Naughty Irish Imp

Naughty Irish Imp

Thursday, April 30, 2015

Harsh Paddling


Changing up our 'norm', my Daddy Dom arrived before I did today for our session. I was a little late...bad girl. And I had his lunch...double bad girl. :) Luckily, he forgives easy when presented with steak. :)

I knocked on the door and almost immediately he opened it and pulled me into one of his amazingly tight bear hugs. God, I missed this man. I had been raving to him in text messages about the heels I bought for today so naturally after hugging me and being handed his lunch, he held me at arms length and paced slowly around me, giving me a once over before nodding in approval at my attire and adding, "the shoes are cute." I smiled and sat beside him as he ate his lunch and we talked about every conceivable topic.

I just needed my Daddy fix. His time, his touch, his undivided attention.

After about an hour of pleasant conversation, the mood turned more serious and he decided we should address a recent lapse in my behavior. I knew it was coming but almost wished it wouldn't. I don't like making him repeat himself to me, and this particular offense is something we have covered in depth multiple times. Unfortunately for me, it is also an offense with a specific dreadful implement designated for punishment.

The heavy oak paddle.

I knew I was wrong. I knew why. He didn't need to explain it to me. There was little discussion regarding the topic at all today. It's a firm rule, I broke it, I'd be punished. I knew he was displeased with me and that made me feel even more lousy than I did already.

I was quiet, remorseful, compliant. I stood in the corner as he paced behind me, occasionally repeating the offense in a disgruntled tone.


Without warning, he connected 3 solid swats of that evil paddle to my bottom as I stood facing the corner with my hands on my head, elbows to the wall. I danced around, trying to alleviate the sharp sting, as I knew better than to put my hands back to soothe my bottom.

That damn paddle surprises me every time. Even fully clothed, it burnt like mad. Each heavy swat caused me to dance up onto my toes and inhale air as if I were breathing it for the first time.

Soon he was directly behind me, pinning me to the wall with his towering frame, his left hand gently caressing my face, neck and arm as he traced down to securely take me by the wrist. He pulled me along behind him from out of the corner and over to the chair he had placed in the middle of the room. He sat and as I stood to his left side, he decided to hike up my skirt himself. Typically, I am told to do this, but today he decided to and it made me feel even smaller than I had already.

Once the tiny garment was no longer obstructing his target, he quickly pulled me down over his knee and spaced his legs far enough apart to render my feet helplessly dangling above the floor. I wrapped my hand around his ankle as he began forcefully swatting my upended bottom with that miserable paddle of his.

The burn took my breath away initially. It was bad enough with thin clothing protecting my bottom, but it was torture on my bare flesh. I knew I deserved this punishment and tried to be as cooperative as possible but that implement and my bottom do not get along well. I was soon wiggling more than normally allowed and he securely wrapped his arm around my waist and pinned my legs before again paddling my aching bottom.

My tears fell to the floor beneath my face and I held tightly to his ankle and began to dip in and out of subspace. Soon I was oblivious to the pain in my bottom other than occasionally honing in on the sounds echoing off the walls around me as he continued to paddle me.

He would swat deliberately and harshly with several seconds between swats for a minute or two and then he would paddle briskly, just lightly snapping his wrist and letting the implement do the rest with no time between swats to recover.

I was exhausted physically and emotionally and gave in far sooner than I normally do. I simply laid completely still over his capable lap as he paddled me relentlessly for more than 20 minutes. I hardly noticed when it had subsided until I felt his strong hand gently caressing and kneading my swollen, sore, properly punished bottom and thighs.

After simply lying over his knee and sobbing while he gently massaged my now bruised skin for about 10 minutes, I knelt in front of him and laid my head in his lap just gazing up at him as he entwined his fingers in my long, red hair.

I needed today. The punishment was harsh but well deserved. More than that even, I just needed to be his again. His girl, His sole focus for a couple hours, His submissive. I needed his touch, his embrace, his dominance overwhelming me and pulling at the fiber of my inner submissive. I just needed my Daddy.....and today, I got just that.


  1. Ouch! That looks painful!

  2. The loving attention - that's the quintessence, isn't it. Together with the opportunity to leave behind.

  3. Loving attention, an opportunity to leave hings behind - that's the quintessence, isn't it.

  4. Looks like a good belt whipping,,,it will hurt ,,,,but I really deserve it