Wake Up Call

I think I'm dreaming at first, I know that much.

Your lips are on the back of my neck, gently kissing as you make your way down to my shoulder. One of your hands is on my stomach, tracing gentle patterns against my soft skin. The other is cupping my breast, nipple lightly pinched between your fingers.

I barely make a noise, eyes blinking open in the dark room, but you somehow sense that I am awake.

I know this because you speak.

"You distracted me last night, sweetie. You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

I don't respond, even as my stomach drops. Of course you didn't forget. You never forget.

Your teeth find my sensitive flesh between my neck and shoulder, barely scraping for a moment, before I feel your facial hair tickle as you speak again.

"You know better than to ignore Daddy, baby. One more chance. Did you distract me on purpose, or was that just luck on your part?"

My voice is soft, meek, barely a whisper, "I didn't plan to, but you just... you forgot."

Your teeth are on me again, a threat this time. Then you're pressing them into me slowly, surely. I whine in the back of my throat, as I try to remain still against the sensation of your bite. The hand gripping my tit squeezes and I force myself to go limp, curling my toes as hard as I can, just to be able to move without your ire.

Your bite presses deeper, and I only manage to hold back the whine for a few moments before it escapes me, I feel more than hear your amused chuckle as you grind down once, then release my flesh.

I feel every movement as you kiss your way back up my neck to my ear, and press your lips against the shell, voice low and dangerous. "A good girl would have reminded me that she needed her punishment."

"But Daddy- Ah!" My excuses are cut off instantly, as both your hands find my nipples and twist harshly.

"What was that, baby? You seem to have lost your train of thought. Want to try again?"

I whimper pathetically, not falling into your trap even as my back arches, trying to alleviate some of the awful pressure of your fingers on my sensitive nipples.

The sensation increases in agony as you twist further, tsking in my ear softly as you do. "Now little girl, you do know better than to ignore Daddy when he asks you a question. I know I've taught you better than this behavior you're showcasing tonight. Let's try again. Do you have something to say to Daddy?"

I whimper softly and shake my head, a tear sliding from my eye quietly as I pray you take the response and don't push further. I know my voice won't work in this moment, bombarded with emotion and sensation as I am.

My mind is swirling, gnawed with guilt as what you're saying hits me with the same force as the pain on my chest does.

Your fingers pinch tighter and pull away from my body.

"Daddy, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry I didn't remind you. I'm sorry I tried to get out of my lesson." The words rush out, voice broken and just a step away from a broken sob.

Your fingers release my nipples and I finally relax, tears flowing freely from my eyes now. Whether from the sensitivity in my skin, or the guilt in my mind, I'm not sure.

"That's better." You sound almost feral as you whisper the words directly into my ear. "Now you get in position on this bed once I let you go. Face down, ass up. I don't want to hear another word from you that I don't directly ask for, until this is over. Understood?"

"Yes, Daddy." My response is barely audible, but you nip at my earlobe and then your hands are off my body. I quickly move, eyes downcast, as I climb onto the bed on my hands and knees. I lower my head once I reach the middle, arching my back and pressing my bottom out as far as I can.

As my eyes slide shut in acceptance of what is about to happen, I hear the familiar clicks of our toy box unlatching, and my body jerks in response. Not a normal spanking then. Dread fills my mind as I stay in position, knowing that to move will only exacerbate the anger you so clearly feel.

I take a few deep, steadying breaths and try to calm my mind. I can feel it racing as I hear the whisper quiet sounds of you selecting your implements, and preparing for the punishment you are set to inflict.

I jump as your hand touches my raised ass, calluses kissing my skin as I shiver at the promise they leave, like goosebumps on my flesh.

"You will count each cane strike. You will thank me for each one. When I reach 10, you will tell me what this punishment was for, and what you learned. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Sir." My voice is withdrawn, more from disappointment in myself, than anything else. I know you must be upset to bring out a toy for punishment, usually preferring your own hands, and the ability to feel my skin as you teach me.

I hear the sound of you shifting into position, and then that feral voice is back.

"Brace yourself, pet."

Then I hear it, the cut of the wooden dowel through the air, just before it strikes true. As the maple impacts my skin, my whole body jerks, and I instantly feel tears fill my eyes. I move my arm to my mouth and bite down for a long moment, before I realize what you're waiting for and release my self-imposed gag, gasping out desperately.

"One. Thank you, Sir."

The cane flies again, just under the first blow, hitting harder this time and I know in all certainty that I will have welts before we reach ten.

"Two! Thank you, Sir."

Another swing, right along the pattern you are striping down my ass. Harder yet, making me gasp and jerk away from your direction desperately.

