It was fairly shortly after me and Daddy met in person for the first time, that I earned myself a punishment. During our initial interactions Daddy had asked me if there was anything in my life that might be helped by his guiding hand, so to speak. I was immediately thrilled at the prospect of sharing the burden of some of my personal challenges and allowing Daddy the authority to correct certain lapses in judgment. There wasn’t a whole lot I could think of though. I am a fairly self disciplined person. But there was one challenge I had recently been attempting again. I was a smoker and had tried to quit a couple of times before without success. I had recently decided to make the attempt again just before meeting Daddy, so temptation was still a daily challenge. I mentioned this goal, and he immediately agreed to help me on track. He would check in occasionally to see how I was doing, praised my success and every once and awhile drop a tidbit of information of what I would be in for if I lapsed. At first this was enough, the threat of a spanking and Daddy’s disapproval kept me on the straight and narrow. Then I am not sure if part of it was a naughty little imp in my brain daring me to test Daddy’s resolve or vigilance or just the opportunity and habit breaking my resolve, but one day I was with a family member who smoked and they offered me one. I accepted. My heart even fluttered a bit as I accepted, but my mind was a flurry if excuses. ‘It’s just the one’ ‘I didn’t buy a pack’. I felt guilty, but I kept quiet about it deciding the guilt was punishment enough and I would be more resolved not to smoke after the lapse. Just three days later Daddy texted me from work. We chatted about this that and the other thing, just catching up. Then out of the blue the casual inquiry. ‘How’s the not smoking going?’ My stomach dropped. What were the odds? I wanted to lie, i mean most of our relationship was long distance, how would he know different? That wasn’t an option though. I couldn’t bring myself to lie. One of the draws I had had towards spanking was skipping the guilt. I commit a transgression, I get spanked for it and the incident is forgotten the lesson learned. If I lied I would just have the guilt of lying eating at me, and the person who was supposed to make the yucky guilt go away would be the one I couldn’t tell. No thank you.
That didn’t stop me from some subtle attempts at prevarication and downplaying. Daddy has a pretty good BS barometer though. I finally admitted to my sin. Daddy was expressed his disappointment at my lapse as well as the fact that I didn’t come forward with that information. The fact I waited for him to ask me was not acceptable. I was amazed at how deeply his disappointment affected me. I felt JUST like a naughty little girl who had disappointed her Daddy. It was decided that I had definitely earned a punishment and when he was next in town he would teach my naughty bottom a lesson. I remembered apologizing again and again and asking if he was mad? He assured me he wasn’t mad but disappointed and that it would be taken care of when he saw me. There was worry over my upcoming punishment, but I felt better knowing Daddy wasn’t
MAD at me.
Soon enough, Daddy was able to come for a visit. My worry was still present, kept alive by messages from Daddy debating on the implement he would use, and seeing as I technically had two infractions he asked my opinion on what I would choose for an extra punishment? The options of mouth soaping and enemas had the butterflies going in my belly. The fact that Daddy was making me actively involved in deciding what my punishment should entail was disconcerting as well as chastening.
When I greeted Daddy at the door I was a bundle of nerves. But when he saw me the first thing he did was pull me in for a hug, I relaxed instantly, but soon I found myself standing in between Daddy’s knees contrite and unable to look him in the eye as he outlined my transactions and why we were there. Again Daddy insisted on my involvement over mute acceptance demanding responses from me. Finally the scolding was over, Daddy told me to strip down. Once I was naked he took a firm hold of my earlobe and led me to the bathroom. My stomach again erupted into butterflies, I was afraid he had decided on an enema as my extra punishment. I was interested in exploring enema play but as I was an enema virgin I didn’t want my first to be of the punishment variety. He agreed thankfully, but I was initiated into the practice of mouth soaping, as he opened a new bar of Irish spring soap and ran it under the faucet. Soon he was asking my to open wide and when he positioned the bar to his liking commanded me to bite down on it. He didn’t place the bar so deep but biting down on it coated my teeth and my tongue was pressed flat against the bottom of the bar. It was SUPER YUCKY DISGUSTING!!! I was so embarrassed especially as the suds escaped my mouth and dripped down my chin as he again began scolding me. Involuntary shudders wracked my body as the tasted imbedded on my tongue causing my mouth to water even more. Finally he removed the bar and let me spit and rinse. He kindly gave me all the time I needed to rinse all the residue away before ear marching me back to the bedroom and placing me in the corner. As I stood on the corner Daddy didn’t say a word as he unpacked his implements and made his final decision on what he would use for my spanking. The lack of speaking made the sounds of him unpacking his toy bag almost echo on the silence of the room and my mind was planted firmly on my upcoming punishment. He finally called me from the corner, my eyes were immediately drawn to the plastic bath brush laid on the bed. My bottom clenched in reaction but I wasn’t given much time to contemplate as I was once again drawn to stand in between Daddy’s knees as he once again drew me into a brief discussion about why I was there. He required me to verbally agree that I had asked for him to help me, that I had broken the rules, and ask for my spanking. This brought back the feelings of guilt and contrition and I felt the blush that overtook my faces as I quietly asked for Daddy to spank my naughty bottom. As soon I spoke the words Daddy helped me position myself over his lap. I immediately felt vulnerable with my bottom in the air my hands on the mattress on front of me. I felt Daddy’s hand grip my hip and adjust me slightly do I was firmly in place and I braced myself with for the warm up of his hand spanking. The slaps started firm and fairly closely spaced. I jumped at first when they started but steeled myself to lie still as I felt the individual sting of each swat. Daddy remained silent and I followed suit until the sting of each swat began to blend into the next and a dull burn began to build. At that point I began to whimper and yelp with the impact of his hand my hands clenched and I began to wiggle in Daddy’s hold. The tone of this spanking definitely began to differ from my first initiation spanking and my wiggles and whimpers did not effect the intensity with which Daddy’s hand rained down on my bottom. Soon I was using my words saying how sorry I was, how I would be a good girl, it wouldn’t happen again. Daddy would return with a comment on how red my bottom was becoming or how he hoped I was sorry all the while continuing. My wiggles became more frantic, my feet began to kick up in an attempt to break his hold or as a shield against his strong strokes. At one point I instinctually brought my hands back to cover my flaming and throbbing bottom, Daddy grabbed them and pinned them to the base of my spine and adjusted me on his lap. I was breathing heavily and sobs were being held back by sheer force of will. Daddy then took up the bath brush. With the first stroke I felt the weight of it as a searing sting overlapped the fire in my bottom and it was with the second swat that my sobs and squeals began in earnest. My promises and apologies were repeated over and over and my throat burned and I tried to drag in enough breath to utter the right words to get him to stop. Each steady hard swat was like fire and I began to lunge forward and buck up in an attempt to dislodge myself from his lap. The only thought I had was of the fire burning in my bottom. That I had put myself there by breaking the rules. I was not sure how much more I could take when the swats stopped and Daddy flipped me over and sat me in his lap. The agony of the moment my hot bottom seated on his hard leg had me yelping but was soon forgotten as he wrapped his arms around me and I melted into his shoulder and I sobbed and shook. He rocked me and soothed me, telling me it was all done. And as I calmed down I felt relieved it was over and proud that I had taken my punishment. Afterwards Daddy made this Babygirl feel much better, though the ache of my spanking stayed with me for a few days after, reminding me every time I sat down it would be best to follow Daddy’s rules. Thank you Daddy.