"I am not going to ask you again." He said in his deep, measured voice.
He had told me to go downstairs and bring him a paddle.
I had my hand on the handle of the door ready to storm out of his house. I was shaking with anger, frustration and disappointment. Moments before, I had been acting out in the most petulant way I could muster, literally stomping across the living room floor muttering, "This is bullshit," loud enough for him to hear me. He had enough of my bratty behavior and it was clear he was going to put a stop to it in the only way I would understand.
I glared at him for a second as I turned away from the door and followed his orders. He was standing in the kitchen when I returned with the wooden paddle.
As I handed it over, he said, "Lift up your dress and bend over."
I did as I was told and I had my palms in front of me on the counter as I felt his hands slowly lower my panties.
"You haven't counted in a while, start counting."
I grimaced as I felt the first hit and said, "One."
I kept counting as I felt each hit, when I got to 21 he said, "Are you done?"
I glared at him as I started to get up, clearly unrepentant.
"I guess not." He said.
He pushed me back onto the counter and kept paddling. I kept counting until he reached 50. My ass was hot and sore. I was in pain and close to sobbing, but I was being stubborn, not wanting to give in.
"Stand up," he instructed.
I got up and stood defiantly in front of him, silently begging him for more.
He grabbed me by my hair and held my head back as we looked into each other's eyes, not saying a word.
I felt his hand land on my breast with a hard slap. I yelled at the unexpected gesture.
He kept looking into my eyes as he proceeded to hit my breasts, taking turns on one then the other.