Sunday Morning

We finished our bowls of cereal for breakfast and decided to watch an episode of our show before we set out on our Sunday fun day adventures. It was still early enough at that point and we had plenty of time. Emma began turning on the tv while I cleaned up. I washed the dishes and set them on the drying rack and returned to the living room to find she had disappear. 

“Baby?”, I called out.

“Coming!”, she yelled back from the bedroom, “don’t start without me!”

I sat down on the couch and turn to see her coming out of the bedroom. She had changed into some of my clothes - pajama pants and one of my sweaters that she likes so much. She must have been chilly on that winter morning. She laid down and put her head in my lap.

“Ready”, she said nonchalantly.

“Baby..”

“What?”

“What did we go over just last night?”, I asked. 

“Uhh..” She looked up at me, suddenly having realized that she didn’t ask permission to change her clothes. She had been spanked the previous night for the same thing. I turned her over and pulled down the pajama pants.

“Daddy, I didn’t mean to..”, she started.

“Quiet”, and I began spanking her, one cheek and then the other, back and forth until her butt started to redden. I told her to sit up and got up to go to the bedroom, telling her that we would need the paddle this time. 

“Wait, red. Charles, come on. It’s too early in the morning for the paddle.”, she said.

I stopped. It always frustrates me when she doesn’t let me control the situation in the way I knew she let her other partners - topping from the bottom - the struggle of being new in a D/s dynamic. 

“Baby, why are you calling red on something we’ve done before, that we both know you can handle? You need to start trusting me to know when it’s the right time or what will be too much. You need to give me the freedom to top the way I want.” 

She paused, thinking. “Fine. Get the paddle.” 

“Well now that’s not fun. Hold on.”, I said and walked away. I came back with a paper and pen and set them on the coffee table. 

“Lines?” , she asked. 

“Yes, but wait.” I walked to the kitchen and grabbed the bag of rice and walked back to the living room.

“Nooo.”, she groaned, realizing what I was about to make her do. I set up the rice on the floor in front of the coffee table and wrote two short sentences on the top of the paper.

… I belong to my Daddy. I will obey his every word. ...

“Come here, little girl, and strip.” Emma slowly removed my sweater and pajama pants, the evidence of her crime and moved around to my side of the table and looked at me with sad puppy dog eyes, silently pleading.

“You’ll find no pity from me. Three pages front and back while kneeling on the rice. ”

“Three?!? What? No!”

“Fine, four pages front and back then. Would you like to go for five?”

“No, daddy.” 

“Then I suggest you keep your dumb mouth shut and do as you’re told. And don’t you dare put your weight on the table. Begin.”

She slowly lowered herself on to the rice. Not quite painful at first, she didn’t grimace. Emma grabbed the pen and leaned forward to begin writing. Her expression suddenly changed and she looked up at me. The coffee table is so low that when she leaned forward to write, all her weight shifted to her knees. Seeing the regret on her face, I smile at her and tell her to make sure that every line is perfectly neat and legible, because if it’s not, she’ll do the whole thing over. 

She began writing as quickly as she could, trying not to sacrifice legibility. It’s not long before the pain starts to build but she can’t wiggle around without causing more pain. Her eyes filled with tears as she wrote line after line. A couple of tears dropped on to the paper. When she was finally done, she asked to get up. I told her I have to inspect her work first and hold out my hand. She handed me the papers and I slowly began looking over each line.

“Daddy, please.”, she begged, still kneeling on the rice. I finally allow her to stand up. She gently brushed off the rice that was embedded in her knees. I brushed the tears from her cheeks and asked her what she learned. She repeated back the simple lines that she had just written so many times. 

“Good girl. You trust me?”

“Yes, Daddy.” 

“And I can see, right?”

“....yes.”

I warmed her up with my hand again, just as I had done earlier, all the while she doesn’t move her hands, beg me to stop, or give any indication she is in pain. When she is sufficiently warm and red on her butt and thighs again, I grabbed the paddle and placed it gently against her butt. She inhaled as it touched her skin. I took my time and gently hit her butt with the paddle, switching between cheeks. As I went I began to hit harder and harder, pausing between each hit, making sure each one landed right where it should on her butt. After enough hits, when her crying reached the point of sobbing and her pussy was dripping wet, betraying how much she was enjoying being hit, I asked her if she wanted a break. 

“Stretch your hands out in front of you. Do not reach back to rub without permission. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

I took off her blindfold. I unzipped my pants for her and she eagerly took me into her mouth, more than happy to stop the hits from the paddle she hates so much. When her enthusiasm started to wane, I took my dick out of her mouth and pushed her head back down on to the bed. 

“Ten more and then you’re done. Count them.” I took the paddle and gave each side of her butt five hard hits that brought her back to tears. Once I’m done I laid down on the bed next to her and Emma quickly curled up in a ball against me. I tell her how good she was and how much I love her and the tears quickly subside. 

“Baby?” I asked, once I’m sure she’s recovered.

“Yes, Daddy?”

“You’re not done pleasing Daddy.” Without a second thought, she takes out my cock and begins sucking on it again. After a few minutes, I interrupt her.

“Get the Hitachi, baby. You’re going to need it.”