Chapter Text
All of Bucky’s friends - The Avengers - knew. They knew you were Bucky’s little princess. Most of them were into the ‘lifestyle’ in some way or another too. Steve and Sam both served Natasha, while Wanda occasionally entertained Steve’s more dominant streak. They accepted the relationship you and Bucky had forged, kinks and all.
But that didn’t stop your initial hesitation. He was no longer ‘Bucky’. He was ‘daddy’. And you had to address him as such, regardless of who you found yourselves in the company of, lest you be punished as Bucky deemed appropriate. Your cheeks turned a deeper shade of crimson every time you uttered the word ‘daddy’.
There were other rules for you to follow, too. Bucky had a say in what you wore, how much alcohol you drank and your bed time. You were to politely address each of Bucky’s friends and only speak when spoken to. You even wore a thin, silver ‘collar’ at Bucky’s request. At times it was a comfort. Your fingers looping themselves subconsciously under the metal when he was away on missions, reminding you of who you belonged to. Other times, especially in public, it was a slight form of humiliation. He, of course, held on to the key so you couldn’t take it off without permission.
There were benefits to your arrangement too. You particularly enjoyed seeing a softer side to Bucky. He couldn’t say no to you when you asked for snuggles and he was always on board with spending entire afternoons making blanket forts with you. Not to mention him frequently coming home with stuffed animals for your collection. Your favourite was a penguin who you had named Percy. Bucky was also fiercely protective over you.
Life without the burden of decision making was strangely freeing but you were still getting used to all that it entailed.
That was no more apparent than on Natasha’s birthday, when most of the gang had assembled in the common room of the compound for some good old fashioned hilarity. You sat on Bucky’s lap, growing increasingly bored with your surroundings. Nervous and fidgety, the tales being passed around the room were lost on you; being at a party was no fun if you were still relatively sober. Bucky could sense your disinterest. It was 8PM.
“What’s wrong, princess?” he asked.
“I’m so bored, Bucky,” you pouted.
He sighed. “I think someone needs to remember her rules.”
You rolled your eyes, testing him. It didn’t go unnoticed by him, but he opted not to say anything. He made a mental note of it though, giving you a stern look in return.
“Can I go to my room please, daddy? I’ll give you something extra special later if you let me,” you bargained, winking at him.
Bucky’s expression softened. “Ok, princess,” he said, kissing your cheek, “I’ll be up at eleven to tuck you in. Would you like that?”
You nodded, smiling sweetly.
“Off you go,” Bucky said as you slid off his lap and left the room.
The trip from the common room to your ground floor bedroom brought you past the kitchen which lay empty and unguarded, with an obscene amount of alcohol laid out on the kitchen table for the taking. There was rum, vodka, tequila, beer and all manner of wines and liqueurs. You tried to convince yourself that Bucky wouldn’t notice if you snuck two or three beers to your room, after all, you weren’t completely irresponsible. And that wouldn’t get you wasted. Even if it did, you told yourself you would be able to feign sobriety when Bucky came to tuck you in. You left the kitchen with three beers.
Eleven o’clock came around sooner than you expected it to. When Bucky arrived, you were busy draining your third beer of the night. Your spirits had been lifted and you were dancing on your own in the centre of your room to Taylor Swift, in nothing but the pale pink lingerie Bucky had given you to wear earlier on in the evening. He watched as you flailed along to the tune of ‘Shake It Off’.
You flung yourself around in a circle, stopping dead as the figure in your doorway caught you off guard. You shot him a saccharine smile.
Bucky was unimpressed. He folded his arms, raising an eyebrow. He was awaiting an explanation for the beer in your hand and the two empties on your nightstand.
Instead, you wandered over to him dizzily, wrapping your arms around him. “Missed you, daddy,” you mumbled, looking up at him.
His arms dropped to his sides. “I think someone’s forgotten all her rules tonight,” he sighed, sounding disappointed, “what are we gonna do about that, hm?”
At a loss for words, you pouted, hugging him tighter.
“I think someone needs a little punishment to help her remember,” he said, taking you by your shoulders and prying you off him. He turned and started back down the hallway towards the common room, “come with me princess.”
