“Goofy.” Daddy’s bass voice shook me out of my dream. I blinked up at him and saw that he was hugging a steaming cup of coffee to his chest. Still a little disoriented, I looked at his semi-erect dick, which was at eye level and not between my breasts as I had had been convinced it was. Daddy chuckled at my confused expression. “What dream was it this time?” he said, handing the coffee to me. I sat up and grasped the cup with both hands.
“Your magnificent dick was resting here, I said, moving the coffee cup to the space between my tits. I took a slow pull of coffee and moaned with pleasure. “Thank you, Daddy,” I said, “for the coffee and for letting your slut sleep in.” I skootched over to make room for Daddy in the bed, but he just shook his head slowly and produced a piece of paper I hadn’t seen in his left hand.
“I have work to do and so do you,” he said, and handed me the paper. Without my glasses, the paper looked like it was covered in black ink. I took the paper and brought it up to my face.
“Thank you, Daddy,” I said, reflexively, but weakly as I noticed how many chores were listed. I looked longingly at Daddy’s cock and then up at his face.
“Enjoy your coffee and then get to work. If you work efficiently, you should be able to finish by dinner, Goof Girl. Do you have any questions,?”
I looked over my list of chores. “No, Daddy. I understand. Thank you,” I said a little more sincerely. He leaned over the bed and kissed my forehead. In truth I was worried that I would be able to complete everything in the time allotted. If only I could suck Daddy’s dick instead of doing the work Daddy had set for me. My mouth watered at the thought and I took another slug of coffee to wash it down. I set the coffee down on the bedpost and drew the covers back. Daddy had gone into the other room to put on some clean clothes.
“Finish your coffee, Babygirl,” he called.
I knew I needed to get started, but I also needed to follow Daddy’s directive to finish all of my coffee. I relaxed back in the bed and sipped my coffee until it was gone. I looked at the paper and started to make some calculations. Daddy wanted all the bathrooms cleaned, the linens changed and the refrigerator cleaned out. In addition, he wanted the windows cleaned downstairs and the kitchen floor scrubbed. Since I had to do all my chores in the nude, I didn’t know how I was going to clean the outsides of the windows or take the trash around to the side of the house. In fact now would be the best time to do any outside work since everyone had left for work or to drop the kids at school. “But the trash won’t be ready until I clean out the fridge and collect the household trash,” I mumbled to myself. By that time I knew Mrs. Johnson would be back from taking Marcus to school.
I sighed and got out of bed. I opened the side table and took out my cloth collar and fastened it around my neck. I love my collar because it is a tangible reminder that I belong to my Daddy. I am his white owned slave and he is my Black Master Daddy. I feel electric when Daddy fastens it around my neck or when he commands me to sleep with it on. It is understood that I must wear it when I do my chores to keep my spirits up and remain grateful for the opportunity to serve my Master, Daddy and Owner. I set aside my worries about the chores later in the day and stripped the bed.
Three hours later, Daddy emerged from his office and asked me to bring him the list and his tea. He sat on the couch and I handed him his tea and the list from which I had crossed off perhaps a third of the tasks. I knelt before him and felt the sweat behind my knees and in the small of my back. Daddy sipped his tea silently. I looked into his eyes, but I couldn’t read them. Finally, he spoke. “Go get your notebook, Babygirl.” I stood up and went upstairs to retrieve my “lines” notebook from the bookshelf in the bedroom. My face flushed red and my heart began beating. If Daddy made me write lines I would never get the tasks done in time. I was behind schedule as it was. What had I done wrong? I wondered.
I flipped through the pages and found past assignments written two hundred, three hundred, even five hundred times. The most recent entry read, “I will be more thorough when given a task and not mess up my Daddy’s plans.” Other lines were recorded there, too, “I will not be a pig and eat myself into a stupor”, “I understand that Daddy knows what’s best for this slut” and a very early entry “I am my Daddy’s slut.” As much as I dreaded writing lines for Daddy, I inevitably got wet and craved hard fucking when Daddy accepted my offering to him.
I knelt again in front of Daddy and awaited his instructions. Daddy leaned forward and cupped my soaking pussy.
“Oh, Baby. Why are you so wet? Is it from performing the tasks you were told to do or from the punishment you know is coming to you?” I sighed as he pushed two fingers deep inside. I spread my knees to give Daddy better access to the pussy he owns.
“Both, I think, Daddy,” I said, as he removed his fingers and wiped them on my tits.
