Misbehaving again.

[Ko****]

She wasn’t supposed to touch herself.

That was the spoken rule, held like scripture.

But she did.
Just to see if he’d notice.
Just to feel the thrill ripple through her belly at the idea of getting caught.

Daddy noticed.

He always did.

She heard him before she saw him, measured footsteps down the hall like slow thunder. By the time he reached the doorway, she was still perched on the edge of the bed, legs closed, but not fast enough. Not innocent enough.

His eyes dropped to her thighs, then back up to her face.
No anger. Just that calm, terrifying knowing.

“Oh, sweetheart.” His voice was honey over steel. “You really thought you could break a rule and Daddy wouldn’t find out?”

Her breath trembled.
She wanted to meet his stare bravely, but submission tugged her chin downward.

“I’m sorry.”

He crossed the room, unhurried, predator, sure and took her jaw in his hand, thumb pressing lightly to her lower lip.

“You knew the rule.”
His tone was deep, patient, lethal.
“You wanted to be punished. You wanted Daddy’s attention that badly.”

Her voice was thin, needy.
“Yes.”

He let go, only to collect her wrists and guide her to stand.

“Look at the floor.”
She obeyed.
It thrilled her how instantly her body responded to his voice.

On the dresser lay coils of natural rope, warm beige, soft but unforgiving. He selected one strand, lifted her chin just long enough to see her eyes flicker with hunger, and began to bind her arms behind her back. Not sloppy but artful. Functional. Each wrap cinched her pulse and anticipation.

“You don’t get to move unless I move you.”
Knot anchored.
“All control stays with me.”

Her heartbeat stuttered.
“Color?” he asked, mouth close to her ear.

“Green,” she exhaled, already trembling.

He pushed her gently forward until she folded over the edge of the mattress, chest down, hips raised by his hand on the small of her back. She couldn’t brace. Couldn’t hide. Rope held her open like confession.

The flogger whispered through the air before she felt it, soft leather tails kissing her skin, teasing first, like Daddy was mapping the places she would break. The second strike landed firmer. Not cruel rather intentional. A line of heat blossomed across her thighs.

“Count,” he ordered.

“One,” she gasped.

The next strike burned deeper, heat and sting threading like lightning under her skin.

“Two, Daddy.”

Another. Then another.
Not rushed. Measured like a heartbeat.
Pleasure tangled with *** until she floated on it, until her defiance dissolved into pure, shaking surrender.

By seven, her legs wobbled.
By ten, she was leaking soft sounds into the sheets, whimpers that weren’t quite words, only want.

He paused, fingers tracing the rising warmth on her skin, soothing where he’d marked her. She pressed back into his touch involuntarily and needing more, needing him.

“You will ask for what you want now,” he murmured.

She sucked in a ragged breath.
“I want, my punishment. I want you to use me. Please, Daddy.”

He smiled, slow and wicked soft, and stood behind her, undoing just enough rope to raise her head, never freeing, only repositioning. His hand threaded into her hair and pulled gently, arching her body into perfect offering.

“That’s my girl. That’s the voice I wanted to hear.”
Low. Loving. Dominant.

He pressed his palm between her shoulder blades, pinning her down with the weight of ownership not ***, but command. Rope hugged her tight, reminding her she belonged here. To him. For him.

And Daddy planned to finish the lesson.

[Th****]

Nice. Thats a beautifully ***ted scene.