by Fields, Sara
There was a certain intimacy in being naked over his knee like this. His body pressed against mine felt so much more personal. I felt so much closer to him even though his hand was blazing a real message into my bare backside.
I’d run from him. I’d hidden things from him and now I was paying the price.
I expected to feel angry that he was punishing me this way, but I wasn’t. I was safe over his knee and when it was over, I knew he would hold me.
I knew the guilt I’d felt for so long would be washed away. The terror I’d felt from the family would be a distant memory and then the two of us could move on to focus on what was important.
We’d be able to focus on us.
His palm peppered the backs of my thighs so hard that it was hard to catch my breath. I knew without a doubt that I would have trouble sitting the next day and he hadn’t even begun to use the wooden spoon.
“Oh, please,” I pleaded.
He paused for a long moment, likely admiring his handiwork and I took the brief respite to catch my breath. My bottom already felt scorched, and my thighs burned as if they were still ablaze.
“Has anyone ever punished your bottom hole before, little girl?” he asked, and I shook hard.
“No, Daddy,” I answered pleadingly.
“Do you think that’s about to change, little girl?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I cried out. “Please. You don’t have to do this.”
“Daddy has to make sure you’re properly punished, little girl. He wants to make sure you always remember that he cares for you,” he continued, and my lips opened and shut with quiet surprise. His fingertips petted up and down my scalded globes. He relaxed the hold he had on the backs of my legs. I hoped against hope my spanking was over and that he was going to let me up.
“Open your legs, little girl,” he instructed. Fearfully, I did as he asked; his leg pinned back over mine just as firmly as before and I knew at once that my ordeal was far from over. Carefully, he slipped his fingers in between my thighs and I moaned in mortification.
He’d spanked me so hard, and I was so wet. With my legs pressed together and the constant terrible pain of his palm spanking my backside, I hadn’t noticed just how much my body was betraying me. I hadn’t noticed how my inner thighs were soaked with my arousal until now.
And now he knew too.
I wailed into the couch cushion and he used the fingers of his other hand to spread my bottom wide. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, he dragged the fingers that were covered with my own wetness and settled them right on top of my bottom hole.
I stilled.
“Please don’t,” I pleaded.
He didn’t listen. He pushed his finger inside anyway.
Oh, God.
It hurt. I’d never been breached back there before, and his finger was so thick. My body revolted and tightened around him, which only made it hurt even more.
My tight hole burned, but it went deeper than that. My thighs started to shake, and a rush of painful sensation hurtled up and down my spine.
“Little girl, your bottom hole is so very tight. I’m afraid that’s going to make this next part that much harder on you,” he mused, and I felt myself clench all around him. The pain that had just began to ebb away flared hotly back to life and I cried out in mournful despair as he began to pump that cruel finger in and out of my bottom.
“Daddy,” I whimpered.
“This tight little hole needs to be punished too, little girl. You cannot hide anything from Daddy and he’s going to make sure that you never forget that again,” he scolded, and my guilt surged back just as hotly as before.
With my body snug against his, he reached forward to grab the carved ginger with the finger of his other hand still thrusting in and out of my sore bottom hole. Finally, he removed that ruthless digit and I sighed in relief before a wet cool tip pressed back against my tight rim.
“Daddy?” I asked, so terribly unsure.
“Daddy is going to put the ginger inside your naughty bottom, little girl. I should warn you. This part may hurt a bit,” he warned, and I tensed apprehensively.
The pressure of the root increased, and I tightened, trying to fight back against it. It didn’t matter though. He held my bottom open and pushed the thick root firmly into it. He’d stretched me just the slightest bit and once the tip breached me, I knew I was fighting a losing battle.
The ginger was thicker than his finger though. It stretched me wider, and I keened as a deeper, more thorough ache vibrated through me. My muscles clenched as I fought against it, but I was at a disadvantage.
“It would be easier for you if you pushed back against it, little girl,” he chided.
“I can’t,” I whimpered. No matter what I did, I couldn’t force myself to just relax and take it. This was a whole different kind of punishment than I had imagined, and I just wanted it to end.
He pushed down hard, and the rest of the ginger root went inside me.
The ensuing pain burned hot as my tight hole was stretched wider than it had ever been. I cried out and the agony continued for several long moments before my body finally began to settle down again.
I expected him to started spanking me again right away, but he didn’t.
Instead, I just laid there over his knee with the moist root in my bottom. At first, it felt cool and as if the punishment had simply been how painful the initial insertion was. For several moments, I savored the respite and then something strange happened.
My bottom hole began to feel warm.
I shifted, thinking that maybe it was just from being stretched like that for the first time, but as it began to intensify, I started to fear that it wasn’t.
It got hotter.
I cried out for the first time from it.
“You see, ginger has a certain way of reminding a little girl of just how naughty she’s been,” he said lightly, and my bottom hole really started to burn.
“Daddy, please take it out,” I begged.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, Daddy. It hurts a lot,” I whimpered.
