Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Posts Tagged ‘daddy/girl’

I found this image online quite a while ago. I went to the site, but couldn’t find the series it was from. If anyone knows about where I can lay hands on it, please comment and let me know!
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I just called my parents to talk with my mom, and my dad answered. He must be having a less-sucky-than-usual day because he sounded clearer than I’d heard him for a long time, and when he was getting off the phone he called me “sweetie pie.”

Nowadays he’s mostly too caught up in his own misery to waste time on terms of endearments, so it’s the first time he’s said anything like that to me a long, long time.

I almost started crying. It was so bittersweet.

I need my Daddy to come home and cuddle me, now. Knowing that I can still be a little girl in his arms will take away some of this … this … I don’t know what to call it.

This story is dedicated to Daddy’s Lil Lola. Knowing she is out there waiting to read these tales makes me feel safe to post them.

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For those who missed it, Part I is here.

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Lexie woke up the next morning feeling a bit better. After the punishment, she had rediscovered how nice Daddy could be to her after disciplining her. He’d taken her out for the nice dinner, and even let her have a drink as well. Then, he let her stay up late, watching episodes of Dr. Who with him that she’d missed while she was at school. He was sweet and loving to her, and she melted into the happy warmth of it.

It continued through breakfast, and then she went up to her room, to revel in having a room to herself, and found a romance novel – something with no even remotely educational content, pure fluff – and settled down to properly waste some time.

It was about time for lunch when Daddy knocked on her door. She was too lazy to move from her spot – tummy down on the bed, holding the book open in front of her – and so she just called out, “Come in!” When he did, she noticed his eyes traveling up the backs of her legs, where her skirt had ridden up while she was lying down. She saw the flicker in her eyes. Oh no – she knew that look. She was in for it again.

“You know I’m not finished disciplining you, yet, my girl.”

“But, Daddy –”

“I thought we discussed these ‘buts’ last night, girl. I won’t have them. But I have given consideration to your concern that you are too old for a spanking.”

Was this too good to be true? She figured she better encourage that train of thought. “Yes, Daddy! I am! You don’t have to do that anymore, you could just talk to me and –”

“I’ll decide what I can and cannot do, my girl. But as you say, you are getting a bit old for a spanking. So now I will treat you like a grown up woman. Stand up.”

This was definitely not going in the right direction. She had hoped for just a lecture. However, it seemed, corporal punishment was still in her future, and now of an unknown quality.

“Take off your skirt and pants and bend over the bed.”

Wow, he was not kidding. Daddy’s eyes were adamant, daring her to give him the slightest excuse for punishment. Lexie gulped. She’d never seen him in quite this mood before. Maybe growing up wasn’t quite as pleasant as she’d thought. Now, the thought of just a spanking held much appeal.

She decided not to push things, not when she was on this dangerous, uncertain ground.

She undid her skirt, and slowly slipped it down over her hips. She could go slowly if it just looked like she was being careful to do things right, but not if she pushed it so much that he could see that she was playing for time. She stepped out of her skirt, and to slow things down further, folded the skirt neatly and put it on a chair. That turned her to the side, so she was able to hook her thumbs in her knickers and ease them down with her side to him. Somehow, Daddy looking at her made her feel so much more naked than changing at school with the other girls, or if she was making out with a guy….

“Turn and face me, girl.” Well, he’d noticed, of course. She turned, shyly, with her kicks around her ankles.

“You’ve shaved, my girl…” It was an invitation to explain herself.

But all she said was, “Yes, Daddy.”

“I noticed it last night, but we had other business to attend to, then. Now, you’ll tell me why.”

“Daddy … I started growing in hair. I didn’t like it, it was uncomfortable. So … I shaved it off….” Was this a bad thing? A punishable offense? It hadn’t seemed like a bad idea at the time, and she liked it better being smooth down there….

“You didn’t play around with a boy and catch something, did you girl?”

She looked in shock at her Daddy. This was the most humiliating thing she’d ever been through. How could he think that, and accuse her of it…? She would never let herself catch any nasty bugs!

“No! Daddy, no! Never! Of course not! Please don’t think that –!” She was close to babbling incoherently, now. Tears had started up in her eyes, and he’d not even laid a hand on her. She was really horrified, terrified – what if he didn’t believe her?!

