The Sheriff's Little Girl Read online

  “Well, you said you wanted to be put to bed. That’s where I put you to bed, usually.”

  Peter was being nonchalant about this conversation, and it was making butterflies grow in Julie’s stomach.

  “But I wanted the other thing!” she finally blurted out, staring at the ground to avoid meeting Peter’s eyes.

  Peter laughed. “I’ve been out of this game for a while, pumpkin,” he told her. “It didn’t occur to me that there was a subtext. I’m sorry I passed up the opportunity.”

  Julie pouted a little bit. “Don’t laugh at me! I was trying to tell you what I wanted without being a brat.”

  “You’re not particularly good at doing anything without being a brat,” Peter continued to tease. “I’ll tell you what; from now on, when you want something, just ask for it. Ask me nicely, of course, and don’t make demands. But if it’s something in the bedroom, chances are that you’ll get it.”

  “What if I don’t want to ask?” she asked coyly, twirling a strand of her pink hair in her finger.

  “That shouldn’t be a problem, either,” he told her. “After all, I can always just do this.”

  He rose to his feet, standing next to Julie. Then he bent down and scooped her over his shoulder into the fireman’s carry. She felt herself leaving the ground, and felt a wonderful sense of helplessness wash over her. Julie clung to the fabric of his uniform, feeling arousal building: she was under his control.

  Peter started to walk toward the house with Julie dangling over his shoulder, watching the desert as they headed away from it. She kicked her feet playfully.

  Peter maneuvered her into the house, but didn’t set her down right away.

  “Where are we going?” Julie asked, trying to crane her neck in hopes of being heard.

  Peter didn’t respond. He just kept walking down the hallway with her, being extra careful not to let her bump into anything when they turned corners.

  Finally, they reached the office. Peter crouched down, lowering Julie toward the floor. She was able to gently slide off his shoulder, landing surprisingly gracefully.

  “This is not the bedroom,” Julie announced with a pout.

  “No, it’s not. But it is a place where we need to have a little discussion,” the sheriff told her.

  Julie sighed a deep sigh.

  “No, don’t sigh at me. This is a serious little chat that we need to have now.”

  “What do we need to talk about, Peter?” Julie asked. She was trying to sound nonchalant, even disinterested. In reality, her heart was starting to pound. She was afraid that Peter was about to punish her again, and that fear was making her pussy throb.

  Peter raised one eyebrow at Julie.

  “I thought we had agreed that you’d be calling me something else, especially when you’re in a situation like this. Want to try that again?”

  Julie blushed furiously. It was one thing to call him that spontaneously, but being told to do so was so embarrassing.

  “What do we need to talk about, daddy?” she whispered, unable to make her voice sound any louder than that.

  Peter grinned a satisfied grin. “That’s a good girl,” he praised. He gave her a look that was both affectionate and stern, and then continued. “I’m surprised that you don’t know what we need to talk about, to be perfectly honest. I find it a little disheartening, because that means that you think that this is okay.”

  Julie was confused. She couldn’t think of anything particularly bad that she had done recently. Had she somehow messed up the computer? Or left a light on?

  She shrugged her shoulders, screwing up her face to try to show him that she just didn’t know.

  Peter heaved a sigh.

  “Take a look around my office, Julie,” he instructed.

  Julie did. “Are you saying that it’s messy?” she finally asked. It was a little bit messy, she supposed. She had missed the trashcan a couple of times with her failed drawings. But it certainly was nothing like the conditions in her old apartment, or the house where she grew up.

  “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying,” the sheriff told her.

  “But daddy, you can still see like, ninety-nine percent of the floor in here.”

  Julie knew that this conversation wasn’t going well for her when Peter put his hand to his face, resting his head against it.

