She closed the door of the car and hesitantly made her way up the driveway. The air was thick with the humid night air and she could smell the honeysuckle from the back yard. As she climbed the steps of the porch, the smell of freshly brewed coffee met her nostrils.
“Shit, he’s up. Damn. Damn!” She saw the kitchen light above the sink and heard the TV in the living room; he was listening to the ten o’clock news. She pulled on the screen door, and heard the familiar creak of the springs alerting all in the house that she was home.
“Take your shoes and socks off at the door.”
Shit. He only did that when he knew she may run. Why hadn’t she told him she was going out with Megan? Because he doesn’t like you going out with Megan. That’s why, silly.
Two weeks ago he had told her to not go out with Megan unless she called first; they always stayed out too late and drank too much. He had told her that if she wanted to see her friend, to let him know and he would pick her up. It was too late for that now. He was waiting for her in the living room. She took her Nike sneakers off, then her new no-show socks and put them neatly next to her shoes. The tile felt cool on her feet as she padded across the kitchen.
“Get me a cup of coffee and come to the living room with it when you are done.”
He didn’t drink coffee at night; this was not boding well for her. She grabbed his favorite mug and poured his coffee—black, just the way he liked it. She liked that about him, no frills, nothing fancy. Brad wasn’t gorgeous by most women’s standards, but he was sexy. She had enjoyed the nerdy IT guy from the first time she met him. The studious, stern creases in his forehead gave everyone the correct impression that he was someone who was logical, rational, and methodical. She loved how he wore his wire-rimmed glasses while reading schematics and sipping his coffee. Brad’s intelligence was what had won her over.
She grabbed the cup of coffee and walked tentatively into the living room. When she rounded the corner, she gasped. On the couch were the wooden spoon and his belt. Brad was in his La-Z-Boy recliner and his elbows rested on his knees, with his hands laced together. He was still dressed for work and had on his white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up his forearms and the ends still tucked into his black dress pants. He nodded at her while reaching for his coffee. Her knees shook; she knew this was coming, why was she nervous?
“Hi, honey.” Her voice trembled.
“Take your jeans off. I want you to have this conversation with no pants on.”
“Molly, please do as you’re told. Take them off. Now.”
Molly hated when he used that voice. It made her stomach flip-flop. As a grown woman of twenty-six, she could say ‘no,’ but she knew she wouldn’t. She loved him and trusted him, and this was the arrangement they had agreed to in their marriage. She needed his steadiness. He watched out for her, helped her with her impulsiveness. Again, why? Why had she gone out with Megan and not called Brad? Maybe this was what she had wanted.
The button on her jeans felt cool on her fingers as she pushed it through the hole, and the room was so quiet that she heard the teeth of the zipper as she pulled it down.Though the night was warm, she still felt the coolness of the breeze from the window as it lightly brushed over her thighs as she pulled her pants over her hips. The crickets were loud and they made the quietness of the room even more pronounced.
“There, now we can discuss this evening’s events and you will be humble and contrite, right?”
“What do you call me when we are in a discipline session? Is my name Brad in a discipline session?”
God, she hated this and at the same time craved it. He knew what she needed.
“No, Daddy. I am to call you Daddy when I am getting spanked.”
“Good. Now tell me where you were.”
“I was at Josie’s Jukebox with Megan. It was two for one margarita night and we wanted to have a couple of drinks.”
“Did you now? What are the rules, Megan?”
“I am supposed to call you if I am going to be late.”
“No, Daddy.” She was playing with the hem of her shirt as she said this.
“No. You didn’t. I had to call around to all three of the bars in town to find out from Joe that you were there. Was that considerate?”
“Now we discussed Meggie just a couple weeks ago, right?”
“Tell me what I said.”
“You said that I get in trouble with Megan. That you don’t want me to go places alone with her, unless I call first—I drink too much when I am with her and you want to pick me up if I go out with her.”
“So, you did remember.” He tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. His expression was stern and he stared right at her.
“Defiance. That is what we call it when you remember a rule and disregard it, right?”
“When you get spanked in this house, do you get to keep your panties on?”
“I didn’t think so. Take them off, please.”
Why did that phrase alone make her wet? The very act of taking her panties off and calling him Daddy made her so wet it practically ran down her thighs. She loved that he knew this, loved that she had agreed to this except for moments like this, when she was looking at the wooden spoon and belt and knew how badly it was going to hurt. Her bottom tingled just thinking about it. She hooked her thumbs into her panties, felt the elastic as it bounced off her bottom cheeks, and then felt them slide down her legs to her ankles. She casually kicked them aside, making sure they didn’t go under the couch.
