runonwords
Running on Words
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Quand la famille qui t'accueille ne se contente pas de t'héberger ...
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I was punished last night.
Daddy came into the bedroom and stood over me with that look on his face. I instinctively tried to look away, but he took my hands and landed several firm slaps to my right cheek.
He told me to roll over and pulled off my sweats and panties. I heard him digging through the box of implements before the sharp smack of the leather crop came down on my ass. Then another, and another, and another.
Don’t get me wrong, the riding crop isn’t really something I would consider painful, but it’s got a bite to it.
It’s hard to keep still as he starts working my inner thighs, making me promise to behave for the remainder of the evening.
Then the real punishment began.
He thrust his fingers into my pussy and his thumb into my ass. I was so desperate that I found myself fucking them like a depraved hand puppet.
Just as I was about to orgasm, he pulled his hand away and I felt the tip of his cock around my asshole. I pushed out a big breath, hoping it would ease the discomfort of him pushing the rest of the way in.
And so commenced the fuckening. This wasn’t just anal, this was punishment. While I’m always free to safeword, something about taking the discomfort of a punishment is important to me, so I buried my face into the pillows and cried.
He finished inside me and pulled me to his chest. I cried for a while after we were done, but it was a cathartic cry. I felt refreshed and relaxed.
Honestly, though, I never thought that anal would be a more effective punishment than spanking for me. Boy, was I wrong.
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My favorite ways to put disobient girls in their place;
A firm slap followed by a stern “Excuse me”?
Bending her over mid sentence for inspection. It’s hard to sass when you’re exposed like that.
Grabbing a fistful of her hair, forcing her head up to meet my gaze, and saying “mind your manners”.
Pulling her over my lap for a quick, but hard spanking. It should be under 2 minutes, but intense enough to remind her it could go a *lot* longer.
Making her kneel beside you while you’re finishing something up. Stuffing her panties in her mouth and warning her not to drop them is an added bonus.
Cuffing her hands behind her then exposing her tits. Reminding her that she’s eye candy needs to drop the attitude.
Yanking her pants to her knees, grabbing a tight hold of her neck, and marching her to the corner. Make her hold whatever position you prefer once she’s there, but her struggling to keep up and the look on her face while you remind her who’s in charge and what you’re going to do to her for misbehaving is perfect.
Making her strip naked for a spanking. Pull her over your lap, and make her sit there for a while before you actually begin. Spank her, make her get on her knees and apologize, then pull her back over your lap to finish the spanking. That keeps her off balance and submissive.
Grabbing her cheeks with one hand, forcing her mouth open, spitting inside it, closing her mouth, forcefully telling her to swallow, then sweetly asking “what were you saying”?
Lastly; Roughly pull her over your lap like you’re going to spank her, but don’t. Instead, play with her pretty little pussy. Edge her. Get her close to orgasm, then put her on her knees. Inform her that only good girls get to cum, and sense she can’t behave, she doesn’t get to cum. Use her mouth for the rest of the night, whenever you want. She’ll be soaked, with only the promise that maybe in the morning, you’ll let her her. That attitude fixes itself, every time.
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I got my ass beat today, but I couldn’t stay still bent over the counter so Daddy hooked his arm through mine and I held on for dear life with my face buried into his bicep. Then he put some ice on it and told me to finish cleaning the kitchen while he ran out to the car for something.
He came in with flowers and wiped my tears away and then led me to the couch by my hair, revoked my breathing privileges, and fucked me until I saw stars.
Happy Saturday, y’all.
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Helena Bonham-Carter in Lady Jane throws a massive tantrum when told she is to be married off. She is sent to the gallery to be birched for her defiance in front of the female staff.
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Up until I met my husband, my experience with men has been mostly painful. Starting with my father and ending in marriage, I’d long been convinced that something was wrong with me.
How many men can abuse, violate, and use you before you start to doubt yourself?
Up until I met my husband.
Actually, up until I met my husband, had his baby, and read a week’s worth of chats on his social media.
I know it’s not my fault. None of what any man has ever done to me has been my fault.
It’s just that I deserve it.
