“Alright, Mindy, go get yourself ready for your spanking.”
That’s what Daddy says every time I’m going to get a spanking. Don’t get me wrong, he’s not my Father, he’s my fianceé Mark, but to me he’s my Daddy and I’m his good little girl. Well, most of the time. Daddy spanks me a lot. Mostly because he wants to, and I have to admit that getting a good bare-bottom spanking from Daddy makes my little girly bits get tingly and wet once the crying has died down. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
When he says that, I’ll reply, “Yes, Daddy,” and go into the bedroom and get ready for bed. Almost all of my spankings are before bedtime. If I’ve been bad during the day, he’ll pass sentence on the spot, and I’ll know that my punishment will come at bedtime, so I’ll have all day long to think about it. By the time bedtime rolls around, I’m always sorry for what I did and know that I deserve the spanking I’m about to get. I normally sleep naked (Daddy prefers that), but for my spankings I change into PJs and sit on the bed to wait.
Daddy comes into the bedroom and tells me to stand up. He then takes my spot on the bed and has me stand in front of him. He reaches to my waist and pulls my PJs down past my knees and has me step out of them. It’s terribly embarassing standing in front of him with my naked crotch right in front of him. I think he likes the effect the embarassment has on me as much as he likes the view. But he never says anything. He just ushers me over to his right side and over his knee. Once I’m in place, I know to bring up my right hand behind my back so that he can pin my wrist to the small of my back.
Daddy basically will spank me one of three ways. He always uses the hairbrush, and it’s always bare-bottom, but when it’s not a punishment spanking, he’ll usually start with his hand. Daddy always spanks hard and fast. With his hand, it only takes a few smacks before I start making little “ouch!” exclamations, but the crying doesn’t really start until he’s about done. The warm-up makes it easier to take, though the part with the hairbrush is usually just as hard. If it’s a punishment, it always starts with a flurry of hard swats with the brush. When he starts with the brush, the crying is almost immediate – maybe six strokes and I’m bawling.
Like I said, Daddy spanks fast – probably two swats per second. Fast enough that I can’t react to each individual spank. It’s just a long, continuous bout of crying. It’s not long before the crying and the burning pain are the only realities I have. When he’s done with the brush, he’ll stand me up, and if the punishment ends there, he’ll becon me over to sit on his lap and he’ll hold me and rock me while the crying calms down.
But sometimes the brush isn’t enough. If it’s to be a “proper” punishment, he’ll stand me up while I’m crying and pull my PJ top up over my head. Then he’ll stand up and march me over to the corner by my upper arm. Once there, he’ll stand me close and move both of my hands to the back of my head. I’m usually still crying hard from the hairbrush while he does this, so the first thoughts after the crying slows down are the realization that next comes the strap. And that realization makes it just a little bit harder to get the crying under control.
But eventually I calm down. I don’t really know what Daddy does while he’s waiting, but I think he’s sitting on the bed watching me. Eventually he stands and I can hear him preparing for what’s next. He makes a stack of pillows in the middle of the bed and rustles through the closet for the strap.
The strap he got for this purpose is really wicked. It’s thick and not terribly flexible, about three feet long and four inches wide. The last few inches of it has five holes in it.
Once I’ve calmed down enough, he’ll come to my corner and once again take me by the upper arm and steer me towards the bed. I know what to do – I lay down with the stack of pillows under my hips with my head at the top of the bed. He takes up position to the side of the bed with the strap and I feel it lightly rest on my bottom while he gets his distance right. Then it disappears and a moment later, the room is filled with the noise of the impact, my bottom instantly turns to fire and I let loose with a noisy squeal of pain. Daddy spanks more slowly with the strap – giving each lick a chance to soak in before giving the next one. After a half dozen, he walks to the other side of the bed and starts again. I don’t know how many times he goes back and forth – how many groups of six strokes I get, but I know that at the end of my strapping all of my energy is gone and all I can do is lay on top of the pillows and sob quietly. There isn’t room for thoughts for a long time, but once there is, Daddy is there with tissues for me to blow my nose and wipe my eyes. He sits down on the bed with his back to the headboard and I crawl over and lay my head on his chest and calm down while he strokes my hair.
I’m always very affectionate after my spankings. Sometimes after holding him for a while, my little girly bits will get tingly, but that’ll be another story for another time.