“Yes, Slut. You are correct. You get wet from serving your Daddy, but sometimes get even wetter when you know Daddy is going to punish you.” Daddy pressed his fingers past my lips and I gratefully sucked them clean. Tasting my own tang and sweetness and my tongue generated a new blossoming in my swelling cunt. “Open up to a fresh page, Slave,” he ordered. I obeyed.
I looked up at him expectantly. “You will write, ‘Tasks require completion, not analysis.’ Understood?”
“Yes, Sir,” I said, but I didn’t understand. Daddy looked at my paper to prompt me to write.
“Oh, you mean now, Dadd-?” I asked, but before I could get all of “Daddy” out, my Master grabbed my wrist and tugged me up. In one easy motion he pulled me over his knees and began spanking my bare ass. My notebook and pen fell to the floor as the strokes came fast and hard. There was no warm up and my eyes stung with tears after a few minutes. My ass glowed red as the cries burned my throat. My heart was racing. As soon as he had started, Daddy stopped the assault and my ass pulsed in pain.
“Kneel, Slave,” Daddy said and I resumed my posture on the floor with my head hanging.
Daddy gently pressed the lines notebook and pen into my hand. I opened the notebook to a clean page and started writing: Tasks require completion, not analysis, Tasks require completion, not analysis, Tasks require completion, not analysis, Tasks require completion, not analysis, Tasks require completion, not analysis, Tasks require completion, not analysis.
My hand was shaking , but I let my hand flow over the page. Daddy watched me intently and with his eyes on me, I felt my arousal expand from my heart to my cunt to my clit to my nipples. Daddy had never watched me before, but I felt the warmth of his gaze on me as my hand drifted across and down the page with precision and speed. When I reached the end of the page, Daddy said, “Show me.” I lifted the page so he could read it. “Well done, Slave. Please continue and remember that Daddy will not tolerate scribble scrabble and chicken scratch.”
“Yes, Sir,” I said and focused on writing the lines on the next page. Again, I felt Daddy’s watchful eye on me and my clit tingled at the sensation. I heard Daddy remove his hardening cock from his shorts and I watched him stroke the length of it. I would see that Daddy’s majestic cock was leaking pre-cum. I felt a cloud of anxiety fall on me. My job was to clean Daddy’s cock when it got wet with pre-cum, but Daddy had just spanked me for analyzing my tasks too much.
I set the notebook aside and looked up into Daddy’s face. He had an amused expression on his face, but I still didn’t know what to do. I lowered my mouth very slowly on the head of Daddy’s dick and looked up into his eyes. They flickered with pleasure and so I licked around the ridge of the tip of Daddy’s dick. The precum tasted divine and I felt an electrical current run from the lips of my mouth to my pussy lips. I lapped down the shaft and up to the slit and sucked the cum out of Daddy’s dick. I moaned, and Daddy gently stroked my head. “Don’t be greedy, Greedy,” Daddy cooed at me and I reluctantly returned to my lines. Daddy continued stroking his thickening, hardening cock and when I saw that it was growing wet, I cleaned Daddy’s cock like he likes it to be.
I fell into a nice rhythm of writing and cleaning Daddy’s cock when Daddy told me he had to get something from his toolbox. I scooted back so Daddy could get up from the couch, and I felt that familiar mixture of anticipation and dread. I continued to write in Daddy’s absence making sure the lines were straight and uniform. When Daddy returned something hung from his grasp, but I didn’t want to look. When Daddy sat back down, he ordered me to turn away from him, but to continue writing.
The first blow of the flogger on my back caused my hand to jump a little on the page causing the “m” in “completion” to descend in a monstrous, jagged line onto the line below. Daddy struck again and the braided leather bit playfully into my back. “Keep writing, Little Girl,” Daddy growled, but I could hear a smile under his words. I tried to focus on making each movement of the pen as smooth as possible, but I couldn’t anticipate the blows and when Daddy struck me on the thigh, I pitched forward a little and drew a rogue line up the entire set of lines I had completed. “Keep writing,” Daddy said, and I did, not worrying anymore on the neatness of my work. The stripes came faster and the pleasing thud on my skin made me long to press my ass into Daddy’s crotch, to feel his cock press deeply into my drenched pussy and pound me until I shuddered and collapsed into his sure and steady arms. “Show me,” I heard him say and I shook myself into the present moment and turned to show him the paper without looking at its damaged and ill-executed contents.
Daddy took the notebook into his hands and looked at it as if it were a thesis. My heart fell because I knew the lines were not acceptable. Daddy turned the notebook around so I could see it. There were some words that were legible, but these were hidden under a haphazard grid of ragged markings. I felt like I could cry. Daddy just smiled and pointed to the corner.
