Friday Funishment

Spanking? Sounds owie, right? But a fun spanking is a whole different ballgame, and Emily, my heroine from Daddy P.I., loves a “funishment” spanking. Here’s an excerpt from Daddy P.I. 2.0, coming in October:

Daddy rubs his big, warm hand in circles over my bottom and the backs of my thighs.

“And why are you getting a good-girl spanking?” He punctuates each word with a tap on my bottom. Not even enough to sting yet, but starting to warm me up.

“Because I’ve been super good while you’ve been recovering?”

“Yes.” A harder tap-tap-tap. “And what else?”

I try to think. Nothing immediately comes to mind. “Daddy loves me?” 

He chuckles and smacks my butt hard enough to sting. “Yes, I do. But I was thinking of how proud you’ve made me. Today especially, but every day we’ve been together. I’m proud of you as my little girl, and my submissive, and my friend, and my lover.”

“That’s a lot to be proud of.” I wince, because he’s slapping hard enough to really sting now. The crossed wire in my brain will kick in and convert the sting to sexy, needy heat eventually, but it takes a little while to get there.

“It is.” He pauses to rub the sting in. The familiar warmth and pressure works into the muscles of my butt, making me wriggle happily. “I know you didn’t enjoy your time in the playpen this morning, but I was proud of you.” He starts spanking me in earnest. Hard, heavy thuds with the flat of his palm, alternating cheeks, punctuating each word. “I’m proud of you accepting my discipline. I’m proud of you trying to be the bigger person. I’m proud of you even when you stumble, because it shows how hard you’re trying.”

“Thank you, Daddy. Ta very much,” I whisper, turning my face into the soft covers under my cheek. I let every muscle relax and absorb the blows. My legs jerk with the heaviest slaps. Certain reflexes are really hard to control. But mostly I lie still and let the heat spread through me. It starts as a smarting shock that soaks in as Daddy layers blow after blow over my bottom. He’s spanking me to the rhythm of the music, and the beat echoes through me. My heart synchronizes to it. The throbbing in my nipples and clit. My whole body becomes one pulsing mass of pain-pleasure. The sensation wipes every thought from my mind. I simply feel.

When the song switches back to Enigma, “Return to Innocence,” Daddy stops to rub again. He’s concentrated on the roundest, fleshiest part of my butt-cheeks, and mostly avoided the super-owie crease where my thigh meets my ass. His rubbing soothes the sting and makes everything hot and pulsing and erotic. I wiggle in sheer delight. 

“That’s my good girl,” Daddy says. “I love seeing you enjoy your spanking. Spread your legs for me and let’s get Stanley into your bottom.”

Dazed, I push my legs apart. Daddy’s warm fingers spread my cheeks. The cool, slick tip of the metal plug presses against my sphincter and I push back to let it in. There’s always that moment of resistance before the muscle yields, before my body opens and accepts the invasion. Then a cold fullness. I sigh. I’ve discovered pleasure in each part of being plugged, but I particularly like this part, before the metal warms, before my body adjusts. While I feel speared by the icy thing he’s put in me. His possession of this very private part of me.

“Mmm, yes.” He rubs my bottom around the plug, moving it around in me as I whimper and moan. “Legs together and cross your ankles again.”

The fullness of the plug in me is more acute with my legs together, even though it’s warming now, and I know that’s what Daddy intends. He’s so deliberate in how he controls me, in each thing he makes me feel. 

“Strap now, sweet girl.” He rubs his strap all over my butt. I love his belt, which has a roughened edge that leaves welts. But I love this short, stiff, oiled leather strap even more. It’s the perfect combination of sting and whump, and because it’s shorter, I can often feel the graze of his knuckles over my skin. Even more intimate than his belt. 

“Yes, please, Daddy.”

“That’s my girl. There’s no number. I’m just going to strap you until I feel like stopping. No coming. I want you to save your orgasms for when my cock’s in you, but if you’re getting close and feel like you can’t stop, say ‘yellow.’”

Boo, no orgasms while I’m being strapped, but at least I’ll get them later. I haven’t had an orgasm yet today, which isn’t a surprise after my discipline this morning, but at least he’s not going to make me wait until tomorrow. 

“Yes, Daddy.” 

“Good girl.”

He rubs the strap a final time over my cheeks, then lifts it away. I clench my hands into fists, because my instinct with the strap is to reach back and rub after each strike, and in the Bara position, my hands are right there above the ouchie-zone. But Daddy doesn’t like it when I reach back and I’ve been trained better than that. I tuck my thumbs into my fists and clench my hands around them, but relax everywhere else while I wait for the strap to fall.

–Daddy P.I. 2.0 (c) 2020 E J Frost


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