The next thing she knew, she looked up from her monitor, stretched her neck, and saw that it was five-thirty.
“Holy shit! I got to get going, it’s meatloaf night,” she squealed.
Locking the files in her cabinet, she raced out of the building and set a new record for driving home. She drove into the garage, closed the door behind her, and practically dove out of her car.
As she reached for the knob on the front door, however, she froze. There were some clothes hanging from the rod above the dryer. Now, this was nothing unusual; Walter often hung her really nice blouses there to air dry before he ironed them. These were new clothes, and they were most definitely not her typical style.
It was a classic schoolgirl’s uniform. She got the message: he expected her to change out there, and she did, right down to her prim and proper white panties. Frankly, she didn’t like giving up her delicate black lace thong, but she wanted to make this first time special. The blouse was actually quite lovely; it had to be silk. Soft and flowing, and incredibly sheer. She noticed that he had not left her a bra to wear. Amanda sighed. That man of hers could be quite the kinky guy. Granted, she didn’t have huge breasts. Given how toned and fit she was, she had minimal body fat, so she was only a generous A, maybe a small B on a good day. Still, she had dark nipples. She stood before the mirror above the laundry sink and removed her makeup. Taken in its totality, the outfit was very effective. She was impressed with the black socks; they came all the way to mid-thigh. Walter had done a good job at figuring the right size to get.
She headed inside, and felt a distinct draft. The skirt was very short. Walter must have shopped at some adult novelty store. She stepped into the kitchen, and the transformation was complete. Amanda couldn’t believe the difference she felt inside her. All the pressures of work, her concerns for national defense, every single adult worry in her life melted away. She actually felt taller, as she no longer had Mr. Jones or anyone else riding her back. Her muscles relaxed and she wasn’t sure, but it seemed as if the force of gravity was lessened on her body. She skipped over to Walter, tending the stove, threw her arms about his large frame, and kissed him.
“Evening, daddy. What’s for dinner? I’m starving,” she chirped.
He removed her arms from about him, held her by the wrists, and frowned down at her. “Oh, you are, are you? Little girl, why are you so late getting home from school?”
“Oh, um…” Her voice trailed off. Come on, girl, think, damn it, think. You do this for a living. The problem was she had to take her real life, change it into her cover story, and then change that into something that would be consistent with their new lifestyle. Shit, I practically need one of our cover story teams to work out the details of this crap. “Ah, got it! I’m sorry, daddy, but I failed a test, and my teacher gave me a whole bunch of makeup work so I wouldn’t fail the course.”
“You failed a test? Oh, so you didn’t study enough, eh? Fine, we’ll add that to your punishment list.”
“List?” she squeaked.
“Yes, and it grows longer by the day. Now, what about this extra work, did you finish it?”
Amanda swallowed hard. “Longer? Finish? Um, no, but it’s okay; teacher said I had until Friday to do all of it.”
“Oh? Well, all right then,” he said, and moved to the table. He pulled out a chair and sat. “So, we’ll deal with your immediate naughtiness tonight. First, the spoon for being late for dinner. Over my lap now,” he ordered.
Amanda gasped at the sight of the wooden spoon lying on the table. This was no soup spoon or salad spoon. No, this was a monstrosity; this was Goliath’s teaspoon. Her legs turned to Jell-O and she just sort of wiggled and wobbled over to him, and slid into position. She shivered to feel the bowl rub across her firm cheeks. Her skirt was so short that it wasn’t necessary for him to flip it up to expose her panties.
Holy crap, that thing covers my entire ass!
Whack! The first blow landed. Amanda wanted to cry out, but the air shot straight out of her lungs so fast, it was as if she’d sneezed her lungs empty. Before she could draw air to replace it, the second blow fell.
“Ouch,” she howled. “Holy shit, that hurts. What’s that thing really made of, steel and just painted to look like wood?”
“Young lady, you watch your mouth, unless you want me to wash it out with soap,” he scolded, stepping up the swats.
