When he came home, I thought we would have the most perfect evening. We had said we were going to put the tree up that night, something I’d been looking forward to for weeks in this bleakest of years. I had put mulled wine to warm up on the stove, Christmas music was playing…
But the minute he passed the door, everything seemed to go wrong. Well, I say passed the door… I had left my keys in it, locked, and he had to bang on the door for five minutes before I heard him, busy as I was bellowing Christmas songs from the kitchen. Mortified, blushing and looking down, I let him take his coat and shoes off before starting to apologise as best I could. He didn’t let me finish, dismissing me with a wave, and my heart sank.
Sheepishly, I followed him to the living-room where I’d laid out the tree and the many boxes of decorations that we have accumulated over the years. I was ready to put a silly Christmas film on and forget the door incident. But he sighed.
‘Are we doing this tonight?’ he asked, clearly not up for it.
I looked down. ‘Well, we’d said we…’
‘I know, I know, fine…’ he said. My eyes were down, but I could feel his eyes rolling.
‘Did you have a bad day?’ I asked, gently.
‘No, I’m fine, just tired’ was all he said.
Suddenly, I remembered the wine on the stove. ‘Shit!’ I said and ran over there. As I’d feared, it had started to boil. Not a tragedy, in the grand scheme of things, but still… One more thing that wasn’t going right.
‘Can you grab me a beer while you’re in there?’ he called from the living-room. With a sigh, I served a single mugful of mulled wine and got him a beer.
When I came back to the living-room, the tree was up, bare as it was. He was rummaging around in one of the boxes, looking for something. I set the drinks on the table. Well, I tried to. I tripped on a bunch of lights and everything went crashing to the floor, lights, drinks and all. He jumped and took my hand, genuinely worried.
‘Are you okay?’
I sighed.
‘It’s not the evening I wanted…’
‘It’s all right,’ he said, ‘just pick a movie, I’ll get a mop, yeah? Then we can decorate, wrap presents, and it’ll all be okay.’
I wiped tears from my eyes and nodded. He went to get a mop, and I started browsing. Maybe things would be fine after all.
‘Honey?’ he called from the kitchen, ‘What’s in the oven?’
The oven? I thought. The oven. Fuck! The oatmeal cookies I had made were probably completely burnt… I rushed to the oven and, sure enough, smoke billowed out when I opened the door. I bit my lip, and felt tears running down my cheeks.
‘Honey?’ he asked. ‘Are you sure everything’s all right?’
‘No…’ I managed in a tearful little voice, ‘It’s really not…’
‘They’re just cookies, my love, it doesn’t matter…’
‘It’s…’ I started, hesitating, then everything came out at once, ‘It’s everything, it’s covid, it’s not seeing family this year, then the door, and you’re mad about the tree and I burnt the cookies and spilled the wine and…
He shushed me gently and took me in his big, bear arms. I cried my eyes out in his chest. His hand came up to stroke my hair and slowly, I calmed down.
‘Tell me what you need…’ he said.
‘I… I feel so bad, about everything…’
‘Honey… It’s okay…’
‘No… Will you… Will you spank me? And then we can start over…’
‘A nice, cathartic spanking?’
‘Yes… I want to be over your knees… I want to let go… Please?’
Gently, carefully, he took my hand and led me to a chair in the kitchen, where he sat down. I took my jeans down. He was smiling up at me. I blushed. Lovingly, he put me down over his knees, and I abandoned myself to his embrace, to his loving discipline. Despite the pain, I smiled as the guilt left me with each slap of his hand.
Once it was all over, and my tears were exhausted, we decorated the tree, drinking freshly made mugs of mulled wine; we watched a silly Christmas film just like I wanted, and nibbled on burnt cookies while laughing at each other’s awful Christmas pun. All the while, my bottom was burning, and I loved him all the more for it.
Simple enough, Lilah figured, to just climb back up the side of the house by the pipe and get back in. It was the way she’d gotten out of the house once her father was asleep, and it was how the teenage girl would got back inside and pretend she’d been asleep and in bed the whole night when the sun rose.
So, she made her way up. She was only 5’2 and her height didn’t help her in the slightest, but it wasn’t exactly difficult to climb up either. What she had to be most mindful of was noise. If she woke him up now, she’d be done for.
She got back inside through the bedroom window with seemingly no fuss, and after shutting the window quietly behind her, she let out a deep sigh of relief.
With a heavy sigh, Michael, her adoptive father, fully opened the bedroom door behind which he had been standing and turned the light on. He’d been waiting, anxious, angry, worried, furious.
Lilah, his adoptive daughter, was… complicated. Draining. His pride and joy. A real brat.