Struggling to match Bucky’s brisk pace, you had to run to catch up with him. He was already inside the common room and sitting back in his spot on one of the plush sofas when you arrived. He patted the space next to him and you sat down. Clad in just your underwear now, you felt exposed.
The change in Bucky’s demeanour hadn’t gone unnoticed by Natasha. No longer was she invested in the story Sam was enthralling Steve and Wanda with. Instead, her eyes darted between you and Bucky. “What’s up with you two?” she piped up from across the room. Suddenly everyone fell silent.
“This one’s being difficult tonight,” he explained, his expression turning dark. You flushed under everyone’s collective gaze as he continued: “found her drinking in her room. She’s not remembering any of her rules. Figured I’d teach her a lesson.”
“She looks like she could do with a spanking,” Natasha suggested, “I’m sure we’d all be happy to watch.”
Your opened your mouth to protest this, of course you knew better than to question Bucky or any of his friends. Especially not Natasha. You were at the bottom of the pile, after all. She was queen in the compound. Bucky swiftly cut you off.
“Since it’s your birthday, Nat, you’re more than welcome to participate,” he laughed.
Natasha smirked, “what did you have in mind?”
“Well I’ll leave that up to you, call it a birthday present from me to you,” he said, the sadistic humour still apparent in his voice.
You had no idea what Bucky meant by this but it made your stomach churn. You always imagined Natasha to be infinitely more sadistic than Bucky and you prayed, desperately, that she wouldn’t be the one administering your punishment.
“I’m happy to watch right now,” she said, settling back into her chair.
The shame washed over you as Bucky instructed you to stand up in front of everyone and remove your remaining clothing. Your arms fumbled to cover yourself as every pair of eyes in the room bore into you. You swore you could hear Natasha’s quiet drawl, “she’s so adorable, I’d love a little plaything like her.”
Bucky instructed you to bend over his knee. You did so. Held in place by Bucky’s left arm around your waist, you were glad of the restraint; you were quivering so profusely with anticipation that you could well have ended up in a puddle on the floor. Even though you couldn’t see everyone’s eyes on your bare behind, which was now lewdly on display, you could certainly feel them.
Bucky’s touch was feather light as it caressed the soft, exposed mounds of your behind. It was warm, reassuring, even. Just enough to give your nerves a brief reprieve before his hand came down, cracking loudly against your skin and forcing the air from your lungs.
You gripped the edge of the sofa as he peppered swats over the back of your thighs and your bottom, colouring the skin pink in large handprints.
As always, you mentally kept score of how many swipes Bucky had landed. At this point, you had counted twenty already. Your cheeks matched the colour of your rear, but there were no tears yet.
“How are you doing, princess?” Bucky asked, taking a brief moment to massage the reddened skin.
“I’m ok, daddy,” you nodded.
The extra level of humiliation at having all of Bucky’s friends watch your punishment had quite an effect on you. The evidence was beginning to coat the insides of your thighs as Bucky continued to spank you with increasing severity.
You began to squirm against his grip, trying to find some relief for the ache between your legs.
“She’s enjoying this far too much,” you heard Sam remark around swat number forty.
“Her pretty little pussy’s getting so wet for us,” Natasha purred as she moved over, next to Bucky, to get a better view.
You writhed as her outstretched hand pawed at your glistening pussy for a moment, desperate for more.
She was only teasing you. You whined when she withdrew her slender fingers and Bucky continued to dole out brutal smacks to your rear.
Between the pain, the desperation and the embarrassment, this was when the tears started. Bucky eased up at exactly the right moment, his hits becoming less frequent.
“You gonna be a good girl, princess?” he asked, the familiar warmth returning to his tone.
You quickly dried your tears and whined, “I promise I’ll be a good girl, daddy.”
“No more drinking?” he pressed, his fingers dipping towards your dripping core as your punishment came to an end.
“No more drinking, daddy,” you choked, squirming when you felt his fingers zero in on your clit.
“Good girl,” he praised, “why don’t you wish Nat a happy birthday now, while daddy makes you feel good.”
You turned around to see Natasha eyeing you. Her legs were spread invitingly as her hand worked lazily between them. You looked at Bucky again.
He nodded, “go ahead, princess, daddy’s got you.”