Worst Day, Best Night Pt. 02

This is Chapter 2 of a story I am calling "Worst Day, Best Night". It will make much more sense if you have read the first part. This story is about two consenting adults who participate in the DaddyDom/babygirl dynamic. I hope you all enjoy the writing.

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I took my place at his feet, sitting on my comfortable pillow, my toes nestling in the soft flokati rugs under the pillow that stretched out towards the warm fire. Daddy sat in his comfortable leather chair, his legs spread so I could nestle between them as he slowly began to brush my hair. I never feel quite as much of my babygirl self as I do when Daddy is brushing my hair. He nuzzled my neck, murmuring, "You smell so good, babygirl. I could just eat you all up." His voice was strong, controlled, but with an edge. As he finished brushing the knots out of my long, wet, cinnamon hair, I began to sink into him further, trailing my hair down on his thighs, then starting to turn to face him, as I had felt his erection through his pants. He quickly stopped me by grabbing both my wrists with one strong hand in his firm grip. "Not so fast, my dear," he fairly growled at me.

Within seconds I found myself twisted around onto my knees, but face down over the chocolate brown leather ottoman that matched his chair, my arms held above my head until I felt the wrist cuff going around the first one, then the other before being attached to the legs on either side of the ottoman, immobilizing me. Next, I felt him place the ankle cuffs on me and attach the spreader bar that would keep my legs stretched apart. I was totally at his mercy. I knew better than to ask, but I knew this was not being done as a gift or a present. This was my punishment position, and any questions I might have had about reward vs. discipline were quickly answered as the wooden back of the hairbrush came down hard on my ass.

"Do you know why you are being punished, slut?" he asked, and in a moment, he went from being my nurturing Daddy to being my disciplining Dominant. I wracked my brain. What had I done wrong?

"I...I...I forgot that today was the day I gave you my phone number," I stammered, somehow knowing he would not punish me for that, but my mind was spinning from the first sting of the brush, and nothing else had leapt to the forefront.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Four rapid stinging slaps with the hairbrush rained down on my normally pale white ass. "That's wrong, and you know it is," he said. "Take your time and think, slutty little girl." He walked around in front of me and tilted my chin up so I could see him.

Time. That was it. I hadn't turned my phone back on when I was supposed to do so. He hadn't been able to reach me in the middle of a horrible tornado-spawning storm. He must have been frantic, but he would never let me see that, as he was always calm, cool, collected, and in control on the outside. That's why I could give myself up to him. He must have seen the realization come across my face because he returned to his spot behind me and brought down five more hard slaps on my now-reddening ass.

"Well, slutty little girl? What do you have to say for yourself?" His voice was strong, commanding, controlling, and I shuddered before I responded.

"I forgot to turn my cell phone back on," I whimpered, my ass beginning to ache. "And you couldn't reach me."

"That's right," he answered. "And for how long was I unable to reach you?"

I did some quick math and realized that for two hours, as the storm first loomed then raged, I had been out of communication. "Two and ½ hours, Sir," I answered disappointment in my voice. I had let him down, so much so that I couldn't even bring myself to call him "Daddy." I didn't deserve to at the moment.

"And how many minutes is that?" he asked, bringing down five more hard swats on my ass. "And why aren't you counting, my little slut?"

I quickly did the math. "One hundred and fifty minutes, Master," I answered, before quickly counting, "Onetwothree fourfivesix seveneightnine teneleventwelve thirteenfourteen fifteen. Thank you for your correction, Master."

"Good, my little one," he said, his voice calm and controlled, yet I heard the concern that was underlying. "I was very worried about you. You've done this before, and I warned you that the next time the discipline would be enough to make certain that the behavior was corrected and you never did it again. So tell me, with one slap for every minute you were out of communication, how many more do you owe me?"

I gasped as I realized he truly intended to spank me with the brush one time for every minute. "That's...that's...135 more, Sir," I said, frightened that I might not be able to take that much. He'd never spanked me like that before. He rarely had to spank me at all. My punishments rarely involved pain. More often I found myself writing an essay for him or doing some sort of work I truly detested. I heard the intake of his breath as the next five slaps came down hard on my ass. SWAT! SWAT! SWAT! SWAT! SWAT!

I gasped in pain but counted quickly from sixteen to twenty. "Good little slut, remembering the rules now," he said before slowly rubbing some soft velvety material over my ass, which I could only guess was as red as the embers in the fireplace in front of me. My face was flushed, both from the heat of the fire and from my shame at having disappointed him. "Remind me again, my slutty little girl, why are you receiving this punishment?" SWAT! SWAT! SWAT! SWAT! SWAT! SWAT! SWAT! SWAT! SWAT! SWAT!

Numbers twenty-one through thirty came flowing out of my mouth as quickly as possible: "Because I...I...I...didn't turn my phone back on, Sir."

"And why is that an issue, my little slut?" SWAT! SWAT! SWAT! SWAT! SWAT!

"Thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five, Sir. Thank you for my discipline," I gasped, feeling my rear turning raw and wondering how I would ever endure more than another 100 of these. "Because you couldn't...couldn't...reach me, and you were concerned for my safety, Sir."

The softness of the velvet again on my burning ass soothed the pain some. "Exactly! Do you feel you have learned your lesson this time, my slutty little girl?" he asked.

