and months. Suddenly the idea that I really wanted to be fucked by Mr. Hastings didn't seem as terribly shameful as it had before, for it seemed like George was willing to be Mr. Hastings for me.
"I'm going to raise your nightgown now, Caroline," he said. "Girls who have played with their panties down must learn to take their punishment with their panties down."
I couldn't help it; I moaned. There was something about the direction his performance was going that made me think things were about to get even hotter. A paternal note was creeping into his words.
"Caroline," he said, "you should be ashamed of yourself. What is that wanton sound I just heard from you?" He rais ed the hem of my nightgown and placed it on the small of my back, laying open before him my panty-clad bottom. "Little girls in flowered cotton panties should not make that kind of sound, should they?"
Then it happened. Without forethought, I said, "No, Daddy."
There was a long silence. Then George said in a thick voice, "Daddies sometimes have to spank their little girls don't they?"
"Yes, Daddy," I replied.
We were through the looking glass. I waited with commingled trepidation and arousal for his next command. Surely my new daddy would know what to do next.
That's what I felt, but in reality this had been a fantasy for me much longer than it had been for him. Indeed, as he later said, he had never even considered the possibility before. His dominant fantasies to that point, he confessed, had been utterly nonspecific. I'll let him talk about that in his own words, though, when we get to the aftermath.
So at that moment he didn't know what to do. That's when his old college acting experience kicked in. As if it were a rhetorical question, he asked, "And what else do daddies need to do with their little girls?"
He really did fool me for a moment into thinking the question was rhetorical, and I was silent. His character, however, gave him the impetus for what to say then, or at least what to say after he had delivered the first spank I had ever received in my life. I felt his hand come down hard on my panty-covered bottom, and I yelped in surprise at the sting. Then, at the mingled shame and warmth, I felt my moisture begin to flood into those same panties.
"Answer me, sweetheart," he said in a low voice , with a tiny touch of menace. "What else do daddies need to do with their little girls?"
"They, ah, they ..." I managed to squeak out. I felt my face grow even hotter. "Sometimes they... sometimes they inspect them."
"That's right," said George. "I will definitely have to inspect you, Caroline. And why should I inspect you?"
"To see..." I whispered, "to see if I've been naughty."
"That's right, sweetheart. Now I think we both know you have been naughty. It's very impo rtant, however, that your daddy be able to determine just how naughty you were tonight. We'll have to have a look at those panties, then, won't we?"
I fel t him put his weight on the bed as he crouched behind me. I felt his breath on my thighs. I knew he must be looking very closely at the gusset of my panties. I couldn't help emitting a little whimper.
"This is very bad," my d addy said. I felt him shift slightly, and then I felt his fingers on my panties, just where I was naughtiest. I whimpered again.
"I'm afraid that even without taking your panties down, Caroline, I can tell just how in need you are of discipline. Indeed I can see how damp you have become inside these panties by simply inspecting the outside of them. This is a terrible state for a young lady's panties to be in. Not only does it indicate that you have been engaging in lewd practices, but I believe things could not have reached this shameful state if you did not know things that a young lady should not know. Have you been reading naughty books, Caroline?"
"Yes, Daddy," I whispered.
"I'm afraid," he replied, "that despite the danger of re-arousing the wantonness of which you have been guilty, I shall have to