Contented Recipient of Spanking
I'm sitting on my bed, fixated on my phone's screen.
"Your spanking is at noon. I'll be there then. Make sure you have a pen and paper, a large wooden spoon from the kitchen, and a flat-backed hairbrush if you have one. Dress code: wear the dress without a bra you mentioned yesterday. I prefer bright colored panties."
I check the clock. It's 10:54 am. Damn, I can't wait an hour.
"Yes, daddy. I'll be ready," I reply. I re-read the text. "Pen and paper." Hmm, not sure what he has planned, but I'm certain I won't be writing lines today.
This is my first meeting with you, Daddy. We've only chatted online, and we've never exchanged photos. He said it was the excitement of the surprise. He lives an hour away, so after reassuring me I felt comfortable, he asked me to leave my door unlocked and sit on my bed.
In anxious anticipation, I decide to keep myself busy. Hell, he'll see how messy my room is. I go into a frenzy, moving piles of laundry to hide them. I can't believe the state of my room. Wouldn't he see my hoard? Never mind, I'll put it in the closet. I feel like I can outsmart him, even though I know better.
What else do I need? My heart's beating fast, thinking about the future. I don't want to ruin this. It's my first session, and Daddy was very clear about expectations. If I disappoint him, he might not want to play again. And I need this. I crave this.
The dress! I run to find the dress he mentioned. I wore it yesterday, so it's conveniently on the stairs. I promise I'll clean this later. I quickly put it on and adjust myself in the mirror. I don't feel my best, but there's no time to worry.
Next, I hunt for the necessary tools. Papers and pens. Where the hell are they? I write daily, but it seems there are none when I need them. I settle for an ancient journal at the back of my closet and a pen from the bank.
A wooden spoon. I recognize the perfect one. I grab a Pioneer Woman branded wooden spoon. It has a satisfying thud and stings like crazy. I return my paddle brush from the downstairs bathroom.
As I bring these tools upstairs, I lay them out. I see my phone's screen has changed. "10-minute warning." Only 10 minutes? It's already 11:54. It felt like only a few minutes ago.
I glance around my room and give up. I'll just sit patiently on my bed and wait for him. I'm listening carefully for the front door. Every tiny noise could be him. But then, I hear it. The door closing. His heavy footsteps tread up my stairs. In my mind, I'm anything but patient. I'm stirring with emotions. What does he look like? I'm getting ready for anything because it's the spanking I want. I crave the release. It's been too long since I last had a calm mind. The sweet surrender of giving into a spanking, giving myself over to control. I need that.
I fidget with my dress. Should I tuck it under me? Flat or loose? Should the instruments be in a row? Should they be thrown about casually? Will he notice? Should I stand? So many questions go through my mind, and my panic is mounting. He's never seen me before. What if he doesn't like me? Negative thoughts are causing me to doubt. Should I lock the door? No, then I hear it. The soft knock of his fingers on the door, signaling his presence. He opens the door and enters.
"Hi there, lass." First up, he doesn't appear to be some grim dungeons master. I could've crossed paths with this guy at a cafe or about town. Dang, he's quite a looker. Donning a casual black shirt and denims, he's got long locks that enhance his face and an alluring gaze that comes off as both warm and intense. He's of average height but appears towering in this moment and in my head.
"Hey." I squeak timidly, unsure of how to act. Crap, he's a looker. I desert any confidence I had.
"This dress of yours is stunning. Could you step back so I can take in the entire ensemble?"
Should I say "Yes, Sir?" "Yes, Daddy," perhaps? I opt to stay quiet.
I comply and turn. I do a 360 like anyone would show off a friend's dress. My move seems normal. I illustrate the pockets, "Behold the pockets!"
He chuckles at my candor, his lips curling up in a disarming grin. Such a sweetie.
He proceeds towards me shrewdly. I recoil, expecting a touch. Instead, he gently removes a strand of hair obstructing my eyes. "Now we can see your little peepers fully!" Oh Christ, I'm already drenched. This was a terrible idea.
Checking out my place, he ignores me as he checks for cleanliness in my room. "Girl, is your closet in order like I asked?" My mouth dries as he opens the clutter-filled closet. Misery awaits. "As expected," he groans, rummaging through the disarrangement. This is a nightmare.
"How did you know?" I barely whisper my inquiry, terrified I'd lied.
"Pretty easy; I encountered a couple of boxes and a suitcase on the stairs," he explains matter-of-factly, grinning like a hunter inspecting his prey. Chills run down my spine.
