Posted in Fiction

A Spanking Story- The Mentor, pt.2 #NSFW, 18+

Hello my WordPress friends!  If you missed it, part 1 to this tantalizing D/s tale can be found here.

Enjoy! 🙂

Love, nora

P.S. In case you missed it, The Mentor, was written by my friend, Implacable

The Mentor

Part Two

Written by Implacable

I haven’t mentioned the woman standing in the far corner.  There she was, naked down to her stockings, sobbing and sniffing.  Her hands were by her sides and her nose was pressed into the corner.  She tottered on high heels – certainly higher than the ones I was wearing.  Her bottom and the backs of her thighs were a brilliant red, on which canvas, was painted numerous welts.  I was gasping and stammering.  Semen seeped from the woman’s behind and trickled down her thighs to pool at her stocking tops before spilling over and tracking a little way down the nylon.  I remember the scene clearly to this day along with the curious thought that I hoped the semen wouldn’t spill onto the carpet and ruin it.  It was one of the most erotic sights that I have ever seen, and one of the most disturbing at the time.  Had I been wearing knickers, I think they would have become instantly soaked;  I know that my thighs became instantly silky slick, a familiar sign that I was well aroused.

“May I introduce my wife, Chloe.  Chloe, please turn around and meet Natalie Lindall.”

Chloe turned around and my senses were again greeted with a new assault.  The front of Chloe’s belly and thighs had also been whipped;  surely that wasn’t semen seeping from her sex as well?

It was clear that she felt ashamed to greet me in such a fashion.  How could any woman feel otherwise?  Here I was, a stranger in her home, and she was stripped of all pretence, with clear evidence of both having been disciplined and sex.  That sort of honesty takes rather a lot of getting used to.

“Chloe, please return to the corner.”  The stern command was issued once a brief greeting had been forth-coming from Chloe.  “Natalie, would you please take a seat.”

Rupert seated himself on the other side of the desk.  He radiated an intense aura of power that I had never before experienced.  It is something I feel still today, but it is never as intense as when he is in his study – as though that room is his true home.

“I’m sure you were shocked by the instructions I gave you today, even more so by what you have just witnessed.  It is not an accident that I asked you to come at this time.”  He stopped his monologue – obviously part of a prepared oration.  “By the way, would you please raise your skirt at the back.  Whenever you are seated in this room, I require your naked buttocks to touch the chair.  I am a very great admirer of “The Story Of O”, and I like to effect some of the rituals from that book.  Are you familiar with it?”

“No.”  I responded as I raised my skirt at the back and let my naked bottom sit on the deep blue damask upholstery that matched the rest of the room.  It was a deliciously sensual feeling.  How naughty, how nice!  I fervently hoped that my sopping sex wouldn’t leave a wet patch on the chair.

“I will give you a copy to read when you leave this evening.  I would value your critique of it on your next visit.”

“Thank you, er … Rupert?”  Suddenly I realised that I didn’t know how to address this man.  A week or two ago, I would have been on the phone to the social workers to report him for spousal-abuse.  Now, confronted by a seemingly open and shut case, I realised life was much more complex than I had imagined in my black and white, easy solution thinking.  And how would I explain that I myself had just bought, of my own free will, implements for my own spanking?  It was starting to dawn on me that this man did indeed have a lot to teach me.

He sensed my confusion.  “I think you should call me Sir from now on.  It will serve to delineate our relationship as master and pupil.  I have agreed to be your teacher, but a mentor is much more.  I am now your life guide.  You have made an astute decision to put yourself into my hands.  I will broaden your mind, increase your mental and physical capacities, and free you from the many restrictions with which society has ensnared you.  At the very least, you will come to understand your real self and that is a most valuable gift that I shall give to you.”  He said all this with a gentle, almost loving voice that caressed my senses.  I realised that I adored to hear this man speak.

“As your mentor, I will earn your respect.”  I made to interrupt him with protestations that I already respected him.  “I don’t mean the professional respect that we undoubtedly hold for each other already.  No, I mean the respect that will arise between us as we get to understand each other’s deepest strengths and weaknesses, as people, not as colleagues.

“As I was saying, I asked you to arrival at this time so that you could see the results of Chloe’s lesson.  Chloe has been spanked, but she has not been punished.  Every Friday evening, Chloe comes to my study to further her learning and mine.  She gives herself to me freely – is that not so my love?”  He turned to his wife who still had her pretty nose stuck in the corner.

“Yes, master.”  was the muffled reply.  No more, no less.

“Chloe has given herself to me totally.  She is my wife, but she is much more than a wife.  When I say given, I mean it in the absolute sense.  There is no aspect of her life that is not ordered by me.  I ordain her every action, the way she dresses, what she eats, to whom she talks, where she goes, when she bathes, even when she performs her bodily functions.  I mould her very thoughts.  Her gift of her life is precious to me.  Probably more precious than my own life.  She may withdraw her gift at any time.  I am blessed that she chooses to continually renew her gift each morning.”

Gob-smacked, I remain silent and enthralled.

“If I have sex with you, I will not ask Chloe’s permission.  If I require her to have sex with you, or to discipline you, I will express my requirements and they shall be carried out.  At least from Chloe’s end.”  He chuckled as my mouth gaped open at his assumption that I would consent to having sex with anyone.  But he soon put my thinking right on that score.  “In a very short time, I will not need to seek your consent either.” he said, his amusement at my confusion and shock most evident.  “As my pupil, I will expect complete and utter obedience.”

I continued my fish impersonations.  I couldn’t seem to find any coherent words.  I guess it must have been my day for it.

“Come, it is time to show me your purchases.”

I lifted the hold-all onto the desk and extracted each of the implements I had acquired that afternoon.  Sir examined each one and laid them neatly on the desk.

“These will do nicely.”  he noted.  “Your choice of cane is appropriate for a novice.  Over the next few months, you acquire a number of canes of varying dimensions, plus of course, a range of other implements.  While I favour the cane, I do rather like to mix things up.”  He turned to his wife.  How could she keep so still and composed while her husband entertained another woman like this?  I was to learn, in time, precisely the sort of self-discipline required.

“Chloe.  Would you please take these implements and mark them with Natalie’s name.”  Chloe, immediately left her position and came to the table and collected the implements I was soon to become so intimate with.  I caught her eye.  I don’t think I had ever seen a woman so alive, so sexual, so full of ‘joie de vivre’ than Chloe.  Her make-up had run with her tears, but this merely served to increase the eroticism of her whole demeanour.  The intuition flashed through my mind that if being thrashed could make this woman so obviously happy then perhaps it might do the same thing for me.

