Difficult Choices

Continued from: Secretary Fantasy

After a wonderful session with my "secretary" Bella, I had a blissful sleep that night. Summer got home late and nuzzled in beside me, her silken jammies caressing and cooling my skin. She was so stealthy that I actually didn't wake up, despite her big-spooning me.  

I was however, woken up this morning by high-pitched squealing and giggling, coming from downstairs...Cassandra must have been back from her date with Carley and Robbie. It seems their date was an all-nighter. My maternal den-mother instinct took over. I can't say I approved of this out-call, impromptu sleepover, she only just met this couple. 

As I entered the room to investigate and possibly scold, there's my wife with her hand around Cassie's throat, giggling and urging her to spill the beans on all the dirty and depraved details of her threesome evening. 

Next thing I know, these two end up wrestling around on the floor and laughing, as Cassandra begins to describe her experience with the British couple. 

"Robbie said he felt faint, cuz we fucked him so hard!" Cassie blurted out. 

"Cassandra Leigh Goth!" I barked at her, trying to force a judgey-face but fighting off laughter at the same time. 

"Whaaaat?" She mewled at me. "You know how much I hate dick! I was only there for Carley."

"Will you be seeing these two again?" I asked, genuinely curious. 

Cassandra just smiled, and bucked Summer off her hips, before declaring that she had to go shower and change, she had a client booked for today. 

I was quite surprised. "Oh...Cassie, you have a booking for today!?" 

"Yes Ma'am. Some dude wants me to kick him in the balls." She abruptly replied, while Summer tickled her and they both laughed. 

"I have three booked for spankings Cassie." I remarked to her. 

"That's ok. He can go in the waiting room with the rest of them..."

 Amidst the renovations dear readers, we reinstated the dreaded waiting room. This time it is a bit more clinical, a bit more judicial, and housed in the cell-block area near the spanking court. Clients are booked in groups deliberately, to amplify their shame and humiliation, as they are made to wait for their session and listen to the sounds from down the hall, of wood and leather meeting bare flesh. 

Their stomachs will twist and sicken with butterflies, as fellow clients will ascend the stage to serve their mandatory cornertime at the conclusion of their sessions. 

Bondage and gags are used in the waiting area, along with spreader bars, to keep glistening female genitals spread and exposed to whomever is sitting across. Male's are spread also, to display the pathetic little nub of a chastity cage, that they are required to wear to their session.

**************

Paul was looking down at the floor in shame and dread, but his attention was soon drawn to the central stage. A flushed and tear-streaked mature woman stood, hands on her head, buttocks still crimson from her recent trip over my knee. 

The soft, humiliating sobbing accompanying each of her laboured breaths, served as a stark reminder of what awaited those brave (or foolhardy) enough to seek out my unique form of therapy. Paul's own face burned with empathy as he gazed at the poor woman's spanked bottom. He however, was not here for a spanking.  

His attention was snapped from a mere daydream to his ultimate, fetish nightmare, as Miss Cassandra entered the room. Her saunter and swagger was a whirlwind of dark beauty and unapologetic attitude. 

Fishnet stockings, once the purview of retro pin-ups, seemed reborn on her toned, dancer's legs, paired with bitchy jean shorts and Converse all-stars, that gave her an air of rebellious nonconformity. 

Paul's penis twitched in the confides of its cage as she approached. He drank-in the stunning beauty of this gothic princess, turned Dominatrix.  

"It's time, Paul," she hissed, her nails like daggers, roving over his naked and vulnerable form. 

"I trust you're prepared to make some difficult choices today?" 

Paul nodded in the affirmative, as his restraints were unlocked. His arms and legs flexed in relief, though his gaze remained fixed on Miss Cassandra, mesmerized by the studied cruelty dancing in her eyes. The gag, still lodged in his mouth, was slowly withdrawn, that sent a reservoir of saliva and drool cascading down his chin. With a gentle tug on his collar and leash, Miss Cassandra guided him out of the waiting room and into the unknown depths of her lair.  

"Listen up, because I don't repeat myself. You want out of that chastity cage, the pathetic symbol of your inadequacy as male, than it's going to cost you." Her leather glove cupped and cradled his dangling balls, like a coiling serpent.

