Spanking Story Girl

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Spanking Story Girl

This story is a repost from GI... but ... since it was my husband that wrote it, I guess it's allowed.





Girl
Tonight my little girl is going to be punished. Shes been naughty and she knows she has. I am her Daddy, and her husband, and it is my job to take care of her. Thats why I told her this morning, on my way out the door,

Love?
Yes?
Tonight, when I get home from work, were going to talk about why you came in so late last night.
She blushed. We are?... But I told you why. I had to drive Karen home because her car wouldnt start.
Yes honey, you did tell me that, I said gently, But you didnt have a very good explanation for why you didnt call and tell me you were going to be late.

I could see the internal struggle; she wanted to argue. And yet, she knew that arguing could only make the situation worse. She thought some more, her eyes on the floor, and then finally mumbled, Yes sir. She was four years old in that moment.

I love you darling, I told her, kissing the top of her honey hair. Have a good day.

***

Im watching her from across the living room. Shes working at her computer and concentrating hard. She doesnt know Im looking at her, and thats when I like to look at her most. Shes chewing her bottom lip, sucking it in and out as her finger fly across the keyboard. Shes writing an article. I love this version of my wife. Shes an under-the-gun, working-on-a-deadline, efficient and businesslike woman. She pushes her hair out of her eyes and sighs impatiently at the screen. Frustrating how a mere machine cannot keep pace.

My wife is a runner. Her body, therefore, is lean and tight. No waste. She runs with the same drive that she works. I think I have married the most stubborn woman in the world.

No matter. I love a challenge.

***

I like taking her out. Shes an extraordinarily beautiful woman. And I am an ordinary-looking man. I enjoy watching other men watch her. They look from her to me, adding up her features and subtracting mine. Theres a lot leftover, and I am not offended by their curiosity. Rather, I like to meet their questioning eyes and smile. I know, my eyes say. I do know. Theres a lot I know that they do not.

To the outside world, she appears much like the woman at the computer screen. Beautiful, capable, intelligent. Strong. Impatient with imperfection perhaps, in herself and in others. You might think so.

This is the woman I met. I lived in awe of her well-managed finances, her successful career and her organized closets. This first impression lasted until our first weekend away together.

We arrived at our hotel in the early evening, with plans to unpack quickly and go for dinner. I put my toothbrush in the bathroom and emerged to find her sitting, frozen, on the tiny twin bed watching the news, her long hair covering her face. I sat beside her. Whats up? I took her hand.

She grasped my hand tightly, her small hand clenching and unclenching. I stopped and looked into her face. Tears glittered on her eyelashes. I looked back at the television screen. A story of a foster child who had been beaten by his family, taken away by social services. How how can they Her voice broke. I looked at her face again, softened and unguarded, grey eyes with dark wet lashes. Her face was a childs face, betrayed and hurt.

Oh, honey, I reached for her. She leaned into me; I felt her body go limp. Who was this person? I stroked her hair. Dont cry, I told her, that boy will be safe now. Somehow that broke the spell and she sat back up, straight and strong, and the armor snapped back into place almost undetectably. Lets get dinner, she said. It was too late for her to hide. I knew I was in love.

***

I came to know this child, within the woman, many years later. Those glimpses of vulnerability tore at my heart, but never lasted long enough for me to feel I had truly comforted her. I wanted access but those moments were so fleeting, I couldnt figure out how to make them last long enough for me to hold her through them.

When at last I realized there was a baby girl inside this woman I was awed and afraid. How was this possible? And how could I be entrusted with the care of something so fragile? The adult women sensed my hesitation and kept the little girl hidden as much as she could. For a long time, the baby existed for me only in careless flickers. I longed to know her and struggled with my fears.

***
Coming to know the secret child who shares my wifes body is the unparalleled greatest achievement of my life. There is no intimacy greater than holding and comforting this baby in my arms.

I have learned to care for her. I have learned when her refusals mean she needs to be forced, and I have learned how to break the baby through the adult exterior when its necessary for her wellbeing.

