by Becca Little
“When you feel your self-control slipping, I want you to concentrate on the ramifications of losing it.” I brought the hairbrush down a little harder to emphasize my point.
“Ow…” She whimpered. “I’m already thinking about that.”
After each of the four spots had turned pink, the spot where they overlapped on each side of her bottom was already turning red. She squirmed faster as I continued my rotation. The spot where they overlapped was going to be the ultimate test of her self-control when we got to the end of her punishment and she was spanked directly on those two spots until I felt like she had mastered the lesson. If she failed, she would get spanked directly on those two spots for the entirety of the punishment. I carefully monitored her reactions, slightly picking up the pace or the intensity when I felt like she had adjusted to it. I hoped she could maintain her self-control because I wasn’t a fan of extreme punishments. I wouldn’t shy away if it was necessary, but I preferred the lesson to be learned without the need for them.
“It hurts!” She squealed and kicked her feet as the hairbrush continued to fall.
“This could have been avoided if you held the enema.” I reinforced the reason she was getting spanked, helping her stay focused on self-control. “You know that, right?”
“Yes sir…” She squealed again as I landed one hard smack in each of the overlapping spots.
Her words were soaked with tears. Usually tears were a good indication of when the punishment had reached a good spot, but she had started it in tears because she lost the enema, so I had to pay even closer attention to the way her hips moved and her body reacted to the hairbrush. The spanking had to be long enough to leave a mark and serve as a reminder of what she did wrong, but I had to make sure it didn’t go on so long that she the agony overwhelmed the lesson. Her bottom turned from pink to red and the spots in the middle of her bottom were a darker shade of crimson. They were buttons of agony I could press with the hairbrush to keep the unpredictability of her spanking in check. I changed up my rotation as it intensified and even landed a couple in the same spot when I thought she was adjusting to the misery.
“Please…” She sobbed. “I won’t lose control again, I promise!”
“Show me how much you’ve learned. Keep your hands in place.” I positioned the hairbrush directly above the spot where the smacks overlapped on the right side of her bottom and brought it down hard.
She squealed and her whole body contorted, but she kept her fingers locked. I moved to the left side and delivered a similar smack, immediately returning to the right. Those two spots continued to absorb the remainder of her punishment as she cried louder and flailed on my knee. I picked up the pace and the intensity as I moved across those two spots so fast her bottom barely had time to stop bouncing before another one was landing. I watched her hands intently, carefully monitoring them. She almost broke the grip, but closed them immediately. I felt like the lesson had been learned. If she could keep them behind her head without trying to block the hairbrush, she had started to master her self-control. I slowed down the smacks a little at a time as I brought her spanking to a conclusion.
“You did good.” I rubbed her back and caressed her bottom. It was hot to the touch, but the skin had not been broken. The redness would be there for a little while, but she would recover easily.
“Thank you…” She whimpered.
“You’re going to lay here for a little bit and think about this lesson. I want you to keep your hands on your head until I tell you they can be removed. If you continue to display self-control, I will put some lotion on your bottom that will take the sting away before I administer the enema.” I stood up and put the hairbrush in front of her face so she could stare at it while she remained on the bed.
“Yes sir.” She nodded and squeezed her fingers tight.
I lifted her off my knee and placed her comfortably on the edge of the bed. I set the timer for one hour and put it beside the hairbrush. An hour with her bottom on fire would be long enough for it to mostly wear off before I applied the lotion. It was a special medicated numbing blend of essential oils that would help her heal even faster. The enema would be hard for her to endure and a freshly spanked bottom on top of it would be literal torture. I walked to my grandfather’s special room and gathered the things necessary for her punishment enema and the numbing lotion. The punishment enema had a mixture of soft soap, glycerin, saline, and right before it was inserted, some foaming seltzer would be added to make it continuously expand and produce gas. I chose a butt plug that was double the size of the enema nozzle, with a rounded head and a thin, rectangular base that would be impossible to remove without assistance once it was inserted. The last piece of her ensemble was a pair of leather cuffs that would be used to ensure she didn’t try.
Chapter 17 — Bianca
My bottom felt like it was on fire as I lay on the bed with my fingers interlocked behind my head. My arms were already tired from being in that position for so long and each second that passed made the desire to rub my bottom stronger. The only thing that kept my self-control in check was the promise of lotion once the hour was over. The hairbrush spanking had been much worse than the hand spanking I received from him at the Daddy Institute. It was not an experience I was eager to repeat. I hoped it was reserved for special occasions when I had been especially disobedient and not part of my daily routine.
When the timer reached the midway point, the burning agony had started to subside and was more of a constant sting. With the discomfort becoming a little less intense, I started to think about the next part of my punishment. My lower abdomen was still sore from the previous enema, and the thought of having one inside of me that was even worse terrified me. I knew he wouldn’t do anything to seriously injure or hurt me, but I still wasn’t looking forward to it. My fear intensified as I waited, watching the timer tick away. When it got down to the one-minute mark, I was shaking again, unable to concentrate on anything but the realization of what was coming. Right before the buzzer went off, I heard him walking down the hallway.