"Are you willing to take a full-force kick to the balls, just to experience the thrill of freedom?" The cold calculation in her expression made it clear that she didn't particularly care which option he chose; his suffering was merely a means to an end. 

Tears welled up in Paul's eyes, as the brutal simplicity of Miss Cassandra's proposal ravaged his fragile ego. The sting of her disdain for men, seeped into his pores, infecting him with a genuine fear. Yet, after a moment's hesitation, he politely asked her if she would kick him in the balls, if it meant his penis could be free from the cage. 

Miss Cassandra moved with purpose, securing a gag into his mouth and blindfolding him with a silky scarf. As he stumbled, disoriented, she positioned him in the middle of the room and removed his chastity cage. Cassandra scoffed in disgust and raised her arms like she was using "the force", as his penis sprung to life before her eyes. 

She ordered his legs splayed open with feet firmly planted on the floor, she ordered his hands behind his back, and the silence that followed was oppressive, punctuated only by Paul's ragged breathing and whimpers of what was imminently going to happen. 

Just as his penis reached a fully erected and offensive state, the little Converse all-star connected with thunderous force. WHAM! 

Paul dropped in a heap to the floor, his mind recoiled, registering the sensation of his scrotum essentially imploding. He choked and sputtered into the ball gag, before Cassandra eventually helped him to his feet and into a chair. 

Without gentleness, she guided him toward the bondage chair, its cold leather awaiting his surrender. The restraints were secured with practiced ease, his limbs arranged to showcase his ultimate vulnerabilities. Spread-eagled, his throbbing testicles dangled like ripe fruit, trembling with every twitch of fear. With his blindfold removed, he was forced to watch her unlace her tiny runners and cast them aside. 

Ever so slowly, she reached for a tall pair of Doc Martin boots, black and perfectly polished. As Paul watched on in horror, Miss Cassandra slowly and deliberately drew each lace through the brass eyelets before snugging the strands tightly. 

As Paul was released from the chair, his poor legs surrendered, dropping him to his knees in a posture of abject submission. 

"Mercy, please Mistress...don't make me choose that, anything but..." 

She merely raised an eyebrow, her cruelty unwavering as she outlined the terms of his next choice. 

"Silence! You've been given two options to consider: endure a kick from my Doc Martin's" - she paused to admire the weight of her heavy footwear, - "or, submit to a pegging up your slutty little asshole."  

"This way, no matter what you decide, you'll be fucked like the bitch you've proven yourself to be!" 

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: Sinister Intent

 

   

Guilty as Charged

Continued from: Ethically Sourced

Here's Carley's conclusion of her fateful day at my Spanking Court, please enjoy and don't mind her eloquence in the language she uses...she's very well spoken ; ) 

Unbeknownst to Cassandra and I, Mistress had an ace up her sleeve when she entertained our pleas of not guilty, concealing a sinister smirk on her face. As it turned out, one of her gentleman clients, who sees her to be spanked, is an actual lawyer. Fuck! 

He even looked like a lawyer, with his cheap suit, 900-dollar shoes and a smug look on his face. 

Cassandra, my accomplice in crime, stood beside me, her lovely features pale and pinched, her grip on my hand tightening as Mistress Andrea (the Judge) began the proceedings. The charges - anilingus and lewdness - seemed to hang in the air like an unspoken promise, each syllable imbuing me with a sense of illicit thrill. 

Cassandra attempted a futile defence of herself, pleading with the court and making me blush in the process, when I heard her describe my own little bum hole. 

"The room was dark. I thought it was her pussy because she's so beautiful and pink back there."

"And the first time you made her cum, Miss Goth, is it safe to assume you knew it was her vagina then?" The lawyer attacked. 

"I was just cleaning it and it went off." Cassandra plead in her own defence.

After that line dropped, I glanced to Mistress Andrea who was doing her best to fight-off a giggle-fit behind the bench. 

"You were cleaning Miss Chapman's vagina and it just went off?" The lawyer repeated back to Cassie, his own voice cracking with the humour of it all. 

And with that, he bluntly turned to the bench and issued his final statement to the court. 

"The prosecution rests its case, your Worship."

With every fiber of my being screaming 'guilty,' I awaited the verdict, suspended in a state of exquisite butterflies. 

