new story from MrDomesticDiscipline (Daddy/lilgirl roleplay, anal, spanking)
Katy McGuiness
realized how sock-puppety that sounded. Well, anyway, it really
was...he said he didn't mind if I posted it....This really isn't mine,
though it's so great I wouldn't mind taking the credit. I hope you
enjoy it.
Katy
"...but still more brave and still more rare, the courage of rosiness
in a cabbage world."
-D.H. Lawrence
CHAPTER ONE
Annabelle walked up the driveway to the front door, a little tired,
but finally home after yet another day filled with children, and their
constant needs. Most of the time, she felt that she made a difference,
and that made her work good work. Honest work. She was happy to do it,
and she did it well...but every once in a while...
What about my needs? She would ask herself.
The note on the door was plain and clear. She found herself hoping
that no one else had stopped by and seen the note, for they would not
have understood. In fact, they would have probably feared for her
safety.
Or called for an intervention.
I need an intervention, all right, she thought, a slight smile
crossing her face as she pulled the note from the door, folding it
quickly and slipping it in her purse. And it needs to be forceful, a
little mean, and very deep and very long.
She was about to open the door, and then she paused, pulling the note
from her purse again. It read:
Get your cute southern ass inside, then strip yourself from the waist
down and fetch me the wooden spoon from the kitchen. You know where to
find me, and you'd better be ready, because Daddy is going to blister
your bare little bottom---and that is just the beginning. Now MOVE!
A shudder ran through her, strong and warm. She loved it when Connor
indulged in his darker side, but it scared her as well.
When they met for the first time, three years ago, she was startled to
find the reality of his discipline and the sheer force and cruelty of
his sexual aggression were equal to what she had imagined from all
their long talks and cyber-sessions. She had also worried that once
they moved in together, the intensity and desire would wane. It most
certainly had not. Indeed, all their common passions, desires, and
dreams had grown even greater.
Annabelle was reminded of the classic line from Shelly's
Frankenstein, where the poor monster had bade his "father" to
create for him a bride, for him to love and have all for himself. Then
he spoke of his capabilities for love, and cruelty, and told his
father: "If I cannot have one, I shall indulge the other."
Connor had both, and indulged both with an honesty and passion that
was almost childlike.
Her mind raced through the probable outcome of the night ahead of her,
and she concluded that this would probably turn into an entire weekend
of discipline, given how busy they both had been during the week.
She had been over Connor's knees many times this week, but she knew
it was not enough. He needed to spank and dominate her as much as she
needed it, and now, he had time: an entire weekend.
She felt like a princess walking back into the tower of captivity, and
she loved and thrilled to it as much as she dreaded and feared it.
Then, she slid her key into the front lock, and opened the door.
CHAPTER TWO
Closing the door behind her, she saw through the kitchen, into the
living room, where the ominous straight-backed chair rested.
Waiting.
Connor had all the lights on the ground floor turned on. That was
normal, given how visual he was. He so loved to watch her whimper and
cry.
Their home was modest and charming, but during the last passing
moments before these storms that she willingly threw herself into, the
house seemed large, with no escape.
She heard footsteps from above.
Quickly, she locked the door, and set her purse down on the floor.
Her fingers found the zipper at the back of her skirt, and lowered it
in one smooth motion, until the skirt began to sag open around her
waist. She pushed it down quickly, and stepped out of it, before
slipping off her heels.
Her fingers slid into the waistband of her pantyhose and panties, and
she guided them down as quickly as she could, working her hips and legs
side to side until she finally stepped free.
She took a step forward into the kitchen proper, and her feet chilled
at the cold tile beneath. Naked from the waist down, she felt so
utterly helpless, and yet she felt like she belonged. Like she was
almost property of someone who had the strongest kind of need for her.
She walked to the counters, and pulled open the drawer where Connor
kept his "special" spoon. She pulled it out, and as she closed the
drawer, a warm feeling of unrest began to churn in her tummy, like the
butterflies had suddenly caught fire within.
She walked out of the kitchen, and through the living room, toward the
stairs.
The carpet felt good under her bare feet.
She looked up the stairs to see the light from their bedroom bleeding
out into the upper hall. She knew he was waiting, and probably growing
very impatient.
The sight of those stairs looming above her made her wonder if Hell
really is an ascent, instead of the ever popular descent.
Holding onto the railing, she began pulling herself up the stairs.
