Carnal Indulgence (Desiring the Forbidden Book 3) (6 page)

Did her Daddy send her to this room knowing that it was a sexual kink for her? Anything was possible. If Mommy Corinne noticed, maybe Daddy did too. The possibility of doing this more often scared her—and excited her.

But we’ll never know because I’m sure as fuck not going to say a goddamn thing about it to him!

Just the thought of telling him she’d like to do a little more intense age-play made her squirm and blush with mortification.

“Yes, just like that. Your excitement overcomes you in this room. You may find yourself more settled and happier if you would allow yourself to enjoy ageplay. Your psyche craves the freedom, the ability to put on cozy jammies. The thought of your Daddy cuddling with you, reading a book warms your heart. I have no doubt about this. I’ve watched you—and him—when you’re quietly sitting in a chair reading. He enjoys it just as much as you do, babygirl. It might be time to make peace with this part of your nature and go with it. You’re denying yourselves the pleasure and foregoing a deeper level to your relationship.”

How dare she? She doesn’t know Ivan or me that well.

That was the thought that triggered her response. Melody stood unexpectedly shouting at Mommy Corinne. “Who the fuck do you think you are? If I wanted sex advice, I’d go to Dan Savage. I certainly wouldn’t come to you! What Daddy and I do in our relationship is none of your fucking, goddamn business.”

Mommy Corinne smirked back at her, dropping her gaze slowly to the floor. They both stared at her white, cotton briefs now puddled at her feet. “You’ll be receiving two spanking for this—one for your insolent, vile mouth, and the other for letting your panties drop to the floor.”

Mommy Corinne nodded her head silently to George, who responded with a shake of his head in disgust, “Yes, Ma’am, I’ll get right on it.” He pivoted and left.

They’re getting Daddy.

Melody felt relief and yet a gnawing concern that Mommy summoned him to the Nursery for disobedience. Mommy Corinne unceremoniously and awkwardly dragged her toward a table with a roll pillow in the middle and pushed her onto the table, her bottom in a prominent position resting over a pillow. “Nanny, please cuff her hands and feet, while I tighten the strap at her waist.”

Once Melody was secured and unable to escape, Mommy came back with a brand-new bar of Ivory soap, pushing it between her lips, scraping it along her teeth until pushed back so far she gagged.

“We’ll clean that vile mouth with soap while I spank the naughtiness out of your hind-end.” She wasted no time, tucking Melody’s skirt into the waistband of her skirt, paddling her bare behind.

“You will not say the word
fuck
in the Nursery ever again. Is that clear?”

Did she honestly think she could choke out a response behind this revolting bar of soap?

Although she knew it would be futile, Melody tried answering—not wanting Mommy to accuse her of any more disobedience, but she was sure it came out sounding similar to this, “Meowth yeth bwatha ahtha anthadatha.” At least that’s how it sounded to her ears, along with her screeching and screams from behind the same disgusting bar of soap.

Mommy swatted her bottom on almost every word her scolding. “You will not use words such as
fuck, goddamn, or shit
in this room again. Little girls are
not
allowed to swear in the Nursery. If your Daddy allows you to do that at home, it is up to him. But, in this room, these are my rules.” Mommy’s hard hand continued to thrash her inflamed buttocks. “And you are well aware of these rules too. You did it in complete defiance. It won’t happen again. Am. I. Making myself. Clear?”

Melody had lost any ability to focus well, all thoughts centered on the burning, all-consuming pain that had overtaken not only her ass but also her mind and body. Her ass felt totally on fire, and each smack correlated with her frenetic movements and motions to flee and claw her way off of the table, which were thwarted by the cuffs on her hands and feet.

Drool dripped down her chin onto the leather table, mixing with her tears. The scent of Ivory soap etched indelibly in her mind. She had no doubt. In her hysteria, Melody wondered if it was possible to die from Ivory soap.

