"How many, sir?" Irene asked meekly, wanting to wrap her head around how long she'd have to lie in this position while I painted her plump backside a lovely shade of red.
"I honestly don't know, Irene," I rubbed my hand over her voluptuous bottom, feeling body warmth already beneath my fingers, "how many do you think is worth scaring your husband to death?" That was a rhetorical question; I didn't expect her to answer. "I think I'm going to keep on spanking you until I'm satisfied that you've learned your lesson." That didn't bode well with Irene's bottom, as it immediately puckered at the thought.
Suddenly she heard the crack of the hairbrush and felt the sting immediately, Irene didn't cry out. I often lectured as I spanked her, telling her what she should have done instead of what she did, but this time I didn't talk. There was righteous anger behind every swat I placed, and I placed them good. About ten swats later her bottom was a glowing pink and her thighs were tinting as she bit the blanket in frustration.
It wasn't until somewhere around sixteen or so, when I placed a rogue swat in the crease of her buttocks and legs did her actually cry out. "And the ice queen thaws," I mumbled, an inside joke we shared when I playfully spanked her for non-serious reasons. That caused Irene to bite harder, close her eyes and feel tears well up. I was well past twenty five when she gave another cry, this time moving her hand to shield her burning backside.
"Oh no you don't", I grunted as I grabbed her arm and pushed it up onto her back, holding it in place and I let five swats come down in quick, painful succession. "Brat, you know Dad doesn't tolerate you trying to block swat."
Irene was lost, she had no idea how many swats had been delivered, she was silently crying into the blanket and trying not to give me the benefit of hearing her scream out loud. I took that as a sign as I wasn't spanking that precious bottom of hers hard enough or maybe her pain tolerance had increased. Either way I knew I had to do something else. For a moment Irene felt nothing, that was the worst sound in the world.
What followed the silence made her want to cry harder: the sound of my belt flying through belt loops? "Since you're being so stubborn, Irene, I guess we'll just have to change up the method of how we do this." I released her hand and watched her pull it under her body, probably to protect it from flying out to save herself.
The first time my belt bumped against her already red flesh, Irene let out a scream. "There we go," I growled, bringing the belt down again and again. Irene's cries grew louder, she desperately wanted me to be done and leave her, but I kept on going, hitting and hitting, swat after swat. She could hear me making approving sounds to myself, my anger was fading, and at least that's what she hoped.
When I set the belt down on the end of the bed, Irene was crying into the blankets and made no movement to hide it. I led her up by the waist, and gently across my lap with her bottom staring up at me, a beautiful shade of reddish purple. I smiled to myself, feeling the fruits of my labor when I ran my hand over the scorching flesh. More often than not, I warmed her up with a hand spanking, but today had been different. Anger had caused me to do something vile, but something I knew that Irene needed - I spanked because I wanted her to hurt, the same way I did.
I lifted my hand and let it come down, slap after slap her cries got a little louder, then started to fade. I sighed deeply, knowing that my job was done; Irene had given up complete control and had surrendered. "I love you, Irene," I continued to spank her at a dull, idle pace, "that is why I spank you. As your Daddy Dom, I agreed to help you with things you knew you had problems with and I care about you and I want you to be safe," she was mumbling promises, the way she always did - she'd do it again, but she'd be careful about getting caught.
Again I led her, placing her on the bed and kissing her gently on the forehead. "I'm going to go make dinner, be down in an half an hour." I turned away from her, smiling as I exited the room. Irene lay on her stomach, letting her bottom get some needed cool air. She'd learned from previous spankings that the more she touched her butt, the more it hurt. Irene closed her eyes, a watery smile on her face and said, "Daddy, you girl loves you."
The End