Thats what I see now, watching her working at the computer screen there. On the surface sits the strength, the efficiency, the academic woman, the athlete, the runner. But the Past is a runner too, with unending endurance, and it catches up with her from time to time. Thats when the eyes are grey; thats when its time.

Its time now.

Baby, I say. She blows her bangs off her forehead and doesnt look away from the screen.

Mmhmm?

I cross the room and stand behind her, resting my hand on her shoulder. Turn off the computer now, love.

Shes caught up in her writing and she doesnt catch my meaning. She doesnt realize, yet, what I have decided.

Ive got to finish this, she says. Im on a deadline.
I put my hand over hers, stopping the flurry of keystrokes. Baby, I tell her. Ive asked you to do something.

She freezes. Pauses. Then turns in her chair to look up at me. I hold her eyes steady with mine and watch her face change as the realization sinks in. Its time now.

She says nothing else, but turns back to her machine, closing up quickly. She stands and I take her hand, and guide her to her special room.

The special room is where I tend to her little girl needs. Its a room meant to please the child inside her, with her toys and colouring books and our rocking chair, on which I like to sit and hold her in my lap, with her head against my chest. As much as this room is designed to please her, it is also the room in which she is disciplined and the room she is grounded to when she misbehaves.

Sit down, I tell her, and she immediately scrunches up on the end of the little bed, holding her knees. Her grey eyes are wide and the transformation to little girl is already taking place rapidly before I even speak. I sit across from her, on the armless wooden chair and look at her face.

Sweetie, I begin. You know we need to talk about what happened last night, dont you?

She nods and starts picking at the stitches in her quilt, black lashes fluttering against her cheeks.

Look at me, honey. She tears her eyes back up to my face. Shes shrinking. I look at her face.

Little girl eyes, wide and bright.
Little girl cheeks, warm and flushed.
Little girl lips, full and sulky.

Why dont you tell me what happened last night, sweetie? Shes growing smaller before my eyes.

I jes

Go ahead.

Well when. after we had dinner Karens car wouldnt start again acause of the cold. an. so I jes hadda take her back to her houseso she wouldnt be stuck thereI dint want to leave her Her voice trails off and she looks at me hopefully.

Sweetheart. You know that I wouldnt want you to leave Karen stuck at the restaurant. Thats not what I expected you to do. You know that dont you?

She drops her eyes again and nods.

But Karen lives pretty far away, doesnt she, Love? More nodding. You were more than an hour later than I expected you to be. So what do you think you should have done?

I watch her thinking. Even as small as she is in this moment, shes struggling to find a way out. She cant find one. She knows better.

At last she bites at her lip and mumbles, Shoulda called you, as she resumes pulling at the quilt stitches.

Yes, thats right honey. You should have phoned me. You know that I would understand. And you also know why you have a curfew, dont you?

She nods.

Tell me why you think you have a curfew.

so . you can make sure Im safe

I touch her chin, tilting her face up to me. Thats right, little one. Thats exactly right. So that I can make sure youre safe. Because I love you, honey.

She nods, her chin still in my hand.

Alright sweetie. I think you know what has to happen here now, dont you?

The slight blush that has been colouring her cheeks spreads suddenly, lighting her face. She doesnt speak. We look at each other a moment; all traces of the adult woman are gone. The softness in her eyes and in her voice are pure child.

Go and get your paddle please.

She inhales and sucks her lips in, squirming awkwardly. She is embarrassed.

Now, love.

She gets up from the bed as slowly as she can without getting herself into more trouble and makes her way to her little dresser. She opens the top drawer and retrieves the wooden paddle; we both know exactly where it is kept. Slowly, she drags her feet finding her way back to me, holding the paddle and both her hands behind her back. She knows the paddle stings the light wood, the holes drilled throughout its smooth surface will turn her pretty pale bottom bright red in very few strokes.

I hold my hand out and she hands it to me, reluctantly.

Come here.