“Well … girl, I believe you.” She nearly passed out with relief. “I like the shaving,” Daddy continued, “You will keep it up. And it does prove what I was saying, that you are a big girl, now.”

Even with the relief coursing through her, she eyed him warily. Had he made her strip just for that, or was there more?

“And now, my girl, turn around, and take the skirt off that chair. Yes, just put it on the desk. Get your knees on that chair, and bend over it, no, like this. Now, grab that rung. I know it’s not comfortable, but that’s not the point, is it?”

She didn’t answer. Some questions didn’t need answers.

“Now, I see from your reports that you’ve had the Prefect’s cane at school. Rather more than once. Did you enjoy it?”

“No, Daddy!”

“Well, you can’t tell that from the record, girl! But after you’ve become used to the cane, it’s not good trying to punish you with spankings any more.” Lexie didn’t try to explain to him that his hand was really as effective as any punishment tool she could think of.

“Well, this cane should teach you more than the ones at school, which seem to have failed altogether. You were just having the Prefect’s canes. This, my girl, is the Senior cane, and you’ll being getting to know it well, this summer.”

Her hands grasped the chair rung tighter, as her tummy spasmed in fear. She’d not liked the Prefect’s canes at all. They stang and bit and it was all she could do not to blubber in front of the other girls when she got it. She had a feeling she’d be blubbering now, all right. But of course, it was a bit different – Daddy didn’t feel he’d done his job unless she’d had a real cry. And it wouldn’t take long – not only did this Senior cane sound awful, but she was still reeling from Daddy’s earlier accusations.

“Okay, my girl – bottom out nice and proud. We’ll start with six and see where we go from there.”

She jutted her ass out and up, feeling her complete lack of control, and his total control over her. She was in a position, literally, where there was nothing she could do but follow his orders to the best of her abilities. To do anything else would only bring more pain and suffering. Often, he let her get away with being sassy and slightly naughty. But there were times, like these, where she had discovered he would only accept immediate and utter obedience.

He did that thing where he swished the cane right behind her, so she felt the small breeze, and heard the terrible noise. Oh, why did people wielding canes feel the need to do that?! She knew pain was on its way, horrible pain, so why not get right to it? And then, of course, the tap-tapping as the measured his target. All making fear and anticipation tense her limbs.

Then, with the next swish, the horrible pain was there. Other girls had said there was a split-second before the pain started. That was total crap. She felt the pain right off – the pain of the impact, and then the pain that built up from the inside, building and building.

This Senior cane was much worse than the Prefect’s canes. The pain came up from deeper within her, there was a sting, yes, but not like an insect stinging her from the outside, but like a row of insects all stinging her inside her skin. She yowled.

“None of that, girl! You’re a big girl now, so you had better show me how grown up you are.” And the second stroke hit.

Happily, it shocked her silent. That was the only good thing about it, because it seemed somehow worse than the first. So did the third, and this time she made a sound through clenched teeth. The fourth was not as bad, and she managed not to make a sound. The fifth made her moan piteously, not sure she could take the sixth. The sixth … brought silent tears to her eyes, her shoulders racking with suppressed sobs.

“Well, girl, good job. I’m impressed with you. Let’s look at these weals.” She felt his big, hot hand sliding over her bottom, then just a finger tracing each of the tramlines, making noises of approval. Maybe he would be content with this…?

His voice tugged her out from her pain-induced reverie, the trance she’d been slipping into from the feel of his fingers on her throbbing stripes. “That was a good start, my girl, and now you know what to expect if you displease me this summer. But there’s more than just this introduction for you.” Waiting for more, she was numb but anxious at the same time. “Now you’ll meet Daddy’s belt. Why I haven’t tanned your arse with it years ago I don’t know, but it’s time to rectify that situation. Now that you’re all grown up.”

She deeply regretted ever having balked at going over his lap. She could be over his lap right now, feeling his erection pressing up into her belly, even if she was being spanked, she would have still been against him, his arm around her. Now, she was all alone, taking all this pain without knowing he still loved her. She knew that he knew she was thinking that, and that he was enjoying her all-too-late regrets.

“But I must say, your ass is not up and out like it should be girl – get into position!” And she did, arching her back before he could finish the word. She could feel his eyes on her exposed, shaved place. At least hair would have hidden the glisten of wetness. Now she was totally open to him.

