lap.

Her face was hot, heart pounded harshly against her rib cage. Could a heart pound so hard it bounced out of your chest?

He didn't speak right away. Just rubbed his big, warm hand over her bottom.

"You don't get corrected for being bad, Ducky Girl," he said, tone slow and steady. "You get corrected so you remember who you belong to. And what I expect from my girl."

The first swat lands sharp — she couldn't suck a breath into her lungs to make a noise.

Another. And another. And another. By the fifth swat she was crying. He stopped and rubbed her bottom again.

"How are you doing, baby?"

"Not g-great, Daddy. My bottom hurts!"

"It's suppose to. You have five more."

The next three landed quickly. When she reached back to try and cover her poor, throbbing bottom he paused to gather both wrists at the small of her back and fished the last two swats. "You know better than to reach your hands back when getting spanked. I could have hit your hand." She was pretty sure the last two swats were even harder.

When it was over, he shift her up into his lap and wrapped both arms around her. Lightly rubbing her back as she sobbed into her shirt.

After a few minutes her sobs reduced to ragged breathing. He murmured against her hair: "There's no version of this where I let you neglect yourself, Ducky Girl. I'd rather you brat at me, cry, even pout. But you will eat. You will rest. You are mine to care for — and I need you to follow Daddy's rules."

She took a deep, ragged breath and nodded into his chest.

"Say it," he prompted gently.

"I'll eat my meals, Daddy," she whispered. "Even when I don't want to."

"Good girl," he breathed and buried his face in her hair. "That's my good girl."