Mischief Under The Mistletoe Page 7

  “I wasn’t trying to be cute,” she protested. “It comes naturally.” She giggled.

  He shook his head. “Not gonna work.” He leaned forward over the bed and peeled her off of him. She dropped on her back against the mattress and bounced once, only to be flipped over mid-bounce and planted on her stomach.

  Clay sat on the bed next to her and lifted her nightgown. The cool air wafted over her bottom. The thin panties provided no coverage whatsoever from the nip in the air. They wouldn’t provide much coverage in a spanking either. Still, Clay didn’t allow panties during a bottom-warming, so it didn’t surprise her when he tugged them all the way down to her knees.

  He smoothed his hand over her bare bottom. “How many swats would you say you deserve for opening a present early?”

  “Hmm. Well, I would say ten swats for opening a real present, but those batteries don’t exactly qualify,” she sassed. “So zero sound right to me.”

  “Oh, it does, huh?” A crisp spank landed on her right cheek. It stung sharply because her bottom was so cold. She wanted to snuggle up with Daddy naked under the covers and do naughty things, not get her cold bare bottom spanked. Her daddy was impossible sometimes.

  He spanked her again. “I think you’re going to be mighty grateful I thought to buy batteries when you see the present they go to.”

  Her ears perked up and she looked at him over her shoulder. “Oh?” she said, batting her eyes. “What’s the real present then?”

  Clay shook his head and spanked each cheek four times, not very hard, but not gently either. “You have some nerve asking me that question. I should teach you a lesson, throw the batteries away and give you the present without them on Christmas morning.”

  She moaned. “Can’t I have the present and the batteries now, Daddy? I promise not to unwrap anything else.”

  He scoffed and landed his palm harder on her bottom, then continued the smacks, escalating the spanking into something resembling a real punishment. His voice took on a scolding quality. “You most certainly cannot have the present now. You think I would ever reward you for disobeying me? The opposite will always happen.”

  She wiggled her bottom as his hand continued to sting it. She wasn’t trying to dodge the spanks, exactly, but she was trying to distribute them evenly. The crest of her right cheek was getting the brunt of the swats.

  Once during a previous spanking, she had complained about the uneven distribution of punishment. That was a mistake. She’d quickly learned that complaining to Daddy Clay about how he punished her was one of the less-smart things she’d done in her life.

  He pinned her to the bed with his left hand at the small of her back and spanked her thoroughly at a fast tempo until her whole bottom felt warm and stingy. Though it certainly smarted, the effect was arousing. When she squirmed, her legs opened, which allowed the tips of his fingers to graze her pussy during some swats. She yelped, pressing her tummy and mound against the bed.

  “Such a naughty girl, sneaking out and unwrapping a present before Christmas!” The spanking morphed into something intensely sexual. The swats were spaced further apart, and upon each one landing, Clay kept his hand hard against her flesh, grabbing and massaging in between smacks.

  “Some punishment,” he grumbled. “You’re about to come.”

  She answered him with a long moan. “Please, Daddy. Let me come.”

  “Christ, you’re sexy as hell when you’re bad.” He stood and positioned himself in front of the bed. After grasping her hips and pulling her up on her knees, he rubbed his cock along her wet slit, teasing her entrance. She arched her back and pressed her bottom against his pelvis, silently begging him to fill her.

  He entered her pussy from behind slowly, his thick shaft spreading her vaginal walls with care. She was wet, but even when she was slick with desire, it was sometimes hard to take all of him. He groaned softly as he filled her, the contact between them intense and tight. Every nerve inside of her sparked to life as he withdrew, dragging his cock out the length of her channel with exquisite care. She clamped down around him, milking his dick in a tight embrace, begging him not to leave his home between her legs. He slammed back into her, granting her wish.

  As the strokes became more frenzied, he reached around and with a strong arm pulled her up flush against his chest, crushing her breasts with his strong, corded forearm as his other hand grasped her hip, guiding the movements of her pelvis. Clay was a skilled lover. He knew how to both dominate and take his pleasure while also feeding hers.