Mistress Andrea read our sentences to the court. I think mine was more lenient as I was only charged as a party to the offence. Nevertheless, I was still assigned 18 strokes of the judicial wooden paddle on my bare bum, and two months probation. 

Poor Cassandra, who still gripped my hand tightly during sentencing, would be receiving 36 strokes of the cane on the bare, and four months probation. 

Both sentences, to be carried out immediately before the court. 

The spanking bench, with its buckling leather restraints was produced, along with the caning stockade and finally the dreaded implements. A wicked thrill coursed through my veins like liquid fire, mingling with dread as I beheld the polished surface of the wooden paddle. My imagination ran wild with visions of not sitting comfortably for a week, and - dare I confess it? - a certain shameful exhilaration. 

The guards assisted us in removing our remaining dignity, the protective layers of clothing. Pants, then panties - each item surrendered like shed petals - until we were both naked from the waist down. A low whimper escaped my lips as reality crashed home; I would soon present my quivering flesh to the merciless gaze of the court. 

The guard's grip tightened on my upper arm, as I was lead to the spanking bench and restrained. 

The Judge's nod set the wheels of fate in motion, and with a deliberate slowness, the executioner approached, armed with the wooden paddle. 

Stroke after stroke followed until we reached the full 18, each one meticulously spaced to ensure maximum suffering. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill forth in a deluge of surrender. Yet even amidst this maelstrom of pain and humiliation, something perverse within me was thrilled with each brutal caress of the paddle. 

With my paddling complete, I was released from my crucible of correction and summarily deposited onto a hardwood pew of the courtroom, the unforgiving surface biting into my spanked bottom. From here, I was forced to sit quietly and witness Cassandra's ordeal unfold. 

My heart went out to my fellow transgressor, as the pretty guard flexed the cane in her hands, so sleek and unforgiving. 36 sizzling strokes followed, leaving her bare bum a network of fine lines, raised across her skin like stripes of shame. 

Amidst the fiery storm of pain and discipline, her very core responded with instinctual surrender, releasing a silken rivulet of arousal that glistened across her exposed pussy. My mouth watered at the spectacle before me, itching to explore the tender folds of her most intimate area. If only the constraints of the courtroom could be shed, I'd ravage her right on the spot. 

Alas, we soon found our wrists and ankles encircled in cold metal shackles, as we were led bare bottomed from the courtroom. Ball gags came next, an intrusive presence that muffled our whimpers of desire for each other. Locked securely into our cells, shackled and gagged. The court seemed to anticipate how we'd feel toward each other, after this ordeal, and decided to add this additional layer of torture. Jailed for one hour, to reflect on our punishments in silence. 

From my vantage point however, all I could reflect on was the area of the cellblock that I could see from my cell, and the sign that hung above it, illuminated with the words: 

"FEMALE PROBATION AREA"

The area looked like a stage, complete with directed lighting and a microphone boom, elevated and facing several rows of spectator seating. 

My stomach sank with a familiar sickness of butterflies as drool bubbled from my gag. I laid eyes on the apparatus that made up the centerpiece of this stage...

Female probation...

Written by: Carley Chapman 

Continued in: Fallen Angels

 

  

 

 

Tara Gregory: Wine Cellar

Continued from: Tara Gregory: Brazen

**Warning - This story contains taboo, family-dynamic, BDSM content** 

**Everyone depicted in this story and A.I. generated are adults, over the age of 18** 

The sun streamed through my bedroom windows as Daddy snuck into my room this morning and went down on me. Despite my dominant ministrations from the night before, I couldn't help but fall deeply into submission once again, as his strong hands gripped my throat while he ate me out in a diaper position. While I was basking in the afterglow of a powerful orgasm, Daddy announced that he had a surprise for me. 

I immediately rushed to the shower to start the day, and spent the next while dressing like a little girl for him and doing myself up to look like a doll. I selected an innocent lavender dress with little ankle socks and matching heels. I half-assumed the little socks would at least stir his memories of last night. 

A thrill ran through my body at the prospect of another secret shared between us. My curiosity piqued, I obediently followed him as he led me down the unfamiliar wooden staircase to the basement. The air grew noticeably colder, and the distant hum of furnaces gave way to an eerie white noise. My heartbeat quickened in anticipation, each echoing step down the hallway leading us further from the safety of the main house. 