She heard the belt slide from his trousers – she felt like she could hear it go through every loop. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him double it up, and saw the motion of him swinging it experimentally to get the range. Then, she closed her eyes.

The belt whooshed down and slammed into her bottom. It was like one of his full hard spanks, but with even more power behind it. She cried out more out of shock than pain, although there was enough of that. Not giving her time, like he had with the cane strokes, he raised the belt up again and again and brought it down again and again. She cried out loudly, but the pain was more bearable than the cane, it was the sheer force that had her wailing with each stroke. The pain was real, not to be denied, but it was the repetition of those powerful blows that had her mind really reeling. Her body moved with it, sometimes curving her bottom down to protect the spot where her bottom and legs met – but then, when the blows fell on the tender top of her cheeks, she would arch back up again to protect them, her head swinging up and down in counterpoint.

The pain built and built, until it was even drowning out the force of the blows in her mind. Her hands scrambled frantically on the chair, her body moving more and more away from the strokes. Finally, he was done, and he dropped the belt, and she could hear him breathing hard. Not as hard as she was, for she was panting, dry-mouthed and hoarse.

He picked her up, and she never felt such joy to be in his arms. Such big strong arms! He pulled her up to his chest, and she slid her arms around his neck, and he carried her to the bed. He pulled the sweaty shirt off of her, and somehow he had lost his clothing, as well. He kneeled at the base of her bed, and pulled her forward so her bottom was right at the edge. He fondled it, saying over and over how hot it was, how red and bruised it was, how much he’d punished that bottom. Between the beating and now the fondling, she felt her wetness increase, unmistakable now. He noticed it, of course, and his fingers started spreading the moisture around on her most sensitive places.

“How wet my little slut has gotten when her Daddy beats her. Are you a big girl, now?”

She moaned, not knowing how to answer, hoping one was not required.

Steel returned to Daddy’s voice, “Are you my big girl?”

What to say? “Oh, yes, Daddy, I’m your big girl…”

“Well, my grown-up girl, then you get to have the special thing.”

She shuddered. Daddy almost never put his cock inside her pussy. Only when he had taken her virginity, and then that time on her birthday. It was always her mouth or her ass, because that was what was safest.

But now, he straightened up and his cock was just there, pressing eagerly against her wet skin. She moaned again, in wordless pleading. Daddy made her feel so good when he put it in there.

“Beg me for it, slut.”

“Daddy, please! Please put it in me! I really need it! Please put your … cock in my … pussy … please, Daddy, please!”

“Well, since my girl wants it so much….” He pushed a bit, and the head of it, which had been teasing her so terribly, slid in to her, just an inch. She begged more, and he slowly pushed inside her. It had been so long since he’d done it, she was almost painfully tight, despite the arousal oozing from her. But she needed more, more, more, regardless. He wrapped her ankles around his neck, and proceeded to fuck her, the speed building rapidly up. She orgasmed immediately, and then over and over, and he groaned each time her pussy spasmed around his cock, and thrust harder, which made her come again.

After some nameless time, he pulled out of her. She knew what was coming next, and tried to relax, but it was still a rough shock as his cock, lubed up only by her fluids, pushed forcibly into her arse, still sore from yesterday, and then pounded hard. She squealed, the pain mingling with the pleasure, and she felt her Daddy slam hard against her several more times as his come pumped hotly into her.

“Good girl,” he whispered into her ear, as he lay forward on to her body. “And are you still my little girl?”

“Yes, Daddy! Always!”

Lexie was happy to be coming home from school for summer holidays. Daddy had sent her off to such a strict school – the head, the teachers, the matrons; they all watched you like a hawk. Even Lexie was hard-pressed to get up to trouble there, and, anyway, the slightest infraction was far more soundly punished than she thought reasonable – or worth it. So she was looking forward to being able to relax a bit during the summer, get away with a few things. She had forgotten how strict Daddy could be….

The station was near Daddy’s house, and her luggage had been sent on ahead, so Lexie walked home, delighting in the early-summer late-afternoon. Freedom tasted so good! Ideas lazily meandered through her head for shopping trips, visits to friends, days at the beach … and some less wholesome activities – although honestly, all of the former could be combined with the latter to make them all the more fun!

She felt a pleasant nostalgia when she turned up the drive. She couldn’t wait to sleep in her own bed. And maybe Daddy would take her to dinner at her favorite pub to welcome her home.