Onward and upward she rose, step by step, passing all the framed
pictures she had hung upon the walls. Friends, family, happy times with
Connor, and childhood pictures of herself during those "less than
graceful" times of her youth---those pictures were framed upon
Connor's insistence.
He loved those pictures. He had told her that he could see her current
beauty framed in those times of her adolescence: like a promise of what
was to come, and her current beauty rising in those pictures marking
her adolescence----all of it beautiful.
Arriving at the second floor in silence, she turned toward the
bedroom, her eyes finding Connor, sitting in the chair, looking right
at her. His sleeves were pushed up past his elbows, and he was fully
dressed in jeans, long sleeved shirt, and black hiking boots.
She walked slowly into the bedroom, holding the long handled wooden
spoon down low, trying some semblance of modesty.
"Hello, baby-girl," he said, his voice firm, with an edge of
menace. "Get your hands away from your pussy. Daddy wants to see
you."
Annabelle placed her hands behind her back, feeling the common pangs
of humiliation and shyness. Connor knew every inch of her body, but
during these times, it always felt as if he was not the same man she
shared a bed with: as if she was far removed from their shared past,
and being introduced to him again for the first time.
She was also growing very wet.
Holding the wooden spoon behind her back, she felt as if he might
grown angry with her: might view it as a sign of rebellion.
Connor smiled at the sight of her. She was beautiful in every sense of
the word, but at times like this, she was stunning in her fear and
fragility. She looked like she might burst into tears at any moment.
Connor loved that.
"You know Daddy is going to blister your little bottom, don't
you."
"Yes." She said softly. She knew his words were not a question,
but a statement of fact, proven time and time again.
His eyes widened, capturing her with an intensity that threatened
immediate action. "Yes, what?" He demanded.
"Yes, Daddy." She said.
"Then get your ass over here," he said, pointing to the floor on
his left side. "Right now."
Annabelle walked quietly and gracefully to his left side, stopping
beside the chair, and his strong left thigh. The wooden spoon behind
her back felt heavy in her hands, as if she was carrying a concealed
weapon.
Connor opened his left hand in silence, his eyes locked with hers.
She released a sigh of resignation as she placed the wooden spoon in
his hand, his fingers coiling around the handle in a show of graceful
authority that was his, and his alone.
"Yes," he said, pleased with the weight of the implement. "This
will do just fine."
She watched him admire the spoon, and felt herself losing her
lady-like southern composure. She focused, and got it back almost
instantly. There would be time enough for the feelings of helplessness
and pain. This time, right now, was all she really had: before her
spanking. She would spend it facing her discipline, and her
husband-to-be, with dignity and obedience.
Then, he turned his critical eye from the spoon to her vagina, shaved
baby-bare. He smiled, ever so slightly.
She wanted to cover herself, but knew that way lead to ruin, and she
did not need to pile disobedience upon her upcoming sorrow.
Sorrow, she thought. Horrible, delicious, unavoidable sorrow. Sweet
sorrow.
"Over my knees, young lady."
She leaned forward, bracing herself with her hands on his right thigh,
as she draped herself across his firm lap, settling into a position
that left her bare feet hanging many inches above the floor, her naked
thighs resting over his.
Her hands grasped the rung of the chair as she once again released a
sigh, acclimating herself to the position she so often found herself:
that of a little girl over her Daddy's knees, bare bottom up, head
down.
Waiting...
Connor reached out and lazily gripped her, just above her outer hip.
His grip was firm, but not terribly tight. Annabelle always took even
the most serious of spankings with an air of acceptance, grace and
compliance. She knew to stay in position as best she could.
He remembered a discipline session two weeks past, where he had
spanked her in this same room, while sitting in this same chair. He had
used his favorite implement, the hairbrush, and the spanking had been a
long one.
Very long, he thought.
For over fifteen minutes, he had brought that large heavy hairbrush
crashing down onto her bare bottom, over and over, until his arm
actually ached. Her bottom was no easy shade of red---it was a deep
burgundy, with areas of white over larger areas of blue.
How many strokes of the hairbrush she had taken onto her bare bottom,
he did not know. It was over four hundred, of that he was certain: yet
throughout it all, aside from the open, honest bawling, the
slight---yet elegant kicking of her legs, and the steady stream of
tears running down her face...she never tried to escape from her
place---face down across his knees.