Finally, we reached a heavy oak door that I had never noticed before, hidden amongst the shadows of the storage area. The metal lock clinked open under Daddy's firm hand, and he pushed it aside to reveal a dimly lit corridor. The scent of damp earth and aged wood wafted towards me, making my mouth water in excitement. I had no idea what awaited me beyond this threshold, but I trusted him completely. 

Hand in hand, we ventured down the labyrinth, my breath hitching with every click of my heels. As we rounded the corner, a vast space unfolded before us - a hidden wine cellar!

It's ancient stone walls were lined with countless bottles, casting a warm, golden glow onto the cold, damp floor. But as my eyes adjusted, I saw that this wasn't just any ordinary wine cellar. 

In a far corner of the room, my jaw dropped as I discovered an array of sinister objects that seemed out of place amidst the elegant rows of wine bottles. Racks upon racks of leather whips, floggers, and paddles stood sentinel, their tails swaying as we approached. I could almost hear their whispers of pain and pleasure. To my left, a large cage loomed menacingly, its bars thick and unyielding - a stark reminder of the captivating bondage games that were played here. And to my right, several spanking benches and apparatus, their padded surfaces and strategic restraints promising hours of disciplinary delight. 

The room buzzed with unspoken desires, and my body responded instinctively, my nipples hardening and my pussy growing slick with anticipation.

Standing before the display of dungeon furniture, I felt the weight of Daddy's expectant gaze upon me. My breath caught in my throat as he issued his command: "Strip, Tara." His tone was firm, yet steady, betraying none of the emotions I knew must be swirling within him. I hesitated for only a moment, savouring the mixture of fear and arousal coursing through my veins.

Piece by piece, I removed my articles of clothing, starting with my frilly lavender dress, which I let fall carelessly to the ground. Next came my bra and panties, equally as frilly and adorable. As I slipped those off too, I could feel the cool air caress my bare skin, making goosebumps rise in their wake. My socks and heels followed suit, leaving me standing naked in this clandestine wine cellar.

The combination of being naked and in such proximity to this torture chamber only heightened my sense of vulnerability and curiosity, knowing that I was about to explore a side of myself I never thought possible. I cast my discarded clothing aside, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of my own body, bathed in the dim light of the wall sconces. 

My breasts rose and fell with every shallow breath, my pert nipples stiff and begging for attention. My hips swayed subtly from side to side, and my legs trembled as I anticipated what Daddy had planned for me in this forbidden lair. 

Daddy's commands became increasingly short and authoritative, as if the atmosphere of the room had taken hold of him. He walked over to a sturdy bondage apparatus nestled amongst the wine barrels and gestured for me to come to him. I stepped onto the smooth surface of a platform and positioned my ankles and wrists near the restraints. 

Daddy approached me slowly, savouring the sight of my exposed and vulnerable form. He attached the heavy metal cuffs supported by the frame, securing one ankle, then the other, spreading my legs wide. The sounds of metal teeth clicking into place sent shivers directly to my pussy, as I realized that I was truly at his mercy. Next came my wrists, bound helplessly above my head, rendering me drawn and stretched onto my helpless tiptoes.

I felt the unforgiving rigidness of the metal shackles as they encircled my dainty wrists, holding me in place and arching my bottom invitingly. I whimpered softly, my breaths coming in rapid gasps, unable to tear my eyes away from the various collection of implements that hung nearby, wondering which ones would soon make contact with my defenseless flesh. 

In a swift movement that surprised me, Daddy grabbed a large ball gag from the rack of hanging implements. Without a word, he stuffed it forcefully into my mouth, effectively silencing my protests and pleas. The intrusion made my eyes water, but also heightened my sensitivity to the sounds around me, the wetness between my legs growing more pronounced. 

I squirmed slightly as he fastened the straps behind my head, ensuring the gag remained securely in place. Next, a soft piece of fabric brushed against my face. I blinked rapidly, trying to focus before my world went dark. 

With my vision obscured and my body immobilized, I was acutely aware of every sound that reverberated through the stone chamber. My ears strained to pick up any indication of Daddy's intentions, and I soon detected the unmistakable sound of a flogger being taken down from its rack. The leather tendrils whispered together as he practiced a few swings, the anticipation building within me like a crescendo. 

