***ZANE’S POV***
“Why do I need protection? Why do I need a babysitter and where the fuck are you going to?” London asks, rushing over her words.
Oh yes, she must have heard a lot more than I think. I scowl at her.
“You don’t eavesdrop on me,” I tell her.
It is for her own protection. The cops wouldn’t hurt her if she doesn’t know anything about my business. She has to learn that, and it is evident she will learn the hard way.
Not today, of course.
I start walking back to the kitchen, I am about to walk past London when she steps on my way blocking my path. I know this encounter wouldn’t end well.
“London,” I warn.
“Answer me, Zane,” she spits out angrily.
This little human, she is so beautiful when she is angry. But right now, I don’t want her to be a brat. I wouldn’t resist punishing her. I might not have hurt her yesterday when I spanked her in my car because I used my hands, but she would have something else today if she dares me.
I try walking past London again but she blocks my path.
“Stop, Zane, don’t ignore me. You were supposed to be making breakfast for me, not paying babysitters to come watch over me. I am not a child,” she shouts.
“Don’t raise your voice at me,” I warn calmly.
London shuts up, I am almost happy that she wouldn’t talk again, well, that is a lie, she has a whole stuff in her head to make me want to punish her.
London uses her little index finger to poke me in the chest, she is angry, she is just beautiful in it.
“I don’t need a fucking babysitter. Stop treating me like a baby,” she yells out.
I chuckle. It is filled with bittersweet distaste. London is everything of a woman’s temper.
“I will never treat you as one, little girl,” I say before circling her waist with my strong arms. I carry her into the kitchen and throw her on the table.
The same one I had used on her last night.
London cries out bouncing on the hardwood, before she can slide down off the table, I press my body on hers.
“You don’t cuss at me, young lady, and you don’t fucking raise your voice at me,” I tell her as I spank her hard on the ass.
She whimpers and I add another slap on the ass.
She has only boxers on, I pull it out, I go for her shirt but think against it. London is crashing and throwing insults around.
“Fuck you, Zane, fuck the hell out of you,” she screams.
I pull her hands out and slap them hard on the long table, reaching for the end.
“Grip it here, you release it and I will have to start over,” I warn her.
London is still shrieking, she might not know what will hit her until I start.
“No, leave me alone, you bastard,” London shouts trying to pull her hands away.
That is it, the last straw. I don’t have a belt right now so I growl, cussing my sweatpants. I walk to the first kitchen drawer with the speed of the light. The first thing I find is a spatula.
This will do. I tell myself.
London doesn’t have the time to run away because I come back at her.
I start spanking her, the strokes are thick, short, and quick. I release only two percent of my pent-up anger on her. I spank her with the spatula and she cries out, she wails.
“Cry, London, I love hearing you cry,” I bark out.
We weren’t supposed to end up like this, I wasn’t supposed to be forceful on her, but right now? She has pissed me off so badly.
At ten strokes, London’s hands have left the table, she is throwing them on her red ass and snort fills her nostrils.
“Stop! It is paining me. It hurts,” she wails.
“Take your hands off your ass, you little cunt, I don’t want to break a bone,” I warn.
“No, please, it hurts,” she cries.
“It has to hurt. I am here to hurt you. If that is the only sound you understand, I will serve you the punishment. If you can run your filthy mouth, brace yourself for the punishment,” I bark out.
London is the kind of brat that hates to be punished, well, if she doesn’t act accordingly, her ass will suffer the blows her mouth keeps causing.
“Zane… Zaneee…” she cries out some more.
I slap London’s hands before snatching them and throwing them above her head.
“The count starts at one. You have twenty strokes. Remove your hands from the table and I will strap you to the spanking bench. Believe me, London, you don’t want that. I want your ass up and your toes pointed. If you bend one single toe, I mean even if it is your pinkie, I will double the strokes and wipe the count,” I bark out.
“NO, PLEASE…” London shouts.
“That is it, beg,” I grind out.
“Your hands on the table. NOW!” I shout.
London cries, but she obeys me. Trying to keep her toes pointed, she knees so that her ass is thrown in the air. Her red asshole is in my view, but I am not going to fuck her there yet. I have to punish her.
“You know the rules, London. You count. I want to hear your voice. The same way you used that tongue to call me a bastard, I want you to use it to count now. The stroke is canceled if you don’t count it,” I tell her.
The first strokes London has received had spiked adrenaline in her system, I bet her heart rate has increased as well, and she is anticipating the first stroke.
“Zane…” she calls out.
