I mentally counted down the minutes as I scurried around collecting the items he requested: the spanking hairbrush with its heavy wooden handle and prickly bristles, the anal plug with the sparkly blue jewel in the base, and the lubricant for it. I also left him a glass of water and a small hand-towel, in case he wanted either one, and arranged everything on his nightstand. I took a moment to use the bathroom, wash my face, and re-fix my braids. I stripped off the babydoll nightie and turned the lights down low, bending over the edge of the bed with my legs spread wide, my face in the blankets and my arms stretched out overhead, my ruffled panties on display for him.
I stayed there, my mind whirling, thinking about how awful I'd felt earlier and how he made it seem so easy, just to pick up the phone and call him and let him take care of everything. I didn't want to be a burden on him, another thing on the already long list of things he had to deal with and take care of every day, but the realization was slowly sinking in that by not telling him when things were going wrong, I was making them worse instead of better by trying to fix things myself. I lay there, listening to the sound of his footsteps on the stairs, the intake of his breath as he stood in the doorway, watching me. I willed my legs not to tremble, pressing my cheek against his comforter and breathing in the scent of him to reassure me and bolster my courage. I'd earned this, and I could take it -- for him.
He stalked around the bed slowly, one hand stroking down over my back. I shivered at the delicate brush of his fingers, but forced myself to be still. He caressed the curves of my ass, rubbing over the ruffled panties and stroking warmth into my bare skin. He knelt on the floor beside me, tugging my panties down around my knees with excruciating slowness. Inch by inch, he bared me, his breath hot against my skin, but not touching me with anything other than the heated intent of his gaze.
He was quiet for so long that worry pooled in my stomach, but he broke the silence with a low groan as he dragged his fingers over my skin, fingertips digging in and pulling the cheeks of my ass apart, baring me completely to his relentless inspection. "Oh, babygirl," he whispered almost reverently. "You are so fucking sexy when you drip for me like this."
He dipped his fingers into the wetness of my pussy, which was, to my embarrassment, already soaking wet for him, coating his fingers and making my inner thighs glisten. He rubbed my own wetness over the tight rosette of my asshole, pressing into me as a soft moan slipped from my lips.
"So tight, baby. Relax for me. Breathe for me. Slow. In..." he sucked in an audible breath, held it, and then released it slowly. "...And out. Good. Just like that."
I took slow, deliberate yoga breaths, willing myself not to tense up the next time something cool and slick pressed into my ass. He'd lubed the plug up generously, but my ass yielded slowly, reluctantly to the thick intrusion of the plug. I gasped when it slipped all the way inside me, making me feel teasingly full and awaking a dark hunger in the pit of my stomach.
He toyed with me for a while, tugging the plug outward until it almost popped free, making me feel the burn as it stretched my ass open, and then letting it sink slowly back inside me. My moans became needy little whimpers and finally he seated the plug deep inside me and gave it a firm little tap with his fingers, making the smack radiate up through my core. He tugged my panties back into place and sat on the edge of the bed. I straightened and he patted his thigh, giving me a warning look when I bit my lip hesitantly.
"Over my lap like a good little girl," he insisted firmly. "If I have to drag you over my knee, it's going to hurt a lot worse, sweetheart. " Obediently, I draped myself over his legs, my hands on the floor, my legs dangling helplessly. My ass was right above his knees, ruffles upturned, waiting.
He didn't make me wait long, spanking me on first one cheek, then the other. He started off slowly, warming me up with his hands until I felt the skin of my ass flushing thoroughly pink. Each smack started to sting worse and worse, until I was squirming desperately, pressing my lips together and trying not to cry out.
One particularly hard smack made me gasp, and then cover my mouth with my hand as if I could physically hold in my cries of pain. He didn't let up, spanking me harder even though I'm sure his hand must have been burning. The cheeks of my ass felt like they were on fire. Inadvertently, I reached back, not to stop him, but reflexively in response to the continuous rain of blows on my bottom and upper thighs. He didn't give me a warning or tell me to move my hand; he simply took my wrist and twisted the offending hand behind my back, making me dangle precariously over his knees, now unsupported by my hands.
The urge to cry out "yellow" clogged my throat. It hurt so bad. Was it too much? I could take more, for him. I *would* take it, and be a good girl. But each smack on my ass burned and stung painfully. I bit my lip hard. I didn't think I could take much more and I was afraid I was going to fall if the next well-placed spank made me squirm too much. I'd just parted my lips to speak up when he stopped. He gave me a moment to catch my breath, his hands rubbing lightly over my inflamed skin, judging the effects of his punishment. I shuddered.