  This time his lovemaking had a certain punitive quality about it, as though he was still spanking her, only with his cock inside her pussy instead of with his hand on her ass. He grazed his teeth against the nape of her neck, causing bolts of desire to ripple through her. As he took what was his, she at once felt used and adored. Only Clay had ever been able to incite these dual feelings in her, which culminated into a desire so strong that she always came undone in his arms. Her body stiffened against him as she cried out from the impact of her orgasm. He continued to fuck her, harder, deeper, until he too found his release.

  They lay next to each other, both spent from their impromptu lovemaking in the early hours of morning. Abby’s eyelids were heavy, and she was near sleep when Clay pulled her up against him, tickling her back with his chest hair. He enclosed her in his arms and covered one of her breasts with his hand, an intimate hold she was familiar with. Clay always liked to sleep with a handful of her, whether it was her breast, her leg, or her hair. He held onto her possessively even in the depths of sleep.

  It had taken Abby a long time to get used to sleeping that way. Before Clay, she’d always slept alone, stretched out like a starfish. Night after night she’d laid fully awake for hours in his arms, her body captured in his embrace, feeling his chest rising and falling against her back. At no point had she tried to alter the sleeping arrangement to have more space while sleeping. For one, Clay probably wouldn’t have allowed her space. Within the four walls of their room, she was his submissive, his little girl, his toy even. She welcomed her place in their relationship with every fiber of her being. It made her feel loved in such a strong way that it was almost an addiction, something she couldn’t imagine living without now that she had it.

  During her sleepless nights, she’d had plenty of time to think about how much her life had changed since Clay had come into it. She’d been squatting on his property in an old abandoned bunkhouse, not thinking anyone would notice or find her, but Clay had discovered her and insisted that she not live in the dilapidated building. Thus began their relationship.

  It felt natural, calling him Daddy and looking to him for guidance. She was the older of two orphaned sisters and had always felt a heavy burden of responsibility, so it was wonderful to experience the freedom of a child as an adult, with the only requirement being that she obey Daddy Clay. He fulfilled needs she hadn’t even realized she had, such as security and consistent discipline.

  The relationship between them was so ideal that Abby worried about doing anything outside what they’d established. But as they spent more time together, she began to understand herself and her desires better. One desire she came to realize she had was that she would prefer working on the ranch around animals as opposed to attending to housekeeping and cooking. She hadn’t found the right way to tell Clay. When she did work up the courage, she hoped he’d be receptive.

  CHAPTER TWO

  CLAY RAN A BRUSH OVER the newest addition to his ranch, a young quarter horse named Penny with a sweet disposition and smooth gait. He planned to give her to Abby for Christmas, and he couldn’t wait to surprise her. He recalled when he’d first met Abby and she’d mouthed off to him, calling him Dad derisively for lecturing her. It had spurred him into taking her over his knee for some paternal discipline. He could still remember what she’d said to him in between sniffles after the punishment.

  It’s not fair. If you were my real daddy, you would take me to Disneyland and buy me a pony, n
ot just spank me.

  He had agreed with her. If he was going to punish her for being naughty, he also needed to reward her for being good. That dynamic had formed the basis of their relationship and continued throughout their marriage.

  Clay ran his hand along Penny’s front leg down to her hoof, which he lifted. Using the pick, he cleaned out the triangular middle, removing small pebbles and dirt. He set her leg down and moved to her back leg, continuing until all four hooves were clean. “Abby’s gonna love you,” he murmured to the horse, patting her neck. “Gorgeous girl.”

  He wife shared his appreciation for horses, one of many things he loved about her. The two of them couldn’t have come from more opposite backgrounds. He’d grown up in a supportive, two-parent home and she’d grown up without any parents in multiple foster homes. Despite their different upbringings—or perhaps because of them—they each fulfilled each other’s deepest needs and longings. Tough, independent Abby longed for nothing more than to be someone’s little girl and to have all the cares of the world lifted from her shoulders. Clay craved control and had a protective streak a mile wide. Everything that Abby needed from him, Clay needed to give her.