He examines the room, disregarding me as I feel insecure.
"Do you have the stuff I required?" I nod affirmatively, speechless.
"Show them all to me, one by one," I exhibit the objects, also explaining their roles like speaking with a sight-impaired friend. Insignificant banter. His face doesn't betray any judgement of my choices.
"Great. Now, stuff your paws with your paper and pen." I retrieve, then present them to him. "Jot down the date - the 22nd, then 'Spanking from Daddy' beside it," he explains. I follow orders, scribbling the expected tasks.
"Good girl," He approves, sitting at the foot of my bed as I remain near him perplexed.
"Stand in front of me," he strongly orders. I nervously comply, tense as nerves.
"Why are you facing redemption today?"
Uh, 'cause I'm a sexually inhibited mess and you agreed to do this? "I uh, didn't clean my room and failed to provide the work for you," I admit.
"Yes, that's correct, lass. No clean room, no completed job, and no respect." Is that it? Why's it matter to him? "Clarify for me what you did, girl."
"I didn't clean my room, left the work undone, and I was disrespectful." I can't help but feel like a buffoon. I'm simply obeying this internet friend of mine. He grabs my thighs to keep me rooted, and I'm uncertain how to proceed.
"For the remainder of today, your responses to my statements must be 'Yes, Daddy,' and nothing more, nothing less. Can you accomplish that?" There's a pause as he waits for my reply.
"Yes, Daddy." I feel tiny, confused, terrified. He took command so smoothly.
Sure, let me rephrase this for you.
"Yep, exactly like that. Sweetheart, I'd like you to face the other way." I'm feeling a little awkward. I'm thinking of Will Ferrell in "Talladega Nights" when he's unsure of what to do with his hands. Shut up. Concentrate! "Excellent, Sweetheart. Put your hands on your head. Now, you're going to stand right there, and with your hand, you're going to slap one side of your butt. Your other hand is to stay on your head at all times. I'll tell you when to stop." He pauses. "What do you say, Sweetheart?"
"Yes, Sir." But it wasn't a question. I just say it whenever.
"Good, you may commence." I've been waiting for this moment for a while, but now that we're here, I feel a little off balance. I take my left hand and start slapping. I'm wearing all my clothes, standing in the middle of my room. This is absurd.
"One." This isn't so bad.
"Two." It doesn't even hurt.
"Ten." I did it! This is easy. It's even enjoyable. I feel proud of myself.
"Now you're going to do the same thing on the other side." Psh. I can handle this.
I count off the numbers as I slap myself ten more times. Oh god, I wish you would do it instead.
"Very good, Sweetheart." Stop saying my name like that. "I'd like you to go over to your journal and keep track of your spankings." Wait, I have to keep a log? Oh dear. "I like you to keep a tally of how many times we do this session." I finish writing. "Show me."
"Yes, Sir," I murmur as I grab the journal and show him.
"Very good. Put it down and grab your hairbrush." I do as he asks. I don't dare move without his instruction. "Turn your back and go back to where you were. Same thing as before." I thought the whole point of this was for him to spank me.
We repeat this process - me slapping and him having me write down the tallies. This time, though, he asks for something different. "Sweetheart, I'd like you to pull your dress up and tuck it into the back of your panties. I want to see your panties, but you may leave your dress down in front." I do as he asks. My hands are shaking as I bend down to adjust my dress, but I want to hurry and please him.
"Very good." I beam a bit with my smile, but he can't see it. "Same thing as before."
I start counting to ten again, but my dress slips. I go tuck it in, but his hands are there first. My skin feels like it's on fire, and he hasn't even touched me directly yet. I tense up as his hands carefully tuck my dress into my panties. He leans in, whispering, "don't let it fall again." I can't move.
"Sweetheart, did you forget something?" In this moment, I couldn't tell you where I was. I was completely captivated by his presence and unable to move. He growls my name in frustration, but I can't move. Before I know it, he's grabbed me and positioned me across his lap.
"Sir... wait..." but he's pushing my head down onto the bed, making sure I'm in the right spot.
"Okay, Sweetheart. Since you failed to follow instructions, I guess I'll have to take over from here."
"I'm sorry, Sir, I just--" He cuts me off.
"I said you will say 'Yes, Sir' or you will be silent. That's the rule. You failed to complete a simple task, so here I am taking care of it. That's not fair. When you're unable to do something, you let everyone down around you--" his lecture drones on for what feels like forever, but I can only focus on the vulnerable position I'm in. I expected his cock to enter me, but he's a true professional. I, on the other hand, am not.
