#234) Virtually Will Have To Do

“Listen here, young lady, neither your behavior or your attitude have been acceptable of late. It’s been far too long since you got a big girl/bad girl spanking, but that’s about to change. Come over here…”
I made the walk of shame from where I was to where Daddy was.
“Pull your pants down. Underpants, too.”
I realized that most times in the past he did this task. I think he wanted me to show my cooperation, as if I was acknowledging that I deserved what was coming. He usually said something like, “The sooner we get started, the sooner it will all be over,” and he didn’t do that now. It told me that I was in for a long, hard punishment session. He put me in my place physically, dangling uncomfortably over his knee. He would spend the whole late afternoon putting me in my psychological place as a well-thrashed and sorry little girl.
“I don’t think you’ll be sitting comfortably after this, not for a long time,” was all he said.
The hand spanks hurt. It had been a long time since my last one; I was tender back there. I tried to arch my bottom up for them, to make an outward show of my contrition, while really wanting to get my endorphins pumping, to get into my sub space. I couldn’t hold the tears back, so didn’t even try.
Daddy made a seamless segue from hand spanking to hairbrush paddling. I HATE the wooden hairbrush! It’s sting is SO hard-edged, focused, burning, like the wood is leaving a hundred painful splinters behind in my behind with each wallop.
“Stand up, bend over the table.”
I obeyed. This meant that he wanted to put his shoulder into the punishment. I guessed correctly, and felt the first of innumerable strap strokes land across my butt. I’ve been known to enjoy a razor strapping, but that’s when the strokes are moderate. Then they are warming and fuzzy-edged and can drive me crazy with lust. These were snapped across my ass with all his considerable might, with a loud crack splitting the air and that feeling made incarnate in my flesh. The leather made my butt jump and dance, though I tried to hold my feet still and keep my lower back arched to present like a good girl should for her comeuppance. Daddy did his best to wear me out with that strap!
“Stay where you are while I get the cane.”
Not the cane, please, I’ve had enough! I’ve learned my lesson, please! I did not dare give voice to these thoughts screaming in my skull. I stood still, tried to psych-up for what was still in-store.
I confess, I’m a big pussy when it comes to receiving a caning. The sound it makes cutting through the air cuts right into my subconscious I was blubbering like a baby while he was still taking aim and tapping my tushy with that fearsome rod. He gave me fifteen wicked stripes, each one leaving a red hot welt that burned deep into me. By the last one, I was sprawled across the table, spent, all the starch taken out of me.
“I don’t know if that’s sufficient. I guess we’ll see from your behavior… You can get up and pull your pants up enough to walk to the corner.”
There was enough piss and vinegar left in me for one last statement of defiance. I didn’t want to be made an example of for every passer-by, didn’t like cornertime and wanted to state that for the record. I stood, pulled the clothing that was around my ankles up to my knees, minced my way over to a chair, and looking my Top directly in the eye, sat my sizzling and smoking buttocks down onto the seat of that wicker chair. It hurt like holy hell, but I needed him to know that I was my own person, and could still sit if I wanted to do so!
“I think I said that you wouldn’t be sitting comfortably, but you took me literally. Okay… I guess my work here is not finished…”
He grabbed me by the wrist. In one smooth exertion, her pulled me back over his knee. He spanked me some more. It was nothing like the punishment of an hour before. My bottom couldn’t take it anymore. Where once it’d been firm and cool and smooth to the touch, it was now fiery red and hot and welted so badly, it looked like a corrugated metal roof.
I dissolved into tears, wailing, “I’m sorry! Enough! I give! Uncle, or whatever I have to say… Please, stop!”
I walked to the corner contritely, put my nose exactly where Daddy said to and kept it there, my facial cheeks blushing from embarrassment almost as brightly as my rear cheeks shown.
“What do you have to say for yourself?” he asked after half an hour of penance.
“Thank you for the time and energy you devoted to teaching me my lesson. I promise to benefit from it!”
Only then did he take me in his arms to console me, to let me cry out my anguish, my humiliation, the abject pain burning deep in my bottom.
“There, there… hush now, you’re my good girl..” he repeated.

2 responses to “#234) Virtually Will Have To Do”

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