She entered the house and called out, “Daddy! I’m home! Did you miss me!”

“Come into my study, Lexie,” he called back. Suddenly, things didn’t seem as bright as they had seemed moments earlier. She started to remember just how Daddy could be, but it was too late, now. She let her legs take her into the study, while her mind went over the possibilities, and what might now, even at this late date, be done to prevent them.

Daddy sat on his leather desk chair. He swiveled it to face her as she entered. She pretended everything was fine. “Hi Daddy! Everything went fine – the train was on time, and I had a nice walk home!”

“That’s nice, dear, but we need to talk.”

“I’m hungry, Daddy. Can’t we go get some dinner?”

“Later, Lexie. We need to discuss this first.”

She didn’t reply. There was nothing to say that wouldn’t get her in more trouble.

“Now, I’ve a letter from the head. It’s a summary of all the disciplinary actions they’ve had to take with you over the last term.”

What to say? “Yes and I’ve already been punished and there’s no need for more!” was courting disaster. “Yes, and I’ve learned all the lessons from them,” was too pert. “They were unfair!” wasn’t even an option. But while she was pondering these, he continued.

“There a good deal more on this list than I could have hoped, Lexie.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy. Learning the new rules was hard.”

“I imagine it was, but you still don’t seem to have applied yourself very diligently.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“You don’t just answer to your teachers, Lexie, you also have to answer to me. Or did you forget that?”

“But, Daddy –”

“No ‘buts,’ Lexie. It’s time I reminded you of that. Get over my lap.”

“Daddy! I’m too old now!”

“No you are not, my girl, but even if you were, that would be all the more reason you’d have shown you need it. Now, get over here.”

There was no denying that tone of voice. Lexie obeyed, praying it was just a token spanking in her future, just a little reminder.

Daddy’s desk-chair had leather arms, and it made things a bit awkward to bend over, as well she remembered. It was not tall enough to bend over easily, so the only way to do it made her feel off-balance. She had to reach to the far arm, and pull herself forward while putting the crease of her hips over the near arm, then she had to let go and adjust herself so that her upper body was angled down to the floor. Once she was there, she felt Daddy’s hands on her, adjusting her. She felt every touch very intensely. Even more intensely, she felt him pulling her skirt up her back.

“Now, my girl, consider what you have done to end up like this, and what you could have done to prevent it,” he told her, and commenced the spanking. It was over her knickers, put they never afford much protection from blows. His hand hit one cheek and then the other, knocking the wind out of her on the first blow, and then she started breathing in time with them, and making little sounds to let Daddy know they hurt. Not overdoing it, but perhaps a bit exaggerated – it wouldn’t do to encourage him by being stoic!

He kept it up for a good long time. After a while she wasn’t overplaying her noises, they were all quite genuine, especially when he hit his hand like it was dead center on a target; the target in question of course being her turned-up bottom.

She noticed everything during times like these. His rhythm, or if he went off it, she could often guess right before his hand came back down just how hard it would hit. She felt him breathing. And, a hardness rising up against her stomach. She had forgotten about that. But her memories all came back now, and made her cry out louder at the next hit.

After that one, Daddy paused. But not to end the spanking. No, he reached to his desk and grabbed the lone leather slipper that sat on the edge. He sat back in the chair, and repositioned her slightly, making sure her bottom angled up as high as it could in the air. Then, she felt his fingers at either sides of her panties. Well, leaving the panties on had really been too good to be true. He tugged them down and she shivered and moaned quietly.

He heard it. “Now, girl, you know they must come down.” She didn’t answer, and he proceeded to use the slipper on her, getting long full slaps on each cheek, the upper part, the lower part, and those whacks that hit dead-on in-between the cheeks. Somehow, as the slippering progressed, more and more whacks hit right there. They always did.

She was panting and crying out with each hit by the time he stopped. He dropped the slipper. Was it over?

No – he stroked his fingers over her bottom. Of course it wasn’t over – not with that insistent pressure pushing up on her tummy. His fingers moved over her reddened flesh. “What a hot, red bottom you have now,” he told her, like she didn’t know, “A punished bottom.” She shuddered.

His fingers slid in circles ever closer to the area between her cheeks, and she knew what was next: a finger slid down to stroke the lips, and then slid slightly in between them.

