Pulling over into the abandoned warehouse parking lot because you're getting way too bold and fussy on our drive home tonight and you need a reminder to maintain respect for me at all times.
Watching me walk around to your car door and casually pull you out and manhandle you over the hood as reality sets in that you crossed a line and you're going to be punished for it if the sound of my belt being whipped out of my belt loops is any indication.
I love the look of panic that sets in your eyes when you realize you didn't want to be disobedient or disrespectful. You just had a moment of weakness. That'd you rather have been respectful than earned yourself a punishment. That the reality that you've disappointed me is dreadful and you're deeply ashamed you ever conducted yourself in such a manner. But there's no amount of pleading, struggling, or half sorries you can utter that can bypass the fact that your pants and underwear are now around your ankles and your wrists are effortlessly pinned down behind your back with my hand. Only me, you, and the tree frogs chirping through the night will hear the lashes and screams you are about to go through.
It's okay pretty thing, this is going to happen, it's going to hurt like nothing else before, and that's okay. When you disappoint me like this the punishment becomes inevitable. Those are the rules, and I don't let you bend them. When you try to bend them, they only snap back into place and hit you, and eventually you'll learn it's better to obey than to try to bend them. And if you ever forget, well, that's what reminders are for. And with what you're about to feel, you'll redeem yourself of any disappointment I have in you, earn your absolution, and apologize properly before we'll be on our way.
Don't you want to be a good girl and serve out your punishment and demonstrate you can be held accountable? Don't you want to be a good girl and absolve yourself of the shame of disappointing me? Don't you want to be a good girl who has her apology accepted and her transgression forgiven? Don't you want to be a good girl that Daddy is proud of? Then you need to be punished like a good girl, it's the only way to mend things and make it right.
The anticipation for the consequences of your actions is one of the best parts about owning you. You'll start crying before I land a single strike. Knowing there's nothing you can do, that I decide when things have crossed a line and that the coming beating is the discipline you need to learn to obey where that line is. Knowing that even after I'm done with you for tonight's discipline I'm going to be the same consistent, loving Daddy, enforcing the same expectations, showing the same love to you whether you need a correctional spanking or not. Being the role model of dominant consistency you need to be submissive consistently.
Whether we're going home or getting back in the car after that spanking I'm going to open your door for you. I'm going to walk you to our door hand in hand. I'm going to make sure you're buckled in and safe and rest my hand comfortingly on your thigh. I'm going to apply the arnica cream to your bruised butt when we get home so you heal properly. I'm going to keep pressing hard into your bruises for days afterwards and make you repeat back the lesson you learned tonight until the bruises fade because I care about you and I know you don't want you to feel the horrible shame of letting me down. Because I own you. I own all of you. The good and the fussy. And I don't reject a single part of you. I could never. You are my cherished property, and that's why I keep you in line. We both need it that way.
I raise my belt and take aim at the pale, trembling skin of your ass in the cool night air, glowing under the light of the moon. "This is for your own good darling."