“Give them to me.” He pointed to the panties and held his hand out. She picked them up and slowly walked to him, panties in hand.
“I will give them back to you after your spanking. Only good girls get to keep their panties on.” She watched him put them in his pants pocket.
He then picked up his phone and raised a finger for her to be quiet and wait.
“Michael, Brad here. Is Meggie home? Yes, Molly is too, finally. Did you know they were together? I didn’t think you knew. Yeah, they were at Josie’s Jukebox. Yes, Molly had drinks; I can smell it on her breath. It was two for one margarita night. Check Meggie. Yes. I agree. How about you two come over tomorrow? Around one o’clock? Good. Yes, she is standing here with no pants or panties on waiting for her punishment. It’s a plan. See you tomorrow at one o’clock. Bye.”
Oh, God. Meggie didn’t want Michael to know she was out. She was going to tell him that she was shopping. He spanked too. Now they both would be going to bed after they each got spanked. And they both had rules about drinking. Even if it was one drink, they were to get a ride home.
It was hard to stand still and she felt the goose bumps as they rose on her bottom. She rubbed her thighs, one over the other, and had a sudden urge to pee. She knew he was looking at her bare pussy; he had told her many times that he loved that she waxed it every month. He told her that her lips were puffier than other women and they hugged his cock beautifully. When she picked her head up, as she had guessed, he was staring right at her pussy. She saw the hard outline of his cock against the soft black fabric of his dress pants. Again, she bounced on the heels of her feet and rubbed her thighs together in nervousness and with the anxiousness of needing to use the restroom.
“Are you wet, Molly?”
“Why are you dancing like that? Do you need to go to the bathroom?”
“Maybe I should just spank you until you wet on the floor. That always embarrasses you. Maybe you would remember this conversation better if there was humiliation added to it. Should I do that?”
“No, Daddy. Please. I need to go.”
“Go on. But no running. I want to see that bottom jiggle as you walk away.”
It felt so naughty to walk around the house with no pants. She slowly walked away, hating that he was looking at her bottom as she did so. It was so embarrassing.
She had barely flushed the toilet when he was speaking to her. “Miss Molly. Front and center. No dawdling.”
The cool air awakened her pussy lips and bottom hole, and the thought of how naughty she looked in only a t-shirt as she walked down the hall added to her arousal.
“Good. So we have discussed that you knew you were to call and you didn’t. You knew I didn’t want you alone with Megan unless you called, and you didn’t. If you go to a bar, you are to call me for a ride, and you didn’t. Am I correct so far?”
“So that is three infractions.” Brad paused. “Next question: did you drink at the bar?”
She hesitated; this question was a biggie. She knew she shouldn’t lie, but if she told the truth, she would be in big trouble. “Yes, Daddy. But only two. I only had two drinks.”
“But you did drink.”
“What are the rules about drinking in this house?”
“If you drink—even if you only have one drink—you call for a ride.”
“Defiance. Again.” He sat back and rubbed his forefinger across his lips. His brows creased as if he was thinking. It was never good for Molly’s bottom when he thought that hard.
She rubbed her thighs again—this time it was nerves. She couldn’t stop the tingles in her bottom and the butterflies in her stomach made her feel sick.
“You will get the wooden spoon for not calling me and letting me worry and for going out with Megan and not calling before you went with her. The belt will be for defiance, knowing you were to do those things and deciding to do it your way. It was careless and dangerous and you put yourself at risk and worried me needlessly. In addition, the belt is for having drinks and driving, which we have discussed many times before.”
Her eyes welled up with tears. She knew she’d defied him and deserved this punishment; however, she was twenty-six years old and independent. People didn’t expect her to make phone calls to ask for permission. But was it really asking for permission? Not really, now that she thought about it. It kept him from worrying. She had asked him when they got married to help her get over her impulsiveness. This was what she had asked for.
And this was why he told her to take her shoes and socks off. At times like this she felt like running away from him. She had run, in the past. She turned, looking at the door, and contemplated it.
“Don’t even think about it, little girl. You are in enough trouble. You run out that door and you will cut a switch before you come back in and get it after the spoon and belt. Those two will be bad enough, trust me.”