“Girl, you’re wet.” It was all over now.

“I sent you off to school because I worried you were becoming a disobedient little slut. I see that my money and the good efforts of your teachers and matrons have all been wasted.” His fingers slid up and down the slit, moving her juices around, and then his thumb slid down and started pushing up into her. She panted with the effort of not making a sound. “Look at what a slut you are. Here I am trying to discipline you, and look at the result. What has turned you on, you slut? Was it having your naked bottom up in the air? Do you like that?” His finger started working inside her. He knew exactly what he was doing – his thumb curved right up to that spot, that place that when he stroked it she couldn’t help but respond the way he wanted. He kept it up until she lost control, and she couldn’t stop herself from crying out, and knew he felt her muscles spasm on his thumb.

“Well, that clinches it, my girl. You know you need to be punished. Get over the desk.”

She was still weak from the orgasm, and she was in no place to argue, or even respond. All she could do was drape herself over his desk, knowing what was coming next. She tried to relax.

“You know what happens to little sluts, girl,” he said, and his voice was very low and full of threat, “I’ve been trying to teach you, but you never learn.” She heard him open the bottle of lubricant, and then felt the cold lube being pushed into her bottom with his finger. “I’ve tried to teach you discipline time after time, my girl. But I will get the lesson across to you.” His finger pushed in and out a few times, and then withdrew.

“This is just to caution you, my girl, what happens to little sluts,” and she felt the slicked head of his cock pressing against her anus. Sometimes he would warm her up with his fingers for a while first, but obviously not this time. And he was so lubed up that he would slide in easily, no matter how tight and unready she was.

At the first thrust she cried out, as the discomfort increased dramatically. At the second, as the head of his cock pushed into her, she started crying. That was the wrong response, she remembered all too late. She felt the surge to his cock, felt it swell inside her, and he started moving his thrusts even faster. It always felt too big. She kept crying out, until she started hyperventilating, and then she just lay there and cried.

“That’s my girl. Oh, your ass is so tight. Take your Daddy’s cock into your tight little ass. That’s it. You’re learning what it’s like to be a slut. Sluts get it up the ass just. Like. This. Fucking your punished bottom, your hot, red bottom.”

He kept it up, pounding against her sore bottom, until she felt his rhythm change, and it got faster and harder. “That’s it, my girl, Daddy’s going to come in your ass. Just like a slut. All that hot come deep in your ass.”

His cock always swelled up a bit more right before he came, and of course she felt even the slightest change, felt him get bigger and harder, deeper inside her, and then felt him tense all over, and his cock jerk as, just as he promised her, his hot come shot out deep up into her ass.

[Daddy-and-me fantasies Part II ]

“Well, girl,” he said, “You’re in a very compromising position.”

Oh! I thought to myself – we’re going to have role-play! I was dressed in full school-girl mode (navy pinafore and blazer, white short-sleeve button down shirt, navy regulation knickers, white knee-socks, and black patent flats) and sometimes he just beats me when I’m dressed like that. But this time, he was giving me a favorite gift: full-on, deep in-character role-play. And I knew he wanted the bad girl.

So, I smiled up at him sassily and said, “But you’re the one who’s naked!”

“You’re the one who came to my house,” he reminded me, “on a Saturday. And why are you here?”

“I came to talk to you about my grades,” I replied, and, with the total satisfaction of someone who knows that she will get what she wants, I ran my hand boldly down his chest and stomach to his cock, stroking it and his balls.

He smiled, too. He was enjoying my bad-girl confidence because he knew just how easily he could break it, and have me sobbing on the bed or the floor. It wasn’t a conscious decision on my part, but right then I knew that I wasn’t going to give in easy. Today, today he would have to work to break me. It had been a long time since we’d gotten to properly play, and I knew deep inside me that I needed every little bit of what was to come; every cane weal and strap welt and those other bruises which you never can be quite sure were caused by what.

But this was not conscious. The conscious me smiled at him and got down on my knees, saying, “And now about my grades …” and then licking, sucking, looking up at him with the full belief that I would entirely get my way glowing from my eyes.

And of course I wouldn’t. I was digging myself in deeper, getting myself into the most compromised position I could. I could trust him to note my every bluster, my every wrong step, and use them all against me. And he loved watching me dig my hole, his cock hard in my mouth, letting me know that trouble was coming.

