Sype Spaning

Skype Spanking

I'm sitting on my bed, staring at the screen.

"Your spanking is at noon. I will call you then. Bring with you: pen and paper, a large wooden cooking spoon or spatula from the kitchen, and a hairbrush with a flat back if you have one. Dress code: wear the dress with no bra you mentioned yesterday. I like bright colored panties. Any questions Amber?"

I glance at the clock. It is 10:54 am.

Shit, I can't wait an hour

, I think.

"Yes daddy. I will be prepared," I reply. I reread the message. "Pen and paper."

Hmmm... Who needs pen and paper? What's he going to do? Have me write lines. Boring!

In nervous anticipation, I decide it's better to keep myself busy.

Shit, he's going to see how dirty this room is.

I frantically start moving laundry where he can't see it. I let my room get too dirty. He's going to see my hoard.

Not if I clean the area that's visible.

I rush to make my bed and position my laptop in front of it.

What he doesn't know won't hurt him,

I smirk.

Honestly, it's just a Skype call. He won't even see anything.

I convince myself I am right. I know better than him; I can outsmart him.

What else do I need?

My heart rate is quickening as I think about what the future holds. I don't want to mess this up. This is our first session, and Daddy was very clear about our expectations. If I let him down, he may not want to play again. And I need this. I

crave

this.

The dress! I rush in a hurry to find the dress he mentioned. I wore it yesterday, so it was conveniently left on my stairs.

I promise I will clean this up tomorrow. For real.

I put it on and adjust myself in the mirror. I don't feel my best, but there isn't time to care.

Next, I run over to my dresser and look through my panties. He likes brightly colored, and so do I. I have pretty purple ones, but they have lace on the back and make me feel like I am trying too hard. I throw them on the ground. I have a cute pink pair, but I can't seem to find them. I keep searching until I find the next best ones: bright blue panties with dinosaurs on the front. Some people might say they are girlish, but I think they are funny. Who wouldn't want dinosaurs over their pussy?

After, I search for the tools required.

Paper and pen. Where the fuck do I keep paper and pen? I write every day, but there are no tools when I need them.

I settle for an old journal at the back of my closet and a pen from some bank.

Of course, my aesthetic pens are somehow missing. Do you think he will care?

Of course he won't.

A wooden spoon. Oh, I have the perfect one.

I grab a Pioneer Woman branded wooden spoon. It packs a thud and stings like hell. On the way back, I grab my paddle brush from the downstairs bathroom.

As I run upstairs and lay the implements out, I see the screen to my laptop has changed. "10 minute warning."

Only 10 minutes?

I glance at the time. It's 11:54. Less than 10 minutes.

I look around the room and resign to defeat as time is up. I decide to sit patiently in front of the screen so that if he comes on early, he will see how patient I am. Inside, my mind is anything but patient. I am stirring with emotions. What does he even look like? I am bracing myself for anything because it is the spanking that matters; nothing else matters. I need this release. It has been too long since I've had my mind quiet. The sweet surrender of giving into a spanking- giving into control. I need that.

I keep fidgeting with my dress.

Should I tuck it under myself? Should I lay it flat? Should the instruments be in a line? Should I have them casually thrown about the bed? Will he notice? Should I stand?

My mind is racing with questions, and I feel my panic coming on. He's never seen me before. The doubt is setting in.

What if he doesn't like me?

The negative thoughts are winning, and I consider shutting my laptop until I hear a ringing.

It's him.

"Hello Amber." The first thing I notice is how normal he seems. He isn't some depraved dungeon master; I could have met this man at a coffee shop or around town. He's quite handsome. He has longer hair that perfectly frames his face and a piercing gaze that is both warm and intense.

"Hey," I mutter quietly, suddenly unsure of how I should act.

"That's a very pretty dress. Could you please stand up so that I can see all of it?"

Should I say yes sir? Yes Daddy? He goes by Daddy but is it too soon?

I opt for silence.

I stand and turn. "Very pretty. Amber, could you step back or move the camera back? I would like to see all of you."

I had the laptop on a suitcase with wheels for this very reason.

Fuck, the room isn't clean. If I push it back he will see.

"Well, um, if I push the camera back, you're going to see something I don't want you to see."

"What's that, Amber?"

Why does saying my name feel so dirty?

"Um, I just. Uh, I just didn't quite clean all of my room."

Great plan. Just clean the bed. Idiot.

"Show me now." I push the camera back, panning for him to see half my room. I have clean laundry stacked on boxes, and random hangers and pillows littering the ground. A stray receipt keeps crackling and making noise.