Daddy had recently decided that from now on my corner was going to be in the front dining room. It would be visible to anyone passing by and because all cornertime would be served in the nude, it would be quite humiliating if anyone were to stop by. Or drive by. Or jog by. Or walk their dog by. I walked with wobbly legs to my corner and pressed my nose to the spot where the two walls met. I prayed no one would see me standing there, but I resigned myself to my fate. Daddy came over to be after a while and traced the markings he had left on my back. He stroked my back and kissed my cheek. “Why are you in cornertime, my Little Girl?” he asked. I could feel his breath on my cheek. I could feel his body close to mine and I felt as if my skin was magnetized. I wanted to lean into him, bury my face in his neck, press my breasts against his chest. I turned my head to the side so I could see his royal, handsome face.
“I handed you scribble scrabble, Daddy,” I said and he nodded and placed his hand on the back of my neck. He grasped my hair in his fist and gently tugged my head back. He kissed me deeply. The doorbell rang. Daddy kept kissing me and the doorbell rang again. After a moment, there were knocks on the door. Daddy reluctantly let go of his grip and walked to the door. He extended a finger to me as if to say “just one minute” and he winked.
It was a delivery man of some kind. Daddy welcomed him warmly and signed for the package. The man never crossed the threshold and never gave any indication that he had seen me, but in my mind I was focused only on the sensation of the corner on my nose, the carpet below my feet, the cool air of the outside running over my throbbing skin. Daddy returned to my side and opened the package. I kept my eyes fixed straight ahead but my ears strained to discern what the package contained. “You may stand up, Slave,” Daddy said and I stood up and faced him. In his hand was a beautiful necklace. I looked from the necklace into his face. “It’s adjustable. You can wear it as a choker when you go to work and you can wear it longer, between the girls when you sleep.” I squealed and hugged Daddy tight.
“Thank you, Daddy! Thank you! Thank you!” Daddy laughed and look off my collar and attached the necklace. It felt between my breasts and I twisted back and forth to feel it hit one and then the other.
“You can finish your chores and lines tomorrow, Goofy, but I have to tell you this gift comes with a price.” I stared into his deep brown eyes as he continued. “I spent two lunch hours selecting the right one for my Babygirl not to mention the expense, so while you deserve it, I need you to march upstairs and bring me the heavy strap so you can also get what you deserve.”
I kissed Daddy’s cheek and went upstairs to retrieve the heavy strap.
The heavy strap always made me nervous. Daddy had used it on me once and I had been so surprised at the sting that I told him I couldn’t take it. I knew that wouldn’t fly this time and I felt a cold thrill pool in my tummy. As I walked downstairs, I felt the necklace bounce between my breasts. The tingle in my already spanked and abraided skin reminded me that I was my Daddy’s one and only punished slave. I reached my Daddy, my heart racing, excited and eager to take my punishment.
Daddy took the strap and placed it against my lips. I kissed it and he led me back to my corner. He stood behind me and placed his foot between mine. I took a wider stance and bent over when he gently pressed on my back. In these preparation moments I sometimes feel my role as Daddy’s toy, Daddy’s doll, as he manoeuvred me into the position he wanted.
He lay the strap against my ass and raised his hand. The first stripe made me call out and Daddy grabbed me around the waist as he rained them down. I struggled against the blows, but they striped and welted my ass and thighs. I could feel tears building in my throat and before I knew it, I was crying. The stripes kept coming. I heard the bangs bounce off the walls of the dining room. I headr my own voice rise in pitch as the stripes came repeatedly, striping and biting into my skin. I felt my body grow hotter and hotter. I felt my tears escaping my eyes and soon I was simply sobbing, simply crying as Daddy beat my ass. When he slipped his hand between my legs and wiped my wet on my inner thighs, my thighs clenched together to touch Daddy’s hand. Daddy hugs me to his chest and I cry until I catch my breath. Daddy lead me to the table and bent me over the edge. I spread my legs and tipped my throbbing red hips up and when he thrust his cock inside me, I shuddered almost immediately.
Daddy thrust like a machine into my sloppy cunt and the wet sounds made me feel so exposed, so known to my Daddy. There was no hiding the fact that I am his slut and I needed all that he gave me, tasks, directives, commands, goals, guidelines, punishments, rewards. I needed the stripes as much as the kisses. I needed to serve as much as I needed his uniquely wonderful cock to fuck me stupid, past the point of being able to analyze and just to the point where I am able to obediently do.