As Chloe left the room, Sir continued.  “As this is your first lesson, I am going to be very, very lenient with you.  You may not think so at the time, but you will look back on this evening and wonder why you ever made such a fuss.  And make a fuss you will, I promise you.”

“But …?”  My voice trailed off.  Why should I be spanked at all?  What had I done to deserve it?

Again sensing my confusion, Sir continued, “You have not done anything to deserve punishment.  I do not intend to punish you.  Believe me, you will know it when I do.  No, tonight, I intend merely to start your training.  As I told you when you agreed to my methods, your training includes, among other things, the physical application of pain.  Believe me, it is a very effective technique for instilling the attributes that I seek to build in you.  Attributes such as self-discipline, self-confidence and inner strength.

“Did you not sense those attributes in Chloe?  If I may be allowed the conceit, it is due to my methods that I have been able to instil those in my wife and I shall surely do so for you.

“Your early lessons will focus on obedience and trust.  Until you have learned to trust me, you will always struggle with obedience.  You have started along the path already, for you have trusted me enough to present yourself here tonight, knowing that I have demanded certain demonstrations of your obedience already.

“I am now going to bind your hands behind your back.  There is no real need to secure you, your spanking will not be that hard to bear, but the act of submitting to being bound will require trust and learning to trust me and those to whom I give you is one of your first lessons.

“But come, first, take off your pretty dress.  I trust that you have complied with the remainder of my instructions.”

“Ah, yes.  I was rather meaning to discuss those with you Sir.  I … I’m not sure I want to have anal sex, especially unprotected.”  There.  I’d said it.  Said it with quite a quaver in my voice that betrayed my inner turmoil, but I had said it;  this nonsense had gone far enough!  It was time to put my foot down and set some decent boundaries.

“You are dismissed.”

No discussion or persuasion.  Just dismissed!  Not fair;  how is a girl supposed to deal with that.  So of course I immediately threw all my principles to the wind and started begging.  “No!  Please Sir, I’m sorry, it’s just so much to ask without easing me into.  Please have pity on me.  Please, just one more chance Sir! I beg you.”

“My dear Natalie … I will give you this one chance.  Understand this well.  You may always refuse my requests, orders if you like, but if you do so, you are choosing to end our arrangement.  You may scream and howl, beg for mercy or whatever, but you may never refuse that which I choose to do to you, or require you to do yourself.  Is that perfectly clear?  I will not relent a second time.”

Oh the sternness of his tone.  The perfect commanding voice.  I melted completelyto his will.  I cannot understand to this day why I felt such panic at the thought of being cast aside, but it was a feeling of pure terror, terror and intense gratitude that he was willing to make an exception for me.  He wouldn’t ever need to again.  I resolved that in my mind straight away.

I must have fallen to my knees in front of his desk, so abject was my terror.  I was in a flood of tears.  He stood up and came around the desk to gently pick me up.  He cradled me in his arms until I regained control of myself.

“I know it’s a shock.  But this is for real;  it is no game.  You must be sure that you understand what it is that you are committing yourself to.  Do you understand what I have just said to you?”

I couldn’t speak.  I nodded.

“No.  You must acknowledge me directly.  I am requiring you to submit yourself totally to me, now.  There is no limit to pain I will inflict on you, nor the degradation and depravity that I will require of you.  But in return, I promise that I will reveal the true Natalie Lindall.  Now tell me, do you accept?”

A small mouse voice piped up “Yes Sir, I understand, and I accept.”  Now where it came from I couldn’t tell you.  But I meant it all the same.  I can honestly say it was the best decision of my life.

“Now remove your dress and bend over the desk.  I wish to examine your conformance with my instructions.”

With a rather ruddy face I meekly complied.  I pulled off my dress folded it and put it on the chair.  Christ!  There was a dark patch on the seat – oh the shame of it.  I looked Sir in the eye and saw that he too had noticed it.

It is a jolly hard thing for a girl to strip off and expose herself to a relative stranger in such circumstances.  Even more so when it is obvious he wants to look at your anus!  Still, what did I expect, given the instructions I’d been given earlier?  I tried hard not to cover my breasts or my sex, though the exposure was a trial.  He made no pretence of averting his gaze.  Instead he devoured me.  I quickly bent over the desk – the lesser of two evils?  Funny how nowadays, I cannot get enough of his admiration for my body;  I would pose in the most lewd of positions just for his pleasure and adore the attention.

Sir stroked my back and thighs before tying my hands.  The tie was not overly tight and the rope was a soft silky material, but it felt so intimidating to have the freedom of my hands suddenly taken from me.  Intimidating and strangely, after my initial panic, soothing.  My bondage, no matter that it was of the lightest variety, absolved me from responsibility for all that was subsequently to happen.  It was the beginning of another love affair, my infatuation with restraint.  Since then, I have come to understand how much more powerful is the conscious self-discipline of offering oneself up without restraint, but that was a lesson for the future.  This lesson was about trust.  And boy was I ever trusting this man that night!

Once my hands were tied it was inevitable that the next item on the agenda would be the parting of my buttocks.  I struggled with myself not to tense my muscles;  a smart slap on the bum and a growled admonition served to let me know that I wasn’t succeeding very well.  A pair of strong hands overcame my resistance and parted my cheeks.  A finger intruded where it shouldn’t.  It slipped in insultingly easily!  “I’m glad you have seen fit to obey me in your preparations.  I will now demonstrate to you why it is important for you that you did.”

Sir leant over me and his index finger was thrust towards my mouth.  “Suck my finger please.”

I did so.  It tasted a little savoury.  Not particularly unpleasant, just savoury.  And then I realised it tasted of my behind and the olive oil that I had used as a lubricant.  Extra virgin of course (who am I kidding?).  I now understood why cleanliness was important.

Sir reinforced the lesson.  “I take pleasure with women in many ways.  I will certainly indulge myself in all three of your major orifices, and often.  However, my first pleasure is sodomy and I will require that your behind is ALWAYS available to me.  I will forego your sex during your menstrual period, but I will not forego your behind at any time.  It is therefore in your interest to always be well lubricated and clean.  I enforce cleanliness through a simple technique.  Anything that is introduced into your anus, whether it be a finger, a tongue, a penis or an artificial implement like a vibrator, will afterwards visit your mouth to be cleaned.  I suspect you will find my method is salutary to ensure your bottom is always clean for me.”

“Yes Sir.”  I mumbled.  Oh God, how bad was this going to be.  I can’t believe I didn’t do a runner there and then.  But then I’ve always been a sucker for trying things before rejecting them – this time literally!  He was right about one thing though, his method sure was effective.  My arse was going to be the cleanest in Christendom if I had anything to do with it.