"Three!!! Thank you, Sir."

I am shaking already, unused to such treatment since my early training days, as I have always strived to please you. I feel your hand whisper softly over the first three stripes, laying your palm flat across them and then pressing in.

I whimper, feeling shame as much as the pain.

Then suddenly you move away and the cane comes down again, once again striping down below the previous, hitting even harder than the previous.

"Four! Four, four, four. Th... thank you, Sir."

I am trembling, pain radiating from each rising band across my skin.

The next strike is the hardest of them all, the contact loud, even over my whimpered cries and deep breaths, in an attempt to steady myself.

"Five. Thank you, Sir."

My voice is broken as I try to hold back the begging that is rising in my mind, in my heart, in my throat. I am sobbing just a bit, as you once again touch what has to be welts at this point. Your voice is lower, menacing as it speaks to me.

"I know it hurts. I'm hurting you for a reason. This is for your betterment. This is to remind you of your place. Who you belong to and what that means."

You then do the unthinkable to me, and your palm comes down in two quick strikes, one on each cheek, and hitting along the horizontal stripes that cover my flesh.

I hiss, my chest heaving as the sobbing renews, but I get back into position quickly, having buckled momentarily from the impacts.

I know this trick; I remember it with irritated fondness from the early days of your training. I do not count your spanks and I do not thank you. I tremble and I breathe, I focus on being present for you, despite the urge to let myself slip away into a different headspace. This isn't for me to enjoy. This is for you to forgive and feel respected. I owe you this for my actions.

"Good girl, halfway done. That was the easy part. Now, baby, you pay your true penance. Keep breathing, and remember, at ten you will owe me your apology." Your voice finally sounds more like my Daddy, less unhinged and ready to snap.

As your hands leave me, I steel myself. I breathe and my mind chants to rally myself.

The impact comes down quickly, noticeably lighter than the first five, and right on the first stripe that you left on my cheeks. I jerk and hissed lightly as I realize now what you meant, you plan to reinforce the welts. Make sure the lesson sinks in both mentally, and physically.

"Six!!! Six. Thank you, Sir!"

You strike again, following your established lines. I can feel myself fighting the edge of slipping away, and I bite down my bottom lip as I sob openly. My teeth dig in hard, and I slowly raise my body back up and lock myself in the position you require, before my whisper leaves my mouth between shattered breaths.

"Seven. Thank you, Sir."

Again I am hit. Again I buckle and fall. You wait behind me wordlessly as I cry and drag myself back to center, pressing my stinging ass back, presenting myself even as my body and mind beg for this to end. My voice sounds desperate in the quiet room.

"Eight! Thank you, Sir!"

The words have barely left my mouth, before the next strike is applied. I manage to stay upright, though every muscle in my body is shaking with the effort. The words I speak are through gritted teeth.

"Nine. Thank you, Sir."

At last, the final blow is applied. A strangled sound leaves my mouth as it impacts. I don't fall but I do sob with each breath I take.

"Ten!!!! Thank you, Sir. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I'm so sorry, Daddy. I know you demanded I not wear panties last night to go out. I completely forgot, and then when you told me to remind you after you found out at dinner... I just... we got home, you seemed to have forgotten. I didn't think it would be such a big deal if I just didn't get in position and remind you. And I know that was wrong, I'm so, so, so sorry. Please forgive me, Daddy. Please?"

As my words finally stop flowing, I devolve into sobbing full on as I tremble, and tears flow openly and quickly.

Then your arms are around me, pulling me into you as I cry and cling to your body. I hear soothing shushing sounds under the loud beating of my heart in my ears. Slowly I start to calm, even as the throbbing of my cheeks becomes louder with each passing moment. As I finally still, I feel your chest hair pressed into my face, and inhale your scent. Your hands are stroking me, settling me further still.

Your voice is a soft, loving whisper, as you finally speak again.

"Good girl. Took your punishment so well for Daddy. I'm proud of you. You aren't going to ignore Daddy's orders again, are you?"

I shake my head, burying my face further into your comforting embrace.

"That's right. Good girl. My good girl. You know why I like you bare beneath those dresses if yours?"

I shake my head again as I sniffle once and set my chin on you, looking up to find your eyes on mine.

"Because little one, your pussy is for my pleasure. And it pleases me to know you are ready, open, willing and bare for me. For my use. For me to fill and own. Don't you dare keep me from what I own again. Understood, sweet one?"

I nod once, and feel my body relax as you finally smile.

As we lay there together, my ass burning with welts that will long remind me of this lesson, I smile in return and breathe deeply, safe in the knowledge that I belong to you.