Her Shameful Confession by Emily Tilton – Extended Preview

Daddy’s suitcase stood in his bedroom, unopened, Lindsay stood beside it. Lindsay only had her lacy white panties on, because Daddy had said so, as soon as she had pulled his car into his parking space. Lindsay had her hands on her head, because Daddy had given that command, too: Go to my bedroom and strip down to your panties, pumpkin. Hands on your head. I’ll be there in a few moments.

Daddy’s suitcase was there because Daddy himself had carried it in, because Daddy also stood in his bedroom, looking at little Linnie while little