At his command, I spread my legs wide.  A rather pleasant investigation of my pussy ensued.  Clearly Sir was pleased with me because he frigged me until I came.  I was just making those ridiculous cooing and aahing noises that a girl does when she no longer cares who is listening, when Chloe returned.  I orgasmed just as she put the cane down in front of my nose.  Talk about timing!

It has taken me a long time to understand that Chloe is genuinely not jealous of her husband’s activities with other women.  I have to admit that orgasming in front of her that first time sent some decidedly mixed feelings running through my veins – not that I really cared at the time.  That’s the nice thing about an orgasm – you really don’t give a fuck about anything else at that moment.  [I really am going to catch it aren’t I!]

[… Another coffee break.  I’m sure my pussy is bleeding, it has to be it hurts so much.  No, no blood.  Oh well back to painland.  It sure is helping my concentration though, I have to admit that.  Thank you Sir … so bloody much, you bastard.]

As I recovered my senses, I found Sir speaking to me again, “I am now going to put you over my knee and spank you.  You will find that I always start a session this way.  It warms your bottom and allows a much more rigorous thrashing later without the concern that I will draw blood too early.  If I want to draw blood I will, believe me, but that is reserved for special occasions such as genuine punishments, not simple lessons.”

As a lamb to the slaughter, I flopped somewhat ungracefully across Sir’s lap.  With my arms tied behind my back, there was just no way I was going to do it any other way.  I don’t think I‘d ever done this before as an adult (so many firsts tonight, my head was just in a whirl).

And so I was spanked.  A hard heavy hand smacked at my cheeks.  I learned a few more things rather quickly:

  • Even if it looks like it can’t really hurt much it does;
  • It hurts a lot less if you are spanked on alternate cheeks as the sting dissipates quite quickly. On the other hand, a dozen smacks on the same cheek in a row will have most girls smarting very nicely thank you;
  • With your hands tied behind your back, excessive wriggling trying to avoid the smacks will soon have you hitting the floor pretty hard. I did it a few times and that led to further discoveries;
  • Falling off Sir’s lap (the bastard wouldn’t hold me on very tightly, though he could have) means having to go across his lap again and receiving lots of smacks on my thighs. And then opening my legs wide so he can smack my inner thighs;
  • Smacks on your thighs hurt a lot;
  • Smacks on your inner thighs hurt lots more;
  • I really hope he doesn’t decide to smack my pussy. I’m convinced that it would hurt most of all.  (I’ve subsequently had the chance to gather empirical evidence supporting my hypothesis and I’m right.)  Anyway he’d get a wet hand because;
  • Being spanked is a hell of a turn on at the same that it really hurts!

I couldn’t tell you how long I was spanked for.  It seemed like a bloody long time, but I suspect it was probably for five or ten minutes at the most.  I cried.  I think I started crying fairly early in the proceedings and I howled and sniffled and sobbed and wept from there on in.  And I had the most wonderful orgasm too.  I probably ought to mention that, to be fair.  In fact I had two.  The second one was a lazy, long building one and sort of peaked just as Sir was finishing me off.  I hung limply across his lap after that and just absorbed the few remaining smacks.  I was sort of in heaven.  I can’t remember ever having three orgasms in one night, certainly not so quickly together – perhaps this bottom smacking thing wasn’t so bad after all!

Oh, and I learned that your nose dribbles like anything when you’re howling away and you are swallowing tears and snot and who knows what and you don’t really care because that is rather unimportant at the time.  I’ve probably swallowed rather a lot of snot since then.  Not something a girl really likes to admit.  I promise you, all dignity goes straight out the door when you are being spanked.  Not pretty, but the truth will out.  At least not pretty for the girl swallowing it, but having since had the pleasure of watching a number of other women being spanked it is a very, very erotic sight for the on-lookers to watch a pretty girl in such dire straights that her eyes are pouring out tears and her nose is running.

It was my turn to stand in the corner this time.  It felt like I was standing there for hours, but it was probably only ten minutes.  I was tutored by Chloe, hands would have been at my sides, except that they were still bound behind my back, nose (still running) right up against the corner.  Chloe informed me that the more traditional hands on head wouldn’t really work as it made it almost impossible to get the nose into the corner.  I didn’t laugh, but I’m sure I smiled just a little bit into my corner.

It’s an amazing thing standing there staring at the wall.  Actually, I usually shut my eyes otherwise I’d go cross-eyed.  It’s like being in your own little world.  You can hear what’s going on behind you, and you are usually, at least initially, trying to cope with an atrociously stinging something or other.  If you’ve just had your tits whipped then the cool of the wall can help a bit.  I’m an easy crier – it has taken a very long career of thrashings for me to remain dry eyed for long.  And I still cry far more often than other girls I’ve since met in similar situations.  In contrast, Chloe cries relatively little.  Anyway, once you’ve had a few minutes to stop wailing and weeping and the initial sting has gone out of whatever body parts were in the firing line, you get to just stand there in quiet contemplation.  I find it amazing, but your mind soon drifts to things other than the violence just visited upon your body, or the violence still to come as is so often the case.  It can bring the most amazing peace at a time when you would expect your mind to be in utter turmoil.

[Speaking of corners, I’ve just about had all I can take of this fucking piece of wood.  Whoever invented this idea must have had a strong chance at getting the chief torturer’s job in hell is all I can say.]

I was spared the martinet that night.  Sir said it was quite useful for reddening my bottom, but that he more often preferred to use it on other parts of a woman’s body, particularly the more sensitive portions such as her breasts or sex.  As this was my first session, he was restricting my tribulations to my bottom.  I remember thanking all the gods that might possibly exist for that little (little?) favour.

“However,” he continued, “I will cane you, and just before you leave here tonight, I will acquaint you with the pleasures of the hairbrush.

To be continued….

Posted in Fiction, spanking

An old-fashioned spanking story #NSFW, 18+

He’d known Sara May all his life.  As kids, they’d run through the sprinklers togethers, and in middle school, he’d teased her mercilessly about her braces.  Now, both seniors in high school, here they were parked out in the woods in his truck.  The heat between them was undeniable and he couldn’t take his eyes from the rise and fall of her breasts under her pretty dress.

With great care, he placed his hand on her knee.  He heard the sharp intake of her breath, but she didn’t pull away.  Encouraged, he leaned in and placed a warm kiss on the nape of her neck.  Her eyes closed.  He placed his hand on her chin and pulled her face towards his and for the first time, he kissed the girl he had always known would be his.

Soon, they were wrapped up in each other’s arms, their kisses deepening…hands wandering.  He pulled Sara May onto his lap so she straddled him and he pulled her in close.  He knew he’d better slow this down if he was going to do right by her.  He wasn’t going to take her right then and there in his truck like some animal.  He loved this girl.

