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By miketanner, on July 22nd, 2011% By Adelina
“Closet.”
It was amazing how one word could say so many things yet retain the simplistic comfort of its central meaning. The directive was music to her frazzled ears. She glanced up at him, relieved that he was already turning back to the living room and dropping into an overstuffed chair, not looking her way. He was done. She was going.
She thought of it as Her Closet, just that way, capitalized just so. To her, it was a cave, a place of retreat when she was at the end of her rope, pushing her lover toward the end of his, and needed to mellow out before things got out of hand. That’s what the other closet was for, the one she called His Closet, capitalized just so. His Closet was not really a closet at all, but an armoire, beautiful, old and made from carved wood, housing an array of items she did not care to see today. It was pretty, but not nearly spacious enough to crawl inside and hunker down with her wired nerves. Hers had more space. She needed space, badly.
She whirled around in a rather ungraceful spin, landing in front of the door to Her Closet. She yanked the door open, hopped inside and shut the door behind her. This was her refuge from the world. Bright, noisy, hectic world. Sometimes it was just too much to be in it. Here, she was safe from it. Here was her modest mountain of small, cushy throw pillows jumbled on the floor where she could curl up and bury herself as if in a nest. Here was her soft fleece blanket, a warm covering to give herself shelter from the storm of life. Here, on the inner wall, was a dim touch lamp fastened to the wall, providing just enough light to see where she was and to appreciate the textures and colors in which she was nestled.
She burrowed into the pillows and wrapped herself in the blanket, focusing her gaze on a nearby cushion. She liked this particular cushion, with its bright satin patterns and little metal adornments. It reminded her of India. She always had to be mindful of where she put it, so she wouldn’t land on it if she was really in a huff and had to jump in here to calm down. Those little metal things were scratchy. She looked at them. She thought them contrary to the smooth surface of the fabric and the happiness of the bright colors. They sullied the cushiony mood with their scratchiness. She was feeling rather scratchy herself, a big metal scratchy thing sitting amongst a heap of softness. She couldn’t shake it. She knew this was not going to help, not today. She was far too overloaded.
She drew the blanket over herself and curled onto her side, resting and willing the bad feelings to go away. She hated feeling this way. She couldn’t help it, but she still hated it, all the more so because there was little she could do about it. Her nervous system had its own plans and didn’t usually consult her for an opinion. It ran on its own steam, dragging her along for the ride.
Silently cursing in frustration, she flicked off the lamp and crawled toward the length of light sneaking under the door. She groped above her head for the knob, found it, turned and pushed and spilled into the hall. The pattern in the carpet runner danced under her gaze as she got her bearings and pushed herself up. She looked toward the living room. There he sat, idly watching the evening news. He turned in his chair and focused on her, on the sight of her, lying there on the hallway floor. The expression on her face told him she was unwell. She needed more than solitude.
“Go pick something.”
Even hearing the cue made her feel calmer, before she’d even been touched. She was not alone. At times like this, when the feelings were bad, sometimes, that was all that mattered.
She got to her feet, slowly, allowing the dizziness to dissipate as she stood. The walls seemed to back away as she passed them by, stepping towards the bedroom and through the doorway, approaching His Closet as anxious energy filtered through her veins. She felt somewhat robotic, not quite connected. She saw her hand on the knob of the armoire door and felt the coldness of the metal, but somehow, she felt separated from it.
These feelings were all quite familiar to her, like old friends — the ones who aren’t really your friends anymore, but you go have coffee with them anyway. She watched as the door swung open and the contents came into view: above, a rack with the usual shirts and such; below, on the floor of the armoire, a basket which held the items from which she was to choose. She looked carefully at the selection, purposefully lifting a large brush from the mix. She had bought this one herself, found it in the bath section of some unassuming department store. It felt heavy in her hand, and she found the weight of it comforting.
As she emerged from the bedroom, she noticed that he had already turned off the television and arranged himself for the task. She walked toward the dining area, where he was neatly seated in a chair, hands folded in his lap, waiting patiently for her return. His eyes found hers, and for just a moment, everything stopped. She felt nothing. All that mattered were the deep brown eyes that held her in their gaze. She barely noticed the quiet sound of his hand patting his thigh in invitation. Her feet seemed to follow their own path, approaching silently and halting at his side. Eyes locked once more, and she nodded her assent. Nothing needed to be said. It had all been done before. He knew her needs.
Her stomach did a slight flip as he took the brush from her and tapped it into his palm. Belt and jeans came undone quickly, and she pushed it all down past her knees, hungry for release. The firmness with which he grasped her wrist and pulled her across his knees was like an elixir to her. Nothing ever made her feel safer than being securely held on his lap. She never knew why, nor did she seek to know. Even as the brush began to fall and the pain took hold, she felt soothed and loved. Physical pain displaced the accumulated stress, releasing it from her in sobs and tears. She felt tension swimming away, leaving calm warmth in its wake.
She didn’t know how long it went on. It was enough, and that was the important thing. Somehow, he knew when it was enough. Her sated body slid limply to the floor, lost in a peaceful nothingness. And as he lowered himself to join and embrace her, she melted into him, giving silent thanks for this perfect person who made her feel whole.
By miketanner, on July 22nd, 2011% By Keagen
Emotionally spent, she watched the sunset from her picnic table perch in the middle of the park. The light summer breeze was cool against her tear-stained cheeks, and she had wrapped her arms around her legs. Sitting on top of the table, knees curled into her chest, she was completely motionless. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, her breathing sporadically shaky, and her pain apparent from her body language. Almost mindlessly, she pressed “Ignore” for about the tenth time as her phone rang AGAIN.
The sunset was beautiful; that couldn’t be denied. She took no enjoyment in it; instead, she simply observed it. She felt cold, detatched from the world around her, as if she were viewing it on a movie screen.
She heard his footsteps long before he reached her, but she paid them no heed. She closed her eyes as his arms encircled her from behind and pulled her into his chest. Usually, this was a move which would bring her great comfort. . . . . . . but tonight, it didn’t. She kept her eyes closed as she fought not to cry, yet again. Holding her tightly, he softly whispered into her hair, “What’s wrong, love?”
Jerking away, she started to come to her feet. Coldly, distantly, she replied, “Nothing. I’m fine.”
Anger flashed in his eyes as he jerked her back into his body and then turned her over his knee. He had been worrying about her for well over an hour, trying to find her; it was approaching dark; she was VERY obviously in pain, and the best she had to offer was “I’m fine?” Ohhhh no. No.
His arm encircled her waist as he felt her silent tears begin again. She was far shorter than he was, and he shifted his weight backwards, fully onto the corner of the table top so that her head dropped and her feet came off the ground. Her bottom was perched high over his lap, and her tears were leaving dark circles on the concrete below.
Dangling over his knee, she was solidly grounded in reality. Her disconnect, her fear, her panic, her anger, was no longer on the forefront of her mind, and she was fully aware of the potential of a very solid, and very real, spanking. She knew she was never to take off like that; she was never to ignore his calls; she was never to pull away from him; she was never to ignore a question. The wave of emotion that had overtaken her seemed to force her to seek solitude, to seek a spot to process it on her own terms, to seek the openness of the summer sky. She had problems properly accepting and embracing emotion, and once again, it had landed her in a world of trouble.
Laying his hand on her bottom, he asked firmly again, “What’s wrong, love?”
Tears dripping off the end of her nose, she couldn’t quite come up with the words to answer him. Softly, she replied, “Please let me up.”
Very quietly, very firmly, he answered her query. “Your choice, beautiful.” He began to firmly spank, each cheek in turn, targeting the same two spots, over, and over, and over. At first, she was quiet, but as the sting begin to settle into place, and be driven deeper, her yelps and cries began to get louder, and louder.
Undeterred, he continued to spank, picking up the speed and intensity. He caught her right hand in mid-air and pinned it to the small of her back, continuing to build the swats to a bone-jarring intensity. When her howls rang clear into the summer night and her fight had stilled, he gave a couple of final swats and rested his hand on her right bottom cheek. He could clearly feel the heat through the light-weight jogging pants she was wearing.
Her sobs continued as she tried to absorb the exceptionally deep pain. When he picked one spot and focused all of his attention there, she’d almost rather be paddled, or strapped. The bone-jarring thud of his hand combined with the intense surface sting made it a pain unlike almost anything else. Unable to escape the deep, lingering burn, she squirmed, trying to relieve it in any way possible. A second strong wave of sobs overtook her body as she became more and more aware of the pain. Arching her back, she kicked her feet, trying to lessen the pain, trying to refocus it, trying to make it go away.