He got up out of his chair and she quickly backed up a step. He stopped, raised his eyebrow, and cocked his head at her, watching—watching for what, she didn’t know. He continued walking to the couch and patted the velour fabric on the cushion, “Come over here and put both hands on the cushion.”
“I don’t want to…”
“No. What you don’t want is for me to come get you. You walked into this trouble on your own and you will pay the piper on your own. Come. Here.”
Molly was so wet that her thighs had traces of the excess of her juices. She loved and hated this about herself—and he knew it. She had told him before how much she loved his command of a situation and she was comforted knowing he was there to take care of her—either through the comfort of his arms and hands or the discipline from those same arms and hands.
She walked over on wobbly knees.
“Bend over and put both hands on the cushion.” She slowly bent over and felt the coolness of the fabric on her sweaty hands.
He took his bare foot, tapped the inside of her ankle, and said, “Move your legs apart.” He took his forefinger and slid it through her pussy lips.
“Mmm, wet as expected, sweetie. It’s too bad I can’t enjoy those juices right now. I have a job to do and you have a price to pay.” Brad tsked and said, “Too bad you were so naughty.” To reinforce her loss, he ground his cock on her bottom and hip. She felt herself spasm and her clit yearned for release.
He moved to her side and reached over her to get the wooden spoon, then tapped it on her bottom as a warning. “You will hold this position. You will not raise your feet to cover your bottom. You will keep your hands on the cushion. No covering your bottom with your hands. You will not swear or scream, but you can cry. Believe me, you will cry. You have no choice; I will not stop until you are crying, so don’t fight it.”
The panic rose in her throat, she found it hard to fight the panic. She felt him put a steadying hand on her back.
“You asked for this, Miss Molly, now let’s get you your spanking.” He wasted no time and that blasted spoon was flying on her bottom. “No warm-up,” he had always said when it was a punishment spanking. She swore that whoever invented spoons needed to live in hell with wooden spoons spanking their bottoms for eternity. When this was over, she was going to burn every spoon in the house.
“You—will—not—go out with friends, unless you call me first.” He was hitting the spoon on her bottom with every word said.
“Ow-ow-ow!” she yelled with every swat. She always forgot how much the wooden spoon hurt and he always hit so fast with it.
“It hurts. It hurts.” She knew he wouldn’t stop, but she couldn’t keep from yelling out.
“It is supposed to hurt. This time we are going to make sure it hurts more than any time before. You—will—not—go out—with Megan—unless you call me first. I need to know where you are.” Thwack, thwack, thwack!
Her feet were dancing up and down in place. Molly was waggled her hips back and forth to cool off the heat building in her bottom. She went from zero to a hundred instantly with that blasted spoon and he knew it and her fingers hurt as she squeezed the green velour fabric on the couch cushion between her fingers. There was a dull ache in her nail beds from the strain.
“You will not let me sit here worrying about you. Do—you—understand?”
“Yes, D-daddy!” Molly sobbed.
“You will apologize to Michael tomorrow for planning this with Meggie when you know his rules are the same.”
“Yes, Daddy. I am so s-sorry.”
“I know, Miss Molly.”
Her tears made dark marks on the couch cushion. He wrapped his arm around her waist and tucked her to his hip and she felt the panic as it rose in her throat, threatening to become a scream. She squealed like a two-year-old, because she knew that this meant the last volley was coming, which was the most painful part of his spankings.
“Little girl, you will stop squealing in a temper tantrum.” He swatted her five times very hard, all to her sit spots. “You know I don’t tolerate tantrums. You wrote this check and now your bottom is cashing it. Is your temper tantrum ending or should I go get the hairbrush?”
“No, D-daddy. I will be good. I’ll be g-good!” She was sobbing openly at that point.
“All right. Twenty more and then this part of your spanking is done.”
He then gave her twenty very hard, very fast swats, all to her sit spots. They were given so fast, she was glad he had been holding her or she would have gone to her knees.
“Ow, ow, ow! I’ll call! I’ll call!”
When he finished, she was unable to contain the spanking dance. She held her bottom and bounced on her heels and then bent over, holding her bottom with both hands, sobbing uncontrollably. When she was able to cry in a more controlled manner, he pulled her into his embrace, rubbing her back and making small circles on her bottom.
“I was worried about you. What would I do without you? You know how much I love you, but you cannot worry me like that. You need to learn how to take care of yourself better. I deserve to be treated better. You do too. You are too good for this.”