“I trust you kept your fingers in position the whole time?” He stepped into the room and closed the door.
“Yes sir.” I nodded quickly.
“Good.” He walked in front of me and picked up the timer, along with the hairbrush. “Stay still and I’ll put the lotion on your bottom.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed and I heard liquid being squeezed from a tube. He rubbed his hands together and then put both on me at once, one on each side of my bottom. He started to move his hands across the punished flesh and the coolness of the lotion was like a slice of heaven. The remaining sting started to fade almost immediately and I could hardly even feel it. He squeezed a drop on each side of my bottom and then started working that in as well, making it feel even better. By the time he stood up and walked to the bathroom so he could wash his hands, I could hardly tell I had been spanked. I slid my head to the side and got a glimpse of the butt plug that was beside me on the bed. It was enormous, at least twice the size of the enema nozzle, and I knew it would hurt when it went inside me.
“Okay, you can separate your fingers and come into the bathroom.” He said when he turned the water off.
“Yes sir.” I pulled my cramped knuckles apart. They throbbed from being squeezed so much during my spanking as I struggled to maintain my position.
He washed the last enema out of the tub and put a new towel down. I climbed in and got on my knees with my bottom in the air again and my chin on the towel. It didn’t feel nearly as humiliating the second time around. I figured I would consider it normal by the time the year was over. He applied a little more lubrication to my anus than he did the previous time and hung the enema on the towel bar. When he hit the switch to release it into me, he walked back into the bedroom and returned with the butt plug as it was draining. It hurt a lot more going in, and when it was done, it felt like I had a lot more inside than I did the time before. It immediately started to cramp a
nd hurt.
“Since you couldn’t demonstrate self-control, this enema will be about learning some things are out of your control. It will serve as a reminder the next time you are presented with an option of holding it or choosing to disobey me.” He slid the nozzle out and pressed the butt plug to my anus.
I grimaced and clenched my teeth as the butt plug was slowly inserted into my anus. It hurt so much I could hardly concentrate on the enema inside of me. I was stretched wider and wider as the largest part slid inside me. Once it was inside, I felt my anus begin to close around it and then the base was firmly against my anus. As I began to adjust, I could feel the discomfort from the enema swelling up again. He helped me to my feet and then walked me back to the bedroom. I could hardly walk upright with the enema gripping my insides and sloshing around, but he held me at a standing position. When we got closer to the bed, I noticed a pair of leather cuffs.
“Sit on the floor by the foot of the bed.” He pointed where he wanted me to sit.
He helped me lower my body down to that spot. The plug was pushed deeper and the lotion was hardly enough to numb the entirety of my punishment when my bottom contacted the hardwood floor. He picked up the cuffs, and motioned for my hands. I stretched my arms out and he pulled them over my head. A cuff was secured around my right wrist and the left cuff was put around the bedpost where the wood connected at a point. He secured my left wrist and I was trapped, unable to free them without somehow breaking the bed or tearing the cuffs apart. Both options seemed like an impossibility. When I was fully secured in place, he stood and towered over me.
“You’ll remain her for one hour.” He picked up the timer and set it for another agonizing hour of torment.
I tried to remain still once he left the room. It seemed that any movement hurt. Either it caused the plug to shift inside of me or it caused the enema to slosh around and make me cramp worse than it was doing while I was still. Unfortunately, the cramping made staying in one position almost impossible. I pulled on the cuffs and writhed in pain after the first five minutes passed. I had no control over the situation. I had no control over anything. My mind started to feel like it was going to break down and it was filled with dark thoughts. I was his prisoner. I was his to punish and torture as often as he wanted for as long as he wanted. He didn’t even have to let me go after the year passed. Nobody knew where I was except the pilot who brought me there and I doubted he would say a word. I tried to force those thoughts out of my head as the agony continued. Daddy hadn’t given me a single reason to distrust him and he had saved me, even if salvation resulted in me becoming his Little Bianca.
I thought the timer was never going to get to the hour mark. Time seemed to slow down, making each second more agonizing than the one before it, and they seemed to stretch out forever. I looked away from the timer and tried to count the seconds in my head, but after a full minute, I looked back to see that only thirty seconds had passed. The enema felt like it was boiling inside of me but the plug refused to allow even a gas bubble to escape. I broke down and started crying again as the time continued to tick. I got lost in the pain, but when the final five minutes appeared on the timer, I ached for relief. I squirmed and twisted against the cuffs, just wanting to feel the relief I had felt when the last enema was released. When I heard his footsteps and the timer buzzed, I almost screamed with joy.
“Your punishment is now over.” He walked into the room and started removing the cuffs.