And then, the agony of waiting was over. The air cracked around me as the flogger connected with my tender flesh, eliciting a strangled cry from deep within my throat. The pain was exquisite, radiating outwards from the point of impact and causing my entire body to convulse. I couldn't believe it. I was being whipped! 

Over and over again, the lashes rained down, alternating between my ass, thighs, back and tits, each strike more intense that the last. My skin burned and stung, yet beneath it all, I could feel the heat of desire pooling inside me. 

With each skillful stroke, my body writhed in ecstatic torment. Unbidden, my hips rocked back and fourth, seeking relief from the fiery ache that consumed me. 

 

I couldn't believe it - I was actually enjoying this! But then, something else happened. I felt a warm, wet sensation between my legs, and I knew with a sudden rush of shame, I was soaking my inner thighs. My juices trickled down my tender folds, creating little strands of connecting precum. I wanted to hide, to curl up a die from embarrassment, but the relentless whipping continued, driving me higher and higher until I was trembling. 

The knowledge that Daddy could see this intimate display, this proof of my submission, only added to my mortification. Yet, deep down, I couldn't deny the twisted pride that swelled within me at having pleased him so thoroughly. 

As suddenly as it had begun, the flogging ceased. For a brief moment, silence reigned supreme, broken only by the sound of my laboured breaths echoing off the stone walls. Then, like a lion claiming its prey, I heard the unmistakable sound of Daddy's zipper being yanked down and his pants falling to the floor. Before I could process what was happening, I felt him behind me, his solid presence filling the empty space. He positioned himself between my spread legs, and the blunt tip of his cock nudged against my dripping entrance. 

With no warning, Daddy thrust forward, impaling me on his rigid cock. I moaned wantonly into the ball gag, my body yielding to his brutal invasion. 

Each powerful stroke sent shockwaves through me, my breasts bouncing and jiggling in prefect rhythm. My hands clenched and unclenched uselessly in their restraints, seeking some semblance of control as he ravaged me.

My remaining senses were overwhelmed - the scent of aged leather mingled with sweat and sex, the feel of Daddy's hot breath on the nape of my neck, the taste of the rubber gag filling my mouth. I was utterly consumed by this experience, and it didn't take long before I felt the telltale signs of a ferocious orgasm. It started low in my tummy, like a distant rumble, before exploding outward like a tidal wave. I screamed into the gag, the sound muffled but still ringing out in the cavernous space. My muscles clenched around him, milking his cock for everything it had, as I rode the crest of pleasure and pain. 

After what seemed like hours of ceaseless pleasure and torment, Daddy finally released me from my bonds. He carefully unlocked the cuffs away from my raw skin, his gentle touch in stark contrast to the brutality that had just transpired. I collapsed onto my knees, my legs feeling like gelatin.  

Lifting me effortlessly into his strong arms, he carried me up the narrow, dimly lit steps leading out of the cellar and toward the ruffled pink warmth of my bedroom. I felt small and delicate in his embrace, my legs weak from exhaustion. 

When we reached the sanctuary of my room, he deposited me onto the plush comforter of my princess bed. I collapsed into a boneless heap, the remnants of my release still pulsing through me. Daddy didn't say a word as he pulled the blankets up to my shoulders, his movements slow and loving. He stroked my tangled hair back from my forehead, his fingers lingering for a moment as if to memorize the contours of my face. Then, with a final squeeze of my hand, he turned and left me alone with my thoughts. 

As the door clicked shut behind Daddy, I couldn't help but let my hand drift down between my legs, tracing the slick trail he left behind. My mind raced with memories of the cellar, the delicious combination of fear, arousal and humiliation threatening to consume me once more. With trembling fingers, I began to massage my clit, replaying every lash of the whip, every thrust of Daddy's cock, in vivid detail. 

Within seconds my body responded eagerly, my nipples hardening to tiny points and my breath quickening. My other hand found its way to my tits, pinching and pulling at the sensitive peak. I imagined myself back in the cellar, bound and helpless, completely at Daddy's mercy. My fingers slipped inside my aching pussy, sliding easily through the slickness that coated my petals. 