“Ow! What? Soap? No, you—ouch—you can’t do that.”
“Oh, no? Little girl, you will do as daddy says and take the punishments he decides, and that’s all there is to it.”
“Ouch! Ow! But, daddy, I don’t want my mou-ow-th washed,” she whined.
“Then don’t swear. Is that clear, little lady?”
“Yes, sir, owwiieeee!” she yelped.
The bowl of that spoon was like a fucking brick wall. Amanda didn’t have to see her ass to know it was raising a series of big red dots across her firm flanks, and they stung like the devil! The worst of them were when he smacked the lower curve of her cheeks where they connected with her thighs. She almost screamed after a couple of those.
“Just you remember this, missy, this is what you’re going to get every time you’re late for dinner,” he snapped, stepping up the pace.
“What? B-b-but, daddy, I-ouch-you know I-oowwiieee-am late lots of times,” she howled, bouncing on his lap.
“Well, I guess you have a choice to make in the coming days: be on time or be ready to sit through dinner with a stinging bottom.”
Once he was done with her, he took her by the elbow and marched her to the corner, where a tall stool sat waiting. He hoisted her onto it, and she yelped as her throbbing butt made contact with the hard seat.
“Daddy, please, it’s too much,” she begged.
“No, sit, hands on your head, and you stay put until I serve dinner,” he ordered. “Move and you get a double dose of the spoon.”
“Eeep! Y-y-yes, sir.”
Tears dribbled from the corners of her eyes. Her ass felt as if she was seated on a hot griddle, and she was powerless to get any relief. She looked down. Not only was the stool high, but Walter had removed the rungs on this side—all except the bottom one, which was too far for her to reach. She was trapped, and had to just sit there and sniffle and sob, while she also felt herself getting damp between her legs. Looking about, she saw him hang the spoon on the wall, right next to a giant fork. Apparently they were some sort of kitchen decoration that he’d bought today and found an alternative use for. They were actually quite pretty—beautiful wood grain and with a nice varnish finish. He then finished getting dinner ready.
“All right, little girl, you can come down and get over here to eat.”
Amanda practically shot off the stool. Turning to the table, she cringed and groaned. A hard chair awaited her, and she knew better than to ask to be allowed to stand. She sat, biting her lip to keep from crying out, and started eating. Walter scolded her about not eating too fast.
“But, daddy, I need to stand up,” she whined.
“You will sit and eat your dinner, and you will not wolf it down. If I have to tell you again, you’re getting another trip across my lap.”
It was the longest meal she’d ever eaten. Afterwards, she fought the urge to pounce on Walter and demand sex as they cleaned up. Standing there, moving about the kitchen, every step reminded her of that damn spoon, and turned up the heat inside her.
“Daddy, can we go to bed early?” she said, licking her lips.
He grinned. “You will, but daddy, being a grownup, gets to stay up late.”
“Amanda!” he snapped.
She jumped and fell silent, a surge of sexual energy coursing through her. God, he can be so commanding when he wants to be.
They went into the library, which was where he’d set up his state-of-the-art entertainment system. Back when his third children’s book had been a hit, he’d used the first of the royalties on the room. As he’d said at the time, it was his one little indulgence. Now she saw that he’d added one more element. He’d gone shopping that day for more than some jumbo utensils—he’d also bought a bunch of kiddie movies. So, stretching out on the futon, they had soda and popcorn, and watched some old animated movie she’d never even heard of.
The thing was she actually liked it. It was fun just getting lost in the simple story, which she did recognize as a classic fairytale. Paying attention to the film got her mind off of her inflamed ass and pussy a little bit, although the latter continued to drive her wild. She was actually relieved when Walter announced, once the movie was over, that it was bath time. Amanda was halfway up the stairs before she realized what he’d said.
A bath? Oh, he’s really pushing this. Still, I haven’t had a bath since I was little. Let’s see what it’s like.