“Sara, honey, let’s slow down,” he whispered, breath hot on her neck.

“Oh, Jed, please, please kiss me,” she moaned, wrapping her arms around his neck, and pressing her pelvis to his.

“I think we’d better take a walk honey,” he said, gripping her waist and pushing her off the stiff front of his Levi’s.

What happened next, took his breath away.

Never breaking eye contact, Sara May sat up straight and slowly pulled the straps of her dress down her arms, revealing her beautiful, perky, bare breasts.  She offered him a shy smile as he looked on in shock, his manhood tightening underneath her.

Every part of him wanted this girl.  He wanted to reach under that dress of hers, rip her panties right off, and find his rightful place between her thighs.  He wanted to crush her body under his as he took her on the seat of his truck.  He wanted…

But, he stopped.  This wasn’t how it was meant to be between them.

“Cover up honey, you are so beautiful…but please, cover up,” he requested, trying to advert his eyes.

“You don’t want me, Jed?” she whispered, sliding forward in his lap, pressing her bare breasts against his shirt.

Who was this wanton girl, half dressed, pressing herself against him, tempting him?  He felt his temper begin to flare.

“Sara, I said stop,” he said sternly.  “Put your clothes back on”

Instead she leaned in and began to lightly kiss his neck, grinding herself on his lap.

“Common, Jed,” she whispered, coyly.  “We’ve been waiting for so long.”

Jed closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensations she was providing, almost losing his resolve.

With a groan, he firmly pushed his girl away.

“That is just about enough, young lady,” he said, shocking himself by how much he sounded like his father.  “Pull your dress up.  I think it’s time I took you home.”

The slap to his cheek surprised him.  It must have taken her just as much by surprise as her hands flew to cover her pretty little mouth.

Before he could consider the consequences, he had Sara May turned over his knee.  In a flash, her dress was up, and he pulled her cotton panties right down to her knees.

Without a word, his raised his hand and brought it down sharply on her delicate flesh.  She squealed and tried to wriggle away, but Jed held her firmly with his left hand and spanked her soundly with his right.  His hand continued to descend upon her backside for several minutes and she began to sob over his knee.

“Please Jed, please stop,” she cried, tears fresh on her cheeks.

He ignored her pleas and continued to spank her bottom to a rosy red.  He had seen his father deliver plenty of spanking to his sisters so he was well familiar with the pleading of a well-spanked girl.  He also knew that if he wanted all that sass to disappear and his sweet Sara May to reappear, he had to spank her soundly enough to ensure better behavior.

There was nothing Sara May could do but lay across his knees and take her medicine.  It had been a long time since her own Daddy had spanked her bottom and she had forgotten the fire a strong male hand could light on an unprotected backside.  She pleaded with Jed to stop, but he was implacable in his endeavor to modify her behavior.

Continuing to spank soundly, he tried to ignore the fullness of her bare breasts hanging off one side of his lap and the suppleness of the bare bottom over his knee.  She was such a lovely sight in this half-dressed state.

“Have you had enough, young lady?” he asked, resting his palm on her now fiery hot behind.

“Yes Jed, please. Please stop, I promise I’ll be good,” she cried, trying unsuccessfully to rise from his lap.

With another round of sharp spanks, Jed answered, “You had better be, or there will be more where that came from.  Do you understand me?”  His hand continued to reign down repeatedly on the sensitive area between her bottom and thighs.

“Yes, Jed…yes, I understand. Please stop,” she begged him.

Reluctantly, he drew her up and into a sitting position on his lap.  With his strong arms around her, she sobbed into his chest from the humility, the sting, and… in remorse.

“There, there,” he whispered, holding her close, well aware that her bare backside was pressed firmly into his manhood.  Oh how he wanted to take that bare nipple into his mouth and bring them both to the ecstasy he knew would exist between them.  But instead, he rocked her gently, kissing her forehead and soothing his freshly spanked girl.  Slowly, he helped her pull her dress back into place and he wiped her tears away.

“I love you Sara May and I promise you…when the time is right, I will have you out of your clothes so fast your head will spin.  I will make you see stars, Sara May.  But for now, honey…you’ve got to keep your clothes on.  I intend to do right by you and when you come walking down that aisle, all in white, on your Daddy’s arm… well, then you will belong to me.  And believe me honey, I’ll be giving you everything you’ve been waiting for”

Sara May threw her arms around him, bestowing him with the sweetest of hugs.  As she drew away, it was then that she remembered that her panties were still down around her knees and her bare bottom was in his lap.  Her face blushed hotly and she looked away.  But Jed, took her by the chin and drew her eyes back to his.

“There is more where that came from, Sara May.  I will expect obedience in my household, so you better get used to that idea.  Understand?” he asked, his steely gray eyes boring into hers.

“Yes, Jed,” she answered, meekly.

“Good girl,” he told her, rewarding her with a kiss.

“Now, let’s get you home before you miss your curfew and give your Daddy something to really be angry about,” he teased, starting the truck back up.  He looked over at his sweet girl, who was trying to pull her panties back into place and smooth down her dress, flustered, but happy.

Theirs’ was just an old-fashioned romance.

Thanks for reading! 🙂

XOXO,

nora

Posted in Uncategorized

Spanking Fiction- Mrs. Ashfield’s School of Manners and More, Ch. 2

Chapter Two     

Clara shifted nervously in her seat on her welted bottom as she stared at the large phallic object in Mrs. Ashfield’s hands.  Her chocolate brown eyes were wide and staring and her anxious little mouth formed a small “o”.  Her cheeks blushed in the most beautiful way and Mrs. Ashfield observed that her tight little nipples were has hard as pebbles under her dress.  Oh yes, this little girl was responding quite well to her discipline.  But, there was still much more to learn.

“You have neglected to give your husband what is rightfully his, young lady,” stated Mrs. Ashfield, matter-of-factly.  “Tonight, your husband will rectify that situation and you will spread those pretty thighs wide for him, willingly, and with desire.  However, he has expressed to me that he does not have the time to train such a young, disobedient wife and therefore, it will be under my tutelage that you will learn how you may satisfy your husband’s sexual needs.”

Clara felt shivers running down her spine.  She couldn’t take her eyes off the object in Mrs. Ashfield’s hands, that she was caressing with her fingers.  How had she gotten into this mess and how could she escape?  If only she had been nicer to Charles, if only she hadn’t tried to con him out of a willing wife.  She was beginning to understand just how high of a price she was going to pay for her insolence to her husband.