Connor was a very strict disciplinarian, and he loved his role---but
he was not a sadist. When he spanked Annabelle, he never struck any
areas other than her bare bottom. It was like his very own unspoken
code. He never hesitated to treat her like a naughty little girl, like
his naughty daughter---but he also loved her deeply.
But that was not to say that Connor did not have a mean streak of his
own: it was simply more defined, and guided. Focused.
The sight of Annabelle's bare bottom over his knees was like a
feast. Already his cock was swollen full, erect and hard within his
jeans. Her bottom was pale, but not bland in the ways of tonality that
one associated with the color of white. It was a full bottom, perfectly
rounded, and while such a thing is indeed simple in its form and
function, Annabelle's bottom was also a vision of beauty. Sitting as
he was, with his lovely lady humbly draped across his knees---her naked
bottom proffered up to his every whim, he fancied that his view of her
was much like a man who summits the peak of Mount Everest, and looks
down at the world below, marveling at all its beauty.
His chair was his Mount Everest, and she was the stunning world below.
When he watched her walk, her bottom swayed ever so slightly, like a
subtle arc of a pendulum within an antique grandfather clock,
gracefully ticking away the seconds before he would pounce on her,
forcing himself into her tight ass.
"Now," he said, voice throaty with lust and the sheer, undeniable
feeling of joy that always preceded the storm that he unleashed on her
bare, beautiful bottom. "Daddy is gonna blister your bare little
bottom, long and hard, and then, Daddy is gonna fuck this sweet ass. Do
you understand?!"
Down low, on his right side, he heard her speak: meek and worried.
"Yes," she said.
"That's right," he said. "This little ass belongs to Daddy."
And then, it began.
Connor drew his arm back, above his shoulders, and began to spank her
bare bottom with the spoon: first in the center of her outer cheek,
then again in the center of her inner cheek, over and over.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
Annabelle involuntarily stiffened her body and her bottom cheeks in
response to the first blistering spanks of the spoon. She focused on
the carpet in front of her, and tried to relax as best she could.
Connor continued, as she knew he would, with a vigor and intensity
that could only be delivered by a man who loves what he does. The
wooden spoon was rising and falling behind her in a frenzy, cracking
onto her bare bottom so rapidly that counting the strokes would be
impossible.
After what she guessed to be around two minutes, her bottom was hot,
and starting to sting very badly as the spoon bounced off her bare
fanny.
When Connor spanked, he made sure to color her entire bottom red,
which of course meant spanking her entire bottom---from the tops of her
cheeks to the bottom, where thigh and buttock meet. When spanking her
with the spoon, he needed to spank much harder, and spank more of her
bottom, since the spoon was smaller than the oval base of Connor's
favorite implement of all time, the hairbrush.
Connor didn't mind that spanking her bare bottom with the spoon took
more work. Didn't mind at all.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
On and on he spanked, his manner like that of a man digging for gold.
Annabelle began to feel her eyes starting to tear up. The spoon may not
have been as big or thick as the hairbrush, but it stung a great deal.
His grip on her waist was tighter than ever, but she didn't notice.
All she knew was that judging from the level of heat the wooden spoon
was stoking upon her bottom, she knew that she still had a long way to
go.
>From countless trips across his knees, she had learned how to equate
the pain in her bottom, the heat, with time spent, and time remaining.
She could almost feel what he was seeing in her bottom, and she knew
that her flesh still had much more color to surrender to the surface,
before Connor's eager eyes.
Like a feast, he had always told her. He had once, in the beginning,
equated spanking her bare bottom to a deep shade of red to watching a
fiery sunset. Both equally beautiful, he had said.
For her, it was somewhat different. A feast of a different beast: a
carnal animal within her breast. The spankings always made her so wet,
so ready to be taken---by force, if you please.
As the continuous rain of spanks landed on her burning bottom, her
body jolted ever so slightly across his knees with each stroke, she
felt the familiar need, the savage need, to be roughly taken: fucked
hard, deep and fast, over and over.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
Connor smiled to himself, full of self-righteous glory at the sight of
his dear Annabelle suffering over his lap, her bottom quivering and
jiggling under the impact of the wooden spoon. On and on his arm rose
and fell, setting her cheeks into motion. Her bare fanny was now a very
nice shade of a lighter red, but it was a full coloring, covering all
of her bottom. She was about at the half ay point for this wooden spoon
spanking. Since he planned on spanking her over the entire weekend, he
would need to hold back a little: save her for the last dance, as they
said in the south.