"Hmm. So, you didn't clean like you said you would?" The silence is deafening. "Show me your dress." I stand unconfidently before you. Our interaction has already left me unbalanced. "Turn, I want to see all of it."

Obeying, I do a little spin. When I am back facing him, I put my hands in my pockets and do a little shimmy, showing them off; "Look, it even has pockets!" It almost feels normal. Just me showing a friend my dress like anyone would. He even chuckles, his mouth turning upwards into a disarming grin.

Awww, he's sweet.

"Amber, do you have the materials I instructed you to grab?" I nod yes, once again too nervous to speak. "Show me them." I hold them up one by one, describing each one as if he doesn't have the ability to see them. I am self-conscious about my choices and am trying to justify and show them off. He doesn't care. "Very good. Now, grab your piece of paper and pen." He waits for me to grab them. "Write the date at the top--I believe it is the 22

nd

, and then next to it write 'Spanking Session.' Now write down, in three sections, 'Ass,' 'Breasts,' and 'Hands'."

Hands? What did I sign up for? I thought I was just going to be spanked. Fuck, I am in over my head.

"Yes daddy" I manage to squeak out. I take to task writing them down. I am not sure why we are doing it, but I figure he will tell me when he's ready. I really want to ask.

"Good, Amber."

Again with making my name so sexual. So intense. Fuck. He makes my name seem like a curse word.

I smile back at him. "Come stand in front of me." I move awkwardly to adjust the camera so he can see me. "Now, why are you being punished today?"

Because I am sexually repressed, and you agreed to do it?

"Uh, because I was joking around some and said I would clean my room but didn't."

"And?" I stall. "What else, Amber?"

"Umm. I didn't finish any of the work I promised to do."

Why does he even care if I do my work? It doesn't affect him.

"Yes, that's right, Amber. You didn't clean your room. You didn't get your work done. You were rude and disrespectful to me. Is that clear?" I nod silently. "I said is that clear, Amber? Repeat it back to me what you did."

"I didn't do my work or clean my room, and I joked with you in a way that was rude." As much as I love it, I can't help but feel silly.

This is ridiculous. I'm going to just obey this internet stranger. Oooohhhh, I said Skype was for old people. Whatever.

"Amber, for the rest of this call, you are going to answer anything I say with 'Yes, Daddy.' Nothing else, nothing more. Do you think you can do that?" There's a pause as he waits for me to return.

"Yes, Daddy." I feel small, uncertain, unconfident. So quickly, he completely took control.

"Yes, just like that. Amber, I'd like you to turn around." I feel awkward. I'm thinking of Will Ferrel in Ricky Bobby when he doesn't know what to do with his hands.

Shut up. Focus!

"Very good, Amber. Put your hands on your head. Now, you are going to stand right there, and with your hand, you are going to spank one side of your ass. Your other hand is to remain on your head at all times. I will tell you how many. You will do one side and then the other." He pauses. "What do you say, Amber?"

"Yes, Daddy."

But it wasn't a question. I guess I just say it whenever.

"Good, you may begin." I had waited for this moment for a while, but now that we are here, I feel nervous and off balance. I take my left hand and start spanking. I am fully clothed, standing in the middle of my bedroom.

It's not too late to back out. This is silly.

"One."

This isn't so bad.

"Two."

It doesn't even hurt.

"Ten."

I did it! This is easy. It's kinda fun.

I feel proud of myself.

"Now you are going to do the same thing on the other side."

Psh. I got this.

I count off the numbers as I spank myself ten times.

"Very good, Amber."

Stop saying my name like that.

"I'd like you to go over to your paper and keep count of your spankings."

Wait, I have to keep a log? Oh no.

"I like you to keep a count of how many we do this session." I finish writing. "Show me."

"Yes Daddy," I mumble as I grab the paper and hold it to the camera.

"Very good. Set it down and grab your hairbrush." I compliantly grab it and look at the camera. I don't dare move without his instruction. "Turn your back and go to where you were. Same thing as before."

We repeat this process again, of me spanking and him having me write down the tallies. This time, he asks for something different. "Amber, I'd like you to take your dress and tuck the back of your panties. I want to see your panties, but you may leave your dress down in the front." I do as he asks. My hands are shaking because I am having some trouble, but I want to quickly please him. "Very good." I beam a little with my smile, but he can't see me. "Same thing as before."

I start counting to ten again, but my dress starts to slip. I quickly tuck it in and keep going.

"Amber, did you forget something?"