She comes to me slowly and stands before me, staring at the carpet. She shifts her weight from foot to foot. I reach for the buttons on the front of her jeans, undoing them one at a time, and then tug at them with two hands until they are at her knees.

I take her left hand and tug her gently across my lap. Her body is rigid and tight. I capture her both her hands in my left and hold them snugly but gently against the small of her back. She wont be able to keep them out of the way.

There is no warm-up when a naughty little girl is being punished, and I use the flat of my hand to deliver a series of sharp spanks to her bottom immediately. I can feel her holding her breath.

I stop and say, Honey. I want you to take a deep breath now. She does. I can see her little bottom is tightly clenched beneath her panties. Again. Again, she takes a breath and I watch her body relax a little.

Do you know how much I love you? I ask her.

Yes Daddy, she says in a small voice.

Good, I tell her, I want you to remember that. Because you are the most important thing in the world to me. The most important. Have you got that?

Yes sir.

I tug down the panties exposing her pale little bare bottom, which is already slightly pink. She starts to sniffle.

I raise the paddle and bring it down sharply several times. Her fight for self-control ends quickly and she begins to wiggle on my lap, but is held tightly and unable to move far. She begins to plead. Noooo please. Daddy. nooooo

Sweetheart, can you imagine how it feels to be worried about you? Can you imagine how frightened Daddy is thinking something bad might have happened to you?

Yes She is crying now, and stops wiggling to listen to me.

Why do you think Daddy wants you to phone when youre going to be late?

Muffled through her tears, her voice comes tiny and choked, .so you wont be worried about me acause you love me.

Yes, honey, I tell her, feeling a wave of tenderness, stroking her little pinik bottom on my lap. Because it hurts me to think of losing you. It hurts me to think of anything bad happening to you.

Again, I raise the paddle and deliver another volley of spanks to both cheeks, watching them turn from pink to red, painting them bright red and she is clenching and unclenching as she cries and wriggles on my lap. She stops pleading and begins crying in earnest, wracking sobs that shake her entire body.

A good Daddy knows when it is enough. And goes just a touch further. You are my little girl, I tell her. And you are not allowed to make grown up decisions without talking to me. You are just a little girl. Do you understand me?

Her tears have soaked through my pants and I use the paddle to give her several more sharp swats, keeping her hands pinned behind her back. Then, I stop. And let her cry. Release her hands slowly and she wraps them around herself, holding onto her warm bottom, protecting it even though the spanking is over.

I help her up, and hold her in my lap.

Brush the strands of hair back that are sticking to her face.

Oh baby, I whisper against her hair, You just cant know how much I love you.

She melts into my chest and I wrap both arms around her, rocking her gently.

Gentle fingers stroke her hair; gentle fingers lightly stroke her bottom.

The tears stop and her breathing becomes less ragged and more regular. Even and slow. She is breathing deeply, asleep against my chest. I know she can hear my heart.
maya
age 6
my Keeper's lil girl
Issy is my adorable lil sis

I'm 6 years old!
Cami is mine mommy
(dunna tells her iffin i'm naughty)
Bambi, Leah and Tookie are my sisters
~tryin to find the magic again~
Thanks Maya! I'll pass on your comment.
That's a great story Lisa. One has to wonder if it's a "true" story


Of course not. I never get in trouble.


I read that the first time, too!
And I replied to say that it was beautiful.

And it still is.

But I didn't know that it was him!
I edited the heck out of it when he was done (which is hard to do when you know someone)....

You know what's weird? It's the only story I think he's ever written in his life (that wasn't required by an English teacher for high school credit).
Impressive work, husband-to-girl!
~laughing as I know not how else to address you~
I enjoyed this story thoroughly.
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“SHOWING THEM” by the Crimson Kid

LATE JULY 1968

“Don’t even think it,” Dimity Hamilton advised her second cousin Richard Phillips, “That’s simply never been done.”

She liked the slightly stocky sixteen-year-old, whose wavy auburn hair, hazel eyes and pleasant facial features she found to be appealing, but considered him to be overconfident in that area.