Up in the bathroom, Walter drew a warm bubble bath, and she got undressed. Standing there, her back to the full-length mirror, she inspected the damage. She was still very red. That spoon had been quite effective. Walter helped her into the tub, holding her hand the whole time as she settled down in the water. She winced twice—first from the sensation of the hot water against her sizzling flank, and then from the impact of that damn hard tub. It was very hard. Sitting there, she almost rolled her eyes to see the toys he’d put in there with her: boats and a submarine. She opened her mouth to chide him. After all, she was army, not navy. Then she realized why he’d done it. What sort of army toys would have been appropriate?
Then came the washing, and Walter was both thorough and gentle. His strong hands moved across her toned and supple frame. When he tickled her nipples, her toes curled. When he rubbed her neck, her muscles relaxed and her head flopped to one side. Then he caressed her back and his hand slid ‘south of the border’ to cup her sore cheek and then his fingers slid inside her. Amanda gasped and her thigh muscles quivered. She dropped the boats, her hands flew to her breasts, and then she let out a squeal of disappointment when he pulled away.
“Oh! Daddy, that was cruel,” she whined.
He grinned. “Just making sure you’re all nice and clean, baby. So, come on, get out, and daddy will wait for you in your bedroom. You get dry, brush your teeth, and take care of anything else, and then come to me.”
He popped the plug on the tub, rinsed her off, and then left. Amanda climbed out, dried off, took care of everything she needed, and then ambled on down the hall naked. She knew better than to go to their bedroom. Walter must have fixed up one of the spare rooms to be hers.
She was right; the room across the hall from theirs was now ‘Little Amanda’s Room.’ As he’d only had one day to work on it, it wasn’t really done. He’d put some movie posters up and a few music groups, none of which she recognized, and she saw some new clothes in the closet. She also noticed a can of paint in the corner—pink, of course.
Walter was waiting for her, sitting in a chair next to the bed, and holding footie pajamas that had a dropseat! Her jaw dropped. Where in the world did he get those? She longed to ask, but she was standing there naked, hot, and hungry, and was willing to do just about anything to get him into bed—and into her.
“I’m ready, daddy,” she said happily.
He smiled back and helped her get dressed. She was impressed; he’d gotten the size just right. Reaching for the bedspread, she was startled when he grabbed her wrist. In a flash he was seated in the chair and she was across his lap. Before she could protest, he had the seat down and was adding heat to her poor seat.
“Ouch! Daddy, what’s going on?” she complained.
“Oh, didn’t I mention this?” he replied casually. “This is part of your new nighttime ritual: a warm bottom before bed.”
“What? Bu-bu-but why? Ow! This isn’t fair. I-ow-haven’t done any-ouch-thing,” she howled, squirming on his lap.
She was amazed at his ability to clamp her down. Of course, there was the fact that none of her hand-to-hand combat training included quite this type of scenario.
“One, it’ll make sure you go to bed each night with a warm bottom, which will help you sleep. Two, it’ll remind you to be a good little girl in the morning, and finally, it’ll make daddy so very happy. See, a win-win all around,” he said happily.
“Oh, you are evil-evil,” she snapped.
“Yeah, I am, but I’m also in charge, and so you’re just going to have to take it,” he shot back.
He was right, and his hand connected over and over again with her poor cheeks. The lingering heat from the spoon was rekindled, and each smack of his hand drove it deeper into her crotch. Reaching down, she locked her hands onto the legs of the chair and hung on for dear life. Her breathing became labored and ragged, and then she saw something that truly made her moan. Walter had added a bunch of full-length mirrors to the room. As a result, she had a great view of herself across his lap getting spanked just exactly like a little girl. The pain drove her wild; the humiliation drove her insane!
Amanda was a special agent. She was a female warrior. She had gone through a full range of highly specialized training that essentially made her body a lethal weapon. Yet, there she was over her ‘daddy’s’ lap, getting spanked, and the tears were building up in her eyes. They weren’t so much tears of pain. Mixing in a good dose of embarrassment pushed her over the edge, and she started bawling. She was frankly quite surprised at just how strongly the feelings inside her were. Lying there, seeing herself in the mirror, she was conflicted. There was pain and humiliation, but there was also excitement and relief. Each tear carried away a small percentage of the stresses of her life.
