Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 45366 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45366 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
When he reaches for the tab on the side of my diaper, I buck. I can’t let him take my diaper off. I don’t even care that it’s soaked. I need the barrier. I need the protection. I need to hide the fact that I’m so fucking aroused right now half the moisture in my diaper isn’t from wetting myself.
I’ve never once in my life considered participating in any form of bondage. I might have shot Brad between the eyes if he’d suggested tying me up and fucking me. But that was before. Before Bialar. Before Papi.
I don’t know what’s different about this arrangement. I don’t understand my physical response to his authority, his power, his physical strength, his demands. It’s not logical. It’s madness.
And yet, a part of me secretly wants Papi to strip me totally naked, expose me, and spank my naughty bottom while Surgient watches. It’s a scary thought. Illogical. So random.
A second later, my diaper is gone, and my ass is in the air. I clench my thighs together, hoping he won’t notice my plight.
Papi smooths a hand over my bottom. “Spread your legs, Little one,” he demands calmly.
When I don’t comply, he gives a sharp swat to the back of my thighs, making me flinch and cry out. I’ve never experienced anything like this. The burning aftermath takes my breath away.
“Knees, Baby girl. Part them.”
I’m trembling. I might come any second from the dominance. I wonder if there’s any merit to what Surgient suggested. Did I continue to intentionally misbehave, cussing and arguing because I wanted Papi to spank me?
Papi wraps his huge palm around my thigh and hitches my bent leg up to my chest against his torso.
I gasp. I’m more exposed than ever now.
Papi doesn’t say a word as he reaches between my legs and drags his fingers through my folds.
I moan, a deep animalist sound that doesn’t seem like it could come from me. I’m pretty sure I’m crying now, not because I’m sad but because I’m so humiliated.
Surgient’s shadow falls over me, alerting me to his presence so close he could touch me, and then he does. He sets his hand on the back of my other thigh, holding it steady. “Has anyone ever spanked you before, Kendra?”
I shake my head. “Not since I was about two,” I mutter sarcastically.
“I know you’re confused and embarrassed, but it’s perfectly normal to crave your Papi’s discipline. Most Little girls get aroused when they face a spanking. You’re not the only one.”
I purse my lips, trying not to make a single sound. I hate that he’s reading me so well. I hate that I’m aroused. I hate that I want Papi to spank me more than I want my next breath.
I want to know what it feels like. I want to know that he won’t take my shit. I want to feel his power in every part of my body, radiating up my limbs and into my pussy. I want exactly what he’s going to give me, and it scares the daylights out of me.
Papi rubs my bottom again before he lifts his palm and spanks me. It’s not hard, but I flinch. He does it again in a different spot, and then again and again and again. He keeps increasing the pressure, and my skin is heating. The sting is delicious.
I’m certain my fluids are dripping between my legs. I need him to touch me there. I need him to thrust his fingers into me. Hell, I’d be willing to let him fuck me right here and now with Surgient watching. That’s how horny I am.
Papi does no such thing, however. He simply continues to spank all over my butt and the backs of my thighs. When he’s finally done, he sets his hand on my knee up by his chest.
I’m trembling from the shock, the sting, and the need to come. I’m so desperate, I’m not above begging. Why do I care if Surgient watches me come apart at the seams? He’s done so before.
I lick my dry lips. “Please touch me, Papi. I need…”
He grips my knee, giving an odd friendly squeeze. “Papi’s not going to reward you after a spanking, Little one.”
I gasp and lift my head off his legs, twisting my face so I can sort of see him. I want to say about ten things, most of them not polite, but I can’t get my lips to move. It’s probably for the best. Whatever I might say would probably land me in more trouble, and as much as I enjoyed the spanking, my ass hurts. I don’t want him to do it again.
I drop my cheek to his thigh and whimper, my body jerking every few seconds until finally the emotional overload is too much and I start crying.