Perverted Daddy System

Chapter 162 - Spanking and flirting, what an happy day...

Thursday morning. I get to the school early, before the first bell, and go straight to Paul's office. Paul is already there, jacket off, sleeves rolled, sorting papers at his desk. He looks up and smiles when he sees me.

"Ben. You're early."

"Thought I'd check in before the day gets going," I say. "How's Mary?"

Paul's face softens. "Good. Really good. We had coffee Tuesday. She's... she's easy to talk to. I like her a lot."

"Good. Keep it steady. Take your time with her." I let the talk of Mary settle, then nod toward the outer office, where Higgins sits typing at her desk. "The new school is going to need a good secretary. Someone who can run an office." I can see the back of her head through the open door, graying hair in a loose bun, shoulders straight. "How's Higgins?"

Paul follows my glance. "Mrs. Higgins? She's been here forever. Solid as they come. Runs the whole place, really."

"Just thinking. You trust her?"

"Yes, I do," Paul says.

"I'd like to talk to her for a bit. Would you mind sitting at her desk outside for a while? Just for twenty minutes. Keep an eye on the hall."

Paul looks puzzled for a second, then nods. He trusts me without question. "Sure. You want me to tell her?"

"No, it would be better if it came from me."

I step out into the outer office. Higgins looks up from her keyboard, hands poised over the keys. She is in her forties, graying hair pulled into a loose bun, reading glasses perched on her nose. She has the look of a woman who likes order.

"Mrs. Higgins," I say quietly. "Could you step into Paul's office for a moment? There's something I need to discuss with you. Privately."

She looks at Paul, who is already standing and moving to her desk. He gives her a small nod and a smile. "It's fine, Mrs. Higgins. I'll cover the phones."

She stands, smooths her skirt, and follows me into the inner office. I close the door and lock it. The click is soft. Higgins's eyes flick to the lock, one eyebrow rising a little, but she doesn't move, and she doesn't ask. She trusts me too much to question it. The room is lined with shelves, Paul's big desk in the middle, a chair in front of it, a window that looks out over the yard. Higgins stands just inside the door, hands clasped, waiting.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Roberts?"

"I did." I keep my voice even. "I've been watching you, Mrs. Higgins. You run this place like clockwork. Every call answered, every file in its place, every late boy signed in and out. You keep order because you need it. Don't you?"

Her eyes flicker. A faint pink touches her cheeks. She doesn't answer right away.

[Mrs. Higgins trust: 88 → 89]

[Mrs. Higgins horniness: 15 → 20]

"I'm not here to embarrass you," I say. "I'm here because I think you've been waiting a long time for someone to notice. To see what you really want."

[Mrs. Higgins trust: 89 → 90]

[Mrs. Higgins horniness: 20 → 26]

She swallows. "I... I don't know what you mean."

"I think you do." I step closer. "When was the last time someone put you over their knee, Mrs. Higgins?"

Her breath catches. Her hands tighten together. "That's... that's not..."

[Mrs. Higgins horniness: 26 → 34]

"It's exactly what you want," I say, softly. "And I can give it to you. But I need you to be honest with me. Do you like being spanked, Mrs. Higgins? Do you like the hand? The ruler? Being held down while someone teaches you?"

[Mrs. Higgins trust: 90 → 91]

[Mrs. Higgins horniness: 34 → 44]

Her face is red now. She looks at the floor, then back at me. Her voice is barely a whisper. "Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I... I like it. I like being... disciplined. I like a strong hand. I haven't... not since my husband... It's been years."

[Mrs. Higgins trust: 91 → 93]

[Mrs. Higgins horniness: 44 → 54]

"Good. Thank you for telling me." I keep my voice calm and steady. "I'm going to give you what you need. But you need to understand what you're accepting, Mrs. Higgins. If you submit to me now, you're not just getting a spanking. You're telling me you want this. You want to be the woman who gets put in her place. Who obeys. Who takes what she's given and says thank you. Do you understand?"

[Mrs. Higgins trust: 93 → 95]

[Mrs. Higgins horniness: 54 → 62]

She nods, small and fast. Her breathing is already uneven.

"And I'm going to find you a good master," I say, moving behind Paul's desk and pulling out the wooden ruler from the pen holder. It is long, flat, smooth. "A man with a strong hand who will know exactly what to do with you. Not me. I have other girls. But I will find him for you, and he will take care of you properly. Do you want that?"

"Yes," she breathes. "Please."

"Then bend over the desk, Mrs. Higgins. Hands flat. Skirt up."

She hesitates only a second. Then she moves to the desk, reaches back, and pulls her skirt up over her hips, baring the backs of her thighs and her plain white cotton panties.

"Drop them," I say.

She hesitates, just a breath, then hooks her thumbs into the waistband and pushes the panties down to her knees. Her ass is bare, pale, the skin already pink with the flush climbing her neck.