It is only that trust that he knew that I was only acting bad to please him that lets me be free to take on the role of the saucy, sassy, smart-assed bad-girl. It’s so easy to obey my Master in real life, so natural and right, that if he didn’t give me this safe space to be naughty in, he would only have a desperately obedient slave. I don’t understand the submissives and slaves who disobey their Masters/Mistresses. In day-to-day real life, well, my slavery is really real. To mess up is to cause my Master to be disappointed in me – and I simply can’t stand that. It makes me feel like a failure. It shakes my world, my safe and solid foundations and makes me feel scared – like a child who has broken her daddy’s favorite antique and is afraid he won’t love her anymore.

But, safe within role-play, I can be the spoilt little brat who doesn’t care what swathe of destruction she leaves behind her – she is secure in the knowledge that whatever she does, she’s so cute: “You gotta love me!”

Now I was a somewhat older brat. The girl who didn’t get enough discipline growing up, and got used to getting everything her own way. Now she was trying to manipulate a teacher to ignore her shoddy work in the classroom. What she didn’t know was she was playing right into his hands….

He let me give him a good long blow-job. Long enough that I was quite sure that everything was going my way – after he came, an “A” would be mine.

But suddenly he pulled away. This confused me – he hadn’t come yet – what was going wrong? “Take off your blazer,” he ordered. I smiled and complied. Oh, he was just a dirty old man who wanted to see me naked – no big deal, still entirely manageable. I came back to him, now sitting on the edge of his bed, and started stroking him again. But he started talking to me. “You know, you need to be disciplined,” he started to explain. But I interrupted him. No, I didn’t! To my mind, we had a deal – a blowjob for an “A.” Now he was breaking that deal, and I wasn’t pleased at all. I tried to explain to him that he was the one in a compromising position – after all, here he was naked, with his own student giving him a blowjob: wouldn’t look good at all. But, after letting me protest a bit, he started smoothly explaining that I had it all wrong. I was the one who came over to his home on a Saturday, I was the one who offered my body for unfair grading – despicable behavior for a student of X School – and anyway, who did I really think they would believe, an upstanding teacher like himself, or a student of dubious record like myself.

I objected, of course! But everything I said seemed to draw me further into his trap. I was getting desperate now. He ordered me to bend over the bed. I said, “No! I’m leaving!” – and tried to do just that. He grabbed me and threw me down on the bed. I fought – I tried to get up, get away, he pinned me down, I struggled and wriggled out of his grasp and went for the door. He caught my wrist and pinned me down on the bed again. This time his arm was near my mouth, and I did what I’ve never done before – I bit him. I was still a little in control, and so I bit him lightly, to tell him, “I’m out-of-control-enough to consider biting you, but not so far gone that I really will.” He got it, and played along like I had bitten him hard. His fingers bit into the delicate skin of my wrists (I still have finger-print-bruises as I type this, almost a week later) and I gasped in pain. He twisted my arms so I was entirely unable to move, and grabbed a slipper.

I never knew the slipper could be so intense. Normally, I try to breathe through, and process the pain. But now I was too invested in the fantasy. I fought and cried out, still trying to get away, and that gave him the excuse to bring the slipper down as hard as he liked, over and over. (“Oh shit,” a little voice said in the back of my head, “Maybe we should start trying to moderate things a little…”) But it was too late – it was vital for me to fight all I could, get it all out. Finally, in the end, I collapsed, and he finished with a few final strokes. He thought I’d been broken, and he told me that next came a caning, fully expecting obedience. I didn’t say much more than, “Oh no, no,” because I didn’t want him to see I was still fighting. But when he turned away to set things up, I went for the door again. The fear and excitement was high in me – I never do things like this! What would he do to me now?

After his initial surprise, he hauled me back easily, despite my struggles, and made suitably threatening noises: “We’re going to have to teach you a lesson, girl.”

He made me bend over, my head resting on a black leather footstool. It was an awkward position – I couldn’t straighten my legs and keep my head on the stool, I was slightly off-balance and couldn’t get balanced as long as I was in that position. It was perfect. I had been quite bad enough to have earned a hard, difficult-to-get-through beating. There was fear, of course, but there was a blazing rush of “I earned this,” a masochistic eagerness that dulled the fear and thrilled my body.

