Daddy's Spirited Little Girl (Wounded Daddies 8)

I hang my head, shutting my eyes tightly so I don’t cry again.

“Do you feel like I’ve been trying to change you?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“Then what is it?”

I take another deep breath. “You know that little frog statue I have?”

“Freddy?”

“Yeah. My grandma gave that to me when I moved away. She said it’s special just like I’m special. Freddy’s not like other frogs. He doesn’t croak, he plays the flute. He creates a different music than the other frogs and that’s what makes him wonderful. I’m wonderful because I’m not like every other girl. I’m Lyric and I create my own music and my own life.”

“And you feel like because we live together and have to do boring things like chores and grocery shopping that means you’re going to become just like every other girl?”

I hang my head and nod.

He lifts my chin so I look up at him and says, “Lyric, I asked you to be my little girl specifically because you’re not boring. I don’t want another normal little girl. I want you. I want Lyric. If I ever do anything to make you feel this way, I want you to tell me. Do you understand?”

I nod.

“Answer me with words little girl.”

“I will, Daddy.”

“Do you still love me?”

“Yes, Daddy,” I say, tears forming once more in my eyes.

“Do you still want to be my little girl?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good,” he says.

I throw my arms around him and hug him tightly. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” I say, over and over.

He holds me until I’m calm again, then he gently pushes me away. “Do you remember what you agreed when you became my little girl?”

I nod, “I agreed that I would tell you what my feelings are so we can deal with them right away and let them fester until they become big problems.”

“That’s right,” he replies. “And I said I would help you whenever you had negative feelings to find a way to see them in a different light.”

I nod agreement.

“You didn’t keep your end of the agreement, did you?”

“No, Daddy,” I whisper.

“No, you didn’t. Because of that, you need to be punished.”

His voice is throaty and aggressive when he says this. I look up at him, wide-eyed with fear.

In the midst of the fear is an attraction more powerful than any I’ve ever experienced.

“I think twenty-five spanks is appropriate. Do you agree, little girl?”

Twenty-five spanks. Dear God. I’m terrified enough now that the very thought makes me feel like I might pass out. I can see on Daddy’s face that he’s serious about this. This won’t be playful. He’ll take a very firm hand and I’m not going to enjoy when it hits my rear-end.

Or will I?