She bends at the waist and places her hands flat on the wood. Her legs are pressed together.

I stand behind her and place a hand on the small of her back. "Legs apart, Mrs. Higgins."

She shifts her feet apart, just a few inches.

"Wider," I say. "I want to see your juices drip on the floor."

She moves a bit more, a soft whimper escaping her.

[Mrs. Higgins horniness: 62 → 70]

I bring my hand down first. Flat, open palm, hard on her bare ass. The crack is loud in the small room. She jerks, a small yelp escaping her.

"Count," I say.

"One," she whispers.

I hit again, harder. Her hips push back, then pull away, then settle.

"Two."

Another. She is breathing hard now, hands flat, knuckles white.

"Three."

[Mrs. Higgins horniness: 70 → 74]

Her skin is already pinking. I can see the shape of her ass tensing with each hit. I switch to the ruler.

The first ruler strike makes her gasp. A thin red line blooms on her pale skin.

"Four," she says, voice shaking.

I hit again, same spot. She yelps, then moans, a sound that is half pain and half something else. Her spread thighs tremble, and a fresh trickle of juice runs down the inside of one leg.

"Five."

"Six."

[Mrs. Higgins horniness: 74 → 80]

Her hips are rocking now, small movements she can't control. The moans are getting louder, mixing with the yelps. Tears are running down her face, but she is not asking me to stop. Her thighs are slick, juices running down the insides.

"Seven."

"Eight."

[Mrs. Higgins horniness: 80 → 86]

She is crying openly now, tears and snot, but her ass is pushing back toward the ruler, offering itself. Her moans have turned breathy and desperate.

"Do you want to stop, Mrs. Higgins?" I ask, pausing.

"No," she chokes. "Please, don't stop."

"Do you accept what you are? Do you accept that you need this? That you need a strong hand to put you in your place?"

"Yes," she sobs. "Yes, I accept. I need it. Please, I need it."

"You want to be told when to stand, when to sit, when to speak," I say, voice low. "You want to be told you've been bad, and then shown exactly how bad, until your ass is burning and your thighs are shaking and you can't think about anything except the hand that put you there. Isn't that right, Mrs. Higgins?"

She makes a small, broken sound. "Yes."

"You want to be held down when you try to squirm away. You want the ruler when the hand isn't enough. You want to be left marked and sore, so every time you sit down tomorrow you remember who put you there. And you want to thank the hand that did it."

Her whole body shudders. "Yes, please. That is... that is what I want. I want to be... I want to be used like that. I want to be told."

[Mrs. Higgins horniness: 86 → 90]

"Good." I trace the ruler lightly over the red marks blooming on her bare ass, and she whimpers, pushing back against it. "Then you're going to take four more like you mean it. You're going to count, and you're going to say thank you. But you do not come before the last strike, do you hear me? If you disobey, this is the last time anyone punishes you, and you can go back to your lonely, miserable life with nothing but your filing cabinets. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir... I mean, yes, Mr. Roberts," she stammers, then corrects, breathless. "Yes, I understand."

I hit again, harder. She screams, a raw sound that fills the office.

"Nine."

[Mrs. Higgins horniness: 90 → 94]

She is shaking, holding back, tears and spit on her face, but she does not come.

"Ten."

[Mrs. Higgins horniness: 94 → 97]

Her whole body is trembling, her ass clenching, her breath coming in desperate little sobs. She is right on the edge, but she holds.

"Eleven."

[Mrs. Higgins horniness: 97 → 99]

Her knuckles are white on the desk, her thighs shaking, a low keening sound building in her throat. She is fighting herself, barely containing it.

"Twelve."

The last strike lands, and she screams acceptance, a high, broken sound, and her hips jerk and her thighs clamp together, and she comes, a shuddering orgasm that rips through her, her thighs soaked, her body convulsing against the desk, sobbing and moaning and saying "yes, yes, yes" over and over.

[Mrs. Higgins' horniness: 99 → 100 (orgasm)]

[Prudence Higgins conversion complete (follower attained)]

[Prudence Higgins trust: 95 → 100]

[Prudence Higgins loyalty: 20 → 100]

[Prudence Higgins fear: 0]

[Prudence Higgins obedience: MAX (derived: fear 0 + loyalty 100 + trust 100)]

[Prudence Higgins horniness reset to 15]

I stop. I let her shake, let her breathe, let her come down. Her face is wet, her ass is red and marked. She stays bent over the desk, sobbing softly, her body still twitching.

"Good," I say, quietly. "You did so well."

She turns her head to look at me, eyes swollen, cheeks wet, but there is a smile starting, small and entranced, like she is somewhere else and it is exactly where she wants to be.

"Thank you," she whispers.

Prudence Higgins. A prim, churchgoing secretary who just soaked her own thighs, begging to be spanked, and her name is Prudence. I nearly laugh. It's almost too on the nose.

"You're welcome, Prudence. I will find you that master. A good one. With a very strong hand."