Without warning, his hand comes crashing down on my bottom, snapping me out of my daze. A whimper escapes my lips, but it doesn't matter as he continues to spank me. Once I've adjusted, it feels pleasant. My whining has stopped. I'm loving it. Punishments aren't so bad.
He stops hitting me and starts rubbing my bottom instead. His touch is electrifying wherever he touches. "Why are you being punished?"
"Sir, I already answered that."
I find myself caught off guard as you begin spanking me with a force I've never experienced before. I sense your anger. I struggle and scream, attempting to escape your wrath. "If I ask you a question, I anticipate an answer," you say, punctuating each sentence with a hard slap.
I beg you to stop, begging and crying out. "Daddy, I am sorry. I didn't clean. I didn't work!" I repeat over and over until I realize you've ceased hitting me. You calmly stroke my hair with one hand while explaining that I need to breathe. I hadn't realized I had panicked so much.
"Now, if I question you, I expect you to respond," you state.
"Yes, Daddy," I reply.
"Now, why are you being punished?"
My voice cracks as I answer, "Because I deserve it. Because you want it."
"Good job, Girl," you praise me. You grip the waist of my underwear. I expect you to pull them down, but instead, you pull them up, causing me to feel a wedgie. "Wow, Girl, this pink color really suits you," you compliment. "Too bad I'm in the mood for something else." I'm confused, but remember that this is your decision, not mine.
You continue rubbing my sore bottom, offering some relief from the pain. However, your hand then slides between my legs. There's fabric between us, but I can still feel you. Your fingers begin moving, circling near my clitoris but not quite touching it. "Are you always wet, my girl?" you inquire. I bury my head in the mattress, humiliated by your observation. You remove your fingers and collect my wetness as you go. Your other hand grabs my hair, lifting my head. "Open your mouth, Girl." I hesitate, not wanting to taste myself, but you insist. "I said open up now." For fear of further punishment, I start following your instructions, licking your fingers with the same dedication I would your penis.
"Good girl. How do you like it?"
I could say I hate it. I could shame it. I could ask you to leave. Instead, I beg you, "Thank you, Daddy, for the pleasure. I truly enjoyed it."
"I know you did, my girl. You're very skilled with your tongue." You then return to massaging my sore bottom. You tickle my side, causing me to move and laugh, upsetting your intentions. "What's so funny?"
I attempt to explain, but you instruct me not to make excuses. You pick up a hairbrush. The situation intensifies.
Without warning, you start landing more blows, this time focusing on the left side of my behind. I struggle but can't escape your hands. In a moment of foolishness, I move my hand to block you. You toss me around, making me face you, and you give me an intense glance that reveals your intention.
"Take it off," you command.
"Yes, Daddy," I obediently respond. "What should I remove, Daddy?"
"I mean everything. You no longer need or deserve discretion." You sense my unease. "Is this a red line for you? Would you like to pause the session? Would you like to issue a safeword to discontinue?"
"But I'm being punished."
"I am."
"So I can't interfere?"
"That's not accurate. I want to spank you, and you require chastisement, but it shouldn't be so severe that it breaches your limits." You express your love for me. "You're exquisite."
"Yes, Daddy."
"What would you like to discard?" You inquire, genuinely curious about my response.
"Yes, Daddy, I'll disrobe." As I remove my clothing, you gaze at me with intense admiration. You appear delighted.
"Wow, such a self-assured and attractive woman," you remark, a simple statement of fact. "I'm so proud of you!" You struggle to meet my gaze when I praise you. "Look at me," you urge, gathering the courage to keep eye contact. "Why am I so proud of you?" I remain silent. "It's because you made a choice. You thought about it and decided what you wanted, and I'm not boasting because I got what I wanted; I'm proud because you're discovering what brings you comfort." My tears start to form, and I can't hold them back any longer. "Do you want me to hug you for a bit?" You somewhat cheekily ask, and I nod affirmatively. You embrace me, fondling my ass with one hand while calming me down with the other.
As I cry, I'm reaching my limit. My eyes fill with tears, and my voice quivers. "Daddy, please," I whimper. "I need you, Daddy," I moan. My body trembles as it feels the touch of your arms around me.