  “Oh, lord,” he muttered. “Julie, once again, you and I have a different definition of what is and isn’t okay. I know you’ve been living a life without any civilized people around to help you learn these things, so I’m not mad at you. But this isn’t the appropriate way to keep house. You can’t just chuck things in the trash and let them land on the floor and then not bother to pick them up again. You aren’t even supposed to eat and drink around someone else’s computer, let alone just leave your snack food junk under the desk. And you need to vacuum this stuff up once in a while.”

  He swiped his finger across the desk, picking up a trail of colorful glitter that had gotten there when Julie had opened one of her sketchbooks, which had been stored in a bag along with craft supplies.

  “And,” Peter continued, “you made a mess of the computer itself, too!”

  “What?! I did not!” Julie protested. She had not gotten anything actually on the computer, except possibly a little glitter on the keyboard, but that wasn’t a big deal.

  “You’ve opened about fifty tabs and left them just stacked on the screen. You’ve saved a ton of images to the desktop without putting them in folders. You renamed my business drive ‘bunnies.’”

  Julie couldn’t stifle the snicker that came suddenly when he said that.

  “I didn’t think you would notice that! The words look the same.”

  Peter’s face was not impressed or entertained.

  “My point with all of this is that you used my space, and that’s fine. But you need to respect other people’s spaces and leave them the way you found them.”

  “I wanna feel like I live here, though!” she protested.

  “Then tell me that, and we’ll figure out a way to make it feel more like your space, too. But in a clean way. You don’t mark your territory by leaving junk all over it. Not in my house, you don’t.”

  With that, Peter gripped Julie’s arm and held it tightly as he approached the desk chair.

  “Are you going to spank me again?” she asked, her voice once again just not coming out the way she wanted it to. In her mind, it had sounded like a full-bodied complaint. When she actually said the words, they were whispered meekly. Her voice knew that she didn’t have much of an argument. She deserved it.

  “Oh, you’ve got that right, kitten,” he told her.

  Julie wanted to stomp her feet, or do her best to resist, but she couldn’t bring herself to. Her body fell into place easily when he sat down in the armless desk chair and pulled her forward. Her heart beat wildly in her chest as she remembered just how painful the spanking she had gotten last time had been. It made the muscles in her pussy clench, despite the butterflies flip-flopping in her tummy.

  This time, Peter didn’t pull her pajamas down right away. His firm hand landed hard on her bottom through the soft, frog-printed material. It still hurt, although the fabric absorbed some of the sting, making it bite less. She wriggled and groaned, but tolerated it. It fell again, his pace slower than before. And then again.

  “Julie Barbary, I know you haven’t had many role models,” he began, punctuating his words with increasingly hard smacks to Julie’s bottom, “but I also know that you’re fully capable of being respectful and responsible if you try harder. You’re a very bright girl, and I know you could think these things through better. It’s just a matter of putting in the effort.”

  The cumulative effect of the swats had started to grow, and each one was now making Julie squirm a little.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, trying her best to make it sound like something other than whining.

  “That’s not enough. You need to start paying attention to
these things, and changing your behavior.”

  Peter let forth a barrage of smacks now, covering every inch of Julie’s tiny bottom.

  Even through her pajama pants, the blows hurt a lot, and she couldn’t help but let out yelps and cries with each one.

  Then, Peter paused.

  Julie tried to catch her breath and regain a little composure for a moment, when she felt his hands on her waistband.

  “Oh, no, daddy!” she wailed.

  “Oh, yes, kitten. Naughty little girls get bare bottom spankings. And you were a very naughty little girl, weren’t you?”

  Julie crinkled her nose. “Yes, daddy,” she admitted.

  “You should have known better, isn’t that right?”

  She sighed. “Yes, but…”

  “No buts,” her stern daddy told her. “No arguing.”

  With that, he yanked her pajamas down to her knees. She wasn’t wearing any panties underneath them, and she felt so exposed. It was worse than having her skirt flipped up. One moment, the protecting material had been there, making the spanking hurt less and protecting her modesty. Now, it was gone. Julie wasn’t sure why she was still worried about that, but she was. In this context, it embarrassed her to know that he could see her bare bottom, and probably her little pussy from behind, especially when she wiggled.

