08/30/2013
I stopped directly in front of my father and stood on my wobbling knees, my eyes downcast, my stomach churning at the thought of being punished with that damn lexan paddle. I had a lump in the back of my throat and my heart beat wildly inside of my chest. My bottom was sore.......so very sore from the hairbrush spankings I'd just received. I was sorry for my misbehavior.........and nervous about the next phase of my punishment.
Standing there in front of him, my jeans and panties at my ankles, hair a disheveled mess, eyeliner streaked down my face, bottom burning.......I felt small......sorry, nervous and incredibly small. I often feel this way when my Daddy's taking me to task for my behavior; but each time, the overwhelming feeling seems to hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn't have to wait very long before he reached forward, taking me by the wrist firmly and pulling me down over his knees.
"Daddy I'm sorry." I whispered back to him.
"I'm sure you are, young lady. Not as sorry as you will be when I'm through paddling your bare bottom." He replied.
The tone of his voice was marked with a hint of sadistic amusement at my distress. I had never been spanked with a lexan implement before this and my boyfriend had bought Daddy & I a small lexan paddle as a gift. The plan had been to use it the first time during a role play or good girl spanking......just because......to let me get acquainted with the thing. I have an incredibly high tolerance to pain and there are very few implements or punishments that I fear strictly based on the pain. But many of my spanko girlfriends have told me horror stories about lexan paddles and canes. Daddy knows this, we'd discussed it, and the tone of his voice made it evident that he was playing on that psychological trigger.
"Now, little girl, the next offense we are going to discuss is your telling me.......not asking me, not offering, not suggesting........TELLING ME that I am not allowed to get information relevant to your behavior from your boyfriend, friends, family, colleagues, or others around you when it is pertinent. Tell me, Natalie Lynn, why I might have an issue with that, and why you're about to be paddled for it." Daddy demanded as he tapped the thick, smooth, cool lexan paddle against my throbbing thighs.
"Because it's not my place to tell you what you are or are not allowed to do, Sir." I softly replied.
"That's the main issue I had, yes. However, there's more. You're mine, Natalie Lynn. You're my daughter. Things that effect my little girls' health or happiness are MY business. I'm not unreasonable, I don't micromanage, I don't spy on you or pry. But important things SHOULD be brought to my attention. And YOU, young lady, should have been the one to inform me of this. The fact that I had to hear it from someone else bothers me almost as much as your indignant attitude about my being told by Brandon. Clear?" Dad barked at me.
"Yes Sir." I managed to reply through my sniffles.
"Good. Now that you 'get it', half of my job is done. All that is left is for me to punish you for it and leave a lasting impression on you of what happens when my little girl hides things from me and then has the audacity to give me attitude and tell me what I am or am not allowed to do. Fitting that Brandon got us this new paddle and I can use it for this particular offense, don't you think?" He asked as I shifted over his knee, trying to find a comfortable position, knowing I'd be here for a while.
For God knows what reason, at that moment, a feeling of indignant stubborness came over me and I refused to respond.........simply because the response I wanted to utter would have gotten my ass beat far worse than I was already in for. Why, oh why, I get these thoughts and feelings when I'm laying bare bottomed, vulnerable, across my father's capable lap I will never know. You'd think after the first time it backfired, I'd suppress it.......but nope! Damn Irish roots.
SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK
Daddy peppered my upper thighs rapidly with that damn lexan paddle......HARD! I inhaled sharply. The sting was immediate and intense. My legs flailed behind me and my hands balled up into fists and beat the floor beneath my face in protest.
"I asked you a question, little girl! It required an answer. You can maintain your tough girl facade and hold onto your pride, digging in your heels and refusing to answer me as long as you'd like.......I can stay here paddling your ass all day long if you'd like. But I warn you, your punishment for the offense doesn't begin until you answer me and you still have several other serious offenses to be punished for today. So while you contemplate how long you intend to continue this charade, remember that your ass is going to wear out long before my arm does." Dad scolded as he continued to paddle me mercilessly.
SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK
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"Owww Daddy.......please stop......I heard you, I'm sorry......pleassseeee." I squealed.
Funny how quickly a naughty girl gives up the fight to remain stoic and stubborn when her daddy starts paddling her sore, upturned, bare bottom as she dangles over his knee like a 5 year old.
"That's what I thought. I like this paddle. Highly effective. Now, this, young lady, is for your thinking you can tell me what I am allowed to do........and for not informing me of the issue yourself. Rule #1.....open and honest at all times......you know this. Withholding information simply because you know you wont like my response is NOT OKAY! We have covered this before. You've promised me kneeling in front of me with tears streaming down your face that you understood this and wouldn't omit again.......haven't you?" Dad implored.
"Yes Sir." I whimpered back at him over my shoulder.
"And yet here we are again.......I am repeating myself again, and we both know how much I love doing that. Again you're being punished for withholding information......and this time we have the added offense of your topping from the bottom........that tells me that your previous punishments for the offense were not effective enough as a deterrent......so, young lady, it's my job to correct that and increase the severity of this punishment to ensure the lesson sinks into that hard, redhead of yours. Got it?" Dad lectured, his voice almost cold and detached, my cue that my usually warm, loving father was now absent from this scene and I was left in the hands and at the mercy of his inner sadist.
"Yes Sir." I meekly mumbled as I securely wrapped my right hand around his ankle, a physical connection that during harsh punishments, makes me feel closer and more connected to my father.
No further words were needed........and not one more was spoken. Dad just set about doing precisely what he had said he intended to do..........teach his naughty daughter a memorable lesson and make sure in sunk in.
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The intensity of the fire in my bottom is hard to describe. Lexan is a mean, mean material. It stung like hell. I struggled to remain in position as Daddy paddled my red, tender bottom.
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Daddy paddled hard and he paddled fast. The swats echoed off the wall, as did my intermittent squeals. I was crying openly at this point and clinging to his ankle with all of my hand strength as he punished my bottom long and hard.
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After several agonizing minutes of paddling my bottom, Dad changed his focus to my thighs and sit spots. My legs resumed their kicking and my squeals were more frequent. I reached my left hand back to try in vain to cover my poor abused thighs, but Daddy simply paused and took hold of my wrist tightly pinning it to the small of my back before resuming the punishment........making sure to swat even lower and harder on my tender thighs for my reaching back.
SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK
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I cried so hard I was nearly breathless. After what seemed an eternity, my legs fell still and my squeals dissipated. I lay limp over my father's lap, sobbing incoherently as he continued to teach me my lesson in the way in which we both know I learn best.
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The swats finally subsided and as I lay completely spent dangling from his knees, Daddy gently traced his fingertips across the smoldering skin of my bottom and thighs. I cried and closed my eyes, relishing in his gentle touch. He released my wrist and my arm fell to the floor beneath me and Daddy used his now free hand to entwine in my long, flowing, red hair. I could have stayed like this all day. For a few moments, I even forgot about the remaining most serious offenses for which I was to be punished today. All that existed in those few sweet moments were a naughty girl hanging over her strict father's lap as he soothed her punished skin and stroked her hair lovingly. My father loves my long, red hair and I love his large, strong hands entangled in it. Ahhh bliss.
"Am I going to repeat this lesson again anytime soon, darling daughter of mine?" Daddy asked softly as he ran his fingers through the length of my hair.
"No Sir." I simply, softly responded as I leaned my head into his hand.
"Good girl." He replied.
I smiled. I love hearing those words from my father. He let me lay over his knee and continued to gently rub and then firmly knead my now dark red bottom and run his other hand through my hair softly one minute, then firmly tug and tussle it the next. I was a happy little girl.
But, eventually, having other issues to address, the tenderness evaporated and his strict, all-business demeanor returned. He harshly swatted my right thigh.
SLAP!
"Up." He ordered.