She gasped for air and took in shivery breaths between whimpers. “I-I’m so s-sorry.”
“I know, sweetie. I know. I love you, Miss Molly.”
She forgot everything in that moment, as he held her and rubbed her back. She smelled his aftershave, the one she got him for Christmas that year. She loved how he smelled, and she felt so secure in his arms. He was so tall, and she loved the feel of his hand on her head and the stubble on his neck as it rubbed on her nose.
“Okay, I want you to go upstairs for the belt now, Molly Dolly.”
“N-no. Please. N-no. I learned! I learned!”
“Molly, stop. We are not discussing this. Upstairs, now. I want you on our bed with your pillow under your hips waiting for me. Go on. Skedaddle.” He gave her a light swat to her already sore bottom. “No running. Walk up those stairs.”
Damn him. He stood at the bottom of the stairs and watched her walk up the stairs. Her bottom felt swollen and she felt like she wasn’t walking right. When he was watching like this, she just knew her cheeks jiggled, especially on the staircase.
* * *
Brad sat back in his La-Z-Boy and contemplated the course of the night’s events. He knew she needed discipline, had known it since the moment he met her, but that didn’t make the task any easier.
Brad and Michael had worked together for years and had become instant friends because they had similar interests, one of which was domestic discipline. Brad had wanted a wife who was sassy, independent, and intelligent—and yet someone who would want a husband who would be the head of household, dispensing discipline as needed to keep peace in the house. He had loved taking care of his past girlfriends and having a wife who was a ‘little’ was exactly what he hoped for. He had initially envied Michael for having found a wife who wanted to be a little girl on the weekends. Their marriage was a strong and happy one, but now, he had that too.
When Molly had been hired as a secretary and had started working with Meggie, they had decided to set Brad up on a blind date with her. She was outgoing, organized, and a great party planner. But in Brad’s opinion, Molly had an innocence that he found undeniably endearing. He loved that she had childlike qualities—she loved playing on swings in the park, watching Disney movies, and going sledding on a winter’s day. After they had been dating a few weeks, Molly had texted Brad on her phone while driving home and she found out that night that he took her safety seriously. He took her over his knee and spanked her little bare bottom until it was very red and very sore. From that point on, they practiced domestic discipline in their relationship and over the course of time they evolved into a Daddy/little relationship. Brad had always been nurturing and loved nothing more than dressing and caring for his little girl. Within months of meeting, Brad and Molly were married and after they married, they spent many evenings with Michael and Megan, enjoying their company.
Michael mentored Brad on this path of domestic discipline and helped him understand his role as disciplinarian and Daddy. Brad had many questions and often wondered where the balance was between cherishing and chastising his little girl. He loved his wife—no, he adored his wife—but he knew she craved discipline and boundaries. He didn’t want to see her cry, or hurt her, even if it was just her bottom. But as Michael had predicted, Molly flourished under the stringent boundaries Brad imposed upon her and when stern discipline was administered, followed by his unconditional love, a peace seemed to come over her that turned her into a beautifully submissive wife.
He chuckled and shook his head. Meggie and Molly together were trouble with a capital ‘T’ and they spent many nights sleeping on their stomachs with very well-spanked bottoms. Even after five years of marriage, Michael had confided to him that Meggie received just as many bad girl spankings as good girl spankings. He was beginning to understand how that could happen, because once he was done punishing Molly tonight, she would have received two very difficult bad girl spankings for drinking and driving. Molly knew the rules about drinking; she had been spanked several times for having a drink and driving home. This punishment would be a harsh one and would convince her once and for all that she needed to follow the rules.
He got out of his favorite chair and decided he would give her a few more minutes of anticipation, while he closed the blinds, locked the doors, turned out the lights, and brought the dog in the house.
* * *
She walked by the dresser and took a peek at her bottom. It was very red, but not bruised, just as expected. She pulled her pillow out from under the comforter and put it in the middle of the bed, positioning herself over the pillow with her bottom in the air. The night air had cooled down and her drapes flowed into the room with the gentle evening breeze as the draft wafted over her bottom. She shivered and she felt the moistness of her pussy when the breeze flowed over her wetness. She was still hiccupping and gasping for air. She rested there with her head turned facing toward the door and waited. She wondered how Meggie was doing and what Michael was going to spank Meggie with. She hoped Brad shut the lights off downstairs and locked the door. What was Brad doing? How long he was going to make her wait?