Connor smiled at the first tell-tale sounds of her sobbing. He would
never tire of spanking her, never tire of seeing her cry.
"Daddy's blistering this bare little bottom, isn't he?!" He
thundered.
"Yes," she whimpered. "Yes, he is!"
"You're gonna be over Daddy's knees all weekend, baby girl!"
"Yes, Daddy," she sobbed.
"Oh yes," he said, mostly to himself. "Daddy's gonna teach you
where you belong!"
Connor once more adjusted his grip on her waist, pushed up his sleeves
again, and then embarked on a sizzling fast series of spanks, bringing
down the spoon as hard and fast as he could.
CRACK!-CRACK!-CRACK!-CRACK!-CRACK!-CRACK!-CRACK!-CRACK!-CRACK!-CRACK!-CRACK!-CRACK!---
Annabelle gasped, and then her head dropped down as she squeezed her
eyes shut, and set her legs to kicking, her feet scissoring in the air
from her knees to her toes. "Ahhhhhhh," she wailed. "Ouchhhhhh!
Oh please, Daddy, pleaseeeee!"
Connor continued, his jaw set tight, like a man bent to the task of
chopping down a tree. His arm surged, new strength rising within him at
the sounds of her distress and pain, which to him was more akin to
applause than a parlay for mercy.
CRACK!-CRACK!-CRACK!-CRACK!-CRACK!-CRACK!-CRACK!-CRACK!-CRACK!-CRACK!---on
and on the spoon rose and fell, the sounds of the wooden spoon
scorching her bare bottom filling the room, mingled with her whimpering
and sobbing.
"Daddy told you he was gonna tan your little fanny," he said as he
paused for a moment. "Didn't he?!"
Annabelle sagged over his knees. "Oh yes. Yes."
"That's right," he said as he straightened up, grasping her
waist tight as he pulled her close to him. "Daddy told you, and now
Daddy's doing it."
Then, Annabelle felt Connor's hard, large palm come crashing down
onto her burning bottom. She let out a yell of surprise and pain, as
her bottom was now on fire from the spoon, and his palm was now adding
a different kind of pain to her naked butt.
Wooden spoon dropped to the floor on his left, Connor was drawing his
palm back high above his head, and then dropping it down hard, over and
over and over.
Annabelle was now bawling openly, like a child. His hand was much
heavier than the spoon: thicker, larger. On an un-spanked bottom, his
hand was bad enough, but now her ass was burning from the spoon. The
heat his palm caused went much deeper than the heat of the spoon, and
the sound of his hand....
God, the sound of it, she thought. It was enough to cause alarm, even
in her.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
SMACK!
For the next three minutes, Connor rained down over one-hundred and
fifty spanks onto her bare, burning bottom, beating up a shade of
cherry red to her quivering cheeks. His hand in the shape of a wedge
continued to impact solidly, and she kicked and danced across his knees
in response. She was no longer begging or whimpering, she was simply
crying and gasping. The sound of his own palm striking her bottom
filled his ears, ringing.
Annabelle then finally broke down, and went limp over his knees, her
mouth open, eyes closed, tears running down her face, her whole body
jolted with each heavy spank of his hand.
Then, he stopped.
There was just a second of silence as Connor rubbed his stinging hand
over her bare, red bottom, loving the heat he had caused.
Then, she found her voice, and began to cry out loud: a deep, honest
weeping that comes from within.
Connor smiled to himself as he listened to her crying, and continued
to run his hand all over her stunning red bottom.
"Oh yes, baby girl," he soothed. "Daddy fixed your little wagon,
good and proper."
She couldn't talk through all her weeping, so she simply nodded as
she bawled.
"Daddy's proud of you. You took your spanking very well."
He continued to rub her hot little ass, as her sobbing quickly
subsided. He loved the feel of her body across his lap, limp---the
weight of his little baby girl, dangling across his strong thighs: the
sight of her cherry red bottom.
The feeling of his throbbing cock in his jeans.
He loved it all.
Annabelle felt herself being pulled from his lap, and before she knew
it, he had arranged her on her knees, her face and shoulders pressed
into the carpet. She could see him kneeling behind her, opening his
pants.
She closed her eyes and savored the feeling that comes with knowing
that he was going to take her now, and the feeling of not knowing where
he was going to put his hard cock.
She felt the chill of a thick, slick liquid being applied to her tight
asshole, and then she knew.