Then Walter added still more torture. He called it a ‘spank-assage’—a mixture of spanking and massage. Pausing for a moment, he smeared a cooling lotion across her flaming cheeks, and then resumed the spanking. Each solid swat to her blazing cheeks was followed by a light caress and swirling of his fingers. Amanda’s teeth chattered and she groaned in delight, and then squealed when he suddenly raked his fingernails across her poor butt. His hand slid between her legs. She spread them, inviting him in. Down, down came his fingers, but then he stopped right outside her pussy and very lightly tickled her thighs.
Amanda heaved on his lap, wailing like a wounded water buffalo. Her brain snapped and drifted off into total insanity.
“Pleeeease, daddy, please, go in,” she wailed.
“Not yet, my dear,” he replied smugly, and snapped her seat closed. Lifting her to her feet, he pointed at the bed. “Now, climb in, and daddy will read you a story.”
“I-I-I…” she choked out.
Her brain was unable to function; there was too much stimulus for her to process all of it. It was as if she was in a dream. She watched as she got into bed, Walter tucked her in, and then pulled out his iPad and started reading. It was not a typical bedtime story.
It was an adult novel, an age play one, and not one she’d already read. Lying there, the pain activating both pleasure in her brain and passion in her pussy, she rolled over on her back, and her hands slipped under the covers. The added twinge of her position took her closer to climax. Her hands rubbed across her crotch, working her pajamas into her body.
“Amanda, you get your hands out from under the covers now,” Walter scolded. “Only dirty girls play with themselves!”
“B-b-but, daddy, I need—”
“You need to obey. If you’re a dirty girl, you can’t ‘cuddle’ with daddy when he goes to bed.”
“Ulp! Yes, sir,” she squeaked.
He smiled and continued reading, and Amanda was tormented worse than on any mission she’d ever been on. Her ass, her pussy, and her brain were in overload, and then Walter took it to the nth degree by reading her a story so hot she thought it was going to make her head explode and her crotch burst into flames. When he was done, he kissed her, gave her a fuzzy tan and brown teddy bear, and sauntered from the room. As she looked around the room, she noticed he’d even gotten her a Hello Kitty nightlight.
Sheesh, he doesn’t miss a trick, does he?
“Night now, baby. Remember, no cumming without daddy,” he said with a grin.
“Yes, sir,” she grumbled.
The night then progressed as normal. Well, close to normal. As usual, Walter returned to his writing and Amanda listened to the clatter of his keyboard. What was unusual was that it was not a comfort. She lay there in unending agony. Every tap of a key was an eternity and she hungered for relief. When at last, two hours later, he switched off his office light and came down the hall, Amanda tackled him as he was unbuttoning his shirt, throwing herself onto his back. Naked already, she undressed him completely in under a minute.
“And here I thought maybe my baby would be asleep by now,” he said as she slammed him down on the bed.
She straddled him, her legs drenched in her lust. “Daddy, did I ever tell you, you talk too much?”
He opened his mouth; she bent forward and covered his mouth with hers. Their tongues danced, almost mimicking their bodily contortions, and his cock easily slid inside her. He began to rock and thrust, his right hand once more digging into her flaming cheeks. She shuddered, her thigh muscles clenching, tightening around him like a snake squeezing its prey. He moaned, his back arched, and he rammed himself deep inside her.
Amanda slammed her fists into the bed on either side of his head, grabbed him, and kissed him so hard and deep her lips actually stung. Her breasts stiffened, and then she released a deep guttural groan of bliss when he used his left hand to tickle her nipples, which were sticking straight out. That was the last straw. She came hard. Snatching a pillow from next to him, she screamed into it, lest she wake the whole neighborhood and shatter a few windows. By the time he shot his seed into her, she was into double digits of climaxes.
It seemed their new lifestyle was proving most beneficial to her.
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