He simply turned, placed both feet on the bench, and leg-locked her with his right leg. Jack-knifed over one knee, her sobs intensified. He let go of her wrist, and laid his hand in the middle of her back. The warm, solid weight comforted her, and her sobs slowly began to still. He gave her time to calm, and he gave the pain time to solidly set in, and then he asked again.
He bent down, pressing the weight of his body into her bottom, and her lower back, and he quietly whispered into her ear, “What’s going on, lovie?”
Shaking her head, her tears fell harder. This time, she couldn’t even find the words. She just cried. He gave her a second, then he sighed.
She felt the sigh, felt the shift of his body, and her cries hit an almost hysterical note. Throwing her right hand back, she found it once again pinned in the small of her back as her jogging pants where tugged down, followed by her panties. He cast an appraising eye over her bottom, noting the deep, crimson splotches on the crest of each cheek. Glowing in the summer moonlight, her bottom was radiating heat from those two spots. Quietly, he again said, “Your choice.” He chose his target a bit lower, and began applying deep, heavy, hard swats to the fleshy underside of her bottom, targeting her sitspot. He spanked until her howls and yelps had settled into steady sobbing, and she had gone limp over his knee. With a final six swats to the tops of her thighs, his hand stilled again. Allowing her to cry it out over his knee, he felt his heart grow heavy.
Watching her sob was not something he enjoyed. . . . . . . . . he knew she was in pain, and he wished she would simply TALK to him. He knew, however, her emotional walls were thick and her defenses firmly in place — and that sometimes she needed a little encouragement to step beyond them.
He pleaded with her. “Please talk to me. I don’t want to have to spank you anymore.”
As her sobs started to come to a shuddering, shaking halt, her tears continued to drip to the ground. Bottom on fire, the initial emotion was coming back. Suddenly, the tenor of her cries changed. No longer crying because of the pain in her bottom and legs, her anger, her fear, her anguish begin to flow through her voice.
Feeling, and hearing, the change, he pulled her up, into his lap, and cradled her in his arms. Gently rocking her, he held her as she sobbed, and sobbed, and sobbed. Burying her head in his neck, she was aware only of his firm, comforting hold, the summer breeze blowing across her burning, throbbing bottom, and tracking across the wet tears flowing down her cheeks. She had no idea how long it was, for time stood still. Gently rocking, he was silent. As her sobs came to an end, she was physically and emotionally exhausted. On the verge of falling asleep in his arms, he gently shook her. She looked up at him and met his gentle look.
He took in her tear-streaked face, her open, trusting look, and her wisps of hair gently framing her face and blowing in the summer breeze. He thought she was absolutely beautiful. Leaning down, he gently kissed her forehead and her arms came around his neck. After a tight hug, he stood her to her feet, and gently pulled her panties and pants up. Hand in hand, they began the walk back to the house as she haltingly begin to explain what had happened.
He listened to all of it, the whole story, and upon reaching the front porch, he turned to face her, pulled her into his arms, and held her close. Kissing the top of her head, he said, “But you know what? You’re mine. Who’s choice is that?”
She gracefully came to her toes as she replied, “Mine, sir.” Wrapping her arms back around his neck, she gently kisses his neck as he replied, “That’s right, love. It’s your choice.”
By miketanner, on July 22nd, 2011% By Keagen
Hand-in-hand, they walked barefoot down the beach. The sand was soft and warm, the sunlight reflecting in gorgeous oranges and pinks off of the water, and the waves were gently lulling as the rolled and rumbled up over their feet. He pulled her close to his side, and she nestled into his embrace as they continued their stroll. Going nowhere in particular, they simply enjoyed the sense of love, peace, and joy.
Suddenly, she started tugging against his hand. She knew better than to pull away from him, but she started pulling him in the direction she was drawn. The gentle wind was blowing through the light, linen shirt she was wearing, and her capris rustled as well. Laughing, he gave in to her tug, and allowed himself to be towed along. Crouching down, laughing with glee, she offered him a perfectly formed conch shell. Still laughing as he held it up to his ear like a phone, she pretended to answer the other line.
“Hello?”
“Yes, I’m looking for a Mrs. Rivka?”
Gleefully, she answered, “She’s not available.”
Dropping the shiny, perfectly-formed shell into the cargo pocket on his shorts, he reached out for her. Grabbing her wrist, he pulled her into his body as he spun her in a circle, feet off the ground. Both of them laughing with an exhilarated euphoria, they continued their walk, hand-in-hand, in perfect bliss. A fleeting grin passed over his face as he thought about his luck. . . . This was the perfect night, the perfect place, and the perfect girl.
Still walking along the wet sand at the edge of the water, she squealed as the warm, salty ocean sprayed up over her ankles and soaked the edges of her capris. He looked down at her, eyes full of love, humor, and mischief. Playfully, he shoved her further out into the water, and took off running. Squealing, she took off after him. Reaching a dead run, she finally caught him. Jumping and latching onto his back, she wrapped her legs around his waist and clung to him as he spun around, pretending to “look” for her.
Wrapping his arms around her legs to securely hold her in place, he mused out loud, “Hm…… guess she’s not here…..” Trotting further down the beach with her on his back, he kept looking for her in the most unlikely places while she just laughed. Nuzzling her head in beside his ear, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, legs locked around his waist, she couldn’t believe how lucky she was. This was the perfect place, the perfect night, and the perfect guy.
Stopping at the edge of the water again, he moved his arms, and she dropped back to her toes, finally settling flat-footed. He pulled her close to his side and held her close as he looked out over the horizon. A peaceful lull settled over him, and he pulled her tighter into his chest. She snuggled in, thrilled to be in his arms. Her body curved into his as if they were made to fit, as one. . . . He took in the first vestiges of color. . . . the slightest tinge of pink colored the sky and reflected off the water. The overwhelming thought of how incredibly lucky she was washed over her, along with the most secure feeling she could remember ever experiencing. Never safer than when in his arms, she reveled in the beauty nature provided.
Turning and giving a gentle tug on her hand, he led her further down the beach. Content and happy, she followed him readily. At times, she would playfully break away from him, and take off. He’d run after her, a big, goofy grin on his face. Every time he’d reach her, she’d giggle with delight as he would grab her and pull her close, sometimes delivering a couple of firm swats to her bottom.
As they continued walking, the warm water lapped at their feet, soothing away the pain of the day, and the sounds of nature lulled them both into a peaceful serenity. Conversation flowed like music, some spoken, much unspoken. The gentle guiding of his hand on hers, the looks that were exchanged often said all that needed to be said. This was an aspect she adored. . . . . the ability to just be. . . . . to not have to fill the silence with idle chatter. When the words came, they came naturally, and they flowed.
As he lapsed into silence, she felt the subtle shift in mood. As his demeanor changed, she began to read the minute cues that let her know what he was thinking. . . . Her mind wandered back to earlier in the day, and she, too, began to go through a shift in body language. As her feelings of submission began to well up, she became much more willing to be led the further they walked. She drank in the singing of the birds, and the waves crashing against the shore filled her mind. She recognized long ago that they were far away from humanity. . . . . . She quickly glanced around and saw no power lines, buildings, boats, or even trash. . . . . . She was awestruck with the beauty, and her heart swelled with the privilege of being able to share this special moment with him. Her mind quickly returned to its prior train of thought as she felt his attention focus sharply on something in the distance. She followed his light tugging without resistance, focusing on the feeling of his hand around hers, and when she looked up, the rock filled her vision. She quickly glanced up into his eyes and searched them for his intent. . . . and his intent was clear. Looking at the ground, she was overwhelmed with emotion. She was struck with the emotion of being his, of his leadership, of his love, of his simple joy. She was struck with THEIR joy, and perfection of the moment.
Looking back up into his eyes, her gaze held a simple sense of love, joy, and submission. It was a glow he cherished; a look he craved. He gently brushed a strand of hair out of her face, all the while holding her soft, yet charged, gaze. Silently turning, he led her closer to the rock. Leaning casually against it, he again sought out her gaze.
“Who are you, beautiful?”
Head slightly tilted to the side, a gently joy brimming in her voice, she held his look as she answered. “I’m yours, sir.”
Nuzzling down by her head, he lightly began to kiss her neck as he whispered into her hair, “What are you?”
Coming to her toes, she began to return the favor. Lightly tracing his jaw line with kisses, she replied, “I’m loved, sir.”
Gently, slowly, he eased onto the rock, bringing her with him. Settling her between his legs, he pulled her close to his chest. Her back was to his body, his arms firmly around her, his head nestled into hers.
“What do you offer me, love?”
