chapter 2

I took a shower, taking care to shave every part of my body, wanting

to be smooth and silky for my Daddy. I took care with my hair and makeup,

ensuring the colors went well with the outfit. I painted my lips the same shade of pink as my skirt and lined my eyes similarly. My lashes were

extended and darkened, my brows expertly groomed and painted. My vivid

green eyes stood out starkly with the black mascara. The cute crop top hit

just above my belly button and the skirt just below. The narrow expanse of

skin seemed to beckon a man’s touch. Would it be enough for my new

Daddy to give in?

I slowly made my way down the stairs, taking my time to settle my

nerves. I wanted to show Daddy I was ready. If I was too nervous, he’d

never believe me.

Once I got to his study, I stood outside the door, fluffing my long

blonde hair, letting it settle over my shoulders, the purple-tipped strands

caressing my slight breasts where my hair draped over my shoulders.

Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door, then stepped back, putting my

hands behind my back.

At first there was nothing, then the door opened, and I was greeted

by a man I didn’t know. His face held no expression. I could hear other men

in the background but not my Daddy. I knew this was his study, but was he

not here? “I apologize,” I whispered, trying not to sound as panicked as I

felt. “I must be in the wrong place.”

“No,” the man said, his face still not betraying his thoughts. “You’re

not. Mr. Blackstone, I believe you have a visitor.”

“Thank you, Victor.”

I nearly sagged in relief when I heard my Daddy’s voice.

“Everyone, this is Isabella. You will rarely see her, but when you do,

remember she’s taken, and she’s very special to me.”

All eyes were on me. Several looked me up and down, like they’d

either love to have their way with me or were disgusted by my mere

presence. Others just gave me a flat stare. All in all, there were twelve men

in the room, not counting Daddy. I’ve never felt so self-conscious in my life.

“Come to me, Isabella,” Daddy said.

I did, without hesitation. “I’m sorry, Da- Sir,” I whispered. “I didn’t

mean to interrupt.”

“You didn’t, sweetheart. And you know I’m not your Sir,” he said

with a frown. “Say my name, Isabella.”

“I…” I wasn’t sure what he meant. Surely he didn’t want me to call

him Daddy in front of his guests.

When I hesitated, Daddy turned me around gently, held up my short

skirt, and placed three well aimed, hard smacks to my ass cheek. I gasped in

a sharp breath, shocked before a wave of scalding humiliation washed over

me.

“What do you call me, Isabella?” His tone was stern, and he didn’t

put my skirt down. Instead he gripped my hips, holding me still and facing

the group of men sitting at the table quietly watching our interaction.

“D-Daddy,” I replied softly.

“Good girl.” He gestured to the floor beside him. “On the floor close

to me. Get comfortable because once you settle, you’re not to move without

permission. Do you understand?”

I didn’t, but I’d follow his instructions to the letter. My bottom stung

from the earlier correction, and I wasn’t sure how to feel. I thought I might

want to cry. I’d come to Daddy to let him know I was ready to move

forward and gotten more than I’d bargained for. When I didn’t immediately

answer, Daddy gave me three more swats, harder this time. I couldn’t help

but cry out and stumble forward. My hands landed hard on the desk, but

Daddy steadied me before once again gripping my hips with my skirt still

above my ass.

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