Would she be sick? Ultimately vomiting? Would Daddy Ivan then spank Mommy Corinne for making his babygirl sick? She hoped. Wasn’t that just a gloriously pleasant thought?

Her mind’s eye could see the tall, large woman lying uncomfortably over Ivan’s lap, her gangly arms and legs flailing in pain as his large hand left brutal markings on her very red bottom.

For a brief moment, not long-lived as she would have liked, Melody took great pleasure in that fantasy. That is until Mommy’s large, thick hand crashed onto her inflamed backside again. “Do. You. Understand?”

“Yeth, thabatha atha thada thaka.” Melody’s garbled speech again sounded like Chewbacca talking, but she had said,
Yes, that’s clear. That’s clear!
What she really wanted to say was,
Fuck you, where’s my Daddy?

“Now we move to your thighs before your next punishment.”

Fuck!

Mommy Corinne let go a flurry of swats to her thighs that had her screeching, unable to move or find any relief.

Melody couldn’t remember the last time she had cried that hard.

“From now on, every single time you are sent to this room, you’ll remove your panties at the door before entering. I want your naughty bottom bared and ready, every time you’re here! And I think it will remind you how a little girl is to speak not only in this room but to her Mommy. Clear?”

“Yeth, batham” Trying to talk around this detestable soap was just impossible. But what was more impossible was her head sliding on the slick leather, covered in her soapy drool and tears, as well as the unrelenting strikes from Mommy’s hand on her now pathetically swollen behind.

“Daaaaaaaathy.” She hoped against all hope that her Daddy would hear her and come to her rescue. Where was George with him anyway?

“What’s going on in here? She was just told to drop her panties off, and nothing else.”

Daddy.

Melody strained to look over her shoulder at the big burly man she loved.
Her protector and lover.

He leaned over to kiss her wet cheek. “Yes, Mouse. I’m here. Let me talk to Mommy a moment.”

Mommy Corinne’s lips were pursed, and her voice strained with anger and disgust. “Master Ivan, your little girl came in here as you requested. I told her to turn around and bend over before taking her panties off. A little humiliation never hurts your girl, as you know.” She smirked at Melody. “I then called her ‘Mouse’, and she rebuked me soundly for using her nickname.”

Daddy looked over at his girl, his eyes narrowing. His Little was never allowed to be disrespectful.

Mommy Corrine took a deep breath before continuing. “Well, as you know, I won’t put up with a Little telling me what I can and cannot say. I spanked her—over her panties, while standing and then pulled them down to her thighs, telling her to keep them there, not letting them fall.”

“Melody Alise, you know better than to correct Mommy. Bad girl.” He slapped her sore bottom, and she screeched around the soap. “The soap stays in until the adults are done talking. Continue Corinne.”

“Well, Sir, I then cupped her pussy, which was dripping with need. I told her that she fights the Nursery, but that she enjoys many of the things in this room, especially sitting with you, cuddling while in drop seat jammies, playing with baby dolls, or being read to. I told her I felt she denied herself and
you
the ability to enjoy this dynamic to its fullness. And, Sir, that is when Miss Melody stood, dropping her panties, and went into a tirade asking me ‘who the fuck I thought I was?’”

Mommy Corinne made bunny ears with her fingers to show she was quoting Melody. “She then continued her rant, saying if she wanted any ‘fucking sex advice she’d contact Dan Savage’ and for me to mind my ‘fucking, goddamn business.’ And, Master Ivan, that’s when I sent George to find you, and how she ended up with soap in her mouth receiving a blistered backside. I still have to spank her for dropping her panties too.”

She turned her steely gaze away from Daddy to glare at Melody, adding, “Oh, and Master, she has been told that she will be required to take off her panties every single time she enters the Nursery from this point on. I want that naughty bottom ready for punishment when she enters our room.” Mommy finished by crossing her arms over her chest.

Melody stared at her Daddy, pleading with her eyes, avoiding any glance in Mommy’s direction.