Gazing out over the horizon, the sunset had reached peak color. The golden flame drizzled over the ocean, and the pinks were fading into darker colors. She brought her hands to his arm as she nestled even closer to his body. Her words lulled by the ocean, she openly offered her complete submission, with every fiber of her being.
Slowly, surely, carefully, lovingly, he turned her over his lap. She settled into position without an ounce of resistance in her body. Repeating himself, he asked again as he drew her close to his body. “What do you offer me, love?”
Again she answered, taking in the solidity of his body, “My submission, sir”.
He wrapped his left arm firmly around her waist, tucking and locking his hand under her right hip. She felt the firmness of his arm locked across her back and the warm, familiar touch of his right hand smoothing the creases out of her capris. As he smoothed the fabric across her bottom and legs, he was in awe of the beauty around him. . . . . . . the fading sunset, the crash and ebb of the sea, the singing of the birds, the sight currently over his lap, and the gift that he was offered every day. Leaning down over her body, he whispered into her hair, “Show me.”
Hand in hand, they walked through the dark back towards the condo. She was nearly lighting up the night with her submissive glow, and he had this simple, calm, happiness that permeated his very core. Neither had to say anything, for their pride and joy flowed through their hands, their eyes, their very being.
The spanking she’d been given had been firm, solid, and it challenged her submission. She hadn’t liked the pain, but she liked pleasing him . . . . she enjoyed knowing that he was enjoying her, that he was proud, and that she was his. She enjoyed the time, the peace of knowing she was with someone whom she could trust beyond measure, and with one who would love, guide, encourage, and, when needed, punish and correct. This wasn’t the first time she’d been spanked solely for the sake of submission, nor was it likely to be the last. It was his choice more than hers, but she welcomed his leading, his guiding, his love. She’d yelped, cried, and finally ended up sobbing in his arms. He’d held her tightly, rocked her, and listened to both her, and the sea. He whispered into her ear. . . . . He’d whispered about how much she was loved. . . . about who she was. . . . and that she belonged to him. He knew it was at these times that she was most connected to him. . . . most able to hear what he truly had to say, from the heart.
He allowed her to fully calm, to rest in his strength, to take in the full experience. . . . the experience of being his. Their joy in each other. . . . . he in her, and her in her submission, brought them both shared serenity.
The last tinges of color faded from the sky, and they began their walk back.
By miketanner, on July 22nd, 2011% By Keagen
She was curled in a ball on the bed, sobbing, one hand on her red, sore bottom. She didn’t know what happened. She had no idea what had come over her. How could she POSSIBLY have been that stupid?
She thought back to earlier tonight. She had gotten in his face, challenging him in every way, shape, and form, and very, very clearly spoken.
“No!”
Shock flashed across his face and then passed. Cold determination settled into place as he took in her exceptionally belligerent, challenging body language. Her glare dared him to move. . . . . . . and move he did. She cried harder as she thought about his actions to follow. She closed her eyes, and she could feel his hand on her shoulder, turning her in place as she struggled to keep facing him as his right hand connected solidly with her backside. She bit back a yelp as raw anger flashed through her eyes. She spun to face him, one hand on the intensely stinging spot. Her glare had only darkened, anger in every line of her body. Again, he silently pointed to the door. Since it had worked SO well the last time, she did it again. Pugnaciously, she shifted her weight to her right foot, put her hand on her cocked hip, and very loudly declared her dislike for said command. “NO!”
His action this time was not nearly as swift. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and calmed down. He then grabbed her left wrist, drug her over to her bed, and threw her over his left knee.
She cried harder at the memory that followed. Submission being the last thing on her mind, she threw a kicking, screaming, howling, rage-filled fit. It had done nothing to stop him. He merely pinned her legs, secured her right wrist to the middle of her back, and let her squirm. Her strength barely registered on his scale. The spanking started over her jeans, but quickly morphed into a bare-bottomed lesson she would ALWAYS remember.
Still curled in a tight ball on her bed, she reached out for her bear, the bear she’d had for years, and she cried into his soft, long fur. The lecture that was given during the spanking stuck out in her mind. How much he valued her submission. How disappointed he was. How he realize she’d had a rough day, but that was never a reason to fight him. How he would ensure the word “no” never crossed her mind again. How he hoped this was a lesson and reminder he would never have to teach again.
Her sobs were nowhere close to finished as he walked in the room, picked her up, and sat on the edge of the bed. Gently rocking her, he assured her that all was right in their world. Her sobs continued as she tried to tell him that she had no idea where the anger, the fear, the disobedience had come from. . . . . . . . . . where her inability to submit had come from. . . . . .
He hushed her as he continued to rock her. He wasn’t interested in hearing what had happened; it was her final joyful submission that mattered most to him. He looked down at the tiny creature in his arms, and he gave a soft smile. She was his, and he treasured her with everything in him.
As her sobs began to slow, he noticed the gentle shift in breathing that noted her slip into a peaceful sleep. He continued to gently rock her, and finally laid her, bare bottomed, in bed, and pulled the covers up over her body. After a tender kiss to the top of her head, he slipped out of the room and flipped off the lights..
From the hall, he turned back to look at her. The light from the shadows played over her body as she stirred and curled into a loose ball. She scooted backwards a bit, still asleep, and he smiled as he knew she was searching for his body. He turned to finally walk away, and he was awash with the glow and pleasure of being able to guide, lead, love, cherish, and protect his angel.
By miketanner, on July 17th, 2011% By Jules Tanner
Jules had a sweet tooth. Her Daddy knew this, and he made sure he kept close tabs on her eating habits. He didn’t have a problem with her having sweets every now and then, but Jules would eat junk food in place of her meals, and that made her Daddy furious. He truly believed that a healthy diet was the key to living a long healthy life, and he loved his little girl too much to accept anything less. In fact, her Daddy tanned her bottom more than once for not eating right. Jules knew the rules, but like most little girls, she had trouble following them.
One day Jules’ Daddy packed her a healthy lunch to take to school: a thermos filled with homemade chicken vegetable soup that he made especially for her, a big red apple, and as a special treat — one chocolate chip cookie. Jules’ mom made the best cookies; they were delicious! Her Daddy made her promise to eat the soup and apple first, and then she could have her special treat. “I mean it,” he warned. “You know the rules.”
Jules nodded, “I promise, Daddy.” And off she went to school.
Jules thought about her cookie all day. She kept looking at the clock waiting for the lunch bell to ring. But the clock wasn’t moving. Mrs. Randal, her teacher, told the class to read quietly while she graded their tests, but Jules couldn’t concentrate. She started worrying about her cookie. It was a warm day. What if her cookie melted? That would be horrible. There would be milk chocolate smeared all over her lunch bag, and her delicious cookie would be ruined. She became more and more anxious. Maybe she should check to make sure her cookie was okay. Mrs. Randal probably wouldn’t mind if she just took a quick look.
She slowly and quietly reached into her book bag and pulled out her lunch bag. She peeked up to make sure the teacher wasn’t looking. Miss Randal was grading papers at her desk. She looked inside her bag and there it was — the deliciously chocolately extra big ooey gooey cookie that her mom made just for her. And it didn’t look melted at all. In fact, it looked perfect.
Jules stared at it. Her mouth started watering, and her tummy started rumbling. What if she just took a little taste of it to make sure it was still okay? Who would it hurt? She promised her Daddy she wouldn’t eat the cookie before her lunch, but taking a bite doesn’t count as eating. It’s just a bite. She thought about it for a second and then…she slowly put the cookie to her lips. She could smell the chocolate chips. She opened her mouth wide and took at bite. It was amazing! It was so moist and chewy and yummy.
Before she could stop herself she gobbled it all up in practically one bite. Milk chocolate was dripping from her lips, and she was making noises like “mmmmmm” as she swished it around her mouth. She didn’t want to swallow it because she didn’t want the deliciousness to end.
Just then she heard a voice say, “Excuse me, Miss Juliette, but what do you think you’re doing?” Jules opened her eyes and there standing in front of her was Mrs. Randal, with her arms crossed. “You know the rules, Jules. No eating in class,” she said.
Jules looked up at her. “I’m bowrry,” she said, her mouth still filled with her cookie.
Just then the bell rang. “Okay, kids, get your lunch bags and line up for the cafeteria. Jules, you stay right there.”
Jules sat in her chair feeling ill. She knew she was in trouble. She swallowed her cookie, but instead of enjoying it, her tummy felt sick. As she sat waiting she prayed that Mrs. Randal didn’t tell her Dad. Maybe she could clap erasers or sweep the hallway. Anything would be better than telling her Daddy what happened.