"You were a willful girl earlier today." His voice was deceptively soft and calm. "You put what you wanted to do over what I've told you I want you to do. You deliberately chose your wants over mine. You put *my* little girl at risk because of your choices."
Unshed tears suddenly clogged my throat. His fingers continued to caress my bottom, working under my panties to find the sparkly jewel of the plug and tap relentlessly against it, distracting me from the burning pain of the spanking. I wiggled, trying to part my legs a little to give him better access, and he spanked me once, sharply.
"Be still!" he demanded, his other hand clamping down over my arm, holding it firmly behind my back, which held me still over his knees. "Willful girls who disobey their daddies deserve to be punished, don't you agree, sweetheart?"
"Yes, Daddy," I whispered.
"I can't hear you," he insisted, and spanked me again with his hand, once, twice, making me cry out.
"Yes, Daddy!" My voice broke a little on a strangled sob.
"That's better," he said, rubbing the spot where he spanked soothingly. "It's okay to cry, sugar. Crying gets out all those things that you bottle up." He reached over my prone body and took the wooden hairbrush from the nightstand. He stroked the cool wood against my skin and I shuddered, sniffling. "Let it go for me," he murmured. "Give it up and let go for Daddy."
I bit my lip and stifled a sob. The cool wood of the hairbrush slid away from my heated skin.
"Are you going to defy me anymore, little girl?" he asked, bringing the flat back of the brush down against my right ass cheek with a sharp crack.
"No, Daddy," I whimpered.
"Are you going to do what you want instead of what Daddy wants you to do?"
Another crack of the brush, this time against my left cheek. Tears welled up behind my tightly closed eyelids.
"No, Daddy."
"Are you going to do what Daddy wants?"
"Yes, Daddy." My voice was watery and small.
"Whatever I want, when I want it, how I want it. Isn't that right, babygirl?"
"Yes, Daddy," I agreed with a gasp. He was finding his rhythm now, each question bringing another smack from the brush and fresh tears dripping down my cheeks. I felt the weight of his concern, his disappointment, but most of all, I felt his care in the way he held me still, securing me over his knees, soothing me between spanks of that wicked little brush.
My mind was fuzzy, from the pain of the spanking as well as the rhythmic question-and-response. He lulled me in to the pattern he set, not giving me time to think about what he was asking, but giving me just enough time to say "Yes, Daddy" or "No, Daddy" before he asked the next question, demanded the next response, and pushed me deeper and deeper into that lovely submissive place where nothing matters except his words, his hands, and the pleasure of yielding to whatever he wants.
I lost awareness of time, of exactly when he pulled my ruffled panties down my legs and tossed them off to the side, or when the questions stopped and there was only the slapping of the wooden brush against my skin and the rough sobs ripping from my throat. Eventually, his blows slowed and my sobs eased, until I was crying softly, sniffling as he dreamily stroked the inflamed skin of my ass and thighs. He made soft soothing sounds, releasing the arm he held behind my back and stroking my wild and tangled hair.
"Kneel for me," he said very softly, and guided me so that I slid off his lap and onto my knees on the floor at his feet. Sitting on my ass stung mightily, but I winced and said nothing, eyes downcast, the weight of his disappointment like a heavy blanket on my shoulders. He reached down and cupped my chin, tipping my tear-streaked face up to meet his intent gaze.
Once, I would have tried to turn away, embarrassed because I knew I looked like a mess. Not the perfect, pulled-together girl I thought he wanted. Now, I was too washed out from crying to think of resisting him, too exhausted to think or second-guess myself. I looked up at him slowly, blinking back the remnants of tears.
"I'm sorry," I said softly, but clearly. "I know I disappointed you, Daddy. I really am sorry."
"I know you are," he said simply.
I bit my lip. "I know I keep promising to stop trying to control things and make decisions for myself. I'm grateful that you keep picking up after every mess I make of things. I don't want to keep doing this over and over and over."
"Neither do I," he agreed.
"I need your help." The words spilled out before I could stop them, or overthink them. "I don't know how to stop myself. I want to."
"Babygirl..." he said with a groan.
"I'm sorry," I said as the tears began again, looking up at him desperately. "Please, Daddy...help me?"
He pulled me up so fast I was dizzy from it, crushing me in his arms as he pressed a kiss against my forehead.
