In case of an emergency…

… apply liberally.

Off High Street, down a narrow twisted cobbled alley barely wide enough for a pony trap, a turquoise door propped open beckoned the footsore weary tourist with the promise of an adventure. Gleaming in the late afternoon rays, the gaily painted easel with the large red arrows pointed the way to Curio & Osities Antiques.

“Daddy? Do we have time to go shopping there?”
Erik Jorgensen gave his new bride Lisle an indulgent smile. “I thought my little girl wanted an ice cream?”
“I do, Daddy, pistachio and caramel sea salt, but I wanna see what cool stuff they have. Please?”
“Alright, but you still owe me ten spanks for going over your stuffie budget. Money isn’t mined by dwarves you know.”
Lisle made a disgruntled face. “I know that! Everyone knows that money is farmed by unicorns!” She squealed and raced down the alley after he playfully swatted the back of her frilly purple skirt.
Following at a more leisurely pace, Erik couldn’t help laughing at his little girl’s antics. The honeymoon thus far had been a wondrous romp between amazing sex, scintillating history and more discipline than he could ever have believed possible. While Lisle was a thoroughly modern professional woman who enjoyed a good stiff drink and a cigar after work, little girl loved nothing more than laying over her Daddy’s knee being soundly spanked.
Bratty or obedient, it didn’t matter, little girl took great pains in plotting her next session. Erik certainly had no objections, and in fact, allowed her to fill the toy chest with carefully curated implements. For her, spanking wasn’t a black and white issue for punishing misdeeds, but so enjoyable, she insisted on bending over at every opportunity. Her favorite saying was: ‘Daddy, if it’s not pink, don’t stop to think.’
By the time he wandered into the brightly lit shop with that indefinable odor of old stuff, little girl was already out of right; although he could hear her sighs and excited exclamations. Examining a bin of etchings, he didn’t bat an eye when she came rushing up at full tilt, blond ponytail snapping behind her.
“Daddy, Daddy! Look what I found? Look. Look.”
Seeing the quirky expression on the proprietress’ face, Erick sent her a short nod and gave full attention to his wife. “What did Daddy say about inside voices, little girl?”
Scuffing her shoe, she pouted very briefly then held out the object she was clutching. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I got so excited I forgot.”
“I accept your apology, however that will be ten more spanks for your total.”
“Okay,” She shrugged. “See?”
He plucked the item from her hand and turned it over several times admiring the craftsmanship. He addressed the owner who was clearly fascinated by the conversation. “What can you tell me about this piece?”
Visibly collected herself, she replied without hesitation, “That is an early 19th-century ebony and ivory hairbrush from Spain. The bristles are boar and was likely part of a bridal trousseau. It’s quite unique having the ivory inlays in the handle. Most brushes are either one or the other.”
Erik smacked lightly upon his palm. “It has a nice heft and impact.”
Lisle tugged on his jacket sleeve and whispered in his ear.
“Pardon me. My little girl would like to know if there is somewhere more private we can test before purchasing.” He smiled at his blushing bride of one week and lowered his voice. “She’s very picky about spanking implements.”
With noticeable concern, the woman asked Lisle if she was okay. Color suffused her face as well, when the reply was a forthright and blunt, “I am fine, thank you. I need to know how the brush feels on my bare bottom first, before Daddy buys it for me.”
Bemused and bit bewildered, the owner nevertheless didn’t want to lose the sale, so she led them to her back office, and closed the door once they were inside. Erik and Lisle listened for her footsteps to fade.
“What do you bet she’ll sneak back to listen, Daddy?”
“Your ass.”
Giggling with happiness, little girl draped herself over his lap, and fidgeted while he raised up her skirt and drew down her sparkly heart panties. “There will be twenty spanks now. If you like this brush, it’s way over budget, it will be one hundred and fifty later at the hotel before dinner.”
“Yes, Daddy. You may fire when ready.”
The smooth patina of the ebony wood impacted little girl’s bare bottom with a loud ‘splat’. Erik laid the first ten down the right buttock, from crown to crease. “How does that feel?”
“Good. It smarts a lot though.”
“Excellent. The last ten will be harder.”
And they were. Crisp cracks, unmistakable for anything other than a spanking, rang out in the room. The brush sank in the buttery flesh and bounced back with a soft recoil.
“I want it, Daddy. I’ll gladly pay the price tonight. One hundred and fifty strokes as hard as the last one.”
After purchasing the brush, and and watching the owner lick her lips when little girl told her ‘it’s not polite to eavesdrop’, Erik towed Lisle out of the shop before anything more was said… or done.
“She needed a spanking, Daddy.”
“Do you want me to go back?”
Lisle pondered for a moment and then said with a thoughtful expression, “As much as I think she deserves it, I want you all to myself. For now.”
A very happy little girl skipped back up the stone alley hand-in-hand with the bestest Daddy ever.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Driving in my car

One of the many things I love about the D/s blogging community is finding new bloggers to enjoy. Last week I came across a new website called, Kalidwen’s little spankings, Musings & fessées: that’s French for spankings. The first blog post is entitled, And so it begins, and explains why the blog was created. What drew my praise and attention was the exquisite drawings of women being spanked, accompanied by wonderful short stories of spankings. I asked Kalidwen to draw a picture of a spanking for this week’s Wicked Wednesday prompt of, The Back Seat. The drawing that was sent to me far exceeded my expectations. I hope all of my readers find the blog as fascinating as I do, and follow Kalidwen on the journey of submission. Contact via comment at Kalidwen’s little spankings, if you would like to commission illustrations for commercial work.