She heard his footsteps on the wooden stairs and could tell he was still barefoot as his feet made light noises each time they landed. Then she heard the tinkling of the belt buckle, and her stomach flipped. She had been afraid of the belt her whole life and this was why Brad used the belt as a last resort. The belt was used for issues that were not corrected by other spankings or for lying and now she knew it was also used for defiance.
He came through the doorway with the belt folded over and hanging from his hand. The last time he used the belt on her, he had told her that standing silently with the belt in his hand was done to increase her apprehension, and he knew the effect was just what she needed. She needed to fear being disciplined with the belt more than she loved the praises of friends and more than her need to have fun.
Turning, he faced the bed with the belt in his hand and just stared at her, letting the fear settle into her. It looked like a venomous snake in his hand. She felt herself cream as she clenched her bottom and took a slight intake of breath. Even though the belt scared her, she was mesmerized by the sight of it.
“We have discussed drinking and driving before, haven’t we, Miss Molly?”
He was tapping the belt against his leg as he spoke. “We have discussed that even one drink is too much behind a wheel. You have received a spanking several times for this same behavior. I have used the spoon, paddle, and the hairbrush and, if I remember correctly, the last time you got the belt for a drink after work, right?”
“So we are going to make sure you remember this lesson this time. You aren’t afraid of me, are you, Molly?”
“Are you afraid of the belt?”
“Yes, Daddy.” Her stomach flipped and she felt her clit throb. She never understood how she could be so afraid of an implement and at the same time feel so sexually aroused while looking at the man who was holding that implement.
“Good. Maybe this time we can get the lesson across. It will be hard, little girl. I am sorry for that. Again, you will not scream or swear. You will not cover your behind with your hands or your feet. Is that clear?”
“Let’s get this difficult situation out of the way.” He twirled his finger in a circle, directing her to turn her head away, so she wouldn’t be watching him as he struck her. He never wanted her to see the belt as it was coming down, because he was concerned that if she watched it descending, it would cause her to flinch and it was imperative that she be still so he would not strike her where he shouldn’t.
“You will receive forty because this is the second time. If we have to visit this issue again, it will be sixty. I hope forty will be enough.”
He struck her bottom. It felt like a stripe of fire on her already sore backside. He struck her again and she yelled out as she curled the bedspread into her hands. Again he struck her bottom.
“Ow! Daddy! I am so sorry!”
“You have a long way to go yet, Miss Molly.”
Thwap! He gave the next licks of the belt in quick succession. Her feet were flutter kicking on the bedspread in an effort to alleviate the intensifying pain.
“No more! Please! No more!”
Brad paused after the first ten strokes and she heard him sigh before he started to lecture her.
“You will not even order a drink until you call me to pick you up. Do you know how many people have fatal car accidents each year because they drank two drinks?”
“I’m sorry, D-daddy.”
“Not as sorry as you’re gonna be,” Brad said. “Another ten, sweetie.”
Ten more strokes of fire.
“Oh! I’m so sorry, Daddy!” She could barely keep her hands away from her bottom. But she knew she had to restrain herself and follow the rules. She was clenching and unclenching the bedspread in her hands, trying to keep them in front of her.
He started with the second set of ten swats. Crack! Crack! Crack!
He stopped after twenty and started lecturing again. “You will not get into a vehicle, ever again, if you have had a drink. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir, D-daddy!”
“You will call me before you even order your first drink. Is that clear?”
He started spanking her bottom again.
“Oh… Stop! I’m sorry! Ow-ow-ow!” she cried in a continuous wail. Sitting would not be easy tomorrow. She felt the belt stop, but her wails continued as she knew the spanking wasn’t over yet. Her daddy never did anything halfway.
“Will you call me if you are at a bar?”
She struggled to speak. “Y-yes, D-daddy.” She was hiccupping and gasping.
“Are we going to have this discussion again?”
“N-no, I promise.”
“Okay, Miss Molly, these will be the hardest. They will be all to your sit spots so you will remember this for the next couple days. I will hold your hands. I don’t want you to get your fingers hurt. Put your hands behind you, baby.”
He hadn’t lied.
“Oh, Daddy! Oh! Ow, ow, ow!” They were so difficult to handle that if he hadn’t held her hands on her back firmly, she would have rolled off the pillow. She cried silently with her mouth open, no air in or out, and waited for her lungs to catch up. When she finally caught her breath, she screamed during the last strokes. She had no choice.