  Peter landed another smack on Julie’s upturned bottom and this time she let out a much louder yelp. It was undeniable that a bare bottom spanking hurt more. Each hard spank stung and bit, and she found herself unable to lie still.

  When Peter leaned her forward to punish the undersides of her bottom, Julie started to kick her feet. It was the most tender area, and each smack there created a bright white heat that radiated throughout her body.

  “Hold still, kitten,” Peter scolded.

  Julie did her best to, trying to focus on the feeling of wetness growing between her legs, but it was hard to do when the spanking hurt so much.

  She soon found herself forgetting about her earlier concern for modesty and kicking her feet wildly as Peter’s hand descended again and again, each swat seeming to hurt far more than the one that had preceded it.

  Peter paused again. He shifted her forward a little bit, so most her weight was on his left leg, then he swung his right leg across both of Julie’s knees, pinning her in place.

  “I told you to hold still,” he chastised, letting loose a rapid-fire series of hard swats.

  When Julie’s body bucked and wriggled in response to the fiery pain, she had no place to go. She was pinned. Instead, all she felt was just how strong Peter was, and how little effort it took him to totally immobilize her.

  “I know that you can be a better behaved little girl than this, Julie,” Peter said, starting to lecture her again. “I know that you can be tidy and that you can think about how your actions will affect others before you do them. You’re sweet and caring, so I know you can do that, can’t you?”

  Julie nodded, despite the fact that the pain in her bottom was starting to make her eyes water. “Yes, daddy,” she muttered.

  “That’s good. Because I care about you and I won’t have you acting any less than your best, to me or to anyone. I don’t demand your respect, but I hope that I’ve been earning it. But I do demand that you try your hardest. And throwing garbage on the floor, no matter where you are, isn’t doing anything close to trying your hardest. It’s not caring.”

  The words stung almost as much as the spanking. Almost. She found herself pounding her fists against the carpeting as the steady rhythm of punishing swats continued to fall, with no end in sight.

  “I care about you, so therefore, you’re going to care about having good behavior. Is that clear?”

  It was a strange feeling, having someone care about her this way. It made her feel vulnerable and young. When she had been a child, no one had cared what she did. They didn’t care enough to supervise her, or to give her limits, or even to keep their living space nice for the whole family. They had their own problems, and Julie had learned to just stay out of their hair and do her own thing. Now, having her daddy to tell her when she had crossed the line gave her a sense of security. The feeling of warmth beneath the pain in her bottom did show her how he felt about her.

  “I really am sorry that I messed up the room,” she said to the carpet, not even sure if Peter could hear her.

  “I know you are. And I’m glad,” Peter assured her, using his free hand to rub a gentle circle on her back.

  Finally, he landed a series of spanks that were harder than the previous ones had been, each one making her let out a longer cry. Julie felt a mixture of relief and disappointment as the pace of the spanking slowed. She knew that she hadn’t had enough. She didn’t want to admit it, but she needed to be pushed further.

  Fortunately for her, Peter wasn’t done punishing her. “Get up,” he told her as he finished smacking her bottom. His voice was stern but still tender.

  Julie tried her best to stand, but couldn’t; her legs were pinned.

  “Ummmmm,” she muttered, hoping he would get the hint.

  “Oh, right,” Peter said with a little laugh, releasing her legs.

  Julie did her best to be graceful, but mostly fell off his lap in a pile on the floor. Her hands immediately went to her sore and swollen bottom. It was hot to the touch.

  “We’re not done yet,” Peter told her, sounding very serious.

  “What do you mean we aren’t done?” Julie squeaked out.

  “Stand up, bend over, and put your hands on the seat of the chair,” he ordered.