“We will begin to widen your knowledge of sexual activities now, Miss Clara.  Please stand up and remove your dress,” Mrs. Ashfield commanded, rising from her chair, but continuing to stroke the piece in her hands.

Clara immediately said “no” and began to beg and when she jumped to her feet, Mrs. Ashfield’s tawse dropped to the floor.  “Please Ma’am, please let me go home, please don’t make me take off my dress!”

“Young lady, stop that begging immediately!” Mrs. Ashfield roared.  She came round the desk and took a strong hold of Clara’s arm, shaking her.  “You are not going anywhere and you are going to learn obedience, young miss, even if I have to spend the rest of the afternoon applying my strap to your bottom for you to do so.”

Scared out of her mind, Clara shut her mouth and begged silently with her big, brown eyes.

“Now,” began Mrs. Ashfield.  “We are going to deal with that little tantrum, young lady.  Take your dress off immediately.”  She released Clara’s arm, but stood so close to her, Clara could feel her warm breath in her hair.

Out of options, and fearing that Mrs. Ashfield would carry out her threat to strap her bottom all afternoon, Clara began to undo the buttons on her gown.  Her fingers shook as she worked the buttons through the tiny holes.  There were so many buttons!

“Hurry up, young lady,” Mrs. Ashfield said, arms crossed now, tapping her foot.  “You are going to have to learn to strip much quicker than that if you don’t want to feel the sting of your husband’s crop upon your backside.”

Clara’s head shot up in alarm.  Charles had a crop?  Surely he wouldn’t…She hurriedly completed unbuttoning her dress and let it slide off her shoulders and down off her hips.

“Pick up your dress and fold it neatly,” commanded Mrs. Ashfield.  “Place it on my desk please.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Clara whispered.  She stood now in only her slip, her panties down around her knees, garters still in place.

“Take off the slip and be quick about it,” Mrs. Ashfield ordered.

Clara quickly raised the slip up and over her head, placing it neatly on top of her dress.  She tried to cover herself in the front, but Mrs. Ashfield slapped her hands away.  The air felt cold upon her skin and soon she was covered in goosepimples, her legs shaking in nervous anticipation of what was to come.

“Now, young lady,” Mrs. Ashfield began, fixing Clara with a cool stare.  “You have just committed two infractions for which you need to be disciplined.  First, you allowed my tawse to fall to the floor when I had so thoughtfully left it resting upon your thighs for you as a reminder.  For that, I am going to give you six strokes to your palms for being so clumsy and ungrateful.  Second, you will learn that you are not allowed to say “no” to me and you will learn not to beg leniency when orders are given.  I can assure you that your husband will have little tolerance for such antics when he makes requests of you.  You will learn to obey immediately, without question.”

Poor little Clara just stood there, shaking, arms at her sides, head down in defeat.

“Clara, you will now pick up my tawse,” Mrs. Ashfield said.

As Clara reluctantly began to reach down for the dreaded implement, Mrs. Ashfield stopped her.

“Oh no, young lady.  Not with your hands.  You will pick up my tawse with that pretty little mouth of yours and then you will kneel before me and wait until I retrieve it from you.  On your hands and knees, now,” Mrs. Ashfield’s stern tone suggested that Clara obey immediately.

Seeing no other choice, Clara began to get down on her hands and knees.  She felt completely and utterly humiliated to be before this woman, clad only in her underthings and her panties at half-mast, about to retrieve Mrs. Ashfield’s tawse for her like a disobedient little puppy.  She looked up pleadingly at Mrs. Ashfield, but Mrs. Ashfield simply pointed to the tawse and said, “Now, young lady”.

Anything but graceful, Clara lowered her young face to the floor, attempting to get the tawse into her mouth.  After a few attempts, she had the leather strap firmly between her teeth and she began to rise.

“Kneel, girl,” Mrs. Ashfield ordered.

Clara kneeled before her.

“Spread those thighs.  No, wider,” she was told.

Clara spread her thighs as wide as her lowered panties would allow.

“Cross your arms behind your back,” Mrs. Ashfield ordered.

Clara obeyed, crossing her arms.

“Head up, but lower your eyes to the floor.”

What a pretty picture Clara made.  If only Charles could see her now, thought Mrs. Ashfield.  What a different girl she was than the impudent young woman who had waltzed into her office earlier.  Now, she kneeled on the floor, welted bottom on display, the rest of her body soft and untouched.  And with a leather tawse in her pretty mouth.  Yes, what a picture she made.

Mrs. Ashfield stepped behind Clara and quickly undid her brassier, setting two, beautifully plump breasts free from restraint.  Clara squealed but she did not drop the tawse and she did not break position.  Finally, after a full minute of letting her kneel in anticipation, Mrs. Ashfield took the tawse from her mouth.

“Stand up girl,” Mrs. Ashfield ordered.  Clara rose from the floor, her knees in pain from kneeling on the wood floor.

“You will now be disciplined for allowing my tawse to fall to the floor.  Hold out your right hand.  Good.  Now place your left hand under your right for support.  Straight out in front of you.”

When Clara was in the proper position, Mrs. Ashfield gave a quick stroke with the tawse to her right hand.

“Owww,” Clara cried out, remembering this familiar pain from grade school.  But, in grade school, she hadn’t been standing before her disciplinarian with panties at half-mast and her breasts fully exposed.

Mrs. Ashfield waited until Clara was properly in position again.

Whap!  This elicited another shriek from Clara.  Whap!

The tears began to fall again as Clara’s left hand was next disciplined.  Mrs. Ashfield was unrelenting and delivered each stroke with expertise.  This discipline left Clara with two stinging palms and wet cheeks.

“Good, now that this lesson is complete, let’s see if we can teach you a lesson about saying “no” to orders given to you,” Mrs. Ashfield said, leaving Clara’s side and walking back to her desk.

Clara had learned that nothing good for her came out of those desk drawers and this time was no different.  Mrs. Ashfield pulled out a small, but heavy wooden paddle and walked back around the desk to stand by Clara’s side.

“I will now introduce you to my paddle, young lady.  Charles has informed me that he has one that is quite similar so you might do yourself well and get used to this now.  I can assure you that this paddle will make you desperately want to avoid further trouble with me,” she informed Clara.

Clara shook, eyes wide, fearful of what was coming.  She was beginning to realize that she better start listening and listening well if she wanted to be able to sit down any time soon.

“Turn around and put your hands on your head.  Feet shoulder width apart.  Good girl.  Now arch your back, little Clara.  I need you to stick your rear end out for me so that I can paddle you properly,” Mrs. Ashfield said, just itching for the paddling to commence.