Cathleen Wilkes nodded soberly. “Nobody’s ever gotten a ‘three-one-one’ ass-whuppin’ from my mother without kicking, crying and begging for mercy—I know from experience, the person getting it on his bare behind just can’t help himself.” She was a freshly pretty, aquamarine-eyed silver blonde with cascading, curly, shoulder-length hair, nearly eighteen years old and at 5’10” two inches taller than her masculine second cousin.

He chewed his lip. “Maybe I’d end up kicking and crying, but you can be damn sure I wouldn’t do any begging—I’ve got my pride.”

The blonde chuckled. “Male ego, you mean—I’ve dealt with plenty of them, Richie. Trust me, Mom would have you begging her to stop scorching your bare ass.”

Dimity, first cousin to the seventeen-year-old, pursed her lips. “I guess we’ll only know for certain if Richie’s willing to put his money where his mouth is.” The Mediterranean-complexioned younger girl was the physical opposite of the lithe, Nordic-looking Cathleen, having a pleasingly plump, 5’3” tall body, pixie-cut auburn hair, chocolate-brown eyes and a sweet-looking face

“You mean put his FANNY where his mouth is, don’t you?” chortled Cathleen. Her gaze bored into the boy’s eyes. “Admit it, you don’t have the nerve to back up your bragging by actually showing us.”

Dimity shrugged. “You can’t expect him to deliberately earn a spanking from Aunt Scarlett, especially not a ‘three-one-one’ butt-blistering.”

The older girl snorted. “No, because like most guys he’s all talk and no action.”

His pride stung, Richard frowned. “You think so, huh?”

“Until you show me otherwise,” Cathleen countered breezily.

“Don’t be rushing into anything stupid, Richie, just to prove how macho you’re supposed to be,” his younger cousin counseled.

Her show of concern had the reverse effect from what she’d intended, since Richard would’ve done almost anything to impress Dimity, including ‘manfully’ disregarding her warning.

He smiled tightly. “I’m going to show both of you, Dimie…So how should we set this up?”

The three cousins, wearing working clothes, were seated at the kitchen table drinking iced tea, having recently finished their assigned chores for the day.

Cathleen’s grin was predatory. “Okay, if you’re still sure about proving yourself, here’s my idea…”

At forty-four years of age, Scarlett Wilkes fit the image of a tall, buxom, strong-yet-sexy farmer’s wife, a woman who could perform physical labor eleven hours a day yet still have enough energy left to nourish her children and satisfy her husband in the conjugal bed. Although only her youngest child remained at home and she’d been widowed by a traffic accident seven years earlier, the family farm had remained a profitable business—she’d downsized its operation enough that she could manage it herself, with the assistance of outside hired help.

During the warm pre-harvest months, the woman offered her teenaged relatives employment on her farm doing simple menial tasks involving upkeep of the premises; they received moderate wages, working six- to eight-hour days with weekends free, plus room and board, and could stay as many weeks as was feasible given their summertime activities. Not only did her farm acquire affordable labor, but she and her still-at-home children got to know their ‘city cousins’ much better than they otherwise would have, given their isolated location.

Those teenaged employees were treated by Scarlett exactly as her own children were, with caring affection but also strict discipline. She believed in a “spare the road and spoil the child” approach to rearing children, including teenagers, and those who worked for her during the summer were subject to sound corporal correction for offenses such as disrespect, disobedience and poor working efforts.

Dimity had been employed at the Wilkes Farm for three-week periods in each of the previous two summers, developing a friendship with Scarlett’s daughter Cathleen, but Richard was a newcomer. “Aunt Scarlett,” as she insisted on being addressed by all of her ‘next generation’ kinspersons, suspected it was more than coincidental that his two-week period of employment overlapped his younger second cousin’s three-week one, but the woman had no objection to youthful romance within limitations.

The after-supper cleanup was finished by six-thirty that evening, at which point Scarlett announced that she was going to take a relaxing hot bath before watching televis
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