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Islander Weekend
by zprymantis@smilingwithteeth.com
Islander Weekend
by Zprymantis
I was completely in zoey mode as soon as he walked in the door.
We kissed and I called him Daddy, then the magic came true. When
children use their imaginations, they are never bored or lonely.
They can turn a long car trip into a space ship ride; they can
turn an ordinary house into a castle.
We went to a hockey game and Daddy bought me a pretzel to eat.
I gritted my teeth and chewed it; losing is so hard. I wanted
so badly for our team to win. Daddy somehow knew that a chewy
pretzel to chomp on would make his little girl feel better, and
it did. Once we realized the game was lost, he put his Islander
cap on my head, and he put his arm around me. It was great simply
being there with Daddy, and sharing a loss together is even more
important then sharing a victory apart.
That night Daddy saw to my bath, and helped me brush my teeth.
He loaded my toothbrush with paste and I looked up obediently
and opened wide. He scrubbed them and was patient when I bit down
on the brush. He laughed as I rinsed and spit on command. He had
that sparkle that you only see in the eyes of a little girl's
loving Daddy.
Daddy gave me a bedtime spanking to help me sleep after the excitement
of the hockey game, and to remind me that my bottom belonged to
him when I have been a naughty girl. He pulled me across his lap
as he sat on the edge of the bed. He lowered my tweety bird pajama
pants, and warmed my white cotton panties with his hand. As he
tugged down my panties, I cried. Daddy spanked me with his hand,
but it hurt much worse then when he uses a hairbrush, because
my bottom had cane marks from earlier in the day. Daddy said he
would wait till tomorrow to spank me with the heavy wooden bathbrush.
That is what I thought about as I nestled under the covers, one
hand rubbing my bare bottom, and the other curled near my mouth.
I slept wonderfully. I slept the sleep of a well-spanked and well-loved
little girl.
The next day, when my eyes opened, my first thoughts were of the
wooden bathbrush. It was long and heavy. It would surely hurt
at least as much as Daddy's biggest hairbrush. I snuggled under
the covers and contemplated touching myself while thinking about
the wooden bathbrush, but then I changed my mind. It is much better
to feel tingly and excited during a hard spanking, then mellow
and satisfied.
I woke Daddy up with lots of kisses and hugs, and after breakfast,
he suggested that I lie across his lap as he sat on the couch,
so he could rub my bottom. He wanted me to relax my tummy so I
could go potty. I was a little worried that Daddy might spank
me, but he assured me that this was not a punishment. He said
it would feel nice and I believed him, especially when he started
gently rubbing my back and legs.
As I rested across Daddy's lap, we talked. He rubbed my back and
told me how later that day he would get a call from my teacher
at school. I told Daddy her name was Sister Isabelle as I felt
his hands lightly rubbing the backs of my thighs. Daddy told me
how upset he would be that I had been naughty enough to warrant
a call home from a teacher. I told Daddy how I had been caught
writing in the prayer book and adding my own illustrations to
the pictures. Daddy lowered my pajama pants and placed his hand
on my panties as he told me how he would promise Sister Isabelle
to take me home and punish me.
I whined a little as Daddy lowered my panties, but Daddy reminded
me that he was simply rubbing my bottom, and was not punishing
me yet. Daddy said that when I am a naughty girl, my bottom belongs
to him, to punish as he sees fit. He kept his hand gently messaging
my bottom as he talked about walking me home from school and sending
me upstairs to my room. He discussed the way he always spanked
me on occasions like this. It would be different from most of
my spankings, this was a punishment concerning my behavior at
school. There was a certain ritual for these types of spankings.
He would pull me over his lap, immediately raise my school skirt
and lower my panties, then rest his hand on my bottom cheek so
that one finger would curl into the crack. It would remind me,
that my bottom was bare, and that Daddy could see everything.
Then Daddy's hand would remain there, just like that, as he talked
and lectured. He would ask me questions. He wanted to know that
I knew exactly why he was punishing me. He would expect me to
answer and then when he was satisfied that I had answered all
his questions in the proper way, his hand would finally leave
my bottom, and he would pick up the large wooden bath brush. It
would rest for just one moment on my bottom, so that I could feel
how heavy it was, then he would lift it up, and bring it down
hard. He would continue spanking me, with no breaks or rubbing
in-between until every inch of my bottom was red and sore. He
would stop only when he knew that sitting down would hurt for
at least a week.
As Daddy told me this, his finger was gently tickling it's way
into the crack between my bottom cheeks, and his finger stopped
and rested on my anus. He asked me if I had to go potty yet as
his finger touched me and pushed just a little on my tight bottom
muscle.
I told my Daddy that instead of going potty, I *needed* to get
dressed in my schoolgirl clothes and play - right now!!
Daddy removed his hand from my bottom... and that is exactly what
we did.
© 2002 by zprymantis@smilingwithteeth.com, not to be reposted or distributed
without permission |