“It’s supposed to. Daddy took some extra time to score the surface of the ginger root for you. That releases the juices even more efficiently and will make this that much more memorable for you, little girl,” he scolded, and I moaned as my bottom burned even hotter.
“Oh, please,” I pleaded.
He gripped the end of the ginger and I hoped he was going to remove it, but he started thrusting it in and out of my bottom roughly. Within seconds, it felt like my bottom hole was ablaze.
This kind of pain was so much different than the sharpness of a spanking. Each strike of his palm was hard, and the sting was concentrated into a tiny little area, but this…
This was so much worse.
This was endless. This went so much deeper, and it only seemed to be intensifying with each passing second. No amount of repositioning could make this any better. This just went on and on.
I keened quietly, feeling helpless and punished and so very sorry for what I’d done.
“Please forgive me, Daddy,” I pleaded.
“Daddy’s already forgiven you, little girl.”
“I’m sorry,” I begged.
“I know. It’s alright, little girl,” he said soothingly.
I struggled under that constant burn, trying not to tighten around the root and making it worse for myself, but I failed. I couldn’t keep from tensing over and over even though it just made the burn that much worse.
Oh. Please. Make it stop.
It didn’t though. I felt him reach forward again and my asshole clenched of its own accord. There was only one thing on that table that he could be reaching for.
That terribly heavy wooden spoon.
I waited apprehensively, expecting him to take the ginger out before he paddled me, but he made no moves to do so.
“Take it out,” I demanded, my voice breaking as I pleaded for mercy.
“Oh
, no, little girl. The ginger is staying in that naughty little hole until your punishment is over,” he explained, and I gasped in horror.
“You can’t mean to,” I screeched, and he cleared his throat firmly. I stopped speaking immediately as soon as the thick wooden implement only just touched my backside.
“Little girl,” he warned.
I bit my lip. I regretted my outburst immediately.
Instead of paddling me right away, he dragged the smooth cool surface over my bare bottom. He took his time, and I pulled my hands beneath my chest. My fingers curled around my shoulders and I quietly hugged myself as his legs tightened over mine even more firmly. He grasped my hip with his other hand, effectively locking me into place.
That should have worried me, but I was too focused on the burning in my bottom hole to think of anything else. He even pushed it in a bit further, ensuring that it was as deep in my bottom as it would allow.
I was already sore and sorry. I pouted just the slightest bit at his rough handling and then he struck my backside for the first time with the wooden spoon.
I had told myself I would take what he gave me. I had told myself I would be graceful and not kick or scream or anything like that. He’d asked me if I needed this and I’d agreed to it, so I should take it like a good girl.
I failed. Spectacularly.
From the very first smack, I jerked hard. The pain of the wooden spoon was so focused and so cruelly intense that I cried out from the start. Combined with the ongoing deep burn from the ginger, I didn’t know how it could get any worse.
The spoon fell hard and fast, peppering my backside with a horrid swiftness that left me writhing and gasping for air.
I started begging. I knew my words were falling on deaf ears, but I said them anyway because there was a tiny part of me that hoped he would hear them. Maybe if I sounded pitiful enough, he would be merciful, but the longer the spoon terrorized my backside, the more that slight hope began to fade away.
“Daddy. Daddy, please,” I pleaded.
My bottom felt so swollen, and I was sure that I wouldn’t be able to sit for days. It had to be bright red by now, maybe even purple.
This was so much worse than the belt. The leather had been more forgiving. The spoon was focused in an area that was so much smaller and I sucked in a breath, trying to keep ahold of myself and quickly losing control.
Daddy had taken it. Daddy was in charge. Not me.
“Are you going to hide anything from Daddy anymore?” he asked firmly, and I wailed as I answered.
“No, Daddy!”
“Are you going to run from Daddy ever again?”
“No, Daddy,” I cried.
“Are you going to let Daddy keep you safe even when you’re scared?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I whispered.
My voice was hoarse, and I squeezed my eyes shut. The spoon never stopped falling and I never stopped whimpering.
I didn’t want to cry.
The spoon was so hard, so firm, and so terrible that I knew it was inevitable though. I tried to blink my tears back. I tried to tell myself to stay strong.
I started to fight back. I rolled my hips, but they only rocked maybe half an inch. He had me thoroughly pinned against him. My fingertips dug into my shoulders as I tried to hold on, but then my breath caught in the back of my throat.
I couldn’t pull myself forward or go backwards. I was trapped.
The first tear dripped down my cheek. I sniffed, attempting to draw it back, but another fell. And then another. My body slumped forward, and I gasped for air.
Everything hurt. My bottom hole still blazed hot from the ginger and every square inch of my bottom and thighs was scalded from the cruel bite of the wooden spoon.
I started to sob. I was hardly even aware of the spoon slowing, but it did. Each spank now was heavier, more solid, more absolute, and every one reminded me why I was being punished.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” I cried out, my voice hardly above a whisper.
“Shh, little girl. I know. It’s all over now,” he murmured.
I vaguely recognized that the spoon wasn’t paddling me anymore. His fingers skated over my flesh before they grasped the ginger and gently pulled it out. I squeaked more in surprise than pain. The insertion had been far worse that the process of removing it.