Without breaking eye contact, you ask, "Are you ready to continue?" I hesitantly reply in the affirmative. You place me back over your lap, but this time, you make certain one of your legs is clamped tightly between mine, preventing me from escaping. The tears are still streaming, holding back sobs. "Do you know what I'm proud of you for?" You question. "Making a tough decision?" I contribute tentatively. "No, taking control of your own life," you clarify. "You are deciding what makes you feel at ease, which is something all men want." I'm brimming with emotion, unable to control the torrent of tears, partially due to your touch, but also because I'm touched by your display of affection. "Can I help you feel a little more comfortable?" You inquire. I agree, and you slide me across your lap once more. My body remains stiff from the previous spanking.
This time, you place a hand on my ass while the other cups my hand. It looks gentle and caring from the perspective of an outsider, but I know your intentions are more sinister. However, I prefer to view the gesture wistfully.
As you administer the hairbrush, I yelp and try to move, but you grasp my hand firmly and hold it in place, preventing me from moving. My movements are restricted, and I'm forced to stay still, alert to your desire to continue. Forcing me to deal with the continuing hit. The hairbrush is a powerful and painful instrument, and my attempts to move only intensify the blows. However, you keep up the rhythmic pace, which eventually ceases.
When you withdraw, you resume rubbing my buttocks, causing stinging pain that doesn't compare to the sting from the hairbrush. My muscles are tense from the ordeal, and your calming touch soothes the sting.
"Do you think you've accomplished your goal?"
"Yes, I'll complete the task you assigned."
A few moments pass before a sudden strike from the wooden spoon shocks me, sending me into a fit of pain. "FUCK!" I shriek. You murmur, "Did you request that I stop fingering your pussy?"
"No, Daddy," I utter. "Please keep fingering my pussy."
You respond grandly, "As you wish, my dear." I moan, as you continue the rhythmic rubbing, which feels so sensual. However, you decide to test my resolve by striking me with the wooden spoon to extinguish my desire, but before I can protest, you ask, "Did you wish for me to keep rubbing your pussy?"
"Yes!" I confirm. "Please, Daddy." Instruction and desire dominate my thoughts. You continue the intimate caressing, but suddenly, you spank me with the wooden spoon, causing intense pain.
"OW! WHAT?!" I protest. "If you want me to stop fingering you, just tell me," you remark.
"STOP, Daddy! It hurts!"
"Apologies, my dear," you say, withdrawing your hand from my pussy. "Retreating to your side, you sob. "Daddy, please make me cum. I can't take it anymore!" Your hand clasps my hair while rubbing my bottom. "Have you learned your lesson?"
"I've decided to work on it now, Daddy"
It's time for the final test. "No? So it appears that you haven't learned anything yet." You spank me with the wooden spoon into position.
"Did you realize this entire time you've been preparing for me to spank you and tell you to stop?"
"Yes!" I speak urgently. I'm desperate for release. You apply pressure to my pussy with your fingers while simultaneously spanking my bottom. It feels incredible, and I don't want it to stop. However, the pain makes it impossible to cum. "Daddy!" I wail. "Daddy please! Stop!"
"Oh yeah, Daddy! Yes, Daddy, I'm almost there." At this point, I'm moaning uncontrollably, solely focused on my own pleasure. It takes me a moment to realize your cock has left me. "No, Daddy." Comprehension hits me. "Daddy, please! Please, Daddy!" I'm sobbing and begging for more. Then I feel it. The hot, sticky cum on my back and ass. It's running down me. My chance of cumming is gone.
You laugh at my shoulder. "Wow, did that feel as good for you as it did for me?" I scowl at you. "Okay, girl, stand up. It's time for the corner." I must stand with my nose in the corner, hands above my head. My red ass, smothered in your cum, is on display as I'm left dripping. "You have 10 minutes." Sometimes you rub my pussy. "Just checking if it's still functional," you jokingly say. You know how badly I wanted a release.
As soon as I feel like I'm calming down, you approach me from behind. You've got a wet towel in your hand and start cleaning me. You're careful around my cum-coated ass. "Wow, girl, you were excellent today. I'm so proud of you." You kiss me as you clean me, but I'm still not allowed to move. You finish drying me off right as your timer ends.
Instantaneously, I turn to you and embrace you. "Daddy, that was fantastic!"
"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, baby. You were fantastic. Better than I ever imagined." You sit me on your lap and I tense. "I just need to put some cream on you, baby. It's fine. It's over." I loosen up at your words. When you finish rubbing my bottom, you wrap a blanket around me and hold me close to your chest. "Come here, baby." I unwind into your arms. "That's it. That's my good girl. Daddy's got you now." I fall asleep, listening to your heartbeat as you hold me tightly.
The story is told.
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