“Thank you!” I nearly folded in half as he worked on the cuffs. When they were removed and he helped me stand, I hobbled towards the bathroom.
“Careful, I have to remove the plug slowly or it could hurt you. Climb into the bathtub.” He pointed towards it and I immediately obeyed.
Some of the enema spilled when the plug was removed, but he helped me to the toilet before all of it was flushed out. It was more satisfying than the first orgasm I ever had, better than my first kiss, and more liberating than anything I had felt before. The agonizing fluid emptied and then he helped me back to my feet. He took time to clean me up with the sponge before drying my anus and taking my hand again. I had no idea where we were going, but I walked beside him without hesitation. We walked to the end of the hallway and he opened a door. When I looked into the room, I saw that it was decorated like a nursery, but everything was big enough for an adult.
“This is where you will live the first part of your life as my Little Bianca.” He walked me over to a table and pushed over a stool. “Climb onto the table so I can put your diaper on.”
“Okay Daddy.” It felt strange, but I did so without questioning him.
He spread out a diaper and lifted me up slightly so he could place me on it. He spread my legs and started powdering my inner thighs, my pussy, and my bottom. The smell reminded me of a simpler time, although I had no real connection to it other than a memory so far removed from conscious thought I couldn’t access it. When I was powdered, he wrapped the diaper around my waist and secured it. He lifted me off the table and brought me down on my feet. My legs closed and the squishiness of the diaper felt strange between my thighs. I shifted my hips until it wasn’t pulling on my skin and took a step towards a large mirror. I looked like a little girl with my pigtails and the diaper. The only sign of womanhood was my breasts.
“Your dresses should arrive later, but for now you’ll just wear the diaper. I’ll leave you alone to explore your new room while I go make your lunch.” He closed the door as he exited the room and I heard a key turn in the lock.
The room was interesting to say the least. On a table was a stack of coloring books with more crayon choices than I had ever seen before in a tub. There was a bookshelf with lots of children’s books, mixed with a few classic novels like Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. There was a large playpen with multiple stuffed animals next to the changing station, and against the wall was a bed. It didn’t look as comfortable or as big as the one in my other room, but it was still better than the one I had at the Bradford Institute. There were several stuffed animals on it as well. Just out of curiosity, I did test the door and I found that it was locked. I finally walked over to the table and sat down, opening one of the coloring books. I picked up a red crayon and started to color the outline of a beach ball.
Chapter 18 — Sloane
Little Bianca had impressed me with the way she had responded to her punishment. She was definitely going to be rehabilitated before the year was done and I felt like she was going to blossom into a wonderful young woman once I was done with her. It was hard to stay focused on punishment and rehabilitation as I was constantly forced to put my hands on her naked body. It was easy to see how the assigned Daddies at the Bradford Institute lost their way when they were doing their rehabilitation duties, but there was no excuse for what I had seen. I fixed her bottle and took it up to her. She was already coloring and seemed to be getting used to her new environment.
“Thank you…” She seemed apprehensive as she took the bottle. “Is this milk?”
“Not exactly.” I shook my head. “It has all the necessary vitamins and minerals for you to live on it indefinitely, but I expect it to be temporary. A few months in this room, wearing diapers and taking your meals from a bottle should be sufficient for this stage of your development.”
“Okay…” She nodded as she took her first drink from the bottle. “That’s actually quite delicious.”
“I’m glad you like it.” I smiled as I watched her tilt the bottle up and drink it faster. “I have to go downstairs and do some work. If you need anything, there’s a button on the wall by your bed. It’s an intercom you can use to get in touch with me.”
“You can’t stay with me?” She looked over at the intercom and then back at me.
“I’m afraid not. I still have a business to run.” I walked towards the door and locked it behind me.
I wasn’t sure how I was going to handle things at the office. I certainly couldn’t spend a year at my retreat, even if I wanted t
o be there with Bianca full-time to manage her rehabilitation. I went to my office and opened my email. It lit up like the Fourth of July with reporters asking for an interview. The press release had obviously gone out. My phone had several missed calls from people at the office and a voicemail from Charles. I put it back beside me without listening to the message and scrolled through the emails, deleting them as I read them. I had no interest in giving a follow up interview. I loaded up a couple of news websites and was pleasantly surprised to find the story buried down beneath the headlines.
Charles had apparently been making the rounds as several of the articles featured quotes from him clarifying that he ran the charity that controlled the institute and threatening to get lawyers involved to prevent my attempt to dissolve it. He certainly had that right, but I knew there was no way it could continue without the funding from Bradford International. Some of the donors might have enjoyed using it as a brothel, but there was no way they were going to heavily invest in it. Many the articles I found mentioned politicians who had immediately sent out a press release agreeing with my decision and promising to pull their funding as well as their support. My email lit up again and the title of my newest email caught my attention immediately.
“Security breach at Bradford International?” I opened the email.