  Clay stashed the tack in the bin next to the haystack and set Penny loose in the corral to get some exercise. The mare reared and bucked, galloped around the corral twice, and then promptly rolled in the dirt. He shook his head and returned to the barn, where he continued the morning chores. Stabbing the haystack with his pitchfork, he gathered a generous portion of alfalfa to toss into the first stall.

  With his foreman being out of town, the brunt of the work had fallen on him, so his days were long and laborious. He didn’t complain. Of all the work he could be doing in the world, he couldn’t imagine doing anything besides ranching. He enjoyed both the business and the labor aspects. They provided him with a sense of accomplishment that he wouldn’t even consider trading for more leisurely days.

  He did miss spending time with Abby, though. When he was less busy, they enjoyed hours in the mornings and evenings together. He could provide her with the attention she wanted but wouldn’t ask for. She didn’t have a demanding or entitled bone in her body, which made Clay have to work extra hard to determine her desires.

  Whenever he figured out something that she liked, he felt a thrill of victory. For that reason, he reckoned he was more excited about giving Abby her Christmas presents than she was about receiving them. They were all presents he’d bought after noticing how her eyes lit up upon seeing them in the store, and he couldn’t wait to see her eyes light up again.

  The sun descended over the horizon, and Clay returned home, exhausted but happy to see his wife. He walked inside and caught an immediate whiff of supper. It was his favorite—beef and vegetable stir-fry.

  “Hi, Clay,” Abby said, rushing to him and wrapping her arms around his neck. “I missed you.”

  He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of her warm welcome. He felt her damp hair against his cheek and breathed in her fresh scent of apple shampoo. In comparison to her cleanliness, he felt like he’d been rolling around in dirt all day. “I missed you too, baby. Let me take a quick shower and then I’ll join you in the dining room.”

  She landed a peck on his lips before skipping away. He admired her retreating figure. She was wearing velvet red pajama bottoms that hugged her pert bottom. His mouth watered. He wasn’t sure if it was more from looking at her or from the smell of supper. Regardless, he was looking forward to his evening with Abby.

  He climbed the stairs two at a time, suddenly full of energy, and took a five-minute shower. When he returned to the living room, he saw Abby facing away from him looking at the Christmas tree, and something about her posture was suspicious. Abby always said he had a hawk’s eye because he noticed everything, which meant he could tell when she was misbehaving just by the look on her face or, in this case, the way she was standing.

  “You’d better not be eyeing any more presents to open before Christmas, brat,” he warned.

  She spun to face him, her eyes wide. “I wasn’t, Daddy. Promise.”

  He studied her. One of her cheeks was puffier than the other, and her words had sounded rounded and garbled. “What do you have in your mouth, darlin’?”

  Her eyes flitted left and right, avoiding his gaze, and she fidgeted on her feet. “Candy cane,” she said in a small voice, appearing very guilty just like a little girl. She slurped at the candy.

  Clay struggled not to smile. She was cute when she was naughty, but he knew he’d be doing her a disservice not to correct her behavior. She relied on him for guidance, and breaking a rule out in the open for him to see was as good as begging for discipline.

  “What did I tell you about eating the Christmas tree decorations, baby girl?”

  “Umm, not to?” she said. She bit down on the strip of candy in her mouth, making a loud crunching sound.

  “You’ve earned quite a few bottom-warmings lately. I’m beginning to think you’re liking your spankings a little too much, and that presents me with a problem.”

  Pink flushed her cheeks as her pupils dilated. She swallowed and twirled some of her blonde hair in her finger. “I don’t like getting spanked, Daddy.”

  “Your behavior says otherwise.”

  Clay circled the tree to survey the damage. “Abigail! There are at least five candy canes missing. How long have you been sneaking them?”

