1
Julia
Staring at her reflection in the steam-coated mirror, Julia asked herself the same question she’d been asking since she’d walked through the front door: What the hell was wrong with her? Why had she agreed to this insanity?
A small, quiet voice in the back of her mind answered with a whispered, You deserve it.
Ugh.
A sharp knock on the bathroom door jolted her out of her contemplation. “What?” she snapped, immediately wincing at her own tone. Whether she deserved what was coming to her or not, she’d agreed to the terms, and copping an attitude right off the bat was bound to make things worse.
“Your clothes are on your bed. You will meet me downstairs in the living room in ten minutes.”
The sound of footsteps retreating on the hardwood floor followed the order. No threats, no ultimatums. Just a Daddy telling a naughty Little girl what was expected of her. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t his Little girl or even, for that matter, a Little girl at all. For the next seventy-two hours, he was in charge, and she had no choice but to submit.
With a self-pitying sigh, she opened the door that led to ‘her’ bedroom. It grated that she found the room rather charming with its mist-gray walls and dark furniture. If it hadn’t been for the dollhouse in one corner, a large play kitchen in another, and what amounted to an adult-sized toddler bed along the opposite wall, the room was exactly what she might have chosen for herself.
Creeping over to the bed, she ran her fingertips along the smooth wood of the railings. They could — and probably would — lock into place once the occupant was tucked in for the night. They weren’t as high as an actual crib, and they’d do little to actually keep someone in the bed, but her mind rebelled all the same.
“One problem at a time, Jules,” she muttered to the empty room. Letting the towel pool at her feet, she picked up a pair of ruffle-covered panties from the bed and allowed herself another small sigh before stepping into them. There was no bra provided, so she assumed he wanted her bare under the mass of frills someone laughingly called a dress.
Once she’d pulled on the knee-high cotton socks, she returned to the bathroom and twisted her hair into a single braid running down her back.
“Here goes nothing,” she said to her reflection.
The walk down the hall and the stairs seemed to take forever. For a brief moment, she let herself believe it might all be a dream and the stairs would just go on and on until she finally woke up.
But she wasn’t dreaming, and the stairs did eventually end. When her feet touched the entryway floor, her heart began beating a little harder, a little faster. It was a tempo she was all-too familiar with; the drums of anticipation, fear, and arousal hammering at all her pulse points.
Turning the corner, she followed the path to the spacious living room with the gorgeous leather couches.
And the man who held her fate in his hands.
Okay, maybe fate was a tad dramatic. It wasn’t so much her fate at stake as her backside. One weekend of living as his Little girl, being punished for all the supposedly naughty things she’d done, in exchange for a shot at a decent job. A bruised and welted ass was a small price to pay to salvage the career she’d worked so hard to build.
Pushing to his feet, her disciplinarian crossed the room to where she’d stopped at the entryway to the elegant room. “You’re late, little girl.”
All her willpower went into not rolling her eyes, which meant there was nothing left to keep the snarl out of her voice when she replied, “How late?”
“Two minutes. Which means two with Daddy’s belt.”
“That’s not fair! I didn’t have a clock!” Two strokes of the belt was nothing compared to the punishments she’d endured in the past. But it was the principle of the thing! How could he expect her to be on time if he didn’t give her a clock? And he’d taken her phone the second she’d arrived, so she truly had no way of knowing she was running behind.
Her argument apparently fell on deaf ears. The man in front of her simply looked down at her, a single eyebrow raised. “You did, however, have more than enough time. If you hadn’t been stalling, that is.”
“Whatever,” she muttered, giving in to the desire to roll her eyes. Too much longer in his presence and she just might stomp her foot, something she hadn’t done since she’d first entered the BDSM scene more than a decade ago. Her inner brat had been well-tamed, but years of training seemed to disappear around Owen Coulson.
Surprisingly strong fingers wrapped around her upper arm, and before she even had time to process how quickly he’d moved, she found herself stretched out over his lap with her cheek pressed against the cool leather of the couch. Her dress was flipped up over her back and a dozen sharp, stinging spanks landed on her ruffle-covered backside. As much as she didn’t want it to, her body reacted the same way it always had when she found herself in this position, and she prayed he couldn’t see the evidence of her arousal soaking through her panties.
“Are you ready to begin without an attitude, Julia, or do I need to pull these panties down?”
Resentment bubbled up inside of her, burning away every scrap of good sense. “Screw you. This is bullshit and you know it. I didn’t do anything wrong!”
“Oh?” The single syllable dripped with ice, sending a shiver of anticipation down her spine. “I was under the impression you’d accepted responsibility for your actions and this weekend was about atoning for the hurt you’ve caused. Am I mistaken, little girl?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean, then?”