Mrs. Randal came back and handed Jules a note. “You make sure you give this to your Dad. Have him sign it, and bring it back to me tomorrow.”
“Yes Mrs. Randal,” Jules pouted.
“Now go to lunch,” Mrs. Randal ordered.
Jules stood up, tucked the note in her school bag, and shuffled off.
The walk home was miserable for Jules. The thought of giving her Daddy that note made her knees feel weak. She knew he would be angry with her. She also knew that she might get a spanking for disobeying him. She wanted to rip the note up into little pieces, but if she didn’t bring it back to Mrs. Randal signed, she’d be in more trouble. There was no way out of it.
Time to Talk to Daddy in His Office
That night after her bath, Jules knew what she had to do. She put it off as long as she could. Her Daddy was in his office working. She tip toed downstairs in her Hello Kitty pajamas and knocked on his door.
“Come in, baby,” he said.
Jules slowly walked toward him with the note hidden behind her back.
“Daddy?” she started, “I have to give you something.”
Jules’ Daddy looked up at her. “What is it?”
She brought her hand forward and held out the note.
Jules’ Daddy looked at her. “What’s this?” he said.
“It’s a note from Mrs. Randal,” she answered hesitantly.
He gave her a stern look. “Uh oh,” he commented. “What did you do?”
Jules was silent. He took the note from her and read it. Jules immediately dropped her head and stared at the floor. When he finished reading the note, he sat back in his chair and gazed at Jules. “What did I tell you this morning, young lady?” he asked.
“To eat all of my lunch before eating my cookie,” she answered shyly.
“And what did you do?” he asked.
“I ate my cookie first. But Daddy…”
“We have rules about eating, don’t we, young lady?”
Jules nodded.
“And what happens when you break one of those rules?”
Jules couldn’t answer. She didn’t even want to say the words.
“Juliette? I asked you a question.”
“I get a spanking,” she answered reluctantly.
“That’s right,” he said.
Jules was paralyzed.
Without any hesitation, he stood up from his chair, walked over to her, took her by the hand and led her to the steps. He put one foot up on the third step, lifted her off her feet, and threw her over one knee. Jules’ body dangled in the air, her feet and hands hanging. He immediately began spanking her bottom.
SMACK…SMACK…SMACK…SMACK…
Jules began wiggling and squealing. “Owww…Daddy…Owwww!”
“I’ll give you oww,” he said.
SMACK…SMACK…SMACK.
Jules cried out with each spank. He began to scold her, “You will learn to eat healthy and follow rules, or you will have a very difficult time sitting! Is that clear, young lady?” he scolded.
“Yessssss, Daddy”
SMACK…SMACK…SMACK…
“I’M SORRY!” Jules yelled.
“You’re not, but you will be!” her Daddy responded.
SMACK… SMACK… SMACK.
“DADDY PLEASE!” Jules begged.
He continued to spank her long and hard. Even though the spanking was over her pajama bottoms, it stung horribly. Jules began kicking her legs and squealing at the top of her lungs. “DADDY…I’M SORRY.” Her Daddy held her waist tighter and continued to give her swat after swat after swat.
“You can scream all you like, Juliette,” he declared. “Mommy isn’t going to save you.” Jules’ Mommy WAS taking a relaxing bath until she heard the spanking and screaming. She couldn’t believe her ears. What did she do this time? she thought. Whatever it was, she couldn’t stand hearing her little girl getting spanked. She stuck her head under the water and tried holding her breath. When that failed, she turned on the radio. Nothing seemed to work. It was torture for her. If she wasn’t wet and naked, she would’ve run down those steps and thrown herself on top of Jules, which she’s been known to do on occasion.
SMACK… SMACK…SMACK…SMACK…SMACK…
“I’M SORRY! I WON’T DO IT AGAIN!” Jules pleaded with tears streaming down her face.
He continued to spank her for another full minute. After the last swat, he lifted her off his knee and stood her in front of him. “Now, young lady…for the next two weeks…no more sweets. Is that clear?”
Jules couldn’t believe her ears. WHAT? TWO WEEKS! Is he kidding? she thought to herself in dismay. “But Daddy,” she started.
“Okay, make it three,” he declared. Jules got silent. “You want to say anything else?” he asked.
Jules shook her head no.
“Now get to bed. I’ll be up to tuck you in.” Jules put her head down and walked up the steps rubbing her bottom.
“Did I say you could rub?” Jules turned and looked at him. She put her hands at her side, dropped her head, and continued up the steps sniffling. That night Jules had trouble sleeping, partly because her bottom was throbbing and partly because the thought of being grounded from sweets was horrific to her. How would she ever make it through the next three weeks?
Cousin Pixie Comes to Town
The following weekend Jules’ favorite cousin, Amber, came to visit. Everyone called her Pixie. She was as mischievous as Jules, and together the two of them were trouble. The girls were so excited about their sleepover and planned lots of fun activities. Jules’ Daddy reminded her that she was grounded from sweets, and made sure her cousin Pixie understood that as well. Pixie couldn’t believe he ears. What a horrible punishment, she thought. Jules didn’t want another spanking, so she intended to obey him. Pixie, on the other hand, had other ideas.
The girls had a great day. They watched movies, ate pizza, and played games. It was time for bed. They brushed their teeth and wore their matching Hello Kitty pajamas. Pixie opened up her overnight bag. “Look what I have,” she teased, her eyes all aglitter. She pulled out a big box of Gobstoppers. Jules eyes grew wide. She LOVED Gobstoppers. They were her absolute favorite candy. Pixie knew how much Jules loved them, which is why she brought them.
“Want some?” Pixie asked.
Jules just stared at the box biting her bottom lip. “I can’t,” she said with a disappointed tone, “I’m not allowed.”
“Who’s gonna know?” Pixie answered, “I’m not gonna tell.” She made a good point…but Jules didn’t want to risk it. She would be in so much trouble if her Daddy found out.
“Come on,” Pixie insisted.
Jules shook her head no.
“Okay, suit yourself.” With that, Pixie opened up the Gobstoppers and poured some into her hand. They were so colorful and sweet looking. Pixie opened up her mouth and popped them in. “Mmmmm,” Pixie said as she poured more into her hand. “Sure you don’t want some?” Pixie inquired in a teasing voice.
It was getting harder and harder for Jules to resist. She was salivating watching Pixie’s mouth turn red. She thought for a minute and then shook her head no again. This time Pixie put the box to her lips and poured a bunch into her mouth.
She’s eating all of them! Jules thought. She started to panic. She knew she couldn’t have any, but the idea of Pixie eating all of them was horrid. Maybe she could just have one. One little Gobstopper wouldn’t matter at all. They shouldn’t even count as sweets. Cookies and cake and ice cream are sweets, not Gobstoppers! They’re just sugar balls, and she’s allowed to have sugar. Her mom lets her put sugar on her cereal, and her Daddy let’s her sprinkle sugar on her grapefruit? It’s no big deal at all!
“Wait!” Jules shouted. “I want some!”
Pixie smiled and handed Jules the box.
Jules looked at it for a second, opened it up, and without hesitation she poured the Gobstoppers into her mouth. She swished them around and around and around. Pixie laughed. After that handful she had another and another and another. Jules ran to the mirror and stuck out her tongue. Yes! It was red. The two girls spent the rest of the night gobbling up Gobstoppers. Before they knew it, they had finished the entire box.
Jules’ Daddy heard giggling when he walked by her room, so he opened the door and peeked in. “It’s bedtime girls,” he declared. The girls jumped to their feet.
“Hi Daddy,” Jules said in a very nervous voice.
“What are you two doing?” he asked suspiciously.
“Nothing,” Jules and Pixie answered.
“Hmmm…” he said in a disbelieving tone. He looked around the room and noticed the empty Gobstopper box on the floor. “What’s that?” he asked.
“Nothing, Uncle Mike. It’s just…trash…it fell out of my backpack,” Pixie responded.
“Don’t you dare lie to me, young lady,” He warned.
“I’m not,” Pixie pleaded.
“Juliette? Did you eat candy?” her Daddy asked.
Jules dropped her head. She didn’t want to get in trouble, but she hated lying to her Daddy.
“Juliette?” he said again in a firmer tone. “I swear, Uncle Mike…she didn’t.” Pixie jumped in. Just then he noticed that the inside of Pixie’s mouth was discolored. “Juliette…look at me,” he ordered. Jules lifted her head.
“Open your mouth.”
Jules knew exactly why he was asking.
Oh no…he knows, she thought. She slowly opened her mouth.
A severe look came over his face. “Both of you in my office now,” he demanded.
“But, Uncle Mike…” Pixie started.