Up until this past Thursday, I had no evidence that there was anything still wrong with me.
At this point, no one can convince me otherwise.
The worst part is watching my tiny human, who greets me with a “Hi, Sweetie,” as he settles into my lap and wondering when he will realize what all other men seem to already know.
The ultimate heartbreak is looming and that part of me waits to die.
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Yes.
I admire people who can share their vulnerability. It shows that they’re emotionally strong and eager to grow. Many people think that vulnerability is a sign of weakness, but in truth, it’s a sign of strength and resilience.
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“Put your hands down.”
I don’t move.
“Put your hands down, please.”
It was almost a whisper. Something about the softness in his command made the submissive in me actually WANT to submit for the first time in a quite a while.
The sound of a sharp smack echoes in the dark and I sink to the floor, making a home for myself in the corner.
“Get up,” he says while wrapping his hands around my ribs, pulling me to my feet.
“Shhhhhh,” he coos while rubbing my back, “No more tears.”
He half carries me to the couch where I lay in his lap, curled up tight, sinking into the safety of his hands brushing through my hair and his fingers just barely tracing along my cheekbone.
Fast forward to an hour later. It’s a double feature: me, nauseous and nursing a popsicle in bed, and Daddy, coming in for a kiss and a BITE of my motherfucking popsicle.
When I tell you this man leaned over to kiss my forehead and chomp on my popsicle in the same breath, I mean he BIT it. I don’t know about you, but it’s pretty much illegal to take a bite, especially the first bite, of another person’s frozen dessert. Lick if you must. Bite if you have a death wish.
Anyway, I was TRIGGERED. I immediately got up, walked out the kitchen, and attempted to throw it away. I was met pretty quickly with a hand around my wrist.
“Don’t you dare throw that away.”
Listen, I realize that my reaction was a little heavy, but between my period, reflux, and shit ass day at work, I’d had enough.
By this point I’m pretty angry and my anxiety is so high that I’m having motor ticks (super attractive, I know).
There we are, double arm wrestling in the kitchen. I’m losing and he’s contaminated my popsicle, so I do the only thing I can do at this point and I chuck it on the floor. Not only are there little frozen raspberry bits scattered over the hardwoods, but there’s a trickle of juice dripping down the side of Daddy’s face.
You know those moments where time almost stops and you realize just how fucked you are? AND THEN YOU LAUGH BECAUSE POPSICLE JUICE ON A BALD HEAD IS FUCKING FUNNY BUT FOLLOWING THAT LAUGH IS IMMEDIATE REGRET?
Yeah, me neither.
I’d like to take this moment to thank Trader Joe’s for their craftsmanship in regard to cooking utensils. My appreciation for a good silicone spatula has seen quite the shift.
Over the counter, spanking hard and fast. I’m crying (shock) and so overwhelmed by the pain that I drop to my knees. Don’t worry, though, Daddy manages to stand over top of me, holding me in place between his legs, and continues to spank me.
“You clearly need a hard spanking,” he says. I can’t get over how calm he is. Maybe it’s because I’m such a wreck so almost anything is calm in comparison to me, but he states it so matter of factly that I find myself wrapped around his leg and accepting my punishment with minimal squirming.
Daddy tells me to go into the bedroom and lay down, so I do, with hot tears and squeezing my sore ass cheeks. He comes in a few minutes later and pulls my body closer to his. He strokes my hair and gently pushes my face into the bulge of his sweatpants.
I was so horny, but I had misbehaved, so Daddy got to have a blowjob and I got nothing. I actually cried harder over that than the spanking. I did, however, receive some pretty excellent back scratches once I’d calmed down. We were both surprised by my reaction to the no-sex-punishment. He felt bad.
Still, the submissive part of me enjoyed being punished and then used. My tears might have been more of a cathartic release than a response to the consequence itself.
Also, I never got another popsicle.
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My all time favourite mainstream movie spanking scene is in Blue Hawaii. I’ve combined all the scenes where the spoilt, bratty, attention seeking Ellie Corbett (Jenny Maxwell) lead up to her receiving her richly deserved over the knee spanking by Chad Gates (Elvis Presley).
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