A Sarah Jane story
Hello everyone, it's sarah jane.
Just look at these socks! Ohhhh my word. I'd be in so much trouble with Daddy! I'm not sure who this young lady is but she probably has a very red bum! I know I would. (And by "young lady", of course I mean a full-grown adult woman, over the age of consent, which she clearly is, even though her attire does not suggest this).
As many of you know, after Daddy and I shared a glorious moment of loving devotion followed by some filthy-hot sex, I moved in with him as his 24/7 submissive. His home is not a full-blown fetish and BDSM studio like Mistress Andrea has, but he does have some specialty rooms, designed specifically for my discipline and correction.
If you remember from last time, there is a long hallway with multiple doors and a stark, lifeless stool facing a full-length mirror. These last few weeks, now under Daddy's roof and Daddy's rules, I have spent some time on the unforgiving rigidness of that stool, nursing a freshly spanked bottom.
Why, you might ask?
Two words...that I am getting to know painfully well...QUALITY CONTROL.
I learned about quality control while under the care of Mistress Andrea at her Facility. Standing with my ankles together, walking on tiptoe when not in heels, or having to perform a curtsy when entering or leaving a room that my dominant was in.
These were essentially my service standards while at The Facility. I was in-service always, as a submissive sex slave. Now, happily in the service of my Daddy, usually dressed like the above I might add, things are a little more...detailed, I guess I could call it. Daddy takes my service standards to the next level! I think he has a little bit of OCD.
Hehe. (Sorry Daddy, but you DO and it's true! *sticks tongue out*). Fuck, I'm gonna be sorry for that one!
It was Daddy's attention to fine details that ultimately landed me in the hallway with these dreadful rooms.
Such as:
If I present myself to Daddy with uneven socks, uneven knee socks or stockings, like the young lady above, I am given a spanking on the spot!
"C'mon Sarah Jane, you're better than that!" Daddy will scold.
"You know better than that!" And so on...
Then, regardless of where we are or who else is around, my bottom will be bare and I will be immediately over his knee. His heavy hand will take things well beyond the scope of a warm-up. You know that point when a man's strong hand starts to feel like a wooden paddle?
Daddy will then reach for an implement of opportunity. Wooden spoon or spatula if we're near or in the kitchen, a hairbrush from a bathroom, but he usually just takes off his belt, hauls me back across his knee and thrashes me good and hard.
Between me kicking and flailing-off articles of clothing during these spankings and Daddy stripping pieces off me, I always end up fully nude. Then I get the dreaded, "go wait on the stool."
My hands cover my flaming bum cheeks and I find myself doing this little scamper/scurry run, usually while sobbing, as I make my way upstairs and onto the rigid stool to wait for my actual punishment. The one that fits the crime and the reason for these rooms.
A run in my hosiery? Ohhh you better believe I'd be in for it!
Uneven knee socks, caught wearing flats, not walking on my toes when not in heels...White sock bottoms that are not looking so white anymore, dirty or dingy? The list goes on.
You probably don't have to guess what will happen to me, after my spanking and now nervously waiting in the hallway for the corresponding specialty room.
This particular room, for quality control violations relating to my feet, has only one bondage apparatus for the purpose of securing and displaying my soles for correction.
This room really sucks. But, will my knee socks ever be uneven again? Would I present myself before Daddy with a run in my hose? Certainly not. His quality control is at least effective. I only have to touch the hot stove once.
There is a small array of implements displayed in this room. Light riding crops, small flicker-whips and leather slappers. There are even tens-unit pads for my bare soles. Those REALLY fuckin' suck!
What do you think of this next one?
Visible tags left in place and not clipped from panties. Do you see it?
I told you Daddy has OCD!
He's not entirely wrong though. I am usually made to wear full sheer panties with my school uniforms and a lot of my pretty, pink sleepwear and lingerie is sheer or lace. I can see how an unsightly tag just screws up the whole aesthetic here.
See the tag in my panties? Daddy brought this to my attention and I ended up in this pose, so I could be shamed and humiliated by having to show all of you!
Then I was thrashed on-the-spot, right over Daddy's knee. His belt came next, always on the bare!
Once again I found myself on the "sobbing stool" as I like to call it now, up in the hallway, humiliated and naked with only my reflection and my thoughts to keep me occupied. But which room would I be headed to? This one could have gone either way. There is a room just for the correction of my pussy where I am secured and presented like this:
Both rooms are just like the feet-whipping room, with a single bondage apparatus to secure and present me for punishment. It's so embarrassing, to be bound and displayed this way!
Tags in panties, not having my princess parts shaved bald for Daddy...caught wearing improper panties or failing to give myself a good, soapy enema before Daddy fucks my bum, could all land me in either of these two rooms, or BOTH!!
Again, each room has a collection of whips, straps and floggers of a size and weight suitable for my pussy and bum hole. Each room comes with the electro-pads as well, to shock my pussy lips, clit and anus as part of my correction.
Lastly, there is a room dedicated to my breasts and nipples. I call this the "tit room". For the life of me I could not think of any manner of quality control relating to my tits. Maybe you readers can help? Like not being in a bra or something, when I'm suppose to be or not getting erect nipples when I should? I dunno...
Leave it to my loving Daddy though...he found something! Of course he did.
These are a beautiful pair of nipple clamps with bells that Daddy got for me. As you can see they are the alligator style with the little tension wheel on the side, to reduce or increase the pinch. He likes to have me wear these when he fucks me doggystyle. My boobs dangle helplessly and the motion of Daddy pounding me in the ass or cunt, causes my tits to bounce and flop about; thus, causing me to jingle!
*hands over eyes* It's so dreadfully humiliating!
Every nipple is different. Some people clamp just the nipple while others want them to bite the areola and the nipple together. For that reason, Daddy lets me adjust the clamps myself and set the level of pinch. He tells me that he wants a decent grip but nothing excruciating. Just enough that they stay in place, like an ornamental decoration.
Well...
The other day, Daddy was fucking me from behind. I had my bells on and I was gagged. Everything was going fine until one of my nipple bells flew off and hit the floor, because I didn't have it clamped tightly enough.
I thought nothing of it at the time. Daddy finished and came into my hot cunt, but then I got a very firm spanking, still gagged with jizz oozing out of me!
I was shocked when I heard, "go wait on the stool." Then it dawned on me, my clamps! So, I was introduced to the final room I had not seen yet. My "tit room".
The setup was simple as usual, just one singular apparatus of bondage to present the area for correction. I was blindfolded and shock-pads were applied first. I think they were set to about a 7, then I was left alone to endure the correction.
When Daddy finally returned, the pads were removed but my blindfold stayed on. He didn't want me seeing and flinching or anticipating the whipping that came next, all across my boobs and nipples. I was a very sorry young lady after about 25 per nipple with a riding crop. I now understood the importance of quality control at Daddy's house.
But if I know all these rules now and adhere to them...these rooms will be obsolete no?
I wouldn't purposely do something just to end up back in the hallway...would I?
Hmmm. Those stocking seams can be tricky...and it would drive Daddy bananas! Should I push my luck?
sarah jane xoxo
Continued in: Pinch Hitter