Sometimes, he didn’t know what to do with her. But it usually ended with her apologising through her tears, her bottom a dark crimson. Tonight might be one of those.
He glared.
“Well? Anything to say?” he said.
“Daddy!” She smiled, fakely, nervously, and began putting on her ‘I’m just a little kid, don’t be mad at me!’ voice, even though she was far from being one anymore.
“I was just going outside to see the stars! What are you doing in here?”
“I’ve been waiting, Lilah,” he growled, “I’ve been waiting for hours. I’m sure you’ve seen many stars on this overcast night…”
He crossed his arms over his chest.
“Do you want to try that again?” he continued.
“Well, y’know, um, I went for a walk to see if I could see them anywhere. Like, around the clouds you know?” Shit. He was totally on her trail, and that was bad. “Buuut I really should be going to bed now, so-“
He raises an eyebrow
“For three hours, huh?” he shook his head, “Lilah, I think you know better than to lie to me, don’t you? It’s bad enough that you disobey, it’s bad enough that I was worried sick, don’t lie to me on top of it!” His voice was getting louder and louder as he went. She winced at that. It was always a sign that he was getting fed up, and perhaps it was better to just come clean… though she hated it when her adoptive father was cross with her.
“U-um… I went to Emi’s house because they were having hum… a ‘get together’.” She explained, her cheeks heating up in embarrassment. “Honest, That’s where I was…”
He sighed. “A get together, huh? Just hanging out, sipping orange juice? Yes?”
He closed the bedroom door behind him with and ominous ‘clank’.
“I-it was really just a couple of close friends!” she said, backing up when he closed the door. She wished he would just leave her alone to go bed, but the chance of that happening seemed smaller and smaller.
“I swear daddy, it was just like, six of us, and we only had like, soda and stuff! Really! You can smell my breath if you want, I wasn’t drinking!”
“Soda and stuff” he said, dismissively, “Oh, Lilah… Why… Why do you keep doing this? Do I not treat you well? Are you really so fed up with your old man that you simply don’t care? Is that it? Because frankly, I can’t see why you’re doing this…”
He shook his head again.
“You know what needs to happen now, don’t you?” he said again.
“No! Dad, I just- I just wanted to go and you said I couldn’t but… I should be able to! It’s not fair!”
Her friends always got to hang out no problems, and Lilah was always stuck getting told no, or negotiating with the stern older man.
However, she could predict his next move. “A-and I won’t do it again! I’m sorry, I know I should’ve told you…”
“I said you couldn’t. And you still did, didn’t you?” he asked, his tone ice-cold. He went and sat on the bed
“Now, I’ll ask you again, Lilah… What’s going to happen?”
He rolled up his sleeves, keeping his gaze on her.
The teen whimpered, and tears gathered in her eyes at the prospect of having to go over his knee or over anything to be smacked. Not again…
“Y-you’re going to spank me- please don’t spank me, dad, please-!” She whined, backing up to the wall. “I-I’m 17! I’m too old for that! I just wanted to go with my friends, you’re being unfair!”
“If you behaved, there would be no need for a spanking. And if you behaved, I would be more inclined to let you hang out, as you put it” he said, and gestured her over. “Come nicely, own up to it and it will be over soon, all right? The more you argue, the worse it’ll get, you know that…”
“Daaad…” she whined again, seeing that he wasn’t going easy on her. “I’m sorry, I know I made you worry, but I didn’t mean to!”
Still, she knew how his rules were, and she slowly came to stand in front of him. “I’ll behave from now on, I promise…”
He closed his eyes and sighed “Now where have I heard that before?”
He smiled, sadly “I believe you, my little butterfly…” he said, “But I’m not letting you get away with it. You need to learn.”
He pointed to her worn-out jeans and said:
“Take them off”
Her face was blushing bright red at the prospect of being this age and still being subjected to a spanking, but at this point, there really was no getting out of it, was there?
“Yes sir…” she murmured, a tear running down her cheek. When she’d been adopted, she’d never expected this, and every time It happened, she always swore it never would again, but it always did. She undid the button and pushed the trousers down to her knees, thoroughly mortified.
“What are…” he started, seeing the lacy, pale pink panties that she was wearing. He blushed. “You know what, I don’t want to know…”
She wasn’t even sure how to explain that one had to wear sexy panties when they went to hang out with friends and their boyfriend of course, because what if things had gone further? That night, Lilah was glad that they hadn’t.
He took her wrist and gently brought her down over his lap.
Sometimes, he forgot how grown up she was now. Even if she ended up on his lap with her bottom bared more often than her card to remember, she was nearly an adult now. Where had the time gone?