I quickly complied and rose to my feet, with the help of his strong, left arm. He immediately captured my teary, puffy, emerald eyes with his penetrating glare and held me captive for a minute or two before pointing to the corner. I lowered my eyes in a silent offering of submission and began walking to the corner, my hands slowly skimming my sore, burning bottom and thighs.
"Wait, no, come here." Dad instructed.
I turned, a bit confused and approached him slowly. He took me by my upper arm and walked me to the opposite corner, where a full length mirror hung. He placed me silently in the corner and then disappeared from the room, leaving me standing there with my reflection........a grown woman in the corner like a naughty little girl with her pants around her ankles, hair in disarray, makeup running in tear streaks down her face, eyes puffy from crying, her bottom and thighs red, hot and splotched with brush and paddle marks. I was embarrassed......though why I am not certain......it was only me.......and this is a normal part of my life......but I felt incredibly embarrassed standing there looking at myself and I lowered my eyes to the floor once more.
"Turn around and look at me, young lady." Daddy barked at me as he reentered the room.
I slowly turned and was suddenly staring at the towering frame of my gorgeous father as he pinned me to the corner with his body. My head spun and my stomach clenched. I love when he uses his own body to impose on my personal space........it's a subtle, unspoken form of his dominance that simply takes my breath away.
Dad tucked his hand under my chin and raised my face to gain eye contact. He extended his other hand and in it was a soapy, wet, lathered bar of soap.
"Open.....NOW." Dad demanded.
I typically would protest or beg but the immediate raised volume of his voice and the look on his handsome face compelled me to comply. I slowly opened my mouth, fresh tears now spilling from my eyes and cascading down my cheeks. I truly hate having my mouth washed out with soap. It is embarrassing, humiliating.......I hate it.......and my father knows this. He placed the disgusting bar of soap into my mouth and ran it back and forth against the backs of my teeth a few good times before leaving it between my lips and ordering me to hold it in place.
"Now face the corner. Eyes on the naughty little girl in that mirror, Natalie Lynn. As you may have guessed, the next REPEAT offense we are going to address is my beautiful, smart, witty daughter continuing to use profane language like a little girl who just learned the words. I'm not unreasonable and don't mind an occasional swear word used for emphasis, but you yet again have fallen back into cursing on a regular basis. I will NOT have my daughter sounding so vulgar and ignorant. You are intelligent enough to make your point without the additional 30 fuck's in a sentence! You take a good hard look at the girl in that mirror. I'm done tolerating this, Natalie Lynn. We're going back to a zero tolerance policy until you can prove to me that you are disciplined enough to use profanity in a limited and appropriate fashion. Every time you curse, you'll record it and this is exactly what you'll get the next time you see me. Am I clear?" Daddy lectured, only adding to my humiliation with every word he spoke.
I nodded my head and held the soap firmly between my teeth as I mumbled, "Yes Sir."
"You will keep that soap in your filthy mouth in that corner and when I pull you out to whip your ass good for it, don't you dare let that bar of soap fall from your mouth or you will be an even sorrier little girl. Do you understand me, young lady?" Dad warned.
"Yes Sir." I meekly replied through the soap and my constant sobs.
I stood facing the mirror as I was instructed to do. The reflection made me sob harder. I choked on my sobs and the saliva pooling in my mouth as I tried not to swallow the horrible tasting soapy mess. This soap was deplorable. I had to fight not to gag. I hate soap!!!! YUCK!
After what seemed hours, but was merely minutes, my father called me out of the corner and over to him so he could punish me for my constant cursing.
"Come here, Lynn." Dad demanded.
I turned from the corner and as my eyes met my father's the look of disappointment on his face took my breath away and I immediately lowered my eyes......but as they fell down his body, I saw the mean, thick, brown leather belt dangling free from his left hand. My stomach turned an my tears continued as I slunk over to my father.......knowing he was about to take his designated 'whipping belt' to my sore, red bottom......and I'd somehow have to hold the soap in my mouth throughout the whipping.
****************TO BE CONTINUED*****************
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