Annie’s hair hung in a long straight curtain of gold until it waved and curled gently just below her shoulder blades. She perched on her toes. Her calf muscles stood out in high relief against her skin as she trembled under the strain. A quarter nestled between her nose and the wall and she held it in place as if her life depended on it, which of course, it did not. Scott walked into the room at intervals and stood behind her, sometimes coming close enough that his breath brushed against her neck. He didn’t say anything, didn’t touch her. His silence was worse than anything.
She was supposed to be thinking. When he released her from the wall she would have to tell him why she’d misbehaved. First, she told herself she hadn’t broken any specific rule. That was true. But, she’d carefully baited and laid a trap. This wasn’t the expected outcome. Her hope was that his version of punishment might include something more directly physical, something—with impact. Annie steadied her breath and let it flow out of her. She wanted more than anything to rest her heels on the floor, but the moment that happened he would take that as a sign that she was ready to talk. She wasn’t sure she ever would be. When he had asked her to strip, she thought for certain the plan was going to work. When he brought her to the wall, she thought there was still hope. The instructions fell from his lips with all the disappointment of air slipping out of a balloon.
He hadn’t paddled her in a while. One of the things she loved about Scott was that he knew how to put his hands on her and well, handle her. He wasn’t shy about it. Her limbs were fragile surrounded by his punishing fingers and demanding mouth. He moved her and positioned her and had her every way he wanted. The sex blew her mind. She wept from the pain and suffering of him pounding into her without remorse, ever opening, wishing she could somehow pull herself wider. Sometimes he said he wanted to slip under her skin. They couldn’t get close enough.
She was shaking and it had been too long already. One heel hit the floor in defeat and she slid nose to quarter, still holding it in position.
Annie slipped the quarter between her teeth and slid down the wall until she was on all fours. Her calves relaxed in relief as her knees now dug into the hardwood floor and she began the slow crawl to where he stood. Eyes trained low each grain and groove brought her closer. Dark red pigment prickled at her neck and she fought to control it, knowing it was useless. She blinked to banish the tears filling her eyes, bulging against her lower lids and threatening to spot the floor. She wasn’t ready to talk. She still didn’t know what to say. The tips of his gleaming black shoes came into view. Shiny enough to see her reflection in them, if she could bear it. Annie knelt up and settled her hands behind her back. She rose like a puppet on a string, straightening her back and tilting her chin upward, the coin offered to him.
He took it and through lowered eyelids she saw him rub it once, twice, then pocket it.
“So there’s still the question to answer, girl.” He said softly. “Why?”
A breath shuddered through her and when she tried to answer a sob choked out. She just couldn’t say it. His hand slid into her hair like a comfort until his fingers tightened and squeezed.
“Look at me!” His voice was soft, exasperated.
Opening her eyes felt like unearthing a vein deep below the surface. She didn’t want to do it, but part of her wanted exactly that. Vulnerability rippled through her skin and made the hairs on her arms stand on end. She didn’t like that he didn’t understand her. She didn’t like that the words had stuck in her throat so many times that she had resorted to a stupid, childish game to get his attention.
“Annie, I need to understand. What’s going on with you?” His hand softened.
“I thought.” She started, then halted then blurted out the words. “I thought you would punish me.”
“Isn’t that what I just did?”
“No. I mean, yes. But no, not like that.”
Scott tilted his head and looked down on her contorted face, streaked with tears. Annie glanced over to the spanking bench disguised as a respectable ottoman near his chair. His eyes followed hers and he closed his eyes. His full lips flattened into a thin line as he shook his head.
“Like what?” He asked.
“I thought you would paddle me.” She said softly.
He watched her struggle, imagined the internal battle raging back and forth like some dark tennis match knocking at her heart. His hand slid down against her hair and he crouched down low to take her chin gently in his hand.
“Why would you want me to paddle you, Annie?” He asked.
As a lawyer, he’d been trained never to ask questions he didn’t already know the answer to—and he could have let her out of this so easy. So many times before he’d had her over that bench until she was crying and squirming and begging him for more. But, she’d never initiated anything like that. The truth was, he loved dominating her. He loved giving her the pain she craved, but he wanted her full participation. And while he’d expected that eventually she would ask him for it, instead of just willingly submitting to his whim, he hadn’t expected it to come about like this. Still, here they were and now he needed to hear it.
“Because…” Her voice drifted a little until he squeezed on her chin and her eyes opened wide. “It would hurt.”
“I’m not going to punish you that way, ever. We’ve talked about this.” He shook his head. “Why did you try to manipulate me?”
Her eyes widened at his understanding. Annie swallowed hard.
“I wanted it.” She whispered.
“Look at me when you say it and say it clearly.”
Her voice trembled loudly. “I wanted you to hurt me. I wanted to feel it. I need it.”
“That, was all you ever had to say, little one.” He stood up and gestured over to the bench.
Annie scurried over as he adjusted the screws on either side of the center compartment so that she could nestle her knees in the padding. He stroked her back as she shivered lightly.
“Before we begin..” He started. “This is not a punishment. We’ve already done that. You’re never to repeat that kind of behavior. I may call you my little girl and I may be a Daddy to you, but you are a grown woman and you will not hide these desires from me any more. Do you understand me?”
“I do, Daddy.” Annie whispered softly.
Her fingers gripped the edge of the bench as she relaxed into the leather. His first stroke was steady and sure, the leather side of the paddle smacking hard. A moan blew out of her half open mouth and tugged her lips up into a smile. This was it. What she needed and missed and wanted. He warmed her up slow until she lifted for him, offering herself to him, pulsing against the strokes. When he flipped the paddle to the wooden side she was more than ready. The sting shocked into skin and she felt herself shrink inward while her body did the impossible and reached out to him. He was catching her in the sweet spot, paddle spreading her cheeks and making contact with her pussy lips.
The war inside her mind commenced. Take the pain. Use the safe word. Pull away from him. Push back into him. Logic battled her to the end. Then the pain ceased and it was all sound and sensation reverberating through every muscle like an electric current. A low rumble tumbled out from deep in her chest, moans mixed with cries that no longer made any sense to her. His exertion was at the limit, his breath whooshing out of him as he laid each hard blow. The color on her cheeks now a mosaic of pink, red and white overlapping as he painted her in pain.
“Give it to me.”
His command came through gritted teeth. Each muscle inside her core wound up tight as the blows came impossibly hard and closer together. She was a star collapsing in on itself and then exploding out through her extremities, launching into another galaxy. Her throat choked on a cry so big it had to force its way through larynx, expanding vocal chords that she never new existed.
He covered her then, his body draping over her heaving soreness. Scott pressed his mouth into the hollow behind her ear as she cried.
“Never.” He panted. “Never, ever hide this from me.. It’s stunning. My beautiful, beautiful girl.”
About the Author:
Writer of completely unladylike erotica and other sundry things. After discovering that people actually do these crazy, kinky things, she began exploring the lifestyle in 1993 and never looked back. She writes about her experience in authority based relationships, BDSM fiction and even the occasional hot sonnet. She is currently the assistant direction for MAsT Central New Jersey and the co-host of a submissive support group (SSASE) in the same area. Her work has appeared in Lit Up, P.S. I Love You, My Erotica.com, and The Junction. You can find her in these publications at: https://firstname.lastname@example.org and connect with her on Twitter @j_vandermolen and fetlife at: juliette_ .