B e d t i m e
M/F, r/p (daddy/daughter), non-con
She lay on the carpeted floor. With legs bent upward at the knees and leaning on her elbows, she stared up at the television. On screen, a roadrunner dashed down a steep ravine and out of sight. Other than a few unconscious movements to pick up a gummi bear she existed solely in the world of Looney Tunes. She watched intently, oblivious to the chiming of the antique wall-clock.
“Sweetheart,” he said, appearing from the hallway.
His voice broke through the television induced haze. She turned her head to look at him but quickly glanced at the screen before giving him her full attention.
“It’s time to get ready for bed.”
“But Daddy, I want to watch this,” she replied, giving him an exaggerated, sad face.
He laughed. “That face won’t work with me.”
“Please,” she persisted.
With a grin on his face he stared into her imploring eyes. “Ok,” he said relenting, “but only if you get ready for bed now. Then you can stay up a little longer.”
“Will you help me?” she asked.
He nodded. “Go brush you teeth and I’ll be there in a second.”
She grabbed the remote beside her and pressed the pause button. An anvil hung suspended in mid-air, three inches away from crushing an unwitting coyote. After resealing her plastic baggy of gummi bears she pushed herself upright. She handed him the bag as she passed by him on her way to the bathroom.
Coming out of the bathroom freshly washed, she found him in her bedroom. Her favorite pajamas sat on top of the dresser, and he held a clean pair of underwear in his hand. He closed her panty drawer before motioning her over to him.
“Is that what you want, honey?” he asked, pointing to the monkey-print set.
She nodded. “Yup.”
He undid the button of her jeans, pulling them down to her ankles. Leaning into him, she used him for support as he removed them completely; the same process repeated with her panties. Goosebumps formed on her legs as the coldness of the room hit her abruptly. She stepped into the panties he held out for her, slightly teetering. Cold, she hopped into her flannel pants quickly, enjoying the soft and warm feeling of the material. Lifting up her arms, she allowed him to strip off her t-shirt in one fluid motion. She put her arms into the sleeves of the shirt he held open. Turned toward him, she stood still as he buttoned the few large buttons on the front of the shirt.
“You can go watch TV for a little bit more,” he said, turning her towards the door. He sent her on her way with a gentle love pat to her bottom.
She hurried out of her room, down the hall, and back into the family room. Instead of returning to her previous spot on the floor, she grabbed the remote off the coffee table before settling herself on the sofa. He took a seat beside her, and she lay down on her side, putting her head on his lap. Together, they watched the conclusion of the anvil’s free fall, resulting in an accordion coyote.
After several shorts, he looked at his watch. “Sweetie, bedtime.”
She shook her head. “No, not yet.”
“Yes. Now,” he replied firmly.
“But Daddy,” she began. “It’s–”
He cut off her complaint with one hard whack. “You’ve watched enough. Bedtime.”
“It’s not fair,” she pouted, getting to her feet.
Continuing her mumbling, she left him on the sofa and stomped down the hall. The force of her slamming door shook the apartment. Immediately he stood up and followed her into her bedroom. Once inside, he caught her instantly. Before she could utter a single protest, he bent her over and tucked her under one arm. With his free hand he gave her a dozen smarting swats.
“Ow,” she squealed, trying to cover herself with her hands.
He let go of her, and watched her rub her bottom miserably. “Do you want to slam that door again?”
“No.”
“No, what?”
“No, Daddy.”
He walked to her bed and pulled back the covers. “Go to bed.”
Still rubbing she took a few steps before stopping. “Wait, I need to go pee.”
He gave her a look. “Hurry.”
She did the opposite. Once out of his sight she moved slowly, stalling for time. Returning to her room she was greeted with an annoyed look on his face. Afraid of being grabbed and spanked again, she rushed into bed.
“Good night,” he said, giving her a kiss.
“Good night,” she replied.
Halfway to the door, she stopped him. “Where’s Mr. Fluffles?” she asked.
Knowing the futility of making her go to bed without her bedtime buddy, he turned and looked around the room. Spotting the stuffed bear on the floor at the foot of her bed, he quickly retrieved it.
“Here,” he said, handing over her companion. “Now go to bed.”