He gave me six of the best in that position, and then another six on the backs of my thighs, and I was crying out in pain, and sinking in my knees and being told to get back in position. By that point he didn’t have to hold me there – the pain was doing that for him.

I was gasping when it was over, and he picked me up and put his arms around me. I panted into his shoulder, and then I plaintively said, sotto voce, “I don’t want more, but I need more, if it’s not a bother.”

The last part of that was not sarcasm, although my bad girl self excels at sarcasm. No. He’d gotten down to a raw place, a place that is hurt and jaded and expects to be let down. A part of me that wants to submit, but is too much a throbbing mass of self-protection. So many other Doms would have taken it wrong. He gently told me it was no bother and he was proud of me, and held me when I started crying.

My memory gets hazy at this point. He used a tawse on me, and I was scared of it but longed for the pain of it. He got out an inflatable rubber dildo and worked it into my ass.

We had stayed a bit in character, so that as he penetrated my ass I could beg him, “No, no…” He worked the whole thing inside me, and then pulled back up the knickers that had been pulled down, keeping it snugly in place, the tube and bulb sticking out like I had a little black rubber tail. And then he beat me more. I had come from him working it up inside, and I came again and again, helplessly, as he beat me, crying out but no longer struggling or moving.

Then, as I was deep down into sub-space, he made me blow him – my mouth and ass both full at the same time, my pussy aching from orgasming while empty. He stood bent over me while I kneeled on the floor, and he reached down and let a little air out of the dildo and moved it in and out of me while I moved my mouth up and down his cock. He re-inflated the dildo, and then, perhaps liking feeling me moan on his cock, un-inflated and re-inflated it again and again. He came, and I eagerly swallowed it all.

Then he was on the bed with me, holding me in his arms. He told me now he was going to make me feel better, now I’d see that discipline didn’t always have to hurt. He pulled the panties out of the way, and slid his large fingers inside me, ordering me to come more and more. As I came on fingers he started speaking in a low voice in my ear, telling me that this was the start of my training, that I was his now to use any way he liked. He told me I would now have to forget any future plans of college – that he would be personally overseeing my education. He told me about a school in Switzerland that he might send me to, where I would be taught to serve and be a gracious and generous hostess. He went on to exemplify this by telling me about how guests would be able to use me, man after man bending me over in the entry hall and roughly fucking me up the ass. He had at this point pulled his two fingers out of me, and they were lightly cupping my clit while his thumb had slid inside me and was rubbing slowly against my g-spot in a way that makes me come continuously for as long as he likes. I was fully his, fully in his control, living only in his voice, his words, the sensations he made me feel.

He was getting to the point where it was starting to hurt – he had fucked my pussy hard with his fingers, and now I had orgasmed so many times that my pussy was starting to ache. I whispered a plea: Please, Sir, can I ask you to stop and you won’t, please, please tell me that you won’t stop until it pleases you, please, Sir….

He assured me of that, and I started begging him, saying, “Please stop, it hurts now, please, please take your fingers out, they’re hurting me, please stop…” and he kept going, he told me, “No, you have to take more now, you have to take it for me. I’m not stopping until I’m satisfied.”

Suddenly, I was free, totally free, and my nerve endings seemed to blossom with sensation, and the most amazing orgasms rolled out of the very centermost part of my being. My mind and body came for him, and in my powerlessness I could let go like never before.

He gave me time to recover, and then, I discovered that he had grown hard again. My ass still stretched full, I knelt between his legs and gave him the most loving, thorough blowjob I could. I laved his balls with my tongue while stroking his cock with my fingers, and then switched and took him deep into my mouth while playing my fingers lightly over his balls. I did everything I knew he liked, trying to give him the best satisfaction, trying to share with him the depth and intensity of the feelings he had given me.

When it was over, he half-carried me to the bathroom, and bent me over the counter while he told me to relax and eased the dildo out of my bottom. He half-carried me back to bed, and we snuggled into each other’s arms and sank into that sweet rest that comes only after the most intense, intimate sex….

Tomorrow, the bad girl is going back to her teacher’s house. She will probably not have learned everything she needs to know about being disciplined quite yet. She still may struggle a little, despite the fact that underneath it all, she knows she needs it and has never felt anything like that before.

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Note: A picture of my ass, post-scene, can be found here.