I reached for a toy and as I began to fuck myself, I recalled the way Daddy's eyes darkened with lust as he watched my body writhe in response to his dominance. I remembered how his cock felt, slick with my own desire, as he plunged it mercilessly into me. My hips bucked involuntarily, seeking friction against the toy that would send me spiralling over the edge once more. My breaths grew shallow and ragged, as I chased after the fleeting fragments of pleasure that lingered in the wake of our encounter. 

Once the final waves of my post-orgasmic haze subsided, I reluctantly slipped out of bed, my body still singing with the sweet agony of satisfaction. I quickly cleaned myself up in the en-suite bathroom before rummaging through my lingerie drawer for the perfect, skimpy outfit. The lace trim tickled my thighs as I pulled on the baby doll nightie, adding over the knee socks and high heels. I couldn't resist a small giggle at how ridiculously cute I looked. I brushed my hair into pigtails and applied a hint of gloss to my lips, knowing full well the effect it would have on Daddy. 

Descending the grand staircase, I tried my best to walk gracefully in my high heels. The sound of my clicking footsteps echoed throughout the expansive foyer. I approached the living room where I knew Daddy would be, my cheeks flushing with equal parts trepidation and excitement. 

My eyes immediately locked onto Daddy's, drinking in the sight of him sitting comfortably and reading. He stood as I entered the room, admiring my darling outfit selection. Without hesitation, I launched myself into his waiting arms, wrapping my legs around his waist and pressing my body flush against his. 

I could feel his surprise, but also the stirring of desire as I nestled my head into the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply of his familiar scent. 

"Thank you, Daddy," I whispered against his ear. "I love you!"

Tara Gregory 💋

Continued in: Tara Gregory: Revelations

 

A Mouth Punishment?

Continued from: My Pet

A Sarah Jane story

Hi, everyone, it's Sarah. 

Daddy is away on a work conference thingy and I got myself into trouble in his absence. That didn't take long. Sheesh! He's only be gone for two days.

He's left me like this before, for similar reasons and usually he locks me up in a very secure chastity belt. There would be an emergency key left behind for me but it would be in a lockbox that only he has the code to. I haven't had to use this option before, but the process would involve me having to message or call Daddy, explain the emergency in which I need to be unlocked, then he would give me the code.  

But...like I said. I have never had to use this lifeline. I just suffer through the throbbing sensation of being locked up and denied. I have to piss through the metal screening, poop through the anal opening provided and take extra care in cleaning and hygiene. If I leave the house, I have to adjust my wardrobe accordingly, so the belt is hidden. 

It's humiliating, frustratingly arousing and embarrassing to be locked up. The perfect cocktail of emotions for a naughty slut like me. 

However! Daddy didn't lock me up in his absence this time. Nor did he get me his favourite babysitter (Mistress Andrea). He said he wanted to distance-play with me while he was away. 

Awww! My heart! 💕 My Daddy!

So play we did!

Yesterday I had to log in and work from home, including some zoom calls with my colleagues. Daddy told me to dress in my schoolgirl attire. My age-regressed lower half hidden from my colleagues, my upper half professional. I even wore a school-tie which looked professional to my team and not weird. But my face burned red with humiliation, as I knew the tie was just an accessory to a very short plaid skirt, ruffled ankle socks and Mary Janes that I was hiding below. 

Daddy let me wear full pantyhose too, because it's been freakin' cold lately. So I just slipped my ruffle socks over my hosed feet. The whole ensemble had me feeling very adorable, yet I knew the reason Daddy dressed me this way, is that I was due for a maintenance spanking, between zoom calls. 

*Gulp*

Daddy had me lay these out in preparation. I knew I would be receiving all three. 

Imagine readers, how this feels for an adult woman. Sitting behind a computer working and engaging in meetings while dressed like a schoolgirl, knowing that at some point during the day, you're going to be spanked. I was nervous with butterflies, I was humiliated and my crotch was wet. So shameful! 

When the time came I put myself in timeout, nose to the corner and hands on my head. I set up my phone and took a timer-photo to send to Daddy. 

"I'm ready for my spanking Daddy."  I sent, along with this photo: 

Daddy simply responded with a: 

"35 lashes with the belt please, over your pantyhose and panties, then 25 on each cheek with the hairbrush, then 25 on each cheek with the bathbrush." 

Yes...I spank myself when Daddy orders it. It can never compare to the real thing, being over his knee. But it helps to scratch my itch. 

