The Best Spanks Ever
Obviously I don’t mean this literally; there is no such thing as the “best” (and for the matter, worst) spanking ever. Like orgasms, all spankings are different and unique and special in their own way. There was a moment, however, when I was receiving this particular spanking where I wanted to shout THESE ARE THE BEST SPANKS EVER! I didn’t do that, though, I could only moan and groan with nonverbal pleasure. I did, however, vow to myself to write about it.
I promised my daddy that I was going to text him before every drink, keep him posted on every place we went, and let him know when we arrived back to the hotel. It was my sister’s bachelorette party and I was staying in a hotel away from the supervision of the man who is in charge of me. I have gotten into trouble numerous times while away from my daddy for reasons that include getting too drunk, losing track of my phone and the time and causing worry. Well, I had learned my lesson (over and over I learned…and he taught…) and this time was going to be different. I was going to be the best little Bachelorette Baby of the group and of the world. He gave me three simple rules: text before every drink, don’t get too drunk, and let him know when we were back at the hotel.
I was happy to obey…and for the most part I was a very good little girl. For the most part. I did get a little more drunk than promised and because of this slip up, lost track of my phone the moment we arrived to our double-room, messy as hell hotel suite.
Long story short, I received a text message the next day of a picture of what was waiting for me at home. Daddy had purchased a new device for my bare bottom: a bath brush. A long wooden handle held the oval head in place and it looked…well, I wasn’t sure. It didn’t look scary, like some of the other paddles and hairbrushes and belts and…etcetera. However, the fact that it didn’t look particularly “scary” was enough to make me break a sweat, swallow hard and say, “Yes, sir.” When he told me that I would be punished severely for breaking his rules. Truth be told, I also felt the little spot between my legs tense and release and become a little bit wet at the thought.
Knowing a spanking is coming is always an unnerving and erotic experience. I do not look forward to it, but it is inevitable, and I want to cry before it even starts.
I arrived but he did not ask me to take down my pants right away. There were chores to do and dinner to cook and soon enough we were cuddling on the couch. For a few blissful seconds I thought he might have forgotten…but I kid you not the moment this thought crossed my mind he said, “Do you feel sad that you have a spanking coming?”
I had to hide my face in the little blanket I was curled up under, because I was embarrassed and I blushing and I was sad that it was coming. And sometimes I think he can read my mind, I swear.
“Go get it,” he said. He meant the Bath Brush. I had seen it earlier, just as I glimpsed the doorway of his office. It sat poised, almost posing against the arm rest, tall and lean and, now that I think about it, almost mocking me.
With my head bent low, I reluctantly (but not too reluctantly because I get spanked for stuff like that) got up and didn’t even have to raise my eyes fully to find the Bath Brush and sulk over to him. He took it from my grasp and said:
“Take down your pants…” I stood before him as he waited, seated on the couch in front of me. I obliged and began to pull my yoga pants down my legs. “Take them all the way off. Take off your shirt, too.”
Removing me clothes before a spanking is always like disrobing in the middle of the street during a polar vortex: there is nothing to hide, nowhere to hide and everything feels very cold and scary.
“Get down, over my knee.”
I always do as I’m told, even if it means I am doing something that is really, really going to hurt.
He placed his hand on my back and I began to quiver; the anticipation is killer, the mixture of excitement, dread, fear cause the moistness between my legs to swell and for some reason I think of taking the first sip of an extra strong Manhattan served straight up.
He rubbed my bare bottom slowly before I felt him tense as he gripped the Bath Brush. I quickly gathered the little blanket in my arms and dug my face into the fabric because I knew it was going to hurt and I was going to make noises I did not want anybody, not even my daddy, to hear.
SMACK! (and I mean SMACK!) That Brush hit my skin with a snap and pop and my skin crackled and he pulled it up and SMACK! hit the other cheek. Oh! It stung. It stung quick and then lingered and prickled and it was cold and hot all at once and SMACK! before I could even fully react to the previous spank. Oh. Oh. Oh. Please make it end…but it didn’t. He was not happy with me and I was not happy with myself and I was so so so sorry, but it didn’t change the fact that I broke the rules and it was time to be put in my place.
I kept wanting it to be over and I screamed and cried into my little blanket, but he kept going. The worst part was, I felt like I wasn’t even trying to be strong, I tensed every time he raised the Bath Brush and tensed more when he spanked me. It was as if my body wasn’t allowing anything to go with the full-feel of what was happening. Sometimes, if I can hold out on crying I can handle more. Sometimes my skin will smart and the tension will release and I can breath and allow myself to recover as quick as it takes for him to raise his hand or belt or hairbrush. This time, however, it was as if my body wanted me to suffer my limit at every. Single. Spank.
He said he went easy on me, and I believe him. I almost lost it from the moment he started, reflexively trying to cover my bottom with my hands. Of course that didn’t work, he is much stronger and can hold both my wrists with one hand while he spanks me with the other. Though he will cuff me or tape me or tie me up, Daddy has the ability to bind me with just his body.
The Bath Brush did it’s job and so did Daddy. My eyes leaked tears and the moistness between my legs was almost unbearable and when he lifted me up from his knee and took out his cock, I sucked it happily, my tears acting as salty little reminders of my punishment. He lifted me again, onto his hard cock and I had to ask for permission almost immediately because I was going to come so quickly. Before he allowed me to ride harder, he took the Bath Brush and began to swat lightly at my bottom. “Oh please, Daddy…” I begged. It was becoming too much. “Please, Daddy…it is going to happen…” he swatted again and this time harder and it felt good. I rode faster and begged harder, “May I please come, Daddy? Oh please!” He continued to reach around my backside, as I sat tall on his cock using the Bath Brush against my bare and bouncing bottom and finally said, “You may…”
I came hard and long and he kept spanking me and there was no blanket to muffle my gasps and moans as I peaked. And then he grabbed me and pulled me off his cock and put me back over his lap. This time I was not scared, my little pussy was so wet and still throbbing and he moved my tummy back and forth against his big, hard cock and swatted at my bottom with the Bath Brush and it felt so good….my skin accepted the spanks. My skin rose and fell and my heart raced and my breath got caught in my throat. My bottom needed these spanks. Well, they always need them, I always need to be spanked. But there was something about how good it felt at this moment, as he rocked me back and forth, that I came again, just as I felt his cock expand and then release.
“Oh Daddy…” I moaned.
“Yes little girl?” he said and patted my bum so he could stand and clean up.
“I really liked those spanks…” It was more honest than THOSE WERE THE BEST SPANKS EVER! and I was too happily worn out to shout.
He bent down and petted my head and smoothed my messy hair. “You did?” he said.
I sighed happily and heavily and said, “Yes, sir,” before falling into a post spank slumber.
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