As arousing as she found it to wear clothing that Finley had picked out, knowing that she was dressed like a little girl, standing in the corner with her ass nearly uncovered under the short skirt had an air of humiliation to it. The twenty minutes felt more like an hour, and when the timer dinged, she barreled down the stairs, allowing herself an extra minute or two to get up the courage to actually ask.
Finn was easy enough to find, he was sitting on the couch, looking intently at a chair that had been once again, moved into the middle of the room.
Coming up to stand beside him, she noticed a third package in a pretty pink gift bag resting on the table in front of him. Normally three presents in a night would be an excellent surprise, but she had the distinct feeling that this was not a gift she would be enjoying. Nevertheless, she opened her mouth, and forced herself to deliver the speech, exactly as she had rehearsed in the shower.
“Daddy, I’m sorry I was naughty and ran away instead of discussing my worries with you so you could take care of them. I’m sorry I didn't tell anyone where I was going, and made it harder for you to protect me. I’m sorry that I let my emotions get the best of me, and failed to take care of myself simply because I was upset. Will you please give me a spanking?” she asked pitifully, puffing out her lower lip for effect.
“Yes, Franny. I will always spank you for dangerous behavior and poor self-care. However, since this behavior was dangerous in a much different way than texting and driving, and much more related to not taking care of yourself, you are a very lucky girl.”
“I don’t get the strap?” she asked hopefully.
“You get two with the strap, simply because I’m old and stuck in my ways,” he teased, “the rest of the time, we will be using this.” He handed her the gift bag, and her tummy flipped as she peered in it suspiciously.
“Open it, Franny, I’d like to get this over with, and move on to much more pleasant things.”
Looking at him with a mixture of amusement and trepidation, she reached into the bag and pulled out a heavy wooden hairbrush. “Oooh,” she squealed. “Are you gonna brush my hair?”
“Only after I use it to blister your bottom,” Finley told her dryly, with a look that took her breath away. “Get over my lap, Francesca.”
She complied, and Finley lifted her skirt, rubbing her bottom as he spoke, “Franny, you belong to Daddy. Every part of you.” She clenched involuntarily at those words, as his finger found her back opening, and pushed past her barrier, entering her. “I think it is time you had a very physical reminder of that, so tonight- I will claim you here.”
“Yes, Daddy,” she moaned, squirming under his ministrations.
His finger pumped in and out of her bottom slowly as he continued his lecture. “If you have questions or concerns about our relationship, Franny, or even if you just need reassurance, you come to Daddy. You do not take matters into your own hands and make Daddy chase you across five states. Do you trust me?”
“Yes, Daddy,” her answer was pitchy and breathless.
“Good. No more running away, little one. We’re going to make sure of that.”
He pulled his finger out and began spanking with his hand, long and slow. The slaps were light and stingy, designed, she knew, to properly warm her bottom for the second act. She breathed through them, concentrating on his words as he continued to lecture intermittently, repeating many of the same things he had already said- using his strength to drive home his important points about trust and obedience, and him being in charge.
Finally, he stopped spanking, and pulled her in close to his waist, tucking her legs between his, something he had been unable to do for many weeks. She knew from previous experience that this meant the real spanking was about to begin.
She felt the shift as he reached for the hairbrush, and she tensed, forcing herself to breathe. How bad could it be? She chided herself silently, it’s only a hairbrush.
The first stroke fell, and she scrambled across the couch, coming completely free of Finn’s tight grasp. “Holy shit!” she panted, looking at him with bug eyes. “That fucking hurts!”
“We’ve been over this, Francesca. It’s supposed to hurt. Now get your naughty little butt back into position, or I’m adding ten to what you already have coming.”
She didn’t know how many she had coming, but she was certain that she didn’t want a single one added to it. Wearily, she managed to force herself back into position, and was grateful when Finley tightened his grasp.
“There will be no more cursing tonight, little one. Naughty little girls who curse during their spanking get their mouths washed out with soap.”
She didn’t respond- her tummy was flipping all over the place, and she was trembling in anticipation of that stupid brush.
“No more getting out of position, Francesca. I know it hurts. It’s a punishment. The purpose is to chastise bad behavior and provide a tangible reminder that will help aid in preventing making the same mistakes in the future. Now, you can cry and yell and whine all you want, but you will not curse, and you will not move again. You are going to lay across my lap and take your spanking like a good girl and think about how you can prevent this same punishment next time. Do you understand?”
For reasons she couldn’t explain, his stern lecturing helped in strengthening her resolve, and brought her anxiety to a simmer. “Yes, Daddy, I understand.”
“All right then, let’s get your lesson out of the way.”
When the brush made impact with its target, she couldn’t help but scream, but she did not curse. The pain was different from that of the strap, it was stinging and deep. He barely gave her a chance to react before the brush fell again. There was no break between swats- he kept up a fast pace, raining down scorching blows across every available inch of her buttocks and sit spots, so thoroughly that she could only cry. She tried to keep count, but it was futile- the swats seemed to fall one right on top of the other. The hairbrush was such a thick, dense implement that long swings and build up were not required.