Fuck. What now?

My off hand is holding my dress. I didn't put it back on my head. I quickly lift my hand as if he didn't already call it out.

"Sorry, Daddy."

Wow, he really cares. That's good. It's cute how he pays attention.

"Okay Amber. Since you failed to follow instructions go ahead and start over from the beginning."

Are you fucking kidding me? It was a slight slip!

"I'm sorry, Daddy, but I fixed it. It was an accident." Surely, I can appeal to his humanity. These things happen.

"Amber, go ahead and do fifteen on each side now." I try to apologize, but he won't hear it. "I said you may begin." Hesitantly, I start my spanking again. I get to fifteen, and he reminds me that I have fifteen again.

"Good. Now go ahead and write fifteen down."

But I did 23 on my left.

"Daddy, I did more than that."

"And did I say they counted? You write down what I count, and I did not count them." He can see the annoyance on my face. "What spanks matter, Amber?"

"The ones you count, Daddy."

Bullshit system.

He has me pick up the wooden spoon and repeat the process. "Okay Amber, now tell me your tally."

"I have 95, Daddy."

"Hmm. Very good. Let's go ahead and see ten more."

Perfect. An even one hundred spanks. He gets me.

I count to five on my left cheek, and then I switch my hand to the other side and count to five.

"I'm sorry, Amber. What are you doing?"

What do you mean? You can see what I am doing.

"I am counting to ten spanks." I add sassily, "like you asked." He's not having it.

"I said ten spanks. That means ten on each side. Not five."

Fuck. Why the hell did I misinterpret it? Why would he not want an even one hundred?

I don't know how to respond. "Actually, start over and go ahead and make it twenty."

Oh, so I can't make any mistakes. Maybe you should have been clearer! This is so unfair. I have half a mind to tell you--

"Amber, I said you may begin."

I start counting to twenty. The wooden spoon is really starting to tender my ass. I am trying to stay still, but I bounce a little. He doesn't yell, so that's good. I guess I am okay. "Go ahead and write down twenty on your paper."

How many is that we aren't counting?

"How many do you have counted?"

"Well, not including the ones that you won't count even though they hurt and I did them, it's one-hundred and fifteen, Daddy." It's a small victory by letting him know I disproved of his counting technique.

"Amber come here now. Look at me."

Shit.

My eyes drop. I know I messed up. "I said look at me." I glance up. "What matters? What I count or what you want to count?"

"What you want to count, Daddy."

"That's right. What you count doesn't matter. Only what I want matters." I feel bad. I don't like being scolded like a child.

Don't you?

I think as my pussy gets wet. "Now we are going to do something called corner time. Rip the sheet out of your journal and bring it to the wall."

"Yes Daddy." I obey him, wanting to be back in his good graces.

"Now you are going to keep your dress tucked into your panties, and you will put the paper on the wall." I do as he asks. "Higher. Good girl. You are going to put your nose on it, and you will stand there. I will put two minutes on the timer." I stand there humiliated as I stand like a small child being put in time out.

What the fuck?

I am supposed to just sit here.

"Well Amber, I can see from this angle you didn't clean this part of your room either."

Yes, berate me while I can't move. Sadist.

"Now tell me, did you obey my touching rules?"

My eyes grow wide, not that he can see as they were firmly planted against the wall.

Oh fuck me. No. Don't ask. Fuck.

"Uhhh." I am so glad I can't turn around and face him.

"Answer me." I resign in defeat as I tell him how I didn't obey. "You asked me to institute a touching rule for you, and then you did not follow the rule you wanted. Is this correct?"

It's true. The night before I asked about touching, hoping that you would take the reins and institute a rule. You gave me permission to cum once that night, but that any other times I could only do it by humping a pillow or the corner of my bed or desk. Humiliating myself and showing myself my place, but an angle I do love. However, when the morning came, and I was snuggled in bed, I decided I didn't want to leave the warmth. You wouldn't know anyway. I slide my fingers inside my panties until I found my clit.

Yes.

I didn't know what you looked like, but I was imagining myself helpless, sprawled across your lap as your firm hands strongly slapped my backside. The more I thought about it, the faster my fingers moved. In the back of my head, I know it's wrong. I should stop.

But, it feels so fucking good.

I decide I will deal with the consequences later. Instead, I imagine the beating I will get, the begging you to stop and not stop, to hurt me and cuddle me, to kiss me and fuck me. You won't fuck me though; it was previously agreed on. Purely platonic. That's what makes it hotter. The growing arousal and need I have knowing it'll never be fully met. I keep picturing my increasingly vulgar thoughts before I reach the peak and ride my climax.