“Now,” he said harshly and walked out.
The girls stood silent. “What does that mean?” Pixie asked.
“We’re gonna get a spanking,” Jules said in hopeless voice.
Pixie’s mouth almost dropped to the floor. “What? But…he can’t spank me,” she said.
“Wanna bet.”
With that, Jules slowly moved toward the door. She looked back at Pixie. “Come on. It’ll be worse if we make him wait.”
Pixie was shocked. Her parents never spanked her. This can’t happen, she thought. She was determined to get out of it. She held her head up high and stormed passed Jules. “This is ridiculous. I refuse to be spanked,” she said in a confident tone. Jules just sighed and shook her head. She didn’t know much in this world, but one thing she did know, if her Daddy decides to give a spanking, he’s giving it.
Back in Daddy’s Office for Round Two
Jules and Pixie stood outside of the office. Jules’ Daddy had the door shut. They had no idea what he was doing and they weren’t anxious to go inside, so they waited. It sounded like he was on the phone.
All of a sudden the door opened. “Inside,” he said.
Both girls stepped into the office as if those steps were to be their last. On his desk was the most horrid site, a site that Jules had not seen in a long, long time: the dreaded Lickin Stick — a very thick, ruler-like implement that Jules’ Daddy only used on her when she was extra bad. It delivers a painful, lasting sting that leaves Jules’ bottom sore for days. She almost started to cry just looking at it.
Pixie became visibly nervous. “I’m very disappointed in you two,” Jules’ Daddy started. “You disobeyed me, Juliette. And Amber, you looked me in the face and lied. In this house, young lady, that earns you a good, hard spanking.”
“Uncle Mike?” Pixie interrupted, “I don’t think my mom—”
“Yes she would,” he cut her off. “I just spoke to her. In fact, she said that you’ve needed a spanking for a long time and it’s about time you got one.”
Pixie eyes widened. She couldn’t even speak.
“Now,” he started as he pulled his straight back chair to the middle of the room, “Amber…you’re going to stand right in front of me and watch your cousin Jules get the spanking of her life. And keep in mind…you’re next.” Pixie gulped.
Jules’ Daddy took her wrist and brought her to him. He guided her over his knee and pulled her pajama bottoms down. Jules knew she was in trouble when the spanking started on her bare bottom. She glanced up at Pixie who looked stunned. “You, young lady,” he started as he brought down the first WHACK on Jules bottom, “Will never disobey me again, is that understood?”
WHACK WHACK WHACK!
Jules squealed! “Yes, Daddy!”
WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK!
Pixie covered her eyes.
“Get your hands off of your face right now, young lady,” he commanded, spanking Jules’ bottom the entire time.
Pixie immediately did as she was told.
“And remember…you’re next,” he reminded her.
WHACK WHACK WHACK!
“Owwwwwwww…” Jules cried.
WHACK WHACK WHACK!
Pixie’s tummy was flipping watching Jules get spanked. She wanted to run out of the room. Jules was kicking and squirming. “Daddy pleeeeeeeeaaaaaaaseeeeeeee…..I’m sorry!”
“You will be, young lady.”
He continued to spank her hard. “Don’t you EVER, EVER disobey me again when I tell you not to do something. Is that clear?”
“Yesssss, Daddy!” she yelled.
Pixie’s eyes widened when she saw Jules’ bottom turn bright red. She instinctively reached down and held her own bottom anticipating the pain. Tears began to fall from Jules’ eyes.
WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK!
“OWWWWWWW!” Jules squealed as she flailed about on her Daddy’s lap.
He delivered 10 final blows, each one harder than the one before. Jules’s bottom was on fire. He stood her up and placed her in the corner. “You stand there and think about why you’re being punished. Is that clear young lady?”
“Yes, Daddy,” Jules sniffled.
Pixie’s Turn
He walked back to his chair. Pixie’s knees were shaking. “Please, Uncle Mike,” she pleaded, “please don’t spank me. I promise I’ll never lie again.”
“I’ll make sure you don’t, young lady,” he said sternly.
“Now…over my knee.”
Pixie thought she was going to be sick. “But I don’t want a spanking!” she whined.
“You don’t have a choice. Now…I’ll give you to the count of five…if you’re not over my lap you’re going to get it worse.”
Pixie couldn’t move. Her legs felt like they were stuck to the floor.
“One…” He began counting.
Jules was listening from the corner.
Come on, she thought, Move.
“Two…”
Pixie started to cry.
“Three…”
“Uncle Mike, please!” she said in a sobbing voice.
“Four…”
“Go,” Jules said under her breath.
Pixie was smart enough to know what would happen at five. She quickly moved to her Uncle’s side and wiped her tears from her eyes.
“You’re lucky,” he told her.
“And don’t you cry yet. It’s not time to cry,” he added.
With that, he draped Pixie over his lap. Pixie’s body was shaking. Uncle Mike knew that Pixie had never been spanked, so he started the spanking over her pajama bottoms. He lifted his arm in the air. Pixie clenched her bottom. He brought down the first hard stinging SPANK!
“Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!” Pixie shouted. She kicked her legs.
He brought down another and another and another.
Pixie was squealing and kicking. “Noooooo, Uncle Mike…NO!”
With each word he brought down a hard WHACK! “DON’T…YOU…EVER…LIE…TO… ME…AGAIN…DO…YOU…HEAR… ME…YOUNG…LADY?”
Pixie cried out, “I’m sorry, Uncle Mike!”
WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK!
Pixie’s bottom was throbbing. Just when she thought it couldn’t get any worse, her Uncle Mike pulled down her pajama bottoms and began spanking her on her little red flowered panties. “When I’m done with you, your bottom will be the color of your panties.” He raised his hand and brought it down on her already sore bottom.
WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK!
Pixie couldn’t believe how stingy a spanking was. She was waving her arms and kicking her legs so furiously that it looked like she was swimming the English Channel — the whole time crying and screaming. But that didn’t stop her Uncle Mike; he was determined to teach her a lesson.
“You’ve needed a spanking for quite a while, little girl.”
WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK!
“Noooooooo…….pleassssssseeeeeee!” she pleaded. “I’m sorrrrrryyyyyyy!”
Uncle Mike continued to spank Pixie’s bottom. Pixie’s screams were so loud that Jules held her ears. She felt so sorry for her poor cousin. She hated hearing her get spanked.
“Juliette…get your hands down now…unless you want more of this,” he threatened.
Jules dropped her hands to her side and buried her nose in the corner.
He finished up Pixie’s spanking with 10 hard bare bottom WHACKS! Pixie was sobbing so hard that she could barely catch her breath. He lifted her off his lap and stood her right next to Jules in the corner. “Now…don’t you two move or make a sound,” he said and then walked out of the room.
Jules and Pixie stood side by side with their red throbbing bottoms. Pixie reached back to feel. It was HOT! And her skin was rough. She had never experienced anything like it before. The two girls looked at each other. Pixie’s eyes were swollen. Jules felt horrible for her. She knew it wasn’t over, and the worst was yet to come.
The Dreaded Lickin Stick
Jules’ Daddy stepped back into the office. He walked over to his desk and picked up the Lickin Stick. Both girls were as still as they could be in the corner.
“Turn around,” he said.
They obeyed immediately. Jules put her head down when she saw what was in his hand. Pixie saw Jules’ reaction and stated to whimper.
“Come here,” he said calmly.
Both girls walked over to him.
He took their hands and walked them out of the room and up the steps. He led them into Jules’ room and stood them in front of the bed. “Juliette,” he said, “You know the position.” Jules held her tummy, which felt like it had just dropped out of her body, and got up on the bed, kneeled, laid her forearms flat, and raised her bottom in the air.
Pixie was panic-stricken. She had no idea what was about to happen, but she knew it was bad. “Please, Uncle Mike…I swear I learned my lesson! Please don’t spank me with that thing!” she pleaded.
Jules knew exactly how she felt. She also knew that all the begging in the world would never detract her Daddy from carrying out a punishment.
“I’m sorry, honey, but Uncle Mike needs to teach you a lesson about lying,” he answered. “You deserve this, don’t you?”
Pixie dropped her head in shame. She knew she deserved it. She knew what she did was wrong.
“Now,” he continued, “I want you right next to your cousin, in the same position.”
Pixie grudgingly did as she was told and got up on the bed. The two girls side by side with their red sore bottoms in the air.
“Jules…hold your cousin’s hands,” he said.
Jules reached over and squeezed Pixie’s quivering hands.
“Now,” he started as he pulled each one of their pajama bottoms down, followed by their panties, “if either of you budge, we start over. Is that clear?”
Both girls nodded.