  Julie stumbled to her feet and did as she was told, trying to keep her legs as closed as possible, but knowing that her thin thighs did little to hide her most private areas.

  Peter must have noticed her attempts to keep her legs shut.

  “Spread your legs a little bit. You know that you can’t hide your pretty little pussy from me.”

  Julie felt her face growing hot as she slowly inched her legs just slightly apart.

  “Wider,” her daddy ordered.

  She slid them just another inch further.

  Peter responded by grabbing her leg and pulling it to where he wanted it to be, and giving her a light swat on her now exposed vulva.

  “Now that’s better,” he told her with a grin. “The embarrassment of exposure is part of what makes this punishment effective.”

  Julie couldn’t stop blushing, unsure of what her daddy was going to do next.

  He took a stance behind her and reached for his belt buckle.

  Realization flashed in Julie’s mind. She felt a mixture of panic and of strong curiosity. What will this even feel like? she wondered.

  “Arch your back,” Peter instructed.

  Julie did her best to do as she was told while she was still craning her head around to see what was going on behind her. She was mesmerized by Peter’s hand as he unbuckled his belt and slowly pulled it through the loops.

  The belt was heavy but very flexible, certainly not stiff. It hung in his hand as he doubled it over.

  “Eyes front,” he ordered.

  Julie snapped her head around quickly, thrusting her bottom out. She didn’t want to disobey him. Not now, especially.

  “I’m going to make sure that you remember this lesson, baby,” he told her. “Do your best to stay still.”

  Julie imagined that she’d be very good, and hold her position perfectly. Peter would be so proud of her.

  Then the first stroke landed with a resounding crack, and Julie lunged forward, raising her upper body up off the chair.

  “Oh, my God,” she whimpered. The impact had not been so heavy, but the sting was intense. It was all concentrated in a stripe of heat across the middle of her bottom.

  “Back down,” Peter told her.

  Julie meekly returned to her position. She stuck her bottom out less far this time, and had trouble fighting the instinct to inch forward as the anticipation for the next stroke built.

  Th
is one was just as hard, a little lower.

  Julie found herself dancing around. Holding the position was hard. It took focus and dedication not to just flop over. And the belt had a much sharper bite than Peter’s hand.

  The next three strokes came one after another. They snapped against her skin, then leapt away and immediately returned. The pain of each one was less identifiable, morphing into one big, long, stinging mess.

  “I expect more from you. Do you understand?”

  Julie nodded. “Yes, sir,” she whimpered.

  “Good,” was all he replied.

  He then started to give her another volley of the belt. Each swat faded into the next, and the pain in Julie’s bottom grew and grew. She gave up on trying to hold still and just let herself collapse over the back of the chair, hoping her bottom was still high enough to count as her obeying the instructions. Soon, it overloaded her senses with too many sensations. Tears began to fill her eyes.

  “I’m sorrryyyyyyy,” she wailed, sniffling.

  “I’m glad you are, baby,” he told her, his voice comforting. “You’re doing very well. I’m proud of you.”

  A tiny smile crossed Julie’s face, despite the tears that were starting to flow down her cheeks.

  “Three more,” her daddy told her.

  Julie just nodded and braced herself.

  The first stroke landed right across the center of her bottom and made her yelp, kicking her feet a little.

  The next one was lower, and she howled as the leather kissed the underside of her bottom.

  The final one was the hardest. The impact was brusque and hard, and the sting was immediately followed by a feeling of aching.

  “All done. You’re such a good girl,” Peter repeated.

  Julie tried to catch her breath, continuing to sniffle. She stood up and gently pressed the back side of her hand against her bottom. It radiated with heat. Craning her neck around, she saw that it was glowing bright red.

  “Come here,” her daddy told her, sitting down in the chair that she had just been bent over. He opened his arms to beckon her into a hug.

  Julie climbed into his arms, resting her head against his shoulder and letting her feet dangle.

  “You’re my good little girl,” Peter comforted. “I love you.”