Go To Your Room!
“Go to your room.”
The voice behind her was soft, but firm, and she froze in place. The words shouldn’t have come as a shock. She had known all day they were coming, but they still twisted her stomach into knots, and blurred the words on the screen, making them unreadable.
She turned to search his face, looking for some sign of mercy, but there was none, only firm determination, and maybe a touch of disappointment. She sighed and stood up.
As she passed him on the way to her room, he reached out a hand to block her way.
“What was that?”
“I didn’t…” Oh.
“Yes, sir.” He nodded slightly and dropped his hand for her to pass.
Once in her room, she used the restroom, fully aware that this would not be an option from here out. She made the bed neat and smooth.
She stripped her outer clothing off, folding each item neatly, until she was left with only her thin white cotton t-shirt and panties, and put on clean white socks. Slipping beneath the covers, she shivered slightly, though the room was warm.
She wavered between thinking about what had gotten her in this position and thinking about what was to come. She considered (only for a moment), pretending to be asleep and decided this was not the time to play games. Usually, he enjoyed a little bratting, but he would not tonite. Tonite was all business, and not going to be fun.
This waiting was a bit more comfortable than corner time, but not by much. It was still a mind twist. Wanting it to be over, but not really wanting it to be over…
Soon, it didn’t matter. He walked through the door, pausing to look at her, and crossed his arms across his chest, silent, expectant.
She was aware of his presence, without looking up. Unwilling to meet his gaze, she slipped from the bed and reached up to remove the strap from its hook. It hung on the wall as a reminder to her, just slightly out of her reach. It served its purpose. She felt like a little girl.
She kept her eyes on the floor, the dreaded strap, anywhere but his face, as she slowly moved to stand before him. She held out the strap, but he did not reach for it. Sliding a finger under her chin, he gently forced her to look at him. It was not anger she saw in his eyes, but disappointment.
He took the strap from her hands, still silent, and held out a hand. Against her will, her hands snapped behind her back. He didn’t move, but waited. Slowly, she forced her hand forward, laying it flat, palm up. He gripped her wrist, protecting her from her own folly, for if she were to move, the strap could strike her arm.
The first strike was the worst, and she sucked in her breath at the pain. He waited for her hand to unfold, and struck again. Her hand burned, yet he did not release his hold, and she knew he was waiting for her to flatten her hand again.
After the third strike, he released her hand, and she blew on the palm softly, for just a second, and he held his hand out for her other hand to be presented. Steeling herself, she gave him the other hand, trusting him to punish, but not to damage. He had earned that trust.
When he once again silently demanded the first hand, she whimpered with dread, knowing this time would hurt even more on her already stinging palm. However, experience won out. Experience that told her obedience was fruitful, and disobedience expensive.
By the third strike, tears were trickling down her cheeks. But there was no reprieve, and the discipline was repeated once more on the second hand.
When he pointed toward the corner, relief washed over her. There had been times of a third, or even fourth round. She slid into the corner without a sound, desperately wanting to blow on her palms.
She heard him sit down, distracted for the moment by his computer, giving her time to “think”. All she was thinking about was the stinging in her hands, and tried to blow on them quietly, hoping he wouldn’t notice. She didn’t hear him move.
She DID feel the strap across the back of her legs. She snapped her hands into the appropriate position, behind her back, high enough to be out of the way of any further strikes. She heard him chuckle, and it irritated her into a childish pout, making her think all sorts of things she wasn’t supposed to be “thinking about” just at that moment.
Enough time passed to ease the sting in her palms, as he sat “ignoring” her. This time, she heard him move and scooted a little further into the corner, just in case.
She turned, pulling herself together, and walked to face him. He crossed a hand across her lap, as though offering an invitation, albeit one she could not refuse.
She settled herself across his knees and he slid an arm around her waist, securing her in position. Simple swats placed just where he wanted them to land.
Just as she felt this would be a breeze, the intensity increased. The heat began to spread, and the swats were actually beginning to hurt. She squirmed a little, but managed to stay put. She had long since learned to keep her hands and feet out of the way. The spanking stopped, but she did not move until he spoke again.