My knickers and hose provided decent layers of protection from the belt, but the dense wood of the brushes burnt right though my protective layers. 

Next came the same allotment of strokes, only this time, hose down and over my panties.

Now I was starting to sting and redden-up. I already knew what was coming next, Daddy sent the message anyway...

"35 with the belt, and 25 per cheek with each brush, on the BARE!" My last layer of protection was stripped away. I did an ok job on myself. Again, it can never compare to the real thing, yet my cunt couldn't tell the difference. She was soaked! *blush*

I sent Daddy this one, seeking his approval that I had done a good enough job on myself. I was praised and rewarded with the opportunity to masturbate for him. I am never, ever allowed to have a vanilla orgasm. That being said, his next instructions were to neatly lay out my ring-gag, lubricant for my asshole and a butt plug of my choosing. 

I obeyed right away and sent Daddy this. I was eager to have a cummy for him! 

Unfortunately I had some work matters to attend to first, so my masturbation was delayed a bit. When I wiggled free of a zoom call meeting, I rushed into Daddy's room and plugged my asshole as he requested. 

I set up my phone to film. I didn't have to include my face in the video, Daddy only wanted to hear me cum, so the filming was more to capture the audio. In no time flat I was screaming out, "I'm cumming Dadddddddyyyyyyy!"

It was a wonderfully powerful orgasm. My hungry little asshole clenched that plug so tightly when I began to spasm. I was loud too! Like porn-star loud! 

I love being Daddy's little porn-star. 💗🌟

Proudly, I sent my video to Daddy right away. He was driving. Then he tells me he's going to listen to it through his car audio. 

Gawd, I was so embarrassed! 

A few moments later though, my stomach sunk! This was our text exchange leading up to and after he listened to my clip.  

FUCK! Fuck fuck...

Look at my image above, masturbating on the bed. Do you see a gag in my mouth as I was instructed to do?! I laid one out and even photographed it for Christ sakes.  

Fuck! I completely forget and now I'm in deep shit. I have no excuse and I must accept my punishment, likely when Daddy gets home. 

You remember the rules in our house? Punishments fit the offence. If I am caught with a run in my hosiery, the soles of my feet get whipped. Caught masturbating without permission, my bare cunt gets whipped...you get the idea. 

What's a mouth punishment?? 

Likely a mouth soaping. Which really fuckin' sucks! Especially in Daddy's house and let me tell you why. Check this out: 

This is SOAP!! This is a fucking bar of soap, in our bathroom. It remains proudly displayed on the sink, as a reminder to me. This is the sink where I brush my teeth each morning and night, where I am forced to look at this stupid soap-dick that has been in my mouth many times before. 

Bratty, back-sass, too much swearing...and coming soon...forgetting to gag my mouth when Daddy asks. 

He's already declared that I'm going to be punished when he gets home. I am only surmising that it'll be the soap dick, since the violation relates to my mouth. I just hope it isn't. 

The last time I got a mouth soaping I was marched to the bathroom fully naked, wearing only heels that I was wobbling in. I had to bend fully at the waist and use my own saliva to get a lather on the soap dick. Daddy paddled my bare bum to encourage me to give it head and to deepthroat the phallically veiny soap. It was a dreadful and effective punishment. 

After I saw the message from Daddy on this occasion, that I was going to be punished, my tummy was sick with butterflies. I assumed it would be the heavy wooden paddle and the soap dick for sure!

I wasn't wrong, but much to my surprise I had a choice. A predicament. Daddy loves giving me predicaments. So I am forced to choose my own punishment and choose between the lesser of two evils. Then stew over my choice until Daddy gets home. 

As expected, he offered me "mouth soaping". As I explained above, this means paddled on the bare bum until I break and begin to suck the soap dildo frantically, to bring an end to the paddling. 

But then...Butt then, pun intended...a second option from Daddy. 

Would I prefer to perform ass-to-mouth with another girl, using a dildo...

Like...she fucks me with a strap-on then I kneel and suck her? Or she uses a dildo into her asshole then fucks my mouth with it?? Or even worse!! Daddy fucks her in the ass then mashes his cock into my mouth??!!

I don't know what to choose...but I have to choose! Please help...

Sarah Jane

xoxo

Continued in: ATM