He placed the Lickin Stick on Juliette’s bottom. She felt the coldness of it but knew soon enough she would feel only the heat. “When I ground you from sweets, young lady—” he said as he reached back and delivered the first stingy blow to Juliette’s bottom. SMACK! Jules let out a SCREECH! Pixie’s whole body jolted. “I expect you to obey. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Daddy,” Jules answered in a quivering voice.
“And YOU,” he began as he stepped behind Pixie’s bottom, laying the Lickin Stick against it, “I’m very disappointed in you.” With that he reached back with the stick and brought it down hard against Pixie’s bottom. SMACK! Pixie YELPED at the top of her lungs! She had never felt anything like that before. It was horrid. The sting of it lingered well after the smack. A red mark in the shape of the stick began to form on her bottom. She could hardly catch her breath.
“I trusted you honey,” he added. “You let your Uncle Mike down.” With that Pixie’s lip started to tremble and tears began to well up in her eyes. She loved her Uncle Mike and never meant to hurt him. She felt horrible.
He continued to spank each of them, giving each a swat at a relatively slow pace, scolding them the entire time.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
The girls whaled and pleaded for him to stop, but he didn’t. He was determined to teach them a lesson they would never forget. After about five swats each, he picked up the pace. The girls squeezed each other hands, and the bed quilt below them was soaked with tears.
“I never, EVER want to revisit this issue again with you two. Is that clear?”
“YES, DADDY! YES, UNCLE MIKE!” the girls screamed out in unison.
He alternated between the girls at a rapid pace, giving them no time to catch their breath.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! The girls cries grew louder and stronger. He delivered the final four blows, two for each girl. Finally, he stopped.
The girls’ bottoms looked like modern art — beautiful shades of pink and red, with different shaped designs and markings with Pixie’s looking far worse than her cousin’s. Both girls were crying full heartedly, unable to catch their breath. He gave them a few seconds to pull themselves together.
“Stand up,” he said. They stepped down off the bed, carefully pulled their pajama bottoms up as their bottoms were on fire, and turned to him. Their eyes were as red and swollen as their bottoms. “I’m sorry I had to do that, but I love you both too much to let you get away with that behavior. Don’t do it again,” he said in a stern but compassionate voice.
They both nodded their heads, unable to speak. He pulled them both in and gave them a huge, long hug.
“Okay,” he said, “it’s bedtime.” He pulled down the covers and both girls hopped in the bed. Jules knew to lie on her belly but Pixie didn’t. Once her backside hit the bed, she jumped up. Her Uncle smirked at her. “That’s right young lady…let that serve as a reminder. Never lie to Uncle Mike again.”
“Yes, sir,” Pixie responded meekly. She slowly turned onto her belly.
He gave them each a kiss on the cheek. Tomorrow…if you’re good…I’ll take you to the St. Mary’s Carnival,” he added as he headed toward the door.
A smiled formed on their tear-stained faces.
“Goodnight,” he said as he turned off the light. “I love you both.”
“Goodnight, Daddy…I love you,” Jules exclaimed.
“Goodnight, Uncle Mike,” Pixie added. “I love you too.”
By Strictly Spanking, on July 10th, 2011% By Missy Doright
“What’s the matter, Renee? You look like you just saw a ghost!”
“Remember the chem exam I took hung over, last Wednesday?”
“Um, yeah,” replied a puzzled Niki. Niki was Renee’s roommate and best friend and was forever trying to get her to relax and enjoy her college years more.
“I got a 42 on it … which brought my grade to a C-”
“Yeah, so? You’ll bring it up.”
“No, I won’t, unfortunately. I emailed Professor Yarren and asked if I had any chance of bringing my grade up to a B, and he said not even if I got 100s on the last two tests. Which means I’m dead.”
Renee dropped her head into her folded arms on her desk with a deep sigh of remorse.
“Oh c’mon, Renee! You’re not gonna be dead. Your dad might yell at you, but that’s about all. Besides, your mom won’t want anything to ruin Thanksgiving. You’ll be fine.”
“You don’t know my dad. Or my mom, for that matter. They hunt in pairs. And going to school here is costing them a fortune.”
“You’ll be fine. Trust me.”
“No, Niki. My dad said that if I got any more C’s, they were pulling me out of Duke and enrolling me at State.”
“Empty threats, girl. That’s all they are. My dad says crap like that all the time, but he doesn’t do half of what he says he’s gonna do.”
“Again. You don’t know MY dad.”
With that, Renee got up from her desk, picked up her suitcase, hugged her roommate good bye, and headed home. She had never had such mixed feelings about going home. And suddenly that party at the Kappa Kappa Gamma house that seemed so important at the time didn’t seem quite so significant. She reminisced about how the night just ended in a fight with her boyfriend anyway.
And where is he now? she thought to herself. With Brittany Selenas. What a douche. I just gave up my dream of graduating from Duke for a loser like Trent. Great job, Renee.
Renee was hard on herself when she made mistakes, but she came by it honestly. Her parents had taught her the value of working hard and staying focused.
The miles between campus and home began to fold into each other, and her heart rate accelerated as she inched closer to their ranch. She couldn’t even enjoy the symphony of autumnal colors that usually brought her solace because she was so lost in thought as she rehearsed at least a dozen different ways to approach her parents with the disappointing news.
Renee was temporarily distracted from the death knell of her own thoughts by the sound of children as they tumbled into their assigned school buses at the elementary school she attended. Renee became melancholic and sullen at the sight, knowing that her fate lay before her just a few miles away. She had wanted to surprise her parents with her arrival but knew she couldn’t pull off excited, so she texted her mom to tell her she’d be home in five.
At this point Renee was shaking and fighting back tears. She knew there would be no cajoling her dad into reconsideration. He made the rules clear by rote repetition: “You want to stay at Duke, then focus on your studies and keep your grades up. No more than 2 B’s, the rest A’s. NO C’s.”
She pulled into the driveway to find her parents, arm in arm, in anxious anticipation of her arrival. She wished she could have felt the same way.
After hugging them and chit chatting all the way into the house, Renee’s father started up the stairs with Renee’s suitcases in tow. Renee followed him up with her computer bag and backpack.
“So, honey, what’s eating you?” Steve asked, as he lunged her suitcases onto the bed.
“Whuhh? N-n-othing. I’m happy to be home and soaking it all in, that’s all.”
“You do remember I don’t like to repeat myself, don’t you?”
Well, I see Dad hasn’t lost his talent for cutting right to the chase, Renee mused to herself. He looked intimidating yet concerned. He was still dressed from his day at the office, and Renee had forgotten how dapper he looked when he was in his business attire.
“Yes, sir. I remember.”
Steve knew his daughter was tormented by something because she could hardly look him in the eyes. It was his telltale sign of trouble from the time she was a toddler and first figured out how to hide things from him.
“It’s my grades.”
“I’m listening.”
Renee leaned against her dresser, more for something to do with her hands than anything. Turning her attention to everything in the room except her father’s etched face, she confessed in a near whisper, “I got another F on a chemistry test and now have no chance at a B in the class.”
“And what, pray tell, were you DOING that was SO much more important than studying for your chemistry test, young lady?”
Renee’s heart rate spiked and her eyes darted nervously as she searched for the right words.
“Renee Marie, answer me this instant!”
“I went to a party …”
“Eyes up here.”
Renee willed her eyes to face her accuser and punisher.
“I got drunk the night before, Daddy. I’m sorry.”
“Not as sorry as you’re going to be; I can assure you that.”
“Yes, sir. I know I blew it big time.”
When Renee looked back up at her father, she didn’t see the anger she was braced for; she saw deep disappointment. He had been saving for her college education since before she was even born. And then gave up his own business, which he loved, to go work as a software engineer, so he could make more money — money he funneled into her college fund so he could send her to Duke. He gave up his dream willingly to support hers.
Renee’s brain couldn’t process any more guilt, and she burst into a tsunami of hot tears. “I love it there so much! I was SO stupid, and I’m so sorry! I know you worked really hard to send me there!”
As much as she wanted to beg him to relent on the punishment he laid out for her, she couldn’t do it. She knew she deserved to be pulled out. She knew the rules and blew them off. And hurt her dad in the process.
Steve was proud to see his daughter taking responsibility for her choices. If this is what it took for her to “get” that her choices carry consequences, it was worth it to him. But this was no time for a kumbaya hug. He wanted to drive home his point.
“I believe your remorse is genuine, Renee. But remorse isn’t enough. Feelings are flimsy and unreliable.”
“Yes, sir,” Renee replied meekly. Her father knew her way too well. Unfortunately.