Daddy’s dark eyes bore into Melody, and he stroked his beard, his eyebrows furrowed. Without taking his eyes off of her, he addressed Mommy. “Mommy, will you please bring me the tawse. I’ll take care of her second punishment myself. When we’re done, she’ll apologize. Trust me. Please take care of the other Littles in the Nursery while we’re busy.”

“Yes, Master Ivan.”

Before she could retrieve the said tawse, Nanny pressed the braided black handle in Master Ivan’s hand: the long thin strips of leather looked forbidding.

Nanny scowled at Melody. “It was just deplorable what she said to Mommy Corinne, Master. It’s not a good example to the rest of the Littles here, and as wife of the Master of The Playpen acting in such a way of all things.” She shook her head in disgust, clucking her tongue as she walked away.

Daddy nodded solemnly. “Indeed. You’d think that
my
little girl and wife would know how to behave. It seems we keep having this discussion over and over haven’t we, girl?” He lightly stroked his hand over her bottom, his hand feeling like sandpaper against her sensitive, freshly spanked bottom. Daddy had never used a tawse on her before. The thought excited and frightened her at the same time. She wouldn’t enjoy it used for punishment, but the idea of it striking her excited her nonetheless.

M
aster Ivan looked down at his babygirl’s red bottom. She’d be a sore girl tomorrow—but she deserved a strict tawsing. He had no doubts about that. He’d loved this shy, sweet girl since the day he met her. She had a sweet submissive nature that came naturally. More than likely it was from years of strict upbringing in a Christian home with a father who’s a pastor. Melody had learned with the help of a “rod of correction” to be meek, mild, slow to anger, modest, slow to speak, always listening, and above all else she’d been trained to be subservient to men.

Submission was second nature to his Melody. She didn’t have to work at submission like most of the women he’d come across in his years of owning The Playpen. Most women struggled to keep their sassy tongue in check, or their independent ways and strong-willed manner.

Not his Melody Alise. She, if anything, needed help to open up—to let her real personality come out. Ivan had spent time cultivating that in her for the past three years. He had met her when she was eighteen, and she was now almost twenty-one. Where had the time gone? He’d been thirty-nine and had sworn off having a Little in his life again. He’d begun to weary of women who pretended to be submissive when all they wanted was to cause drama. Ivan had run across Littles, who saw age-play as an excuse to be bratty, seeking punishment on
their terms
, using whining and bad behavior to “top from the bottom.” They enjoyed the power of forcing a Dom to meet their needs on their timetable, making his life sheer, pure hell until he complied with her demands.

He was somebody who saw through that quickly and vowed that a girl in a short skirt with a perpetual pout on her lips wouldn’t drag him around. He’d rather be alone. And he had been until he met Melody. Unfamiliar with anything in the BDSM world, she had no idea about submission, domination, age-play, or any of the things he introduced her to. She’d taken to BDSM like she’d been born to live in that world. In many senses, with her strict upbringing, she’d been living a submissive lifestyle since before she could talk.

Ivan had spent years cajoling and supporting her in voicing her opinions, teaching her to fight, respectfully, for what she believed. He had even set up situations in their everyday life to bring out the repressed Melody.

Now, he found himself for the first time since meeting her, having to deal with deliberate defiance or disobedience. She wasn’t doing it for attention; she didn’t function that way. He wanted her to voice her opinion—strongly—and that meant situations would arise when he’d have to help her temper
how
she spoke or did things. Like today.

She regarded the name “Mouse” as his special pet name for her, and he had no doubt that she took offense to Corinne using it. He’d pull Corinne aside later—out of Melody’s vision—and request that she not use their nickname.

However, defying Mommy Corinne, swearing loudly at her was intolerable. Melody would have never sworn at him in that manner. Tonight he’d reinforce that it was unacceptable with
any
authority figures in the club. Melody had gotten too big for her britches and felt she held a position of power being his wife, hoping it would give her certain leeway or rights.