This time he made it to the doorway.
“Daddy,” she called. “Can I have a glass of water?”
“No. Go to sleep.”
“Daddy,” she whined. “I’m thirsty!”
He left the room wordlessly and brought back a glass of water. After taking a few sips she handed it back to him.
“Are you done?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Good. It’s already an hour past your bedtime. Anymore of this, and you’re getting spanked,” he threatened. “Good night.” Turning off the lights, he left the room.
Laying back she closed her eyes. The sounds of the city filtered through her window. A fire engine drove past, blasting its siren. She stiffened and held her breath, like a rabbit sensing danger. Suddenly, she popped upright and stared at the large window in her bedroom.
At the top of her lungs, she let out a protracted yell. “Daddy!”
He appeared within seconds. “What? What’s wrong?”
“There’s something outside my window,” she said.
He crossed him arms, standing over her. She shrunk back into the bed, hugging her bear as if to put a distance between them.
“We’re on the fifteenth floor,” he stated, not amused. “I’m sure nothing is there.”
“But I saw something!” she insisted. “I’m sure it was a monster.”
“You did, do you?” he asked. “Didn’t we talk about monsters already?”
“Yes,” she replied glumly.
“And?”
“They’re not real,” she mumbled.
“What did I say would happen if you didn’t go to bed?”
She looked down at the bed, refusing to answer.
“What did I say?” he repeated.
“That’d I get in trouble?”
“Yes. How so?”
“Idgettaspanking.” Her words lumped together in an almost incomprehensible sentence. “But I don’t want one!” she added quickly.
“Too late. Get up.”
“No,” she whined, kicking her legs underneath the covers.
“I’m going to count to three,” he threatened. “One…”
She buried her face into the bear while giving it a tremendous squeeze.
“Two.”
She kicked her legs again in frustration. Hearing the beginnings of three, she launched herself out of bed before he could finish.
“Please, Daddy, no,” she pleaded, covering her bottom with her hands and stepping away from him.
He took a seat on the bed and grabbed the elastic front of her pajama pants. With just a small tug, he lowered them to her knees, her panties deciding to follow them along as well. Undeterred by the tears already in her eyes, he grasped her wrist and pulled her over his lap. Despite her position, she reached behind her with both hands. Taking hold of one wrist and then the other, he pinned them with one hand to her back.
“Daddy, please!” she begged, squirming.
“Please, what?” he asked calmly.
“Please, don’t. I won’t do it again!”
“So you say.” He brought his hand down hard.
“Ow!” she squealed, immediately beginning to kick her feet. “It hurts!”
“I’m sure it does,” he replied. “Maybe it’ll hurt enough that next time you’ll listen to Daddy.” He spanked her relentlessly, his hand turning her bottom redder with each swat.
“I’m sorry!” she wailed. Tears falling from her eyes, she tried to twist off his lap. “Daddy, no more. I’m sorry.”
“What’s going to happen the next time you do this again?”
She ignored the question, still intent on escaping the burning smacks to her bottom.
“Answer the question.” He slapped the back of her thigh, watching a faint, red handprint appear on the previously untouched skin.
“I’m going to get spanked.”
His hand returned to spanking her bottom.
“Exactly. Are we going to have to do this again?”
“No, we won’t. We won’t!”
“No, what?”
“No, Daddy,” she cried, genuinely distressed.
He helped her off his lap. She rubbed her bottom, bobbing up and down. More concerned with her bottom than anything else, she left her tear saturated hair in her face. He gave her only a moment to recover.
“Go wash your face,” he ordered, sending her in the direction of the bathroom with a hard swat.
She returned a few minutes later, shyly lingering at the door. Still sitting on the bed, he held open his arms for a hug, and she rushed into them. Gently lifting her onto his lap, he rocked her back and forth, one hand soothingly rubbing her sore backside. Sensing that she was falling asleep, he softly patted her bottom. “Sweetheart, let’s get you under the covers.”
Silently she crawled into bed, and hugged the bear he handed her. He placed a kiss on her forehead and tucked the covers around her. Eyelids heavy from her exhausting experience, she closed her eyes.
“Good night,” he whispered, shutting the door.