“Now I want you to turn around and put your hands on that dresser that seems to be holding you up,” he ordered sternly.
“Wha–”
“Without a worrrd.”
Renee’s heart felt like it would beat right out of her chest. She was too scared to cry. Or speak. Or do anything to anger him.
“Feet back here,” he said, tapping his foot against her shin. “And bottom out.”
“Oh my Go–”
“I SAID without a word!”
Renee obeyed immediately, then clenched her eyes shut, afraid to move. Until she heard the swoosh of his belt being pulled out from its holster. She gasped, grabbed onto the dresser for dear life, and waited. Waited for what seemed to be an eternity.
Interrupting the awkward silence was the sound of leather snapping hastily through the brisk air. Then SMACK! Renee’s knees buckled on impact. It had been a long time. The night of her junior prom, to be exact. Nuff said.
She looked at her father with begging, confused eyes but was too terrified to disobey one more time by uttering a peep.
“Get back into position, young lady.”
Without a word, she assumed the position and waited for the next one. It came much faster than the first. WHHAAAACK!
“Owwwww!”
Then another. And another. And two more in rapid succession.
“Owwwww, Daddy!!!! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’ll study and work hard!!!”
“You better believe you will, missy! I had to put myself through college and was still paying off MY debts when we had you! I am NOT going to allow you to disrespect that. Do. You. Understand?”
“Yes, sir! I promise I’ll work REALLY hard!”
“Did I tell you that you could get out of position???” he barked.
“No, sir!” Renee snapped into position and drew a deep breath.
WHAAACK! CRAAAACK! SNAAAAP!
Renee sobbed as he snapped his belt back and forth repetitively. One right after the other. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m SORRY!!!” The last one hit her thighs, causing her knees to buckle. Then she let go of the dresser instinctively and reached for her throbbing thighs and bottom, rubbing desperately to ease the sting.
“What did I say about staying in position???”
“Nooo, Daddy! I learned my lesson! Pleeeeease, no more! I learned —“
“You don’t tell ME when YOU’VE had enough and learned your lesson, young lady!”
“But I HAVE, Dad! I really have!”
At this point insanity had set in, and Renee was grasping at straws to convince her father that his lesson had really sunk in this time.
“Okay, jeans down. NOW! Without. A. SINGLE. Word.”
Scared out of her mind, Renee looked at her father to see if there was even a hint of room for persuasion. But seeing his steely green eyes penetrating her will, she decided that the only way out of this was to obey. Immediately and completely. She unfastened her jeans with her trembling hands and pulled them down below her bottom.
Her father walked over beside her, placed the belt on the dresser in front of her, pulled them down to her knees, retrieved the belt, and stepped back into his position. She instinctively assumed the position once again, though she was involuntarily dancing a bit in position, trying to anticipate how much more his belt was going to hurt against her red, striped and swollen bottom.
Then just as she expected to feel the belt again, she felt a tug on her panties. Her father had hiked them up to expose more of her skin.
“Bastard!” she protested. Silently, of course. But she painted her face with her anger, stiffening her jaw and bracing herself to absorb whatever he had left in him.
“He NEVER said anything about spanking me tooo!” her silent protest continued. “This isn’t FAIR!”
But her change of countenance did not go unnoticed. In response, her even stronger willed disciplinarian took a half step back and to the left, to allow for a fuller swing. “Fight all you want; you will not win,” he replied to her telepathically.
SMAAAAAAAAAACK! The belt landed right on the dreaded sit spot and looked as if it took the top layer of skin with it, leaving an angry red strap mark across both cheeks.
“OWWWWWWW! I HAAATE YOUUU!” Renee screamed. But as soon as the words escaped her mouth, she regretted them. And not because they sealed her fate for quite some time but because they were so harsh. And without even a hint of truth. She loved her father BECAUSE he didn’t let her settle for mediocre. She didn’t WANT to be like so many of the kids at Duke who had little-to-no appreciation for the sacrifices their parents made to send them there. But it was too late. There was no unringing that bell.
“You might as well, honey, for the way you despise the sacrifices we’ve made for you.”
With that, he grabbed her by the arm, pulled her away from the dresser, and over the end of the bed. Renee buried her head deep into the mattress, in vain anticipation for what was about to happen to her inflamed nether region. Then he repositioned himself, pulled the belt back a little farther and SMAAAAAAAAAACK!!! Then three more with comparable intensity.
“OW, OWWW, OWWWWW!” she cried.
“Let me tell you something, young lady! I don’t hate you. In fact, I’m doing this because I love you too much to let you throw your potential away!”
“Yes, sirrrr! I’m sorrrrrryyyyyy!” she cried. Then broke. Really broke.
Knowing that she was close to being fully punished for now both her irresponsibility AND her foolish words, Steve pulled the belt back again, hesitated briefly to give Renee a chance to get as much of the comforter in her hands as she could, and then finished with a flurry of eight straps. They were hard and fierce, and Renee was crying out in anguish.
“Okay, enough. It’s over. Pull yourself together.”
As much as Renee wanted to spring up and cover the target, all she could do was stay in position and sob. Getting up would mean facing her father, and she felt too horrible for what she had done and said.
Her father went over to her, put his strong hand on her back, and whispered in her ear, “I know you don’t hate me. That last round was for lying. In this house, we say what we mean and mean what we say.”
Renee felt much better knowing that her father knew she didn’t really hate him. “Yesss … s-s-sir,” she managed between the tears and syncopated breathing. “I love you so much!”
“I love you too, honey. Now put yourself together.” Steve had seen enough of the war zone. Her bared bottom was three different shades of red, with distinct strap lines reaching across her right cheek, where the belt bit with its greatest ferocity.
Renee obediently but gingerly hoisted her body up from her bed and immediately pulled her panties out from her bottom. Her white panties looked neon compared to the deep red color of her very punished behind.
After glancing penitently at her father momentarily, she bent down and pulled her jeans up, pausing to gently navigate them over her fiery buttocks. He, in turn, returned his belt to its resting position around his dress slacks.
“Get over here, kid,” he said, pulling her into his strong arms. Renee cried weakly in his arms and told him how much she loved him and sincerely thanked him for punishing her. Her conscience was purged.
“Now, when you go back,” he said with a calm but firm voice and cupping her chin in his hand, “you are grounded for the remaining three weeks of the semester. No parties, no social activities, no nothing. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir …” Renee answered, bravely looking into his eyes without any attempts to pull away from his hand or his gaze.
“And you will be in bed by midnight each night and will not consume ANY alcohol whatsoever. Clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
Wow, I think this is a record for her looking into my eyes uninterrupted, her father thought to himself. Yup, I’d say I got her attention.
“Oh, and one more thing,” he added, squeezing her face in his hands a little firmer and pulling it closer.
“Yes, s-sir?”
“If you EVER bring home another C as a final grade again, you better plan on spending the first week of the following break on pillows. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Renee gasped. “Waaai–“
“Um, yesss?”
“Waaait! Does this mean you’re not pulling me out at the end of the semester?!?!”
“Yes, that’s exactly what this means. BUT it also means that anything less than two B’s at the end of each semester will mean BIG trouble for you! And next time there will be no jeans OR panties. Have I made myself perfectly clear, young lady?”
“Yes, sir! Thank you, Daddy!!!” she cried out excitedly in a stronger Carolinian drawl than usual. “Thank you SO much!!! I’ll work really hard and will get STRAIGHT A’s from here on out!”
“You’re welcome. Just do not even THINK about disappointing me like this again. And for now I want you to spend some time in your room thinking about what changes you will make to see to it that you never find yourself in this position again. I’ll call you down when dinner’s ready.”
“Yes, sir.” With that, Renee gently climbed onto her bed and sunk into her pillow.
Her father paused briefly to sit next to his precious, contrite daughter and rubbed her back. As hard as Renee worked to stay focused on the lessons her father had laid out for her, she sank into a deep sleep almost immediately. Renee’s mother came up to the room to check on both of them, just to find her daughter sound asleep, arms lying limp on her pillow.
“Somehow I’m seeing Magna Cum Laude in her future,” Renee’s mother said with a compassionate smile.
“I hope you’re right, honey. For ALL of our sakes.”
By Strictly Spanking, on July 10th, 2011% By Bob DJ
As the Eagles sang in “Desperado” … “Your prison is walking through this world all alone.”
This was the story of Janet. Her heart and soul would go places her body somehow could never seem to find. Sitting in her cubicle, hearing the stories of the other girls, of the people and places they see, and of the lives they lead. Weekends in Palm Springs, a friend-of-a-friend’s yacht in Catalina. It all sounded fun, but she never quite trusted these nattering little backstabbers, so joining-in with them was just not her style. “Quality over Quantity” was her motto.
