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“Tandy, we’d only known each other less than a few weeks. I liked you a lot. I know you want to take care of me, but I guess I was afraid if you know how bad things were…”
“That I’d leave? Baby, I told you. This is no big deal. Financial problems are temporary. What bothers me is that you lied.”
“I wouldn’t call it a lie,” I say, but can tell by her stern expression this is a sorry attempt at redressing my omission. I try to lighten the mood with my news about the job interview with the garden center, and she’s pleased to hear it but not so much that she’s undeterred. The look she is giving me is stern enough to make me fidget.
“Are you going to spank me?” I ask and am immediately surprised at my own brashness.
Tandy regards me. “Do you think you deserve a spanking?”
“No,” I answer honestly. “Not for something like that.”
She smiles. “Do you want a spanking? Just to see what to expect if you lie to me again?”
This is a whole different question and one I didn’t expect. I look past her to another picture on the wall—a photograph similar to the one downstairs. In this shot, Tandy is leaning back in a chair with her legs spread. She’s holding both ends of a riding crop clenched between her teeth. She looks fierce.
Be careful what you wish for, I think. But I can’t help but to wish for the forbidden. I want to find out more about Tandy the strict Daddy, and more about myself.
“Yes,” I say quietly.
“Yes what, little girl?”
“Yes, Daddy.” My second time giving her that answer, this time with a darker thrill.
It’s a different Tandy standing before me now. A serious Tandy. She takes me by the hand and leads me through the apartment and down the hall to her bedroom. Like the rest of the place, it’s beautiful, with art adorning the walls. There’s an expansive king-sized bed covered in a white duvet, a soft contrast to the rough brick. There’s a pine trunk at the end of the bed. When she opens it, I gasp.
“Relics of a former life,” she tells me as I stare at what’s inside.
“I have a trunk of relics, too,” I say, thinking of the chest at the foot of my bed. “It’s far less interesting.”
“Since you’re learning to tell the truth, so which of these do you think would be suitable for a naughty little girl who lies to her Daddy?”
I approach the open the trunk tentatively. Inside are the tools of Tandy’s trade as a former domme. Paddles and crops and wicked-looking tawses with trailing leather thongs. There are other things, too, and I’m not certain what they are, but I am certain that the thought of Tandy using any of them on me makes my pussy clench with need.
I reach down and pick up a small, thin paddle.
“I thought this was the one you’d pick.” She takes it and brings it down on her open hand. I flinch as a tingle runs through my body.
Tandy leads me to the bed. Sitting on the edge, she guides me over her lap. My breathing is shallow, my senses heightened by anticipation and the stirrings of a delicious dread. She puts the paddle on the bed so that it’s right in front of my face. She lifts the hem of my dress. Her hand roams and squeezes the cheeks of my ass then dips between my legs.
“My bad little girl,” she says, her voice stern. “She’s wet.”
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” I say.
“Oh, you don’t have to apologize for that. I like it that my little girl is excited for her punishment, but she needs to know it’s going to hurt.”
I whimper at this pronouncement and a quiver runs through my body as my panties are lowered over my hips. Tandy skims them down to mid-thigh. She’s lecturing me about honesty, about how it’s the foundation of a good relationship, about how she expects me to come to her with problems, how she expects me to work on trusting her. She tells me this isn’t one-sided, that she’ll be honest with me always.
She reaches for the paddle. The wood feels cool when she presses it against the warmth of my bare skin. She begins to move the paddle in circular motions, building the anticipation. Then she shifts and a split second later the silence of the room is broken by the crack of the paddle against skin and my own sharp cry.
It hurts, although I know it’s far less than what she’s capable of doing. This just heightens my growing excitement. I’m at the mercy of this woman—this beautiful, caring, dominant woman. I grip the blanket, holding tight to keep from reaching back. I want to take my spanking like a good girl, and when she praises me for this the pulsing between my legs grow stronger.
I still squirm. I can’t help it. Tandy ramps up the intensity of the punishment, rubbing my ass between blows.
“Such a good girl. Look how well you’re taking your punishment. I’m so proud of you. You need this. You know you need this. You’re being so brave for Daddy.”
Tears flow down my face from pain, but also from genuine shame that I lied to her when I could have told the truth. I’ve never been disciplined by someone who loved me. I never knew how much I craved it. As she continues to spank me, I experience two releases. I cry and – to my surprise – I come; ripples of pleasure radiate from the aching place between my thighs. My ass is on fire but I’m burning from the inside out with need.
Tandy tells me that if this were a real punishment, we wouldn’t be having sex. But I’d asked for this so when I stand and start pulling her clothes off, she responds with equal fervor. Soon we’re naked on her bed, pressing our pelvises together as we kiss.
