I slip the hotel key card into the lock and push the door open when the light turns green, entering the quiet room, slowing slightly to see the curtains mostly closed and the space darkened from the late afternoon sun.
In the slight glow of a floor lamp in the corner, I'm caught by surprise.
"Daddy! I didn't think you'd be here already."
I drop my bag to the floor and rush over to where he's sitting in an armchair. Back straight, elbows on knees, hands clasped and looking stern.
I stop short.
"Daddy?"
He clears his throat before speaking, his voice lower, firmer than usual.
"You didn't let me know how the drive was going and that you were safe, like you promised, princess. Like I asked you to."
I look down the floor as heat rises in my cheeks. Daddy doesn't ask for much, so I know better than to ignore his requests, especially when I know they are coming from a place of concern.
"I didn't want to pull over to text and I knew you would get mad for me texting while driving," I say, quietly. I can't bring myself to look at the disappointment in his face, so I memorize the carpet.
"That's true, princess. I would have been upset to find out you were breaking the law. But I had made my wishes clear before you started driving and you didn't follow my directions."
He pauses.
"Look at me."
I raise my eyes, but not my head, choosing to look at the face I adore through my lashes.
His voice is quieter as he makes eye contact.
"You know I worry, princess."
I nod.
"Come here," he says, voice low, as he sits up straighter and widens the space between his legs, gesturing for me to sit on the floor in front of him.
I step forward and lower myself to my knees, tucking myself up against the edge of the chair seat and close my eyes as he brushes the hair off my face, then cups my chin and raises it so I'm looking at him.
"I was worried," he whispers.
"I'm so sorry, Daddy," I whisper back. "I didn't mean to make you worry."
"I'm just glad you're here safe."
He lifts my chin and gives me a gentle kiss, tucking my hair behind my ears and gently moving my head so it rests on his denim-clad knee. Playing with my hair, he leans back slightly. I can feel the tension easing out of his body.
I'm safe. We're together. All is well.
I close my eyes and let myself sink into this moment. The stress, the hurry of the drive, it dissipates in the quietness of the room, the smell of Daddy's aftershave, being pressed up against him as I kneel at his feet.
We sit for some time like this, time melting, until Daddy clears his throat.
"Princess... you were wrong not to text like Daddy asked you. You're normally so responsible, so I'm disappointed you weren't thinking enough to stop for a few minutes to send a simple message."
My heart sinks as I hear his words. The idea of disappointing Daddy makes me feel sick.
"I'm so sorry, Daddy. It will never happen again," I say as I lift my face to look up at his.
"I know, princess."
He pauses and I hold my breath because I can still feel a tinge of worry.
"But I can't let this happen without some sort of reprimand, I'm afraid. I gave you an order and you didn't follow it. That's unacceptable."
I nod solemnly.
Daddy raises an eyebrow.
"I mean, yes, Daddy. I understand."
"Up you get."
When he pats his knee and looks sternly at me, it's immediately clear what my punishment will be: a spanking. Without asking, I stand up and then bend my body over his knees -- head and feet near the floor, pale bottom and my pretty pink satin panties centred on his lap.
"Good girl. Now, how many do you think will make up for this infraction? For not following Daddy's orders?"
As he asks, he is running his hand in circles over my bottom, sliding over the slippery satin, my milky skin.
I want to give the best answer -- not too low, but not so many that I'm in pain for the entire time I have with my Daddy. I say 10, with a slight questioning tone in my voice.
"Ten? Princess, I. Was. Worried."
I immediately know I've shot far too low. Daddy would have been sitting in this room, thinking the worst had happened when I didn't check in as promised.
"Twenty," I say more firmly, lifting my head so I can look at him directly.
"You underestimate how important you are to me," Daddy says quietly, then clears his throat and reaches to brush his finger over my lips, sticky with the pink gloss I know he likes.
"Fifty," he announces, giving my bottom a light tap with his hand. "Twenty-five for not texting. Twenty-five to ensure this doesn't happen again. Do you understand?"
I nod awkwardly and put my head back down. The blood is rushing to it somewhat and the anticipation of the first spank has me muddled.
"I beg your pardon, princess." Another swat of his hand against my panties.
"Yes, Daddy. I understand."
"Good girl."
He lifts his hand and strikes it square on one cheek, causing me to gasp involuntarily.
"You need to count them, princess. Or they don't count."
"Yes, Daddy. One, Daddy."
The next several come quickly, alternating cheeks, and I can feel my skin smarting.
Spank. Spank.
Every so often, he pauses, soothing between strikes by running his hand over the warmed, reddening skin -- a sharp contrast to the parts that haven't been sharply slapped by his hand.
It stings as he focuses on striking the same spot and I can't help but gasp as I count those out.
Into the 20s and he tugs at the elastic of my panties as they cup the curve of my bottom and then runs a finger under them, pulling the elastic up over my bottom so my panties slide more in between my cheeks. More skin exposed for him to spank.
"Such a pretty pink colour, princess," he says, admiring his handiwork.
A few more sharp slaps, a little lower this time, toward the tops of my thighs.
"Thirty, thirty-one," I say, a little whimper escaping.
My bottom is hot now, and I feel myself zeroing in only on the sharpness of the slaps and the blood rushing to my head. A singular focus, a countdown of how many left.
Sliding a finger under the now tightened fabric of my panties, Daddy lets it slip between my cunny lips, now all slick.
"Naughty girl, getting all wet from Daddy's punishment," he says in a low grumble as he shifts slightly so his thick, hard cock isn't pressed so hard under me.
Without thinking, I squirm to try to get him to push his finger up to my clit. Or into me. I suddenly need his hand everywhere.
He tsks me with a little laugh.
"Such an impatient princess," he says and then pulls his hand away to deliver several more sharp spanks, centred right over both cheeks.
"Up you get. Over to the desk," he nods toward the heavy wooden office desk on the other side of the room.
"Bend over," he whispers in my ear as he presses his length up against my bare bottom. Rough denim and hard cock press against my smarting cheeks.
With my heels still on, my bottom sticks out high as I position myself onto the desk, turning my face so my cheek is to the cold wood. My nipples harden through my bra against the coolness.
"Such a delicious princess," Daddy says as he smooths his hand over my bottom, all dark pink from his spanks. "How many left?"
"Ten, Daddy."
"Well, we'd better make them count."
He tugs my panties down to my knees and uses his foot to tap my ankles so I know to widen my stance as much as I can with the material keeping me slightly in place.
Daddy's next nine are the firmest of all -- it's like I can feel the exact shape of his hand, that it leaves an outline of each finger and his broad palm.
At 49, he tells me to spread my legs, saving the final spank for my cunny.
He strikes it squarely and then slides two fingers in, curling them to hit my g-spot,
I buck my hips and groan.
"Such a good girl, princess. You took that very well," he says, fingers still buried. I wiggle slightly to try to get any friction against my clit. The need for more is overwhelming.
"Thank you, Daddy."
