Daddy swats me harder. It hurts. The pain is increasing by the second. I like it. It’s freeing. I don’t think I could explain how I feel to another person, except maybe Daddy, but it’s like I’ve been buttoned up for twenty-two years. The perfect daughter. Well-behaved. Polite.
Now, I can let loose and be Little.
As the spanking continues, my bottom feels like it’s on fire. I wail again and try to squirm out of his grip. “Daddy! Owie!” And then the dam breaks, and I start to cry. The tears fall down my cheeks as I give up the fight and absorb the ache.
It’s exactly like he said. Freeing. I’m floating out of my body. My ass is burning when he stops spanking me. I’m sobbing now, unable to stop myself. This part isn’t fake. It’s very real. The whole scene is so intense that I can’t stop crying.
Daddy releases my wrists and gently rolls me over so he can cradle me in his arms. He strokes my face, brushing any loose hairs away. “That’s my good girl.” He lifts me higher and kisses my forehead. “I’m so proud of you.”
I can’t tell if we’re still in our partial state of age play or the new, deeper one where everything is exaggerated. I think we’re done with that part of tonight. Now I’m getting the release I need from a good hard cry.
Mace never tells me to stop. He doesn’t get up or shift me to the side or set me on my feet. He rocks me in his arms until I’m totally cried out and limp from exhaustion.
When I blink up at him, meeting his gaze, he wipes my cheeks with his thumbs. He’s smiling. Pleased. That’s good.
Suddenly, he stands and carries me, cradled against him, across the room.
I’m confused for a moment as he tips me forward and lowers me to stand on my own. My legs are trembling. He points toward the corner. “Your timeout starts now.”
I’d forgotten about this part, and I tremble at the notion.
Daddy gives me a stern look and nods toward the spot where he wants me to go.
I shuffle in that direction, my emotions all over the place. When I get there, he squares my shoulders and leans me in closer. “Hands behind your back, naughty girl.”
I sniffle as I do as I’m told, and he shocks me when he lifts the hem of my dress and tucks it under my fists.
“Spread your feet wide and don’t move from this position until I say so. Use your time to think about what happens when naughty girls are disrespectful to their Daddies.”
I’m not sure when I last took a full breath. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m letting someone put me in timeout. On top of that, he’s forcing me to keep my butt exposed. Cool air is hitting my skin and causing goosebumps to rise.
Except he’s not forcing me to do anything. We’re exploring our mutual kink. He’s going to toss everything at me over time to see what I like and don’t like. I get it now. This isn’t about actual infractions. He doesn’t care if I cuss or roll my eyes. We’re establishing our dynamic.
Spanking makes me horny. It vibrates my pussy. When I added struggling, I thought I would self-combust. It was a combination of Mace restraining me, his verbal reprimand, and his palm. His dirty talk makes me all kinds of hot.
I already knew I got tingly when he bossed me around, but having him tell me how naughty I am and punishing me for it is a whole new level.
And this… What is this? I try to process my new emotions. I’m not even over the last ones.
“Keep that dress up, naughty girl,” he warns in that deep, demanding voice I love. “I want to see your red-hot bottom. I bet it stings.”
I sniffle. It does. It burns. I love it. Am I weird? My pussy is pulsing with a need very similar to what I experienced the first time he spanked me. The pain is deeper, but so is my arousal. He told me he wasn’t going to let me come, so that’s frustrating.
He’s right behind me now, squatting down. His breath is on my bottom. It’s making me hornier. “So pretty,” he whispers. He touches me with one finger, so lightly I’m not sure whether it’s real or not. But he trails it on my hot skin, drawing random patterns on my bottom.
“Have you learned your lesson?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Are you going to roll your eyes at me again?”
“No, Sir.”
I’m totally going to roll my eyes. Frequently, I suspect. And then he’s going to give me what I love, firm discipline.
It was impossible to know how I might feel about being spanked from reading alone. Just because it played out in my head as something I would enjoy, there were no guarantees.
The problem is that when I get spanked in my imagination, the Daddy always lets me come afterward. He might tease me and edge me for a while, but in the end, I get my release.