And Men…. Gawd, where to start on THAT subject. Let’s start with: Disappointment, Dishonesty, and Disenchantment. All these “D” words only D-epressed her. Great, she mused, another “D” word. I need some Wine… and a nap.
All she wanted was a decent guy who would love her the way her Dad did … unconditionally. He didn’t care if she gained a few pounds or if she had a bad hair day. It never mattered to him. But what did matter to him very much was that she treat him with respect. Disrespect, he felt, was bad for her character and could adversely affect her adult life.
Being an honest man with traditional values, he believed that if you spare the rod, you spoil the child. Needless to say, Janet was never spoiled, and although they hurt like hell, her spankings were a strange mix of emotions that she would not fully understand until years later.
So it was when she was online watching an endless drivel of half-hearted, unsatisfying “self-spanking” videos on some free tube site that she saw the ad.
No cutie-pie kitchy name; it was simply referred to as the Spanking Machine.
She read up on this curious device. It was based on existing baseball-pitching machines and featured two radial-swing arms connected to dual variable-speed pneumatic launch rams. The launch rams were modified with recoil springs, individual controls and an attachment clamp for a variety of implements:
Razor Strops (yikes!)
Carpet Beaters (huh?)
Rattan Canes (too British)
Oak Paddles (ummmmmm maybe)
Then down at the bottom of the list two words made her stomach do flip-flops: “Daddy Belts.” She anxiously clicked on the details tab to read their description:
“Our Straps are made of the finest leathers, stitched, eased and handcrafted in the U. S. A. …”
She stared long and hard at the “Commit to Purchase” button, closed her eyes, and clicked. Now for that wine, she thought nervously to herself. I must be crazy.
Twelve days later Mike the UPS guy showed up with her package. He carried it to her living room and asked why she was blushing. Mike was always that way, curious to a fault. But the package was unmarked, her secret secure.
She assembled the machine, then attached the brown leather straps to the arms. She smiled as she could easily double over the straps just as she remembered. That was it.
She positioned it at the end of her bed. As a test, she took an overstuffed pillow, placed it over the padded rail and pressed the Start button.
Her eyes glowed as the straps beat out a rhythm on her pillow, and the thought of them being her bottom made her tremble and smile. “I need this,” she whispered.
Janet stripped to a babydoll tee and white cotton panties. She then sat on the bed, sipping her wine and studying the machine, pondering what it was about to do to her. Trembling with anticipation, she finished her wine and slowly, deliberately walked behind the machine. She kneeled down and lay over the padded rail, resting her torso on the bed. She reached for a pillow and tucked it under her chest. She looked back at the machine, as to an imagined lover and said softly “I deserve a whipping.”
She pressed the Restraint button and felt the padded bar press down gently but firmly on the small of her back, arching her bottom up and spreading her cheeks slightly. Then she tested the release button. This button could only be used before or after the session; once the spanking was in motion there was no stopping it. She decided that for starters she would go for 100 medium-force licks.
With trembling fingers she pushed Start, closed her eyes and waited. As the machine readied the straps, her stomach turned into a web of knots. She took a deep breath
*THWHAP*
The first side strap landed squarely across her elevated bottom, Janet clenched the mattress and awaited the second one
*THWHAP*
The pace was set for five seconds apart as she started to moan softly.
*THWHAP* *THWHAP* *THWHAP* *THWHAP* *THWHAP* *THWHAP* *THWHAP* *THWHAP* *THWHAP* *THWHAP*
By twenty smacks she was now anticipating each one and raised her hips to greet them, now three seconds apart.
*THWHAP* *THWHAP* *THWHAP* *THWHAP* *THWHAP* *THWHAP* *THWHAP* *THWHAP* *THWHAP* *THWHAP* *THWHAP* *THWHAP* *THWHAP*
Her hips gyrated and caused her panties to ride up, baring her bottom.
*THWHAP* *THWHAP* *THWHAP*
She closed her eyes and softly muttered, “Oh gawd …”
*THWHAP* *THWHAP* *THWHAP* *THWHAP* *THWHAP* *THWHAP*
Left and right, the machine showed no mercy as they landed one second apart.
*THWHAP* *THWHAP* *THWHAP* *THWHAP* *THWHAP* *THWHAP*
The last 20 were just a blur. *THWHAP*THWHAP*THWHAP*THWHAP*THWHAP*THWHAP*THWHAP*THWHAP*THWHAP*THWHAP*
Her eyes clenched tightly as she bit her pillow and arched her back.
*THWHAP*THWHAP*THWHAP*THWHAP*THWHAP*THWHAP*THWHAP*THWHAP*THWHAP*THWHAP*
It was a relentless whipping — and just what she dreamt of for years. At last the machine finished ………. and all was silent.
Janet was shuddering as tears streamed down her face. She released the bar and stumbled to her feet and to the floor-length mirror. Her bottom was covered with strap marks and she even saw a few bruises. She looked back at the machine with a profound sense of respect for its abilities as she rubbed her burning bottom.
She slept deeply that night.
It went on like this for several weeks, once a week, she would make a date with herself, get something yummy to eat on the way home, include dessert, and then walk around the lake near her housing community. She felt, if not understood by the outside world, then at least content within herself, and this newfound self-confidence began to show on her. She lost weight from the walks, and the girls at the office knew something was going on but not what. It baffled them, and this delighted Janet to no end.
Having dinner at Applebee’s usually meant putting up with the bar crowd, especially when the game’s on, but little things like that just didn’t seem to bother Janet much anymore, as she looked up to see Mike the UPS guy standing there.
“Not a Chargers fan, huh?” he smiled
Janet, under the influence of a couple Margaritas, caught herself staring at the black leather belt Mike was wearing before meeting his eyes.
“Naw, I never got into sitting on the bleachers watching men bash into each other. It’s…. dumb…… how about you?”
“I was going to meet someone here for drinks, kind of a blind date, but I think she blew it off… oh well …. want some company?”
Janet smiled, blushed and sheepishly answered, “Okay.”
Unknown to Janet, Mike had attended spanking parties, knowing in an instant the kind of girl he was dealing with. Before too long, Mike and Janet were becoming an item. Rumor has it they’re stealing away together over Labor Day weekend to go to the big spanking party in Vegas, but darned if they even hint to anyone at work as to why.
By Strictly Spanking, on July 10th, 2011% By Sophie Gray
The truth is, I had wanted it. Dreamt of it. Profoundly craved it.
Asked for it.
“You’ve been asking for this, little girl”
“Come here.” The command was gentle, but held resolve.
My feet moved me timidly to stand between your knees, my eyes lowered. Somewhere between over there and right here, my want had dissolved into uncertainty.
Over there, it was just a thought. A hunger. To be taken to that blissful place beyond tears. To be taken there by you, even if it meant going against my will.
Right here, it was being given to me. My eyes were lowered, but I raised them momentarily to yours to seek my reassurance.
And your eyes communicated back. It was okay, and I was ready.
“Over my knee, Baby”
“Yes, Daddy”
I lowered myself, and you took the time to arrange me. You immobilized my upper body, holding my right arm tightly to my side, your own arm pressing into my back. With your right leg, you raised my feet off the floor, supporting them.
Any possible movement of my body was now in your control, and I relaxed with that knowledge.
I knew there would be no warmup, but I waited for the warm touch of your hand. Instead, I felt the cold surface of the wooden hairbrush, and the first flurry of smacks left me breathless.
With the return of my breath came an urgent need to escape, and I struggled ruthlessly over your lap, bucking and twisting.
“Hold still” you warned, and I quieted, waiting for more of your voice.
It didn’t come. You were silent, and relentless, as you switched from wooden hairbrush to heavy wooden paddle.
The screaming came from inside my head, but outside, I pled with you, “Please, Daddy, please, I need a break, just a small break…”
“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t do this”
But I could, and you knew it, too.
After a while, you pulled me up, and my breathing was labored, my face red with exertion. You surveyed me, and made a decision.
Not yet.
“I know you need this. It’s okay, baby. Back over”
And back over I went, for more breathtaking strikes of the paddle.
Inside, I processed the remarkable pain, but mixing into it was the euphoria that came from being little and powerless. I could trust you to take that side of me and protect it. Cherish it.
That comfort overpowered the fear, and that’s when I broke down and sobbed over your knee.
You had stopped without me realizing it, and you were rubbing my lower back.
Lifting my head slightly, I stared at the blankets on the bed and wiped at my eyes, bringing myself a little closer to reality.
“Thank you, Daddy”
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