The burn in my asshole had turned from a terrible hellfire to more of a gentle warmth, a solid reminder of just how vicious it had been.
His palm brushed over my backside as he carefully inspected his handiwork. His rough skin stung against mine, but his caress was tender and that was soothing to me. After he was finished, he lifted me up so that I was leaning against his chest. I pressed my cheek to his shoulder, unable to stop the flow of tears.
The longer I cried, the more I realized it wasn’t just from my punishment. I was grieving the loss of so much more than that.
I’d never been allowed to have a life.
Until him.
I’d never been allowed to love.
Until him.
I’d never believed a man’s word.
Until him.
Until Daddy.
I curled up in his arms and he held me as I cried out my tears. I let go of all the barriers I’d put up to keep him out and my heart soared. For the first time in my entire life, I felt free. Liberated. I felt loved.
“Daddy’s got you, little girl. Shh… It’s okay,” he crooned.
I curled my arms around him. My fingers dug into his shoulders now, but he didn’t complain. I clutched at him because if I let him go, I was afraid that I would shatter into a billion little fragile pieces.
“That’s my good girl.”
His words were like a lifeline and I held onto them for dear life.
I didn’t feel like a good girl. I felt like a punished little girl. A bad terrible girl who didn’t deserve a man like him.
“That was a hard punishment, my sweet girl. I’m so proud of you,” he added, and my heart swelled.
“Do you mean that, Daddy?”
“I mean every single word, little girl,” he answered. The sound of his heart beating soothed me, and I sniffled. His thumb dragged across my cheek, wiping away the remnants of my tears. His hands smoothed over my body, softly petting me. His fingers drew upward, massaging my scalp as I snuggled even closer to him.
This was safety and security in its purest form.
“Daddy is here to take care of you, little girl. I just needed to remind you of that,” he murmured, and my heart pulsed with love and adoration.
His arm curled around my legs, pulling me closer to him in the process.
“Yes, Daddy,” I agreed, and he kissed my forehead gently.
We sat together in each other’s arms for a long time. He didn’t rush me, and I couldn’t bring myself to pull away. I didn’t want to. I felt like I would be happy if I could stay here forever with him like this. Instead, I just enjoyed the feeling of utter security and safety of my body against his. As the minutes passed, my tears stopped falling and my heartbeat returned to a more normal pace. My breathing was no longer frantic, and I closed my eyes, just enjoying the feeling of his arms around me. Each moment was like heaven and I never wanted it to end.
Before long though, I became keenly aware of the pulse between my thighs. I shifted a bit, thinking maybe I was imagining it, but it soon became all too clear that I most definitely wasn’t.
I swallowed anxiously, trying to take stock in the state of my body. My breasts felt exceedingly heavy, and my nipples were stiff with need. I slid my legs against each other, and I was aghast at what I found.
I’d been wet before, but now I was utterly soaked. My arousal had dripped down onto my thighs and my clit was throbbing desperately with need. My legs quivered the slightest bit and his fingers flitted along my side until they dipped between them to just brush against my sensitive flesh.
“Little girl, you’re soaking wet for Daddy,” he teased, and I blushed hard, knowing I c
ouldn’t say anything that could even begin to argue against it because he was absolutely right.
I was so sore. My bottom was burning inside and out from my punishment, but my pussy was far from sated.
I needed more and Daddy knew it.
Chapter 9
I wanted Daddy’s cock.
I wanted him to fuck me, and I wanted it so badly that I ached for it.
His fingers slipped between my thighs and very slowly explored my wet folds. I keened in both embarrassment at my body’s reaction and blatant arousal at his sure and steady touch. He found my clit and started to slide those fingertips up and down in a way that drove me wild with need that could not be contained.
“You needed to be punished by Daddy, didn’t you, little girl?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I moaned, unable to hide just how much his touch was making me even more desperate. I shook against him and I wondered if he could feel how much of an effect that he was having on me.
“That’s not all you need though, is it, little girl? You need more than to just be spanked by Daddy from time to time, don’t you?”
My body was pulsing with sensation and he was the only one that knew what I wanted.
“I do need more, Daddy,” I whimpered. I stared down at the floor. I was too afraid to look at him. Would he think I was broken for wanting this?
“What do you need, little girl?” he pushed.
“I…” I began but I lost my courage before the words could fall off my lips.
“Tell me. Tell Daddy what you need,” he urged, gentle and coaxing when I felt like I didn’t deserve it. His finger drew beneath my chin, forcing me to look up into his eyes and his tenderness wasn’t lost on me. It was sweet and that helped me to find the bravery to say what I wanted to tell him.
“I… I need you, Daddy. I need you to fuck me. I need you,” I whispered, almost horrified at what I was saying.
“You need Daddy’s cock, don’t you, little girl?” he asked, and I blushed furiously at the frankness of his reply. He sounded so arrogant, but at the same time I knew he was right.
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Then it’s time I took you to bed, little girl. It’s Daddy’s job to give you exactly what you need, isn’t it?” he purred.