Clara obeyed, and pushed her already sore behind out for the paddle, not wanting to earn further punishment.  Mrs. Ashfield quickly raised it and smacked Clara’s bottom firmly with it.

The paddle caused a ferocious sting and Clara fought hard to maintain her position.  Whack, whack, whack went the paddle relentlessly across her bare bottom.

“Why are you being paddled, young lady?”  Mrs. Ashfield asked between strokes.

“Be-because I said no to you, Ma’am,” Clara sobbed.

Whack, whack, whack!  “That is correct young lady and you will learn that you are not allowed to say no to me and you are certainly not allowed to say no to your husband.  Is that clear?” Mrs. Ashfield asked, raining the paddle down all over the bare bottom that was jutted out in front of her.

“Yes, Ma’am!” Clara cried.  “I understand, please….!!!”

“No begging, young lady,” Mrs. Ashfield scolded, continuing to paddle Clara’s bottom.  “You will take your spanking like a good girl, no complaints.  Hold still young lady, you keep that naughty bottom in position.”

The paddle continued to rise and fall for a full minute more and upon completion, Clara’s bottom looked like two ripe cherries, a deep, hot crimson.  Her tears fell and her breasts heaved as she sobbed.  She was completely and utterly contrite…broken down, and ready to learn whatever lessons Mrs. Ashfield had for her.

“Now then,” Mrs. Ashfield said, sitting down on the chair that Clara’s bottom had formerly occupied.  “Now that that is complete, let’s continue your training, shall we?”

Clara stood there, silent now, but tears still slipping down her cheeks.

“Are you forgetting your manners so quickly, young lady?  You will answer respectfully when asked a question,” Mrs. Ashfield said sternly.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Clara managed.  “Ple-please continue my training, Ma’am.”

“Certainly, I shall.  Now, be a good girl and retrieve that for me,” Mrs. Ashfield said, pointing at the phallic object she had removed from the drawer earlier.

Clara shuffled around to the desk, her panties hindering her movement.  She cautiously picked up the object, feeling it stiffness and weight.  She stared at it in wonderment.

“Hurry up now, Clara.  Bring it to me,” Mrs. Ashfield’s voice brought her out of her reverie and she quickly returned to her place by her new tutor.

Taking the object from Clara, Mrs. Ashfield smiled inwardly at the girl’s response.  She was flushed again, across her cheeks and her pretty chest, and her eyes were wide.  Mrs. Ashfield had no doubt that if she felt between the girl’s legs, which she would do shortly, she would find wetness there from both her discipline and her anticipation of what was to come.

“Now, Clara,” Mrs. Ashfield began.  “This object is very similar to what your husband has between his legs.  Charles has told me that he likes to refer to his manhood as his cock so you will become comfortable using that terminology when pleasing him.  Say it now please.  What is this object?”

“It..it is a c-cock Ma’am”, Clara whispered, hesitantly.

“Good girl, Clara.  A bit louder though.  What is this?” Mrs. Ashfield asked, holding up the phallic object.

“It is a cock, Ma’am,” Clara answered again, this time louder.  She certainly did not want to give Mrs. Ashfield any reason to use that paddle again, which was now resting against the foot of the chair.

“That’s right, good girl.  Now, as I was saying earlier, Charles will want to put his manhood—his cock—into your pretty, wet little holes so we must train them to take a cock as large as this one,” she informed Clara.

“Hands on your head dear,” she ordered.  “Good girl.  Now, he will certainly want to put his cock here and will be doing so this evening,” Mrs. Ashfield said, slipping two fingers right into Clara’s young pussy.  Clara gasped and Mrs. Ashfield nodded, knowingly.  Yes, the girl certainly was wet.  Removing her fingers she then reached up to Clara’s pretty lips.  “He will also want to put his cock here,” and with that, Mrs. Ashfield pushed her two wet fingers right into Clara’s reluctant mouth.  “Suck dear.  No, I said to suck, Clara.  Please don’t disobey me now,” she said sternly.

Soon, Clara was sucking on Mrs. Ashfield’s fingers, tasting herself for the very first time.  She was surprised by the taste, and surprised to feel the wetness growing between her legs.

“Good girl,” Mrs. Ashfield rewarded her with a pat to her naked behind.  “Turn for me, dear,” she said, guiding Clara around so that her bottom was facing Mrs. Ashfield from her place on the chair.  With one hand, she spread Clara’s well-spanked bottom cheeks and she placed a finger on her anus.  “And, he will want to put his cock here,” Mrs. Ashfield said, placing some pressure there but not inserting her fingers, not yet anyhow.

Again, Clara gasped, all the sensations so new to her.  She wasn’t sure what was happening to her body, but she could feel her pulse racing and her heart thumping in her chest.  And then there was the wetness, she felt as if she were dripping down there.  What was happening to her?

“Okay, dear.  I am now going to have you bend over my knee.  Come here, that’s right, over you go,” Mrs. Ashfield said as she guided the nearly naked Clara across her lap.  When Clara was face down and bottoms up over her lap, she handed Clara the phallic representation of her husband’s cock.  Mrs. Ashfield also leaned down and picked up her small but fierce, wood paddle.

“Let’s begin, shall we?” she asked, testing poor little Clara.  She rested the paddle against her naked bottom.

“Yes, Ma’am, “Clara responded, answering respectfully, wanting to avoid another spanking at all costs.

“You are going to learn to suck your husband’s cock today, little Clara.  What I would like you to do now, is put the cock in your mouth, as far as it will go,” Mrs. Ashfield said, giving Clara a little tap with the paddle as motivation.

Clara quickly held the object up to her face, and swallowing hard, she inserted it into her mouth.

“Come on dear, further now.  Surely you can take more than that,” Mrs. Ashfield said, watching closely.

Clara thought she might gag but she inserted the object even further.

“Good girl, Clara!” Mrs. Ashfield praised.  “You are learning quickly, my dear.”  She said this as she gave Clara’s bottom a quick rub, allowing her fingers to graze the exposed lips of Clara’s young pussy.

“Now I would like you to suck, Clara.  You suck on that cock just like you sucked on my fingers earlier,” Mrs. Ashfield commanded.

Clara began to suck in earnest, wanting to please Mrs. Ashfield, and hoping that her fingers might stray between her legs once again.

And so, while nearly nude, over Mrs. Ashfield’s knee, bare bottom just begging for a spanking, Clara learned how she might suck on her husband’s cock.  She sucked hard and learned to lap at the cock with her tongue, like a lollipop.  Mrs. Ashfield also taught her how to swirl the cock around in her mouth always being cautious not to use her teeth too much.  She was rewarded with pats to her warm bottom, and fingers lightly grazing over her pussy.  Clara felt light-headed and increasingly warm.  She no longer felt anxious but she felt like something was coming, something truly good was coming.

