Thursday, July 24, 2014

Paddle at the New House

We decided it would be good to use the fact that we moved into our new "soon-to-be-empty nest" home as the basis for this little bit of fiction.

She came back from grocery shopping late. He had told her to be back in 30 minutes, but she hadn't anticipated getting distracted with all the new organic dairy products they suddenly had at the grocery store.

She came in through the garage door of their new home, bringing her reusable bag of groceries for dinner with her. She thought she would find him on the computer at his desk in the kitchen but he wasn't there. She listened for the TV. The house was silent. From the sound of traffic coming into the house she guessed he had the slider open, so she put the grocery bag down and walked into the living room.

She was shocked to see him sitting patiently on the patio, the glass table lined with an array of paddles of wood, leather, a hairbrush and his dreaded stainless steel paddle with the holes in it. Right out in the open!

He was looking right at her.

"Come here." Ominously.

She hurried to him. "You're late," he said. "Am I?" All wide eyes.

"Yes," he got up, pointing at the chair. She did as he gestured, putting her hands on the seat. He reached around from behind her and undid her short, pulling them down.

"Daddy!" she whined breathlessly. "We're outside!" He swatted her bare bottom with his hand. "People will see!"

He grabbed the leather nanny paddle and began a flurry of swats, no warm up. He covered her cheeks with smack after smack of the flappy leather. She huffed and exhaled noisily and dramatically, so he switched to a wood paddle, certain it would shut her up.
“I think we’re alone now; there doesn’t seem to be anyone around,” she sang as she danced into the living room.

Laughing, he caught her around the waist as she swirled past him. They fell into a tangled heap on the sofa, but it only took a moment for them to shift into the familiar OTK position - he scooted to the center of the couch; she dropped her legs off the side onto the floor and shifted her torso fully onto the cushions beside him; she curled one arm to press against his leg and the other under her head.

“So presumptuous,” he growled. But he gave in to her obvious desire, taking advantage of the opportunity presented. His hand came down on her boxers only a few times before he paused to yank them down.

“Now that we are alone,” he lectured as he smacked her bare bottom, “I don’t expect to encounter these again.”

“Mmm hmm,” she agreed lazily, lost in her enjoyment of his hand spanking.

“Excuse me?” He shifted to allow himself a full swing at her bottom. He adjusted the way he was spanking as well, changing from the thuddy smacks she loved to the stingy swats that made her shriek.

“Yes, sir.” She yelped, “Ow! I’m sorry. Shit!”

He continued smacking hard and stingy, until she finally whined, “Daddy!”

“No,” he said, though he paused for a moment, “No, ‘daddy’. Not for that.”

He lifted her off his lap, leaving her folded over the sofa. She lay still, catching her breath while he watched her.
It did.

He continued like this for a bit, sensing she was getting sore from the position and grabbed her by her wrist to pull her up as he sat down and in one smooth accomplished move pulled her across his lap again. The wood paddle was put aside and a hair brush produced, which he used to cover her bottom with bright red oval marks.

By the time he finished she was in tears. "Do you know why you're being punished, young lady?" She nodded through her crying. "I was late?"

He began to gently rub her bottom then. "Yes, you were late. And you didn't text to ask if it would be okay, did you?" A muffled, quiet "no." He pulled her to her feet, hugged and she grabbed hold of him partially to support herself because she felt like her legs were suddenly rubber, but also because she hoped he would say what came next. "I forgive you."

She melted into him. The world was right again. And it was time to make dinner...
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to the bedroom. There, he ordered her up onto the bed and positioned her to his liking. Leaving her there, he circled the bed to open their cedar chest. It took a moment to find what he wanted, because the contents had shifted during the move.

But he was able to find the paddle he wanted fairly quickly. He took up a position beside her, measuring out his stroke. He shifted and struck.

She yelped, but he ignored her to study the mark left by the paddle. She moved at his command, adjusting to a better position for him. He struck again. Once more, he ignored her response to consider the rosy spot left on her bottom. This time, he adjusted his position before striking again.

He grunted in satisfaction as the paddle struck her bottom. He did not need to look, the sound of the strike told him it had hit perfectly. He laid into her bottom until she was sobbing and her backside was a lovely red.

He tossed the paddle aside and laid on the bed beside her. He pulled her into his embrace. She rolled into him, cuddling with her face buried in his chest.

“And many more to come,” he whispered softly in her ear. “So many more to come.”