She slid to her feet, twisting slightly, hoping to avoid a parting swat, and once more returned to her corner. Hooking a finger into each side of her panties, she dutifully dropped them to her knees, and tucked her hands behind her back once again. Apparently, he approved, for he returned to his chair, and once more “ignored” her.
Only a short time passed before she heard him moving again, and once more got the summons.
She moved a little more slowly this time, knowing he would not be using his hand, but the hated bath brush. Once more tucked across his knees, she closed her eyes and held her breath for the first swat. However, this was more like a volley. Rapid, sharp strokes quickly broke her calm, and she began to squirm and cry out softly. She barely had time to draw a breath before the next volley came, and then another.
She squirmed wildly, but got nowhere, held tightly by the strong arm around her waist. Every time she tried to roll out of the way, the brush would simply move down to her thighs, causing her to squeal in pain, and right herself on his lap again. She tried all the standards.
“Ok, ok, please…..”
“I promise to behave!”
He ignored them all, and continued his rapid-fire assault on her bare bottom. Finally, she gave up on getting him to stop, and just concentrated on relaxing. He would stop when he was ready, and not before. She had become completely submissive to him, accepting his right to discipline her. Again, even though he had stopped, she remained in place, breathing heavily.
“Back to your corner, little girl. And remove the shirt, and the panties.”
She obeyed instantly, and stripped naked, fully exposed to his eyes. She desperately wanted to rub her sore bottom, to ease the pain however slightly, but her hands remained in their proper position. That lesson had been learned even before they were married.
“Spanked bottoms are supposed to hurt,” he had told her, and she was taking NO chances on starting this night over again.
He left her alone this time, long enough for her breathing to return to normal, and anticipation to build. This would be the last leg, and the worst of her punishment.
She heard him unbuckle his belt, sliding it from his jeans. The shiver trailing down her spine had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.
“Alright, little girl.”
She turned. There was a pillow laid across the end of the bed. No rocket science involved here. She swallowed hard, then sent him a pleading glance. Maybe…
He was having none of it, gesturing toward the pillow. She laid her stomach across the pillow, keeping her feet planted on the floor. He placed a foot between hers, and slid it from side to side, spreading her legs to a wider stance.
The first lash came as a shock, and she pressed up on her tiptoes, crying out. The next two landed quickly after, as she squirmed and twisted, slightly out of position.
“Hold your position”, he warned, and she moved back into place, grabbing the covers for support and burying her face.
He moved to the other side, and brought the belt down again, just across the top of her thighs.
“Are you EVER going to speak to me that way again, little girl?” She heard him speaking through a haze, and struggled to hear what he was saying.
“No, sir,” she breathed softly.
“What was that?” he asked, as he brought the belt across her legs.
“I am disappointed that we are having this conversation once again. I thought we had this resolved.” All she heard was “disappointed.” The belt landed again.
“Yes, sir.” Softly, tears began to flow down her cheeks.
He moved back to his original vantage point, and brought the belt across her already sore, stinging bottom. She was losing count, as each blow brought her up onto her toes.
“Are we EVER going to have this conversation again?” Again the belt struck.
Silently, he moved to her other side, and brought the belt down across her thighs, then dropped it to his side.
“Get into bed,” he said sharply.
She wasted no time crawling under the covers, then from force of habit slipped off her remaining socks. She lay down, and drew in a quick breath as the sheets covered her bottom. She waited quietly for him to join her.
He removed his clothing, slowly, and lay down beside her, cuddling her into his arms, stroking her hair.
Snuggling in, and wiping her eyes, she spoke to him submissively, a real apology.
“I am sorry, sir. And thank you.”
Curling around into a position that allowed him to feel the results of his labor, she began to officially “thank” her Master for loving her enough to correct her.
This story was written for me by my beautiful sweet wife angel(SJ). Those of you who may heve chanced upon us in the old IRC chatroom OTK on undernet may recognise her descriptive writing style. Hope you enjoy this almost as much as I did. SJ
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