The worst part is that I’m so damn turned on I can’t think straight. No, that’s not the worst part. The worst part is that he knows it. His stupid hyper senses make it impossible to hide anything from him. He can feel my pulse, align his heart rate with mine, and smell my pussy.

Dammit.

I’m so mad, and I want to be done with this. It would have been over a long time ago if I weren’t so stubborn. But I keep digging deeper and deeper. It’s not rational because I’m certain he will not back down. He’s so damn dominant that he will outwait me for all of eternity if that’s what it takes. He doesn’t even care if I pee on him.

I didn’t have to pee when I brought it up, but I’m starting to feel the urge now. I’m physically worn out, exhausted, and thirsty. My only option is to let him spank me.

If I do, everything will change because I already know his smug self is right. I’m going to like it. I’ve never let anyone spank me before. Not ever. A few boyfriends have asked me if I wanted them to, and I always emphatically declined, insisting I’m far too dominant to turn my care over to another person like that.

Now, I’m wondering if I lied to myself. Maybe the reason I’ve never let anyone dominate me is because I was afraid I might like it, and that scares me to death. I don’t want to be submissive. I don’t want anyone to have power over me. But what if I am? What if it feels good?

Papi is so calm with me. He hasn’t raised his voice once, nor has he given any indication he has a breaking point. It would be easier to argue with him if he did.

How long have I been lying here naked over his lap? Seems like hours. Probably more like thirty minutes. I’ve cried so much that I’m out of steam. It’s time to give in and accept my punishment. All I have to do is once again ask for it.

I’m not fond of his method of forcing me to ask for things I don’t want. I can tell it’s a tactic he’s going to use often. It makes me feel so very submissive. And that’s the damn point.

The way he’s gently gripping my wrists and keeps rubbing my naked bottom has caused a continued stream of arousal to leak down my thighs. I’m sure it’s dripping onto the couch cushion.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly before giving in. “Please spank my naughty bottom, Papi.”

“That’s my good girl. Remember, ten swats without moving.”

“Yes, Sir.” I shiver as I use that word.

He lifts his hand and delivers the first slap to my skin. He’s not gentle. There’s no warmup like I’ve seen in clubs. I expected him to go easy on me since he knows this is my first spanking. I was wrong.

I was also wrong about another thing. Yes, it hurts. The burn is making my bottom throb. But it also feels so good, and it indeed does vibrate all the way to my pussy. Dammit.

He takes his time, leaving lots of time for me to think in between each impact. His hand is huge. He can spank most of my bottom all at once. The pain is focused and intense. And I’m close to orgasm after the third swat. I can’t come. That would be so humiliating.

I gasp when he adds a new problem. He pauses to rub my burning ass. “You may not orgasm, Ava. Not when Papi is punishing you. I know it’s hard, but you must control your need.”

I’m so embarrassed that he knows how he’s affecting me, but how does he think I’m going to stop myself from reaching orgasm?

I try to speak, but my mouth is dry even after I lick my lips. I finally manage a whispered “how?”

“Take some deep breaths. We’ll take our time while you learn to control yourself. Let me know when you’re ready for me to continue.”

I hate him. I hate that he’s so blasé about my need to come. I hate that he knows I’m struggling to control myself. I hate that my damn pussy is betraying me. I hate that there is a tight ball of need in my tummy and it’s not going to get relief.

I have to get this over with. I still have to endure seven more spanks. “I’m ready.”

“Good girl.”

Dammit. When he says that, my arousal returns to the level it was when we started the break. When he praises me, I get all kinds of tingly, especially since I’m being the most obnoxious brat on Earth. How could he possibly believe me when I insist I’m not Little while I behave like a toddler?

Papi adjusts his weight under me, and I realize his cock is rock hard and pressing against my waist. How have I not noticed that until now? I’ve been so focused on myself that I haven’t noticed his erection. I’ve also had three orgasms since we met, and he hasn’t gotten any relief.

I hold my breath when he lifts his palm and keep holding it while he continues spanking me. After three more hard swats, I cry out, “Stop.”

He grabs my bottom with his palm and squeezes. “Control the need, Baby girl. You can do it.” At least he understands the reason I yelled stop.

I need to come so badly it hurts. My breasts are swaying with no contact against anything. I want him to grab them, squeeze them, suckle them. I want him to thrust his fingers into me and fuck my pussy until I come so hard I can’t see.

When I stop panting, he says. “Four more, Little one. Ready?”

I nod. I’m near tears from frustration.

He delivers the last four spanks faster than the first six. They’re just as firm, and my skin burns, but it’s finally over. My thighs are trembling violently. My pussy is furious. I collapse, letting all my weight melt against his enormous thighs.

Papi releases my wrists and gently rubs my sore biceps before massaging my back and the tender skin of my bottom.

All the while, my focus is on my pussy and my need as it ebbs. The ruined orgasm is the most horrifying experience ever. I’ve never felt anything like it. I don’t want to, ever again, either.

Papi carefully rolls me over and rises, cradling me again in his arms. He carries me to the kitchen counter and sits me on my hot bottom next to the basin. The cool surface feels good against my heated skin.

With one hand firmly on my thigh as if I might fall, he uses the other hand to wet a wash cloth and squeeze out the excess water. I wonder how many years it will take before I stop thinking his hands are so huge.

He brings the cloth to my face. “Let Papi wipe away the tears, Baby girl,” he says as he gently cleans my face.

It feels so good. My cheeks were covered with dry tears and snot.

He rinses out the cloth and returns. “Lean back a bit, brace yourself with your hands, and set your heels on the edge of the counter.”

I’m confused as he guides me into the position he wants. My heart is racing as he plants my feet as wide as possible, opening me up. When he starts wiping my arousal from my inner thighs, I bite my lip and stifle a moan. How intimate and humiliating. He has to start at my knees because my pussy leaked all the way down my thighs.

He barely strokes my pussy at the end, just enough to remove some of the tremendous moisture. Not enough to get me off. My breath hitches anyway, and I clench my vagina.

“I’m so proud of you, Baby girl.”

He’s proud of me? I was a bitch. A bratty bitch. I cried and fought and pouted the entire time. But I can tell by his smile he’s pleased. How confusing.

“Do you need to go potty, Little one?”

I hate how he’s Daddying me. Don’t I? I nod, mostly because the thought of him giving me five minutes alone in the bathroom sounds like heaven. Hell, in those five minutes, I can probably get myself off.

He scoops me off the counter and carries me through to the bedroom again. Instead of continuing toward a bathroom, though, he lowers me onto my back on the huge bed once more.

Bracing me with one hand, he reaches down to grab something from the shelf on the nightstand.

“I won’t fall, you know,” I grumble. “You don’t have to keep a hand on me when I’m on the bed or the counter. I’m not a baby.”

He sets some sort of bag next to me. I can’t see in it. He pulls out a soft towel, lifts my hips with one hand around my ankles and slides it under me. What the hell?

His hands come to my sides, and he meets my gaze, leaning over. “You’ll have to get used to my overprotective ways, Baby girl. You won’t fall because I’ll never give you the opportunity. I will never leave you unattended on any piece of furniture, the counter, or the wash basin. The furniture in my home is much higher and bigger than what you’re used to. You’ll only be on it when I’m holding you. When you’re in a highchair at the table, you’ll be strapped in for safety. Eleadian males are sticklers about safety.”

I gasp, honing in on the one word. “Highchair?” My voice comes out as more of a squeak.