He's going to fuck my ass, she thought.
She felt the head of his cock straining against the ring of her
asshole, and she exhaled deeply as he pushed, and suddenly the head
slipped in.
She groaned in pleasure, her pussy almost dripping.
Connor grabbed her hips, and began to surge forward, his pelvis
pushing his cock all the way into her snug, slick ass with one long
stroke, until his balls were against her wet pussy.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhh," they both groaned at once.
Connor gripped her hips tight, and began to pump his cock in and out
of her ass, going almost the full length of his cock, yet never far
enough back to have the head slip out.
In and out he drew and shoved his cock, working slowly and surely into
her ass, loving how warm his cock felt inside her.
"Ohhhhhh fuck yes," he hissed. "Daddy loves fucking his baby
girl's tight little ass. Oh fuck yes!"
With his teeth clenched tight, he watched the sight of his cock
gliding in and out of her pink little asshole with savage appreciation.
Her ass fit his cock like a warm, slick glove, and he groaned with each
thrust.
Annabelle was moaning as well, her breathing labored as he worked
behind her, his cock sawing in and out, in and out. She felt so totally
owned and used. She felt needed, in the basest, more honest definition
of the word. Her pussy was alive with feeling: tingling, like an
exposed electrical wire. She was gushing. The feel of his hands
gripping her hips made her go almost limp, to better allow him to have
his way with her.
"Now," he declared, "Daddy is really gonna fuck your ass!"
Annabelle groaned again, deep from within, as Connor began to plow
into her ass, fast and deep, his pelvis clapping against her red ass
cheeks, still sore from her spanking.
'Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh GOD!" He screamed as he pumped furiously into her
ass, his cock appearing and disappearing over and over, so fast that it
looked almost unreal. Her tight asshole opened up under the force of
his thrusting, and took him in without any difficultly.
In and out he rammed himself, and Annabelle began to whimper from the
slight slivers of pain as his cock bored in and out of her ass.
Oh God, she thought, don't stop.
"Daddy wants you to rub your clit! Cum for Daddy!" He screamed,
plowing roughly behind her.
Instantly, her fingers darted under her, fining her swollen clit, and
rubbing it hard. She gasped loudly, as her clit responded without any
delay. Coupled with the delicious pain of Connors cock ramming up her
ass, she came instantly.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhh, oh GOD, ohhhhhhhhhh," she moaned, loud and free.
Connor grinned as he heard her cumming, and slammed in and out of her
tight, slick asshole, feeling his cum building in his balls.
"Ohhhhhhhhh, OHHHHHHHHHHHHH," she bellowed, rocked by a second
orgasm, her whole body shuddering and bucking as he kept his grip on
her hips tight, still shoving himself up her ass, always pumping.
Then, he slammed his cock all the way up her ass, threw his head back
in a silent roar, and then emptied his cum in her ass, shooting it deep
into her warm, tight bottom.
"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH FUCK YEAH!" He screamed in triumph, his whole
body quaking.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh, yes-yes-yes-YES!" She moaned.
Connor plunged his quivering cock into her bottom once, twice, three
times more, shooting more of his cum up her tight ass, until he could
take no more, and pulled out, watching her tight ass shrink in the
absence of his throbbing cock, which was now deflating.
A moment passed as they both kneeled, panting, Connor bracing himself
by way of his hands on her red ass, squeezing tight.
"Oh god, baby girl," he said in a voice that was surprisingly
humble. "Daddy really fucked your ass good."
Eyes closed, riding a fading wave of ecstasy, she nodded. "Oh god,
yes, yes you did."
Connor laid down beside her, and she instantly stretched out along his
body, her head finding the pillow of flesh between his neck and
shoulders. His arm came around her, as they laid there.
"Don't get too comfortable, baby girl," He whispered.
"Daddy's got a lot of spanking and fucking to do to you."
Annabelle simply nodded, the slightest trace of a smile crossing her
lips.
Brian
up, and as I've said before, shows the great fear/need battle that seems to
underlie many of our kinks here.
Brian
--
--
___________________________________________________________________________
Any opinions expressed above, are just that, opinions.
please add salt to taste.
Only my Eyes are blind....
switc...@blueyonder.co.uk
___________________________________________________________________________
winter...@yahoo.com
submission and
pain. And the finish of the "punishment spanking" with a good hard
ass fucking (the ultimate in submission). Very nice.
Wintermute