"Yes, Sir, yes, yes," I fairly cried out. "I've learned."

"Good girl," he said, his voice softening for a moment. "Then try to enjoy the rest of your punishment." And with that he resumed the beating of my ass with fifteen quick smacks, not nearly as hard, but still stinging. Somehow, I remembered to count to fifty and slowly the realization hit me that I was only 1/3 of the way through my punishment.

He began to rub my ass again, and the soft fabric made the pain lessen a tad, and then his fingers began to roam from my ass down to my sweet, shaved pussy. I felt his fingers stroke along my lips, and he laughed an evil laugh. "My little slutty girl," he growled. "Even when being punished, you can't help but get wet. I wish you could feel how wet you are, but since you can't with your own fingers..." he broke off, and suddenly I found his fingers shoved into my mouth as I tasted myself all over him. "Suck them clean, like a good slutty little girl," he ordered, and I removed all of my taste from him.

When I had cleaned his fingers, he moved back behind me, and I heard the drawer of the table next to his chair open. I know he kept things in there that he used on me sometimes, but I had no idea what was coming next, as I was facing the opposite way and couldn't maneuver my head around the ottoman to see. Suddenly I felt something rubbing up against my pussy, teasing my lips and my clit, but as he pulled it back towards my ass, I realized that it wasn't meant for my pussy; he had just been lubricating the plug that I knew was about to be plunged into my tight ass.

"Relax," he commanded as he pushed what I assessed to be a medium sized plug against my anus. I tried to push back against it so it wouldn't hurt so much, and after a few moments of wiggling it at the opening, he shoved it hard inside of me until my tight hole closed around the narrowing before the base. Quickly, he brought down a flurry of smacks against my ass, occasionally hitting the plug. I had a hard time keeping up as twenty-five fast hits nearly took my breath away, and I struggled to keep counting, but I did. Suddenly the knowledge that I was halfway there hit me, and I sighed. He knew exactly why, and I heard his chuckle, just as the next 25 came, fast, but not nearly as hard, followed quickly by the lovely velvet cloth on my burning bum as his other hand began to finger my clit.

I moaned, the mixture of pleasure and pain beginning to overwhelm me, and he leaned into my ear: "Remind me why you are bent over with an ass that is red as the devil himself."

"For...for...forgot to turn...turn...turn...on my cell phone," I groaned out. The velvet stopped, and ten more quick swats came with him continuing to finger my swollen clit. I counted and made it to 110 before he began alternating between fingering my clitty and finger-fucking my pussy. With the next ten swats, he inserted a second finger, and with the next ten, a third. By the time I had counted to 130, three fingers were sawing in and out of me. The next ten swats came down on the end of the butt plug, as if to remind me it was there, like I could have forgotten. I was on the verge of having the orgasm of my life, holding back, and knowing better than to even think of asking for permission, and then, he stopped, everything. No velvet, no fingers in my pussy, no touching my clit.

He got up and walked away for a moment, and I was left writhing in my bonds, my pussy aching with need, my ass aching from the beating, and my anus stretched and full. I felt a tug as he wound his fingers in my hair and pulled my head back, kissing me hard. When he broke the kiss, he rasped, "These last ten are going to be the hardest. Be prepared. Take them, count them, and thank me for them, and this punishment will be over. Do not disappoint me."

I knew from the tone in his voice he was not kidding, but I could not imagine how they could be any harder than what he had done earlier, but as the first one came down, I realized: he was hitting me full force, but not with the back of the brush, but with the wire bristles. The pain seared through my already burning buttocks as I counted each one from 141 to 150, finishing with, "Thank... you... for... disciplining... me, Sir. I...I...will... never ...ever...forget my phone again." I hadn't shed a single tear during the punishment, but I felt spent, and my words came out ragged, though my pussy was still achingly empty, and my anus was still tremendously filled.

"Good girl," he said. "That's my girl." He tossed the brush aside, and I realized that when he had walked away before, he had removed his clothes as he entered me with one swift stroke, replacing the emptiness my pussy had felt from the withdrawal of his fingers with his hard, thick, throbbing cock. He moved hard against me, grunting, pushing into me, driving the plug into my ass with every stroke into my pussy. I groaned under the pressure, and I felt like I was going to explode at any moment, but even though my "punishment" was over, I could not bring myself to ask permission to come. I just didn't feel I deserved it, and it appeared that he was not going to give me the right as he pushed harder and harder, over and over, strong, swift, deep strokes to my very core. And then, as his body stiffened and his own orgasm began to overtake him, I heard the words, "Cum for me, babygirl. Come for your Daddy."

With that my pussy spasmed, grasping his cock, and being so filled, I came over and over and over again, the juice spilling past his cock out of my pussy, making a mess on the flokati rug I was sure, but I just couldn't care. "DADDY!!" I screamed, and then, and only then, I wept, the tears flowing out from my eyes as the cum flowed from my pussy, draining me completely, even as he withdrew his still-hard cock from my pussy, undid my bonds, and pulled my quivering body over to my pillow where I could lay my head on his strong thigh and suck my juices off of his cock.

"Oh, Daddy," I murmured around his thickness when I had regained the power of speech. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank. You. This is the best night ever."

"Oh my darling babygirl," he said, his voice husky with love and lust, "the night is still young."

To be continued...