She reckoned the brush fell close to forty or fifty times before he paused. “Have you learned your lesson, little one? Are you going to come to me in the future with things that affect our relationship, and practice better self-care?”
“Yes, Daddy!” she shrieked through her sobs.
“Okay.” He uncrossed his legs, releasing her from his grip. “Stand up, please, and go bend over the chair.”
She stood, but she didn’t move. “I learned my lesson already, Daddy. Hairbrushes are evil, trust you, and self-care is important for little girls.”
“It’s important for big girls too. Now go bend over the chair, please. If I have to ask you again I’m going to double it.”
She had planned on pouting and stomping, and pleading, certain that even one with the strap would be miserable on top of the damage the hairbrush had already left on her poor bottom, but she knew that Finley always did what he threatened, so there would be no winning this one.
She bent over the chair, just as she had before, and tried to relax. The whooshing sound the strap made as it flew through the air, had her wincing long before it ever made contact with her poor tenderized bottom. She bit her lip, and stomped her feet, and did everything she could to keep from crying out. One more, Franny. You can be a big girl and take one more. She hadn’t even finished her pep talk before the second lash hit, this one falling right across the tops of her thighs. She was unable to keep from crying out as the searing pain hit.
Finally, it was over, and Finley gathered her into his arms, showering her with kisses and cuddles. “It’s over little one. You did very well.”
She was suddenly very turned on, remembering Finn’s earlier promises. She threw herself into his embrace and kissed him deeply. Her ass was on fire, but the pain only served to arouse her more. Tonight she was finally his in every way.
“Fuck me, Finley,” she whispered, nibbling his neck until he moaned.
“Yes, Francesca, I will. Tonig
ht you will be mine. Every part of you.”
He sprang into action then, stripping her of everything but her boots and pigtails, and carrying her to the bedroom.
Lowering her onto the bed, he covered her body with his. “I want you little one, so badly. I’m not sure I can be slow and gentle.”
“Screw slow and gentle. We have the rest of time to be slow and gentle. Fuck me, Finley. Now!”
He happily obliged, kissing her deeply as he entered her, shuddering as she tightened herself around him. His cock was long and thick, and filled her completely. Her hips rose to meet each thrust until they were moving as one, completely lost in their lustful passion. Their love-making was deep and needy- every minute of the last two months’ frustration culminating into this final sealing act of passion.
Francesca came first, holding tight to Finley’s hips and pulling him still as she writhed around him, screaming her release. When she was finished, he kissed her, slowly pulled out, and flipped her over to lay on her belly.
“I’m going to come in your ass, Francesca. Because I want you to know that you are mine, and that naughty girls get their bottoms punished inside and out.”
She was limp and numb, beyond anything outside of abject obedience and submission. “Yes, Sir.”
The tell-tale pop of the top of a bottle of lube made her eyes widen and her nether regions tingle. She turned her head and watched as he stroked his length, applying lube liberally, before once more lowering himself over her.
The tip of his penis tickled her tight rosebud, and she braced herself as he slowly pushed in, filling her bottom with his manhood. Arching her back, she pushed against him, wincing when the flesh of her bottom made contact. Finley went slowly, easing in an inch at a time, an action Francesca found both titillating and excruciating.
When he finally filled her, she shuddered, relishing in the painful fullness. There was something about anal play in all its forms that made her feel so cherished and submissive. Finley was thrusting in and out, faster now, holding onto her by her pigtails, as he fucked her bottom hole. Her eyes closed, riding the waves of his thrusts, until he tensed and shuddered moaning deeply as he came, before giving one final deep thrust and pulling out, collapsing beside her.
“You belong to me, Franny. All of you.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
The words had become his mantra, so much so that she didn’t open her eyes before responding, completely spent from the activities of the evening.
He poked her, and she frowned, squinting at him.
“You belong to me, Franny. Always. Will you?”
It took a minute to register that the words were slightly different this time, and when she opened her eyes to question him, he was sitting on his knees, holding a beautiful diamond ring in the air in front of her.
“You’re mine. All of you,” he stated simply. “Always and forever. Marry me, Franny.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
THE END
Rayanna Jamison
Rayanna Jamison has always dreamed of becoming an author. She credits a big move from Oregon to Utah in 2013 as the catalyst that finally began her writing career. She now lives in Southern Utah with her husband, two children, two dogs, and her mother. She writes what she loves to read, which is fun romantic stories about submission in its many forms. When she is not writing, she enjoys reading, cooking, crafting, and shopping, and that's just in her spare time. When the kids and husband are home, she can be found baking with her daughter, watching her son and his friends, and hosting neighborhood block parties. She loves exploring her new area, and finding fun new things to do with her family.
Don’t miss these exciting titles by Rayanna Jamison and Blushing Books!
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