He cleared his throat.
“This could have been avoided, you know. All you had to do was stay in your bed, be on your phone, anything… But you had to disobey…”
He wanted to scold her, but his heart wasn’t in it.
“Let’s get this over with…” he said, finally.
With a loud SLAP!, he let the first blow fall on her barely covered bottom
“You never let me hang out with my friends!” She whined, a tear already falling from her eye. She always felt horribly guilty in this position. “You’re being unfair daddy!!”
The slaps keep coming, one cheek, the other, hard, fast. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
“I am not! Other kids have earned the right to go out unsupervised! I can’t say you have…”
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! the hand keeps falling, quickly turning the pale white of her cheeks a pale pink, then to red.
“Again and again you disobey!”
“Daddy!!” Lilah yelped, whimpered, gasped and cried out in pain, and still the hand was relentless. It hurt badly, so badly that she couldn’t help but bury her face in her hands and sob.
She’d only disobeyed because she felt he was always so unreasonable with her! He couldn’t control her forever, she was practically an adult! Or so she thought, at least…
“I’ll be good! I’m sorrryyy!” she sobbed.
After a dozen more hard slaps, he paused. Her bottom felt burning to the touch and he knew that there was a very wet patch of duvet where she’s been burying her head to muffle her screams and sobs.
“I really want to believe that you are, my butterfly… I really, really do…”
Still, he grabbed the waistband of her lacy underwear…
“Daddy no! P-Please!” She rarely ever referred to him as such anymore, and for her to be doing it so frequently meant she was truly upset.
Her hand flew back next to his, also taking a firm hold on the waistband to keep it pulled up over her cheeks. “I promise, daddy, I swear! Please, please not on the bare. I’ll never leave the house again! Please!”
“I…” he hesitated “Maybe you are a little old for that…” he said, unsure. He could feel his cheeks blushing. Taking her hand off the undies, he wedged them up instead of pulling them down, revealing her burning red globes but leaving her intimacy covered.
Swiftly, the slaps began raining down again, harder now, intent on giving her a proper lesson.
“I do hope you will obey, Lilah.. I do…”
Lilah could swear that her skin was raw, and possibly even starting to bruise. She felt she had a good pain tolerance but this… this was all too painful and not to mention, humiliating. It was embarrassing to be put over his knee like she was still a little girl!
“I will!” She whimpered, tears dripping from her face onto the bedsheets her head was above. “I’ll be good! I’ll obey, I w-will! No more, please n-no more!” Her legs kicked somewhat involuntary, and her hands gripped tight onto his pant leg.
With a loud, harsh final SLAP!, he let her catch her breath and gently stroked her hair as she sobbed quietly.
“There, there… It’s over now… It’s over…”
He helped her up and sat her on the bed next to him.
“I love you, my sweet butterfly…” he said with a sad smile, and offered his arms to her, hoping she would forgive the pain and hold him like she used to when he’d first adopted her.
“H-hurts…” Lilah cried, her hands under her to rub gingerly at her sore, abused cheeks. Heat radiated off them, and she fell into his arms. If he was going to spank her like a child, then she’d accept the comfort that came with it.
“I’m sorry…” she whispered
He held her tight and stoked her hair.
“I know, butterfly, I know…”
He closed his eyes and sighed
“Daddy’s here, it’s all going to be all right…”
This story was written in collaboration with Lia 🙂
Older or not, Madame’s hand didn’t seem to tire, and Belinda kept clenching and unclenching her buttocks, moaning in pain, begging for mercy.
*SMACK!* *SMACK!* *SMACK!* *SMACK!* *SMACK!* it continued.
It had all started when Madame Clairmont had left that morning, leaving Belinda, her German maid, to do her usual cleaning of the house. As she did every morning, Belinda had opened the windows to let the fresh morning air in. Suddenly, a cat had jumped through the window, and proceeded to run straight for the kitchen. “Was zur Hölle!” exclaimed the young, surprised Belinda, and she ran after it. As she did so, her feather-duster hit Madame’s jewellery stand and the precious earrings and necklaces fell on the floor. As she paused to try and pick some off the floor, she heard a loud crash in the living room. She hurried herself there, only to find a vase in pieces on the floor. Oh Scheiße… she thought and went after the cat.
It had reached the kitchen, making straight for the work surface where food lay, ready to be prepared. The fresh fish seemed to be of particular interest to the kitty, and, having grabbed one, it jumped back towards the living room, passing between Belinda’s legs. She turned around only to see the cat dragging the wet, smelly fish all over the dense, expensive carpet. Ach du heilige Scheiße!