“Shut the fuck up, London, I only want to hear you count. Maybe the pain will help you reflect on your attitude,” I grind out.
*
The room is thick with tension, only London’s sobs are heard, it is about to echo and fill the entire house in less than a minute.
THWACK!
I land the first real blow. It is different from the first ten I had given her just now, she will know the difference.
London shouts it makes my blood spike more with anger.
“Count, you fucking little cunt, or we restart,” I warn her.
“ONE!” London shouts.
Her toes remain pointed and she twists her body, she doesn’t remove her hands from the table as well.
“Good girl, follow the rules and we will soon be done with your punishment,” I tell her.
THWACK!
I land the second blow and another sharp scream tears the air.
I have no mercy when it has to do with punishments. London will know that by the time I am done with her.
I might have fucked her till she passed out a while ago, and I might have been sweet and showed her that gentlemanly part of me, but now, she gets to see the real me, the demon she doesn’t want out of the dark.
“TWO!” London counts.
She is learning quickly.
The next fifteen blows past in succession and London has screamed until her voice has reduced to a whisper. Her throat must be very sore from this. The spatula in my hand is aching, begging for rest. My hand is red from holding it as well.
What is worse? It is London’s red buttocks. It is very red. A few stripes of blood are threatening to burst out, but it is not my business. Under her ass and thighs have taken the blow as well, I don’t mind, she will learn never to mess with me again.
“Dad… dy! Da… ddy please,” London begs as she tries to keep her toes pointed. Her knuckles are white from holding on too long.
“Two more. You take your hands out and the count starts back at zero,” I warn her.
THWACK!
I land the nineteenth blow.
London is too weak to shout, but she does perform the act, her voice is just not coming out. She curls her toes. Hit her knees on the table and cry.
“Dadddddyyyy! Daddy Zane, it aches. I will be sore for days,” she cries out.
“Count, little girl. You better count let’s be done with this. Take the fucking soreness as a reminder that you shouldn’t mess with me,” I tell her spanking her ass with my hands.
“NINETEEN!” London counts.
It is a bare whisper, she will choke on her tears if she isn’t careful. I don’t bloody care.
THWACK!
The last blow.
“Twenty! Twenty daddy!” London cries out repeatedly, in case I change my mind.
Her legs are all stripes of the spatula. I swear, I will never see it in the same light ever again. But London? The memories will be engraved in her mind.
“Punishment is over, London. You have been a good girl taking them,” I tell her as she sinks into the table.
She cries, I don’t touch her, she needs to know that if she is going to act bad, I am not going to service her.
Somewhere along the punishment, her shirt had been a distraction, thus, I had torn it from her body.
She scurries for the pieces and I let her do what she wants. She starts moving out of the kitchen when I call her back.
“Come here, London,” I back out.
She jumps in fright. That is it, she has to fear me. She walks unsteadily towards me, it stops when she is about a few feet from me.
“Have you forgotten anything?” I asked staring into her ocean-blue eyes.
She tries to avert them but fails woefully.
“Thank you, Daddy Zane for the punishment,” she croaks out.
Her voice is barely audible, and it is screeching to the ears.
“And what, London?” I bark out impatiently.
She jumps, trying hard to cover her exposed flesh, she only has pieces of the torn shirt in her hand, and it doesn’t do her justice.
“And I am sorry for eavesdropping and being a brat,” she sniffs out.
“And fucking what, London?” I shout now standing in front of her face.
She melts down in my huge presence, but she tries her best to be brave. She doesn’t cower yet. But the spankings had done great damage to her.
I love breaking her down.
“And I am sorry for calling you a bastard,” she says the final straw breaking her down.
I pinch her chin hard that she shoots her head up to look at me. London is so beautiful, her tears make me want to hug her even though I want to punish her some more.
I want to give her the silent treatment just so she knows that I own her and I wouldn’t hesitate to whoop her ass.
I lower my head and kiss her. It is hard and possessive, she doesn’t reciprocate it and I don’t fucking care.
“Go get dressed, little girl. You have twenty minutes before I come drag you downstairs by the hair,” I tell her pushing my hand to her ass and squeezing it adding a fresh new wave of pressure.
“Yes… Yes Daddy Zane,” she mutters before scurrying out of the kitchen.
I replace the spatula while hearing London’s little sobs fill the house as she heads upstairs.
“Fuck!” I grind out pushing my fingers into my hair. I want to pull at those fucking strands, but I also have to be careful.
I fill a glass of tap water and drink it all.
“London will be my breakdown or breakthrough,” I breathe out in frustration to myself.