Confessions of a Spanking Addict – Part 3

Posted by admin - December 27th, 2007


We pulled into the driveway. I realized I had maybe five minutes before my spanking would begin.
As we got out of the car, my dad told me to go right to his den and wait for him there. I noticed
that my mom was not yet home. I was glad of that. I was afraid she might decide she would do the
punishing. And I didn’t want that for anything in the world.
Now, I can remember to this day–ten years later–exactly what I was wearing that day. I
had on this short pink dress, white knee socks, and lavender-colored cotton panties. Very soon
that dress would be lifted up and those panties would be pulled down. As I waited in my dad’s
den, I wondered what was happening to Sarah at that moment. I had a pretty good idea, but what
I really wanted was to see it happening. Or at least hear it. Sarah lived next door, so I went to the
window and opened it a bit and listened. Very faintly, coming from the window I knew to be
Sarah’s, I could hear the sounds of Sarah crying accompanied by the sounds of a wooden
hairbrush smacking what I knew from experience to be be very bare, very red, very sore bottom.
I heard my dad moving around, so I closed the window and sat on the couch. He didn’t
come in yet. He was really letting me stew for a while. However, instead of stewing, I was
anticipating and for the first time in my life, I put my hand under my dress on the crotch of my
panties and began to lightly rub myself. I couldn’t believe how good it felt. I was just thinking
about putting my hand under my panties when I heard my dad coming down the hall. I pulled my
hand away, smoothed my dress, and folded my hands in my lap. The door opened and my dad
came in. I was about one minute from being spanked.
I stood up as he sat on the couch. I stood next to his right leg. He sighed and looked very
sad. I started to get really scared, and for the first time began to think about how much this
spanking was going to hurt.

“I don’t think we need to discuss why I’m spanking you, do we Micki? You know pretty
well why I have to do this, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then let’s get this over with young lady. Please bend over.”

Slowly, I lay face down across my dad’s lap. I had already taken my shoes off, so now I
pointed my toes and began to dig them into the couch cushion. I pulled a throw pillow up to my
face. Daddy adjusted my position over his lap. He lifted the back of my dress. I could feel my
tummy and my vulva pressing into lap. It felt kind of good. I felt him put his fingers into the
waistband of my panties. Fifteen seconds–maybe. He pulled my panties down.
I was over my dad’s knee, my bottom was bare, and I was about to receive a spanking I
royally deserved and would never forget. No more anticipating. Daddy’s hand smacked down on
my bare bottom, and I jerked my legs up at the knees.
I had never been spanked this hard before in my life. Daddy’s hand practically set my poor
heinie on fire. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty spanks. Daddy spanked first one cheek of my bottom then
the other. I could feel my bottom jiggle each time Daddy’s palm bounced off it. Usually, I could
hold off crying hard for twenty or thirty spanks. But this spanking was very different! I was
sobbing and kicking my feet up and down by the fifteenth spank. And all I could think of was that
I was going to get 300 spanks!

My dad rained fire down on my bottom. Each slap of his palm made me wiggle and dance
on his lap. I cried and cried. At 75 spanks I began to plead for him to stop, but he just kept on
spanking me. I tried shifting from side to side so that he wouldn’t spank the same spots on my
bottom, but it didn’t really matter. As he spanked first my left bottom cheek then my right, he also
moved up and down my bottom. There was not one square inch of my bottom that he did not
spank—over and over and over. And he never said a word, he just kept raising his hand and
smacking it back down on my bare, flaming, bottom. At one point I remember the door to the den
open and I saw my mother look in. She watched for a moment, then quietly closed the door and
left. If I had hoped for a reprieve from her, it was not going to come.
I had never experienced a spanking so severe, so intense, so painful, …….and so exciting!
Around the time Daddy was administering my 200th spank, the sting from my well-punished
bottom was beginning to manifest itself in another sensation on the other side of my anatomy.
Gradually, I became aware of how excited I still was in spite of how much the spanking was
hurting. I cried and sobbed. I wiggled and squirmed on my dad’s lap. Spank after spank smacked
onto my jiggling, burning, stinging bottom cheeks. I kicked my legs up and down. I clenched the
pillow to my face as my tears streaked down and soaked it.
My lower torso was a mass of contradictions. My bottom hurt soooooo much,but around
my front, my vulva felt sooooo good. I could feel both my bottom and my vulva swelling—each
for such different reasons. I so badly wanted Daddy to stop spanking me, but I also wanted so
badly for him to keep spanking me. All of a sudden, the spanking stopped. I had been trying to
count, so I was pretty sure he hadn’t given me all 300 spanks. He rested his hand on the back of
my leg. It felt hot.

“Micki, I will stop spanking you right now, if you can truthfully tell me that the cheating
was not your idea. If you can’t tell that, then the last 50 spanks will be for thinking up this
stupid idea.”

Should I tell him the truth that it was Sarah’s idea? What would happen to Sarah, then?
Did I want to take 50 more spanks or did I want this to end. I thought fast and answered him.

“It unh, unh, unh was unh both our unh, unh idea. We uhn both thought unh of it. I’m
soooooo sorry Daddy unh, unh.”

He never said a word, he just started spanking again. And believe me those last 50 spanks
hurt more than any other spanks I’ve gotten before or since. I truly believed I would not be able to
sit down for a week. When my dad finished the spanking he stood me up and pulled my panties
back up. That hurt—felt like bees had gotten in there! Then he sent me to my room to think about
what I had done and what had happened as a result of what I had done.
I guess I should tell you that it didn’t end there. Two things happened during the next
couple of hours. Once I got to my room, I inspected the spanking damage in front of my mirror—I
bet all kids do that, don’t they! Then I lay down on my bed–on my belly for sure–and cried for a
long time. Contrary to what you might expect, I didn’t do any exploring to satisfy the other
sensation I had been feeling. That was going to happen soon, I can tell you. But it didn’t happen
that night. I was just a bit too sore to roll over on my back to try it.
The other thing that happened was that my mom and dad came into my room about an
hour after the spanking. They told me that my uncle had called. He told them that during Sarah’s
paddling, she had told him that the cheating had been all my idea and that she was not allowed to
be with me or around me until my parents could assure him that I would never be a bad influence
on her again. My dad asked me if it was true. I just burst into tears and repeated what I had told
him earlier. They left me to cry and I swore that I would get even with Sarah somehow, someway,

Comments are closed.

Blog Home