He tossed the belt and she heard the clinking of the buckle as it hit the floor. The bed dipped as he knelt next to her and rubbed her back and bottom, saying sweet nothings. He wiped the tears from her face with a tissue and pulled her hair behind her face into a ponytail. Pulling the pillow out from under her hips, he curled behind her and held her until she was calm.
He waited a few more minutes, then said, “Okay, Miss Molly, corner time.”
“Nooooo, Daddy! Please.”
“No discussion. Up. Corner.”
She tried unsuccessfully to get up without letting her bottom touch the bed. The tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at Brad, pleading silently.
“I am being patient right now, sweetie. You will not make me feel guilty for your paddling. You get to the corner and no more pouting.”
She waddled slowly to the corner and stood as a contrite, well-spanked little girl, as she occasionally gasped and hiccupped.
She heard him walking around the room. He went to the dresser and pulled something out. Then she heard water running in the bathroom—then he came back to the bedroom. Now she heard another drawer open and something being placed on the dresser. She then heard him sit in the Queen Anne chair in the opposite corner and he inhaled deeply. He told her in the past that it was difficult to see her crying so hard and that he worried when she wasn’t home and he worried when he disciplined her. Her bottom hurt so badly, but listening to him sigh made her regret going out for drinks and worrying him needlessly.
She heard him get up and he took a deep breath as walked up to her. He gently kissed the back of her neck and rubbed his hand over her bottom, his touch cool on her hot skin. His hands were smooth and gentle, and yet those beautiful long fingers of his, so soft and well-manicured, caused so much pain and just as often brought so much comfort.
“Miss Molly, I love you.”
“I l-love you too, D-daddy.”
“Will this be the last time we discuss alcohol and driving in the same sentence?”
“Okay, besides the obvious reminder you will have for the next couple days, I want to add something a little humiliating to your discipline that will act as a reminder. Step back from the corner a couple of steps, bend over, and put your hands on the wall.”
She could feel his fingers spreading her bottom cheeks. He put a generous amount of lube in her bottom while the other hand was gliding across the wetness in her pussy.
“My goodness, baby, you are so wet. I know you didn’t enjoy that spanking, but your body reacts beautifully to discipline.”
She then felt something hard and cold at her bottom. “I am putting a butt plug in your bottom. If you have to wear a bottom pacifier all night with your sore bottom, I am thinking the humiliation will be an added factor to deter you in the future. Am I correct?”
“Oh, D-daddy. I don’t want to wear a butt plug all n-night. I won’t be able to s-sleep.”
“Now, now, let’s not be dramatic, Miss Molly. You have worn a butt plug to bed before as punishment and you slept fine. It will be uncomfortable for just a little while and during that time you will know how I felt worrying about you. You may not like it and not want to sleep that way, but it won’t stop you from sleeping. I didn’t want to sit and worry about you either. You will sit with this worrying your dark hole and think about how it feels to be worried.”
Her body resisted the intrusion of the plug, but with his persistence, she finally felt the plug slide into place. He patted her bottom gently and stood her upright.
“Let’s get your red bottom to bed, baby. I have your panties and since you are a good girl who paid the price, you can have them back. Want Daddy to put them back on?”
“No, Daddy. P-please. Can I sleep with n-nothing on my bottom t-tonight?”
“We will put a nightie on you and you can sleep on your tummy. You were such a good girl. You took your spanking so well.”
Daddy pulled out her pink nightie with ruffles at the hem that had matching panties—she loved those jammies; they made her feel so little and pretty. She felt the ruffle just above her bottom.
Daddy lightly patted her bottom and said, “You look absolutely adorable with that pink ruffle above your deep pink bottom, sweetie.”
She felt embarrassed and put her forehead against his chest. He kissed the top of her head and pulled away.
“Do you need to go potty before you go to bed?”
He walked her into the bathroom and helped her onto the toilet. The coldness of the seat was a shock, as was the hardness. It was difficult to sit on the toilet and pee with the plug in her bottom. She had to strain and concentrate on the stream of urine to make it happen and was still hiccupping as Daddy lightly stroked her hair while they waited for her to pee. When the tinkling was over, he wiped her and walked her back to bed. Pulling the covers back, he helped her lie on her tummy and she asked him to not cover her bottom. He came to the bed with her hairbrush, took her ponytail out, and brushed her hair until her breathing relaxed and the hiccups slowed. She felt herself falling asleep very disciplined and loved.