I let that sink in, then go on, matter-of-fact. "I'm building a preparatory boarding school. A whole new campus, and I need someone like you to keep it running smoothly. Someone who likes order, who does what she's told, who doesn't flinch when the work gets hard."

She is hanging on every word, eyes shining, chest rising and falling.

"And if you do a good job there," I add, low and offhand, "I might even let you use my private dungeon."

Her knees give a little, and a small moan squeaks out of her before she can stop it. "R-really?"

"Really. But you'll have to earn it, Prudence."

She nods, still smiling that strange, happy smile, then bends to pull her panties back up over her hips, smooths her skirt, and slowly pushes herself upright. Her legs wobble as she stands. She winces when her thighs press together, then smiles again at the sting.

I unlock the door. Paul is at her desk outside, pretending to look at papers, but I can see from his face he has heard everything, every yelp, every moan, every scream. He looks at Higgins as she comes out, wobbling, flinching with each step, but with that entranced smile on her lips, and he can't help but grin, a short, amused huff escaping him. Higgins sees his look and blushes deep red, but the smile stays.

She steadies herself on the edge of her desk, hands flat, thighs trembling, and lowers herself into her chair, wincing as her sore ass meets the seat. She looks wrecked and happy, hair a little loose from its knot, blouse slightly untucked, skirt still not quite straight, and then she sighs, soft and content, eyes half closed.

"Thank you, Prudence," I say, loud enough for the hall to hear. "We're done."

She nods, still wobbling, and makes her way back to her desk. Paul stands, and I clap him on the shoulder.

"Thanks for keeping watch."

"Anytime, Ben."

I leave the office and head down the hall. The bell hasn't rung yet. Kids are still arriving, lockers opening and closing. I see Delaney at the end of the hall, carrying a stack of books to her classroom. She is in a soft blue blouse, hair in a ponytail, glasses, that fresh, pretty look she always has.

"Miss Delaney," I say, falling into step beside her.

She looks up and smiles, a little surprised. "Mr. Roberts. You're here early."

"I wanted to catch you before classes. I've been thinking about what I said to you last time. About building a school where the arts would be treated the way they should be."

Her eyes light up. "I've thought about it too. More than I should, probably." She glances away, a little shy. "A school that actually values poetry... I didn't think places like that existed anymore."

"They don't." I hold her gaze. "But I am bringing it back. And a woman who knows her Amichai and her Keats would do well there. A woman who knows how to make a room listen when she reads."

She blushes, adjusting her glasses, then laughs, a little nervous but pleased. "You're going to make me blush before first period."

"That's the idea." I touch her elbow lightly, just a brush, and she doesn't pull away. "We should talk more about it. I'd like to hear what you think."

"I'd like that," she says softly.

"I'll find you tomorrow. Empty hour? When you're not teaching?"

She thinks. "Tomorrow morning. First period, I have no class. I'll be in my classroom, revising."

"I was rereading Donne last night," she says, a little shy. "The Elegies. After you mentioned the arts program. I didn't expect you to know him so well."

"Which one?"

"Elegy 19. 'To His Mistress Going to Bed.' I... I taught it once, years ago, but I never really... I never really taught it properly. It's so..."

"Honest?" I say. "He doesn't hide behind pretty words. He says what men want, plain. 'Off with that happy busk, which I envy, that still can be, and still can stand so nigh.' He wants her naked, and he says so. No apology."

She laughs, surprised. "You quote Donne like you quote Amichai. You're full of surprises, Mr. Roberts."

"Ben," I say. "When it's just us, it's Ben."

*Thankfully, I spent a lot of my free time reading, and poetry was always my favorite. It keeps coming in handy in the best possible ways.*

"Ben," she repeats, testing it. Her cheeks are pink. "Ben, do you... do you read every woman's favorite poets, or just mine?"

"Just yours," I say. "You're the only one worth reading to. I'd like to hear you read Donne out loud sometime. Properly. Not the way they make you teach it to fifteen-year-olds. The real way." I pause, then add, "Or better yet, I should be the one reading it. It's written from a man's perspective, after all."

Her breath catches. She looks down at her books, then back at me, and I can see the idea taking hold, the slight parting of her lips, the way her fingers tighten on the stack.

"I... I could do that," she says, quietly. "I'd like that."

"I know you would." I let my hand rest a moment longer on her elbow, thumb brushing the inside of her arm, and she shivers, just a small tremor she tries to hide by adjusting her glasses. "Tomorrow morning, then. Your classroom, first period, no class. Just you and your books. And me."

"I'll be there," she says. "I'll be revising. But... but I'll be waiting."

"Attagirl," I say, soft enough that only she hears, and her eyes widen behind her glasses, pink spreading up her neck.

"Then I'll come find you."

She smiles, and I leave her there at her doorway, books against her chest, watching me go. I can feel her eyes on my back all the way down the hall.