"Because it's good for you."
Cover image photo: Oleg Magni from Pexels
We’re out on a grocery jaunt during shelter-in-place. Can’t stay cooped up like lab rats forever.
The virus is everywhere, they say. Feels a bit like a war zone here at the supermarket, dotted with jittery, human-shaped grenades. I’m in the frozen aisle scanning boxes, trying to decide what to throw in the cart. Vegan broccoli cheese bake. Tortilla casserole. Eggo waffles. Fancy Hot Pockets.
What will we want when the shit hits the fan?
Gonna need more booze. At least we have weed at the casa.
You’re behind me suddenly, sliding one hand around my hip and squeezing my ass through my dress with the other. Your lips graze my shoulder and I flinch, blushing with a huff.
“We’re in public.”
You envelop me in your arms and kiss the crook of my neck, whispering like we’re the only two people in the universe. “Yup.” You don’t give a fuck. You never do.
Time stops when you hold me like this. The world goes quiet and you become everything. Your warmth. Your smell. Your voice. Mmmmmmmmmmmm, so safe.
Your breath is hot in my ear. “Think I’ll give you a good spanking when we get home.”
I bite my lip and smile. “Why?” Your reason always feels incredibly important yet inconsequential all at once. If you’ve got a mind to do it, it’ll happen regardless.
“Because,” you croon, kissing my temple. “It’s good for you. Keeps you calm. Keeps you happy.”
Some snooty lady with a heaping cart of Diet Coke and frozen pizzas passes, giving us the side-eye. How dare we canoodle like horny teenagers during a pandemic?
I glance her way, reddening further, but you turn me around in your arms, tilting my chin upwards to monopolize my attention. Your eyebrows raise. “Okay?”
I giggle and bury my face in your chest, nodding. “Okay, Papa.”
Back at home in the kitchen, I lean against the counter and stare down at my phone while you put away our precious bounty of swag. News news news news. Death death death death. Virus virus virus virus. Pangs of grief and anxiety eat away at my stomach.
You walk over with a mischievous smirk, pluck the phone from my fingers, and place it on the highest shelf in one of our cupboards, out of reach. Shutting the door, you look down and drag your eyes over my body, gears turning, making decisions about what to do with me.
I get hit with that jumpy-tingly-panicky feeling and start backing away, ready to run with nowhere to go. You pursue, grinning at my fear, teeth sparkling white. Your long fingers reach out and snag me by the wrist.
“Ah-ah-ah…” Tsk tsk.
You spin me around and have me face the counter again. I shudder in anticipation and lean my forearms on its surface while you pull my dress up and run your palms over my ass, shielded for now by my polkadot panties. You crouch to kiss and nibble at the curves of my cheeks, gently squeezing and pulling them apart. Your fingertips slide under the edges of the fabric and tug it upward slightly to reveal a bit more skin.
My eyes flutter shut and I sigh, ready to accept. To give in to you. You press your lips into the plumpness of my bottom, mumbling. “Beautiful…” you say, always sure to tell me you like it.
I arch my back a bit, pushing my ass out and tilting it upward. You take the bait, closing your mouth over the strip of cotton covering my pussy. There, you blow warm breath and zero in on my clit, pressing into the fabric with your tongue.
I moan, helpless and already wet. A low growl vibrates against my sex and you pull my panties further up into my crack, tighter and tighter against my clit.
Just as I bend over further to offer myself, you stand and move to my side, bunching up my panties in your left hand. Little spanks. Little pats. They’re so light and sweet, it drives me wild and you know it. You’re teasing me, Daddy.
Eventually though, you start ramping up with some earnest swats, making it sting. I try to shift my hips forward to escape, but you gently hook your index finger over my hip bone to pull me back as I was, angled to your liking. I hold the position but whine and warble in protest of the pain.
You pause. A finger worms its way under the fabric covering my crotch, seeking and discovering.
“Oooooh… so wet,” you say, enunciating the ‘t’ on the end with a playful snap of your tongue.
I tilt my head to hide my smile as you slide my panties down, leaving them rolled just above my knees. With your left hand, you reach around to gather my slickness and slide it around my clit. With your right, you penetrate, running your middle finger over the fleshy ridges of my G-spot. You move slowly. Intricately.
You’ve got my pelvis caged, trapped between your hands and hostage to your ministrations. I get lost in it, closing my eyes and following the trail of sparkles glowing brighter inside me and illuminating every cell with illicit, shimmering pleasure. Naughty naughty naughty. My sex swells with need as you continue. I picture you pulling me over your knee and punishing me hard.
I liquefy, panting heavily, visualizing my own suffering and clinging to the thought of you wrenching all control from me. Eventually I go still and silent, making space for the wave to overtake me. I’m gonna come. Almost there. Just… within… reach...
“Daddy, I’m, I’m, I…!!”
You take away all stimulation, leaving me teetering on the brink, poised and sopping. Arousal smooths down the skin of my thighs.
I turn and ball your T-shirt in my fists, pouting and dancing on my tiptoes. NOT FAIR. Papa, how could you? Pretty pretty please.
You love it, observing and savoring my desperation. I hop up and down, squeaking with little faux sobs and you jut your lower lip out in sympathy.
“Ohh. What do you want, baby?”
Melting to the floor, I writhe at your feet while you chuckle, torturing me. “Papaaaa!”
You scoop me up and kiss me deeply, carrying me to the couch. “Someone’s being a tad demanding. Not sure how I feel about that.”
We arrive and you place me over your knee, ready to get serious. You go for it, holding me down and thoroughly blistering my cheeks. Left, right, left, right, one thick smack after the other. I kick and clench, biting my lip to muffle my crying. It hurts.
But you’re not swayed by the drama of it all. You don’t negotiate with terrorists, including adorable ones who simper and drool over your cock. I’m getting a spanking. You’ll finish when you feel like it.
At some point, the pain levels out and it all feels the same no matter how hard you hit. I moan and reach back in search of your hand. You grasp it and here I am: Rounded. Whole. Present with you. I accept all you want to give, striving to stay still for you. Anything for Daddy.
You stop when I’m pacified, voluptuous skin swollen and pink, hot to your touch. Ouch. You turn me over and I gaze up at you through half-lidded eyes. So fucking gorgeous. Your lips kiss mine and wheeeeew, fireworks in the sky. Stars, rainbows, red balloons. All the Lucky Charms marshmallows. Magically delicious. That is you.
Touching you… loving you… these things are sacred. My fingertips glide over your skin with reverence. Feels like so much is at stake these days, with the world swirling around us in chaos. This moment is all that’s certain. Two lights in the darkness burning together, for a time. I admit, I’ve taken you for granted at times in the past, before all this went down. A sin born of banality and day-to-day bullshit. Never again.
You’re stroking my hair, satisfied to see me drowsy and smiling. “You can sleep, baby. It’s okay.”
I squeeze you tightly, snatching and stealing more moments of happiness. Who knows what we’ll wake up to. Here, for now, love reigns over fear.