Mrs. Ashfield sensed that Clara’s was nearing orgasm and she stopped her light petting.

“Okay, Clara, you may stop now, my dear,” she said, rubbing the young girl’s back and taking the phallic object back from her.  “You have done very well, young lady and I am quite proud of you.  I think you will please your husband greatly with your new skills.”

Clara lapped up the attention, wanting more attention between her thighs.  She squirmed over Mrs. Ashfield’s knee, not knowing what she wanted, but needing it desperately.

“I’m afraid though that we still need to train your other hole, dear,” Mrs. Ashfield informed her, lightly applying pressure to Clara’s anus once again.  “I’m afraid this may not be quite as pleasant dear.  In fact, many young ladies such as yourself report that this can be quite painful in the beginning but, you will remain over my knee and you will relax yourself, and you will learn.  You need to learn how to take your husband’s cock here, Clara, this is a very important lesson,” Mrs. Ashfield told her.

“First, I am going to insert this cock into your wetness, dear,” Mrs. Ashfield said, as she lightly dipped the object into the wetness between Clara’s thighs.

Clara moaned and pushed back, wanting to feel the cock inside of her.  However, Mrs. Ashfield did not allow that to occur.  Charles had demanded that his new bride remained untouched between her legs so that he might have the honor of conquering that hole that very evening.

Once the object was naturally oiled with Clara’s very own juices, Mrs. Ashfield pressed the tip right against Clara’s budding bottom hole.

“You’ll need to relax, young lady.  Good girl.  I’m just going to slide it in a little,” she said, beginning to put pressure on Clara’s tight little opening.

As the phallic shaped object began to push open her tight little bottom hole, Clara began to squeal and squirm in alarm.  It felt too large and it was beginning to hurt as it stretched her.  But, unfortunately for Clara, Mrs. Ashfield was quite practiced in training a young girl’s bottom for a new husband’s cock.  She knew that she could not stop until Clara learned to take it, and to take all of it.  After all, it was her husband’s command.

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Spanking Fiction- Crystal’s Story Continues

If you find reading about a young, adult women getting spankings offensive, please leave this page.

To the rest of you, happy reading!  Trying my hand at writing spanking fiction…

~ Nora

 

When Daddy entered the living room, he was greeted by the sight of three naughty young ladies, each in their respective corner.  In his right hand he held the dreaded oak paddle, which he would soon use to ensure that none of these young ladies sat comfortably for the next few days.  He took an armless chair from the dining room table and placed it in the center of the room.

He sat down on the chair and called the girls to him.  He was pleased to see them rush to attention as they had all learned the consequences for keeping him waiting long ago.

“Get those panties down to your knees and sit down,” he ordered, gesturing to the couch he was facing.

His three daughters quickly obeyed and soon, there were three bare bottoms sitting on the couch.  They each looked very anxious.  Daddy typically spanked them in private so being made to take down their panties in front of each other was something of a new experience.

“Hands on your head,” Daddy said sternly.  They obeyed immediately.

He let them sit there in silence for a minute, anticipating the spanking that they knew was coming.

“I hope that you all are still tasting the soap…did that teach you a lesson about swearing?” Daddy asked, knowing it had.

He heard “Yes Sir’s” and a “Yes Daddy”.

“Well, now you are going to learn just what Daddy thinks about you girls fighting with one another and saying means things to each other.  You should be ashamed of yourselves, young ladies.  You are sisters and that is a very important and special bond that you shouldn’t take for granted.  You are very lucky to have one another, “ Daddy lectured them sternly, while lightly tapping the paddle against his leg.

“You have really disappointed your mother and I tonight.  Fighting and swearing will not be tolerated in this house, do you understand me?” He asked.

Again…”Yes Sir”.

“I know that I usually discipline you in private but I think this time it will do you some good to sit there and see each of your sisters paddled until they cry, knowing that you are going to be getting the same treatment shortly.  I really hope you girls learn a lesson from this,” Daddy said, looking each of them in the eye.

“Crystal, you are first.  Come here, young lady,” Daddy said, gesturing at her with his paddle.

Crystal got up quickly and hobbled over to Daddy’s right side, her panties slipping down to her calves.  In no time, Daddy pulled her over his knee and raised her nightie.  She blushed hotly knowing what she must look like both to Daddy and to her sisters.  To Daddy, she looked like a naughty little girl in need of a good, hard spanking on her bare behind to correct her misbehavior.  To her sisters, well, they were more worried about their own turns over Daddy’s knee.

“Young lady,” Daddy began, resting the paddle against Crystal’s upturned behind. “Why are you over Daddy’s knee about to get a spanking?”

With a single tear running down her cheek, Crystal responded, “Because I was swearing and fighting with Jessica and Megan.  I’m really sorry, Daddy.”

As Daddy raised the paddle, he responded, “You are about to be a lot sorrier I’m afraid.”  With that, Crystal’s spanking commenced.  The paddle was raised and brought down sharply, repeatedly, filling the room with sharp cracks and loud wails.  Crystal did her best to maintain her position, face down and bottom up, but she couldn’t help but kick her legs which landed her panties around her ankles.  As Daddy warmed her bottom for her, teaching her a good lesson about swearing and fighting, all she could do in response was beg Daddy to stop spanking her and promising over and over again that she had learned her lesson.  But Daddy ignored her pleas.  These were the pleas of a young lady in the middle of a good, hard spanking and he wasn’t going to be deterred from his duty as a father.  He spanked on and on until there were two cherry red cheeks over his knee that belonged to a very contrite, sobbing girl.

During Crystal’s spanking, it barely registered in her mind that the phone was ringing in the kitchen.  Little did she know that it was Sam calling for her.  Mother took the phone call and though she tried to keep the call brief, Sam could hear the unmistakable sounds of a young lady getting a spanking coming through the line.  When Mother told Sam that Crystal was unavailable at the moment and that she was having a discussion with her Daddy, Sam felt certain that the cries he was hearing were coming from his fiancé.  He wondered what in the world she had gotten herself into this time, though he had no doubt that her Daddy’s discipline was warranted.  He was of the old school belief, much like his own father, that young ladies needed regular spankings to help them behave and maintain a sweet, submissive attitude.

Back in the living room, Daddy finished up Crystal’s spanking with twelve incredibly painful licks with his paddle.  She sobbed over his knee as he examined her bottom for bruising.  She was a little bruised but he knew that sitting on this painful bottom would teach her a lesson.  He gave her bottom a few mild swats and said, “Up you go, young lady,” helping Crystal to rise from where she was.  “You just leave those panties where they are and go sit back down on the couch.  Hands on your head.”

