A hard spanking, he said it would be.
A hard spanking, right after he arrived.
That was the tricky part.
Things always hurt more right after he arrives.
People write about warm-ups.
Starting slowly, carefully, building up to the harder pain.
But his warm-ups aren't physical.
He takes me to that place with his kisses.
With his touches.
With his words.
And then, when he spanks me,
just two or three smacks to each pale butt cheek,
I can sense the strength of impact,
but don't feel the pain that should be there.
Today, though, there would be no preparation.
He would sit back against the pillows
and beckon me to lie across his lap.
He would admire my bottom,
soft and round and pale and vulnerable.
And then there would be the spanking.
A long, hard, deliberate spanking,
for no other reason than his pleasure.
But then, something happened.
As I waited for his arrival,
reviewing my notes on how best to serve his cock with my hand,
As he drew nearer to the house, the e-mails flew.
Mainly from me.
A continuation of the foreplay that had begun yesterday.
I'm both afraid and aroused, Daddy.I think that's what triggered it.
then you are prepared
What sent me to that place.
I kept writing.
Yes, Daddy.And that is how I was.
I do know this is how you want me to be.
Trembling and longing.
My mouth is watering, Daddy.
My pussy mouth.
And my mouth that is pussy.
I am soft, Daddy.
hold that thought . think 'this is how he wants me '.
And this is how I am.
He sent me to that place with three short sentences.
And I was so deep into that place by the time he arrived that even that first hard blow from the palm of his hand on the tender flesh of my ass didn't register as the the pain which should have come from the assault he had delivered. Again and again he hit me, maybe 5 or 6 times on one cheek before switching to the other, then a pause for words, for admiration, and the spanking continued, with only an occasional true cry of "Daddy! you're hurting me!!" No automatic attempts to squirm away, no unconscious leg kicking to siphon off the pain... the latter came later, downstairs, on the futon, was it from when he whipped me with his belt or, earlier, when he beat me with that nasty strip of wood he uses as a cane? No, wait, the caning came later I think, though not a lot of blows, when I was sucking his cock, I think. The details have grown fuzzy.
The belt did hurt.
Though not as much as it should have.
And the cane...
But he worked hard to control himself there.
He hadn't meant to use the cane.
It was the beast who reached for the cane,
though Daddy was able to control the beast's arm.
It hurt just enough.
For Daddy and for me.
But a lot of time was spent kissing.
My offering my mouth
soft and moist and receptive
for him to take his pleasure.
And the chain was tight around my neck
and then the belt was looped around my neck
and I felt all owned and possessed
and knew I was truly his property
and I was floating and serving
and I'm still very high
except now I can tell
he did really hurt me
because my butt really hurts
and there are welts from that nasty strip of wood
And every blow was a kiss.
And hours later, I am still in that place.
How very lucky I am!