Perfect

.

Except now is later, and it is anything but perfect. I have no other recourse but true honesty, and he won't like it. "I am sorry, Daddy. I know I explicitly asked you to create a rule, and then I immediately rejected it. It was rude of me to ignore the time and effort I asked for. I just didn't want to get out of bed." My face is still against the wall, and I've never been more grateful.

"So, because you were lazy, you didn't follow my rules? Am I understanding that right?" I nod as much as I can. I try to apologize, but he firmly cuts me off. "Your needs were more important than my rules. Is that right?" I just have to sit there and take it.

"Yes Daddy, I am sorry." It sounds pathetic when he lays it out like this.

Man, I was selfish. Shit.

Corner time finally ends, and I am not sure I want to face you after the secrets that were spilled. You tell me to grab my wooden spoon and get in front of you. "You are going to spank your hands for me. Make your hands flat with the palm up. And you are going to strike each hand five times like that."

That's it? This is my big punishment?

I guess he didn't really care about the rule break. I almost laugh.

"Yes, Daddy," I smirk as I say it. I get into position, and then I raise the wooden spoon up. It cracks hard against my palm, covering where my calluses are, and an unexpected white-hot pain runs through my hand. My eyes and mouth fly open in surprise. I don't know if I yelled, cursed, or was stunned silent. If I was going to cry, that was the moment. Instead, I immediately start pleading like my life depends on it. Quite frankly, he gives zero fucks. He is the one smirking now. I am begging him. I think for a moment to spank my pussy instead. I'll do anything else. He remains stoic.

"Amber, I do not want to hear this. You are going to do five on each side. Now do it." I am too scared. I can't move my hand, but I know I have to. I crack down again. I am more prepared, but the pain is so great.

I didn't ask for this!

I am furious-- but at myself or him, I can't tell. Maybe I am mad at the world. He's sitting there unbothered.

I hate him.

You continue as nothing happened when I finish. "Okay Amber, I am going to have you take your panties completely off. Tuck your dress into the top. Do not let it fall."

I obey, and we continue like normal between spanking, tallying, and corner time on occasion. You instruct me to use my hand and count ten spanks. This next time though, you tell me that you are counting. Which is funny, because I thought I knew how to count. I feel a little rejected.

Maybe my voice is annoying him. Maybe he's over it and wants me to move on.

Nope. His reason becomes abundantly clear soon enough.

I smack my ass with my hand. "One."

I could have said that.

I smack my ass again. "Two."

He's just patronizing me.

I smack my ass again, careful to miss the painful spots. "Two."

Whoops, someone can't count.

He senses my hesitation. "That didn't count, Amber."

Oh, shit, that's his game.

"If I don't think you hit hard enough or you are not hitting the right spot, it won't count. You may continue."

How the hell am I supposed to know where to hit?

A hint I learned later: that's the whole point.

After we finish, he tells me to move closer to the webcam so he can admire my marks. I suddenly feel incredibly exposed and vulnerable, as if I hadn't been on display the whole time. "Do you have a mirror?" I nod encouragingly. "Very good, go in the mirror and look at your ass." I gasp loudly when I see my marks. My whole bottom is a beautiful shade of pink with spots of deep red where I repeatedly hit myself in the same location. He can hear me whine as I touch myself, feeling the heat of it. "What do you think? How do you feel?"

"I feel like it's pretty warm. It feels really tight. I think its pretty though." And this is where a lesser man would stop. He'd ask me to finger myself while he strokes his cock, leaving me wholly unsatisfied. But Daddy is different.

He has me maintain my position in front of him, spanking myself on his command. As I am obeying him, my dress falls again, and his annoyance is palpable. I feel like I am about to receive a lecture, but instead he instructs me to take off my dress completely. I stand there for a moment, my back facing him. "Amber, take the dress of. I am done with it." My breathing hitches, and I feel nervous. Shakily and unceremoniously, I take the dress off and halfway fold it on the floor before me. Now, I am completely bare. He sits there, fully clothed, and I can't help but feel less than him. Like a pet would stand naked with its owner. He asks me something, and I mumble nonsense back to him. "Amber, turn around." I feel aroused and ashamed as I have to turn for him. I use the wooden spoon to block my pussy as I cover my breasts with my arms. He's kind but firm. "Would you like to put on a t-shirt or tank top." The words don't quite register. I feel like I am in a fog, so he repeats them again for me.