“Yes Daddy,” Crystal sobbed, sitting her well-spanked behind on the scratchy fabric of the couch.  Though she was twenty years old, she appeared much younger in this moment…just a little girl with a soundly spanked bottom, panties tangled around her ankles, and cheeks and lashes wet with tears.

“Jessica, you are next.  Come here young lady,” Daddy ordered.

And soon, he had another one of his daughters over his knees, bottom bare and raised for punishment.  He lectured her briefly but he let his paddle do most of the talking.  Jessica’s response was tearful pleas, wails, and promises to be a good girl.  At eighteen years old, she still had never gotten used to the humiliation of being put across her father’s knee to learn a lesson that Daddy believed was best learned face down, panties down, and bottom up.  When Daddy had paddled her bottom crimson, he sent her back, sobbing, to the couch.  Like Crystal, her bottom was on fire and her attitude contrite.

Now it was Megan’s turn and she was spanked just as long and just as hard with the paddle as her two sisters, who were currently sitting on the couch with their panties down and hands on their heads.  Soon, she was crying and kicking over Daddy’s knee.  After being reminded once already to hold still for her spanking, she soon earned herself a good hand spanking on the backs of her thighs when she began kicking too hard again.  After disciplining her thighs for being naughty during her spanking, Daddy resumed paddling her little bottom cheeks until he was sure she wouldn’t sit down comfortably for some time.  She was then sent back to the couch for Daddy’s post-spanking lecture.

However, Daddy wasn’t quite done dishing out discipline.  After he lectured them again on swearing and fighting in his house, he told all of them to get on up to Megan and Jessica’s room.  One by one, three red bottomed girls trudged up the stairs, hands still on their heads.

When they were all inside the room, Daddy closed the doors.  They waited anxiously, fearful of what was to come.

“Crystal,” Daddy began, pointing at the wall. “Did you put this hole there?”

“Yes Sir, I’m sorry Daddy, it was an accident,” she sobbed, knowing that this was not going to go well for her.

“Sorry is not good enough young lady.  You were extremely careless and you caused damage to this wall.  And now you will pay the piper for your misbehavior,” Daddy took her by the arm and faced her against the wall.  “Put your hands on either side of that hole young lady.  You can stare at that and think about why you are getting a whipping with Daddy’s belt.”

At this announcement, Crystal began to sob again, but she tearfully obeyed.  Daddy had her push her bottom out and keep her feet should width apart, her panties stretched tightly at her ankles.  When she was in the position he demanded he took his belt off and stood behind her.

“You will hold still during your spanking, Crystal…do not move out of that position,” he told her sternly, raising his belt.  “I hope you learn a lesson from this, young lady.”

With that said, Daddy began to spank Crystal with his belt.  As the stiff leather of Daddy’s wide belt cracked down upon her bottom over and over again, she began a slow, steady wail that Mommy could hear downstairs.  Megan and Jessica sobbed for their sister during her spanking.  Neither had ever suffered a whipping with Daddy’s belt and nor did they want to.

Finally, the spanking was over.  Daddy had covered every inch of his daughter’s naughty behind with his belt and he let her sob it out for a minute while he returned his belt to its proper location.  He had three daughters who had stepped out of line and now they had all been properly dealt with.  Punishment had been delivered swiftly.  He had no doubt that there would be three very well-behaved little girls in his house over the next few weeks…it always went that way after spankings were doled out.

“Pull up your panties, all of you,” he ordered.

After they had obeyed, he hugged each of them, explaining how he disliked having to discipline them but that they were well aware of the consequences for breaking Daddy’s rules.  He explained to them, as he had for years, that any little girl who disobeyed Daddy should expect to get a spanking each and every time.

“You will stay in your rooms tonight and think about your behavior.  I don’t want to see any of you until morning,” Daddy finally said.  He led Crystal back to her room and shut both bedroom doors.  Soon, there were three very contrite young ladies, lying face down on their beds, attempting to rub some of the sting out of their well-spanked bottoms.  They would all be sleeping on their tummies tonight.

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Reflecting on 30 Days of D/s- Day 10

Hello fellow bloggers! I have decided to partake in the 30 Days of D/s, which I will utilize as a writing exercise, presented by John Brownstone and Kayla Lords at Loving BDSM.  As suggested by the title, this free activity explores topics surrounding D/s relationships.  I know that there are many of us in this particular circle of writers who are engaged in this writing activity at the moment, so bear with me.  I think that this will be a useful endeavor in further exploring this new lifestyle that Daddy and I have set out on.  As always, thank you for reading!

~nora

Loving BDSM’s 30 Days of D/s – Day 10

So, the question today is, what’s your safeword? If you don’t want to have one, why not?

 

Daddy and I do not have a safe word.  We made this decision together at the start of our D/s relationship five months ago as we both felt that it was important for Daddy to have the ultimate control over my body.  If we had a safe word, I would have control over my own discipline, have the ability to make it stop when I wanted to, and this was not appealing to either of us.  Having spent 14 years together, I fully trust Daddy with my life, with everything…and especially with my discipline.

Daddy doles out pretty harsh spankings when I earn them.  There are many times during a spanking when I am crying out “please no” or “please stop Daddy” because in the moment, I cannot imagine taking any more.  However, I am always able to take his spankings, even when I am pushed passed my pain threshold and cry real tears.  It is not uncommon for me to have a sore bottom for several days after as my bottom is bruised from the paddle or cane.  In our marriage, this is the sign of an effective spanking and I am far less likely to displease Daddy in whichever way earned me the spanking in the first place.  That’s just what works for us.  If I were able to use a safe word, and stop my own discipline, Daddy would never be able to get me to “that place”.  I’ve heard other submissives refer to it as “sub space”.  For me, it is the place where I truly learn that my poor behavior was unacceptable and that Daddy is going to make me change.  And…though extremely painful… I love being in that place. Thanks to Daddy’s discipline, I am becoming a much better person and a much better wife.

Daddy and I had a great conversation about hard and soft limits last night (the discussion prompt for Day #9).  It was comforting that we are, as always, on the same page.  I am far more adventurous sexually than he is, but he is willing to try some of the activities we learned about from Loving BDSM’s kink checklist (gosh, we are so vanilla in some ways!).  He told me that he would buy a special collar for me that he will put on me in the evenings sometimes, to give me a physical reminder of who I belong to.  I know that I am incredibly lucky to have a Daddy that I can trust, who has my best interests at heart, and who values and protects our marriage.

Thank you for being you Daddy!  I love you, yesterday, today, and always.

Your little girl,

nora