“Komm hierher!” she called the cat, who let the fish fall down on the carpet in a wet splosh to meow at her. Just as she thought she might catch the elusive intruder, it run away again, and in her hurry, Belinda slipped on the fish. She fell down and crashed into the coffee table, sending the ashtray that was on it to the ground. Of course, she hadn’t emptied it yet. Madame tended to smoke a few cigarettes in the morning, she knew. It was now all over the fishy carpet. Das kann doch nicht wahr sein!!!
The accursed Katze meowed again, as if mocking her, and she got up, her vengeful feather-duster held high. Finally, she managed to chase the cat out the window it had come in. As she caught her breath, trying to process what had just happened, she heard the unmistakable click of the front door opening. She closed her eyes. Surely, this was all a bad dream.
“OH MON DIEU!” she heard Madame Clairmont say, and then a loud “BELINDA!”
Before she could offer an explanation, stammering as she was in a mix of German and French, Madame had pulled her over her lap, pulled her skirt up and started raining hard slaps on her quivering bottom. The small thong that she was wearing didn’t afford her any protection, and she felt Madame’s anger in full. “Unacceptable, Belinda,” Madame Clairmont was saying in her thick French accent, “Totally unacceptable!”
And the slaps came, and came, and came again. Belinda was crying, begging, still trying to explain what had happened as her bottom turned from pink to red to dark, throbbing crimson. As more slaps came down, she could swear she heard a mocking meow in the background.
As I was finishing this commision for a client, I was looking through a dictionary of the Monachi language, spoken by the Native American Mon people that live in the Southern Sierra Nevada (yes, that is quite random, but I love learning about other languages).
Aaliyah had been waiting all day for him to come back. The waiting only made it worse. He knew it. He knew it very well, and she knew it was part of her punishment. Every time her phone pinged with one of his messages was a reminder of what was coming. Since the morning, he had drip-fed her instructions. She knew better than to argue or try to ignore him. He would be back at five, after work. She would be standing at the door, hands behind her back. Her head would be bowed; she wouldn’t look up; she wasn’t to say a word. She would be naked.
3:52pm
She had felt pitifully relieved that he hadn’t had her wait at the window, like that one time. She didn’t know that a neighbour had stolen a passing glance, but the possibility was enough for her to cover her face in shame every time she thought about it. The punishment that day had kept her straight for a month. Her phone pinged. She was to gather a paddle, a hairbrush, a belt, a wooden spoon, and the riding-crop. He would pick one, or two, or none, but it was best to be prepared. She didn’t like the sound of any of them.
4:10pm
But of course, she had slipped. And she knew she deserved what was coming. She had been mad at herself, and she had made it worse by being mad at him for no reason. He was a very supportive boyfriend, but he had no tolerance for her misdirected anger. She liked that about him; he made her better, more measured. Her phone pinged. He would be home in fifty minutes. She looked at the time. He would be home at five, like he had said. He hadn’t needed to tell her again but, just as he wanted, she felt a pang of fear. And guilt. And anticipation.
4:38pm
The flat was spotless —there was no reason to make it harder for herself. She sat on the sofa, twiddling her thumbs, unable to concentrate on anything. It had been on her mind all day. They had had the argument the night before. He never punished her in anger, that was not really him. He had let her know that they would deal with it the next day. He had kissed her in the morning and told her to be ready for her punishment later today. Then, he had simply left, without scolding or berating her. That would come, in a calm and measured tone, to the sound of his hand battering her poor bottom. She shivered. Fear? Desire? The phone pinged again. She was to get the big piece of ginger from the fridge and get it ready. She moaned as she read the message, passing a hand between her thighs.
4:57pm
She folded her clothes up on the bed, biting her lip, and straightened the covers. All the implements were neatly laid out, as was the ginger. She caught a look of herself in the mirror and blushed. She tip-toed to the door and looked up at the big clock hanging off the wall. Were her hands supposed to be over her head? No, behind her back. I think? He wouldn’t be too pleased if she got it wrong, but she couldn’t go and check her phone, for fear he would come in at that exact moment.
5:00pm
She looked down. The door clicked open, then shut. He put something down. His bag, probably. She dared not look up. He lifted her head with a finger under her chin and kissed her softly.
[No cats were harmed in the making of this blog. They all love to be spanked.] Exploring the psychology 'behind' spanking through fiction and poetry. Because, nothing says 'I love you' better than a red, sore, bare bottom. Comments welcome and discussion encouraged. I believe spanking between consenting adults leads to closer and more intimate relationships. Spanking is not a kink, not a fetish, not a lifestyle, but rather, a healthy and honest means of communication. Let your mind free and respect will follow. Contact me lurvspanking@gmail.com