  “Errmm, I dunno. It’s no biggie, Daddy.”

  He ambled to the couch, where he sat. “I’m the one who decides if it’s a biggie, not you. If you need your naughty bottom smacked, you only need to ask, young lady. You don’t need to decimate the tree.”

  “I could never ask for a spanking!” she exclaimed, her face growing even redder.

  “You could, and you should, because then I could give you the kind of spanking you like, instead of a punishment like you’re going to get now for not being upfront about your needs.”

  Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ll explain.” He crooked his finger. “Come here.”

  Abby trudged to him, appearing reluctant. He immediately bent her over his knees and tugged down her pajama bottoms and panties.

  She gasped and clung to his calf while he positioned her in just the right way for her bottom to receive the full force of his palm. He rubbed her bottom. “I’m going to give you thirty very hard swats, Abigail,” he said, his voice stern. “And this isn’t for eating a candy cane.”

  “What’s it for then?” she asked, her voice plaintive and apprehensive. She looked back at him over her shoulder with worry-filled eyes.

  “It’s for bratting on purpose to get a spanking instead of setting aside your pride and asking me for one.”

  She moaned and looked at the floor.

  “Thirty swats,” he repeated, tapping her bottom. Without further delay, he commenced with the punishment. There was no warm-up, no rubbing, no breaks to scold or comfort—just thirty no-nonsense wallops on her bare bottom.

  From the first to the last, Abby screamed and struggled. Tears made an immediate appearance, and her cries were frantic, begging him not to spank so hard. When he finished, he pulled up her pajama bottoms and panties and pulled her up to sit on his lap.

  She sniffled and buried her head in his chest. “I don’t like being punished like that,” she whimpered.

  He squeezed her to him. “I know, sweetheart, and I don’t like punishing you like that either.”

  “I thought you would give me a nice spanking for being only a little naughty and eating the candy canes.”

  “Yes, you were trying to manipulate me into giving you attention. That’s unacceptable behavior.”

  Abby wiped away a tear on her cheek. “So you think I should just say, ‘Daddy, will you give me a spanking?’”

  He nodded. “That would work.”

  She whimpered. “That’s so embarrassing though.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “It shouldn’t be embarrassing t
o ask me for what you need. I try to notice, but I can’t know everything that’s going on in your mind. Am I not giving you enough attention? Is that why you’re doing things to earn a little spanking?”

  Abby ran a finger along the velvet on her pajama pants, modifying the texture and darkening the color. “It’s not your fault,” she said. “I know you have to work.”

  “That wasn’t what I asked,” he said gently. “I asked whether you’re getting enough attention, not whether something is my fault.”

  She shrugged one shoulder. “I suppose I’m feeling a little needy for attention. I do miss you now that you’re working such long hours.”

  He hugged her closer. “I miss you too, darlin’. Only another week until Christmas, and after that Shane will be back to help with the ranch and I can spend a lot more time with you.”

  “Okay, Daddy,” she said, not sounding appeased in the least.

  “Aww. Can I see a smile, please? Just an itsy bitsy one even?”

  The sides of her lips quirked up obediently, but the smile didn’t reach her sad eyes.

  He kissed her forehead. “You know, I’ve been missing you a lot lately too.”

  “I have an idea,” she said slowly, gazing deeply into his eyes. “How ‘bout I help you out with ranching? Then we can be together during the day.”

  Clay considered her suggestion while observing her slight form and trying to imagine her roping cattle or fixing fences. He shook his head. “That’s sweet of you, baby, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t get much work done if you were to join me. I’d be too focused on making sure you didn’t break a bone.”

  Stubbornness suddenly joined her morose attitude. She huffed. “I’m not helpless, you know. I’ve done ranching chores before.”

  Clay stood with her in his arms and slid her to her feet. “I’m not talkin’ about chores, I’m talkin’ about labor. There’s a difference between milking cows and branding them. One requires strength you don’t have.”