The Back Seat Spanking by Kalidwen.©

“Turn up the radio, Daddy! I can’t hear over the rain!”
Goofing off in the back seat with Cassidy seemed like a fun idea at the time. Whacking each other with stuffies and making silly faces, was not calculated to make their Daddy Doms mad, but was because they were bored.
“Are we there yet?” the pair of bratty wives whined in petulant chorus.
The thunderous drumming upon the metal roof wasn’t loud enough to drown out the simultaneous ‘Girls!’ and deep growls from the front seats. Delilah shivered, ducked her head and peered through her fringe at her bestest friend in the whole wide world. They couldn’t resist mischievously smirking, and carefully returned Mortimer Bear and Stanley Pony to the middle, tucking the stuffies safely behind the latched seat belt.
“I saw that look, Delilah. You promised you’d behave today!”
“Yes, Daddy.” A long freighted pause. “But I’m bored! You promised I’d have a really, really fun 30th birthday party, not be swept away like Noah’s Ark!”
“And has Daddy ever not done what he promised?”
She crossed her arms and pouted. “No,” she sulkily muttered. “You’re perfect in every way.”
“Before we get to the party—if it ever stops pouring—your Daddy promises to give you a well-earned reminder to behave.”
“That’s not fair! It’s my birthday!”
“And what do naughty little girls get from their loving Daddies on their birthdays?”
Cassidy clapped her hands with excitement. “Ooh, ooh, I know, I know! They get spankings! Yeah!”
“Shut up! Daddy wasn’t talking to you!”
“Don’t be such a brat, Delilah! I was only trying to help!”
“GIRLS!”
Wiggling on their tushes, the girls chimed in unison, “Sorry, Daddy.”
“I was going to say, Delilah, that nice birthday girls get yummy spankings and cummies. However,” he said sternly, capturing her attention in the rear view mirror, “you obviously need my help getting out of your bad mood. Isn’t that right?”
Delilah’s hand crept into Cassidy’s comforting grip during the lecture. She didn’t want a spanking in front of her friend, but it wouldn’t be the first time they’d run afoul of the rules. Neither Daddy had the least compunction about turning their little girl over a knee at the first sign of trouble, whether alone or not.
She sighed. “Yes, Daddy. I’ll be good now.” Delilah stared out the water smeared side window. It seemed to be lightening up.
“Ah!” her Daddy exclaimed. “Exactly what I was looking for.”

The SUV smoothly swung into the layby with a loud splash through the puddles. The rain had now slackened to a light mist. Like two synchronized robots, both Daddies exited the front with feral grace, opened the rear doors, and lifted out their charges with a gentle assist.
Delilah’s Daddy swiftly slid across the leather bench seat to the middle, dislodging the stuffies as he went. Blushing profusely when he patted his lap, she awkwardly crawled back inside until only her lower legs dangled over the wet sill.
“Don’t let them watch, Daddy!” she cried out when she felt him unbutton and tug her trousers down. “It’s too embarrassing! I’ll never be able to look at them again!”
Picking up Mortimer Bear and Stanley Pony, he reached forward and set them softly, facing backwards, in the front passenger seat. “There. They can’t see you now.”
“Thank you, Daddy,” she whispered and rested her cheek on the warm leather where Cassidy had sat.
The spanking was only a few minutes, but very hard; his firm hand covering all the plump bottom exposed by the skimpy thong he’d allowed her to wear. Delilah peered back over her shoulder through blurry eyes at Cassidy and her Daddy, who were avidly watching her punishment, huddled together under an umbrella.

The sky wasn’t the only thing crying that day.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Up up and away spanking

IMG_5156
Monthly prompt for Friday Flash #7 ‘Wonder Wheel’ based on this picture for writing flash fiction.

“Let me rub your tummy.”

“It hurts!”

“Didn’t Daddy tell you not to eat that corn dog?”

“But it looked so good!”

“I’m sure it did, but after the cotton candy and fried dough and tempura veggies you know my little girl gets a rumbly tumbly.”

Caroline pouted and stomped her foot. “I wanted to ride the Wonder Wheel!”

Jim sighed at his thirty-five year old wife’s childish antics. Every time they went to the fair Caroline reverted to a petulant brat stuffing her face and then whining the rest of the night. Luckily for him, not so much for her, their DD/lg marriage was tailor made for situations like this.

If, strolling the Midway with your main squeeze during that sultry summer night, you cast your gaze up, up and away, you might have caught a glimpse of a distraught crying face in the window of the uppermost car. And maybe, over the raucous organ music and excited shrieking, you might have heard a rhythmic slapping of a hard hand on a bare bottom and abject sobbing as Daddy taught Little Caroline a valuable dietary lesson one spank at a time.

 

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