He cupped the side of her face and brushed an errant curl behind her ear. He still didn’t look pleased with her, but most of the sternness had faded from his expression at least. “I appreciate your honesty, Cynny. Now, little girl, the next time you are uncertain about whether or not you’re allowed to do something, or whether or not what you’re about to do is right or wrong, what do you think you should do?”
She bit her lower lip for a second, then sighed as she met his gaze. “I should talk to my papa first.”
“Good girl. That’s exactly what you should do. It’s my job as your papa to help you be the best little girl you can possibly be and guide you in all things. If you are ever uncertain about a situation, I expect you to come to me at once to discuss it.”
“All right. Thank you for being so understanding, Papa,” she said, with a sudden guilty thought to the pocket watch that was still hidden away with her drawers. But she couldn’t admit to stealing from him. Though he loved her, and she loved him, their marriage was still new and they were still getting to know one another. While she wanted to believe he wouldn’t stop loving her for committing such a grievous crime against him, a little voice in the back of her head—albeit, the voice that often landed her in trouble—whispered that it would be easier if she simply placed the watch in a random part of Grayson House the next time he left the estate.
“Now,” he said, sounding stern again. “Look at the mess you’ve made on Papa’s bed.”
She glanced down, following his gaze, and startled at the rather large wet spot she’d left in the midst of stroking her kitty, her moisture leaking onto the linens. Her inner thighs were coated in wetness as well. She flushed with shame and wished she could crawl under the covers and hide.
“Oh, Papa, I didn’t mean to make a mess! I’m sorry! I-I can change the linens and make the bed anew,” Cynny offered, trying to get up. But Grayson placed his hands upon her shoulders, preventing her from rising.
“Calm down, little girl. You aren’t in trouble, and the maid will be the one changing the linens. You are the lady of this house and such work would not be appropriate for you. But I’m going to have to get you all cleaned up.” He grasped her by her waist and lifted her off the bed, standing her between his legs. The rosy peaks of her bosom had hardened and were tenting the front of her thin nightdress. His cock stiffened at the prospect of giving her a thorough bath. But, beyond dressing her and getting her ready for breakfast, he had come to her room with another purpose in mind.
“Cynny,” he said, reaching for the small box that had been delivered a short while ago, which he’d placed on the bed without her taking notice. “Before your bath, Papa needs to show you something.”
“What’s in the box, Papa?” Her eyes widened with glee and she jumped in excitement, clapping her hands together. “Oh, is it another present? Papa, you’ve given me so many new things recently. I think you shall spoil me.”
A grin tugged at his lips, as her enthusiasm warmed his heart. His uncertainty about how she would react to the contents of the box, however, kept his mood rather serious, and he didn’t quite smile. “I wouldn’t call it a present, but a marital aid.”
Her eyebrows drew together and she scrunched her little nose up, looking so adorably confused and innocent in this moment, that he had to fight the urge to push her down on the bed and have his way with her. “What do you mean? I don’t understand.”
He opened the box, revealing a series of silver butt plugs in varying sizes, from small—intended for beginners—to the largest, which wasn’t quite as big as his hardened cock. There was also a container of salve, the lubricant he would liberally apply to her rosebud in preparation of breaching her snug hole.
Her confusion lingered and she gnawed on her lower lip as she gazed at the items. “Papa, are those…naughty pieces of artwork? They look almost like cocks. Are we going to decorate your bedchamber with them?”
“No, Cynny, these are not naughty pieces of artwork. These are butt plugs, little girl, intended to go in a wife’s bottom hole.”
She tried to step back, but he grabbed ahold of her hips, forcing her to remain standing between his spread legs. She reached around and cupped her behind, shaking her head.
“Papa, I had something in my bottom once, and it burned oh so badly! Please don’t make my hiney hole burn. I promise to be a good girl. I will never, ever touch my kitty again.”
He sat the box aside and pulled her into his lap. “My dear Cynny, as I’ve already said, you are not in trouble for touching your kitty—this time. That discussion is already over. I told you I wasn’t going to punish you for it, and I’m not going back on my word. I plan to claim your bottom hole with my cock one day, Cynny, as is my right as your husband and your papa. The plugs—which I assure you will not cause a burning sensation—are intended to train your most private hole to accept my cock. You’ll start with the smallest plug and work your way up to the largest one, and in time once I feel you’ve been adequately prepared, I will claim your hiney hole with my cock.”
Her face reddened and her eyes remained as wide as he’d ever seen them. “Well,” she finally said, “I suppose as long as we start with the smallest one, I will survive it.”
He chuckled. “Little girl, I intend for you to do more than survive it. I intend for you to enjoy it as much as I do. Now, this burn you mentioned. Have you been punished before with ginger in your bottom?”
She flushed a brighter red and nodded. “Yes, Papa. One time Miss Wickersham put a carved plug of ginger root in my hiney hole. She was trying to punish me with her wooden ruler, but I kept clenching my bottom cheeks, which she didn’t like much, so she had Cook prepare the ginger root before she finished my spanking.”
His cock leapt at the image of her former headmistress disciplining her in such a manner. “And what, pray tell, did you do to earn the spanking in the first place, young lady?”
“I-I broke into the sugar cabinet and stole some sugar.”
“Ah, that sounds quite naughty indeed. Good little girls shouldn’t steal.”
Her face paled and a look of guilt flashed in her eyes, but the expression faded almost as soon as he noticed it, and he decided she must simply be embarrassed for having to confess the details of a punishment she had received from her headmistress.
“Before your bath, Cynny, Papa is going to put the smallest of the plugs in your bottom hole. Every day, before I dress you and get you ready for breakfast, you will spend several minutes with a plug in your bottom. And sometimes, I may require you wear the plug throughout the day. Today, however, I will not force you to wear it for long.”
She nodded, the blush in her cheeks returning, as she stared at the box.
He assisted her in rising to her feet, then drew her nightgown over her head and tossed it aside, leaving her standing naked before him. She trembled slightly and kept glancing at the box.
He cupped one of her breasts. “You are so lovely, Cynny. You please me, more and more every day. I am proud to call you my little girl.”
“Thank you, Papa.” Her eyes shone bright, as they often did when he praised her. He endeavored to never stop telling her how much she meant to him and how much she pleased him.
He gently turned her around and urged her to bend over the bed. “Good girl. Now part your legs for Papa. Very good. Now, reach around and spread your cheeks apart. Show Papa your little puckering hole.”
He watched, enraptured, as she slowly complied, drawing her behind apart and revealing her rosebud. Heated desire wound through him, his shaft going hard as a rock and his balls tensing up tight. He loosened his neckcloth, removed his jacket, and commenced rolling up his sleeves, all the while keeping his gaze on his little girl’s quivering hiney hole.
He moved forward and stroked her back, then swept her long golden locks over one shoulder, preventing her from hiding her face in her hair. “I promise this won’t hurt, little one. It may be a tight fit, and you might feel a great deal of pressure, but I do not wish to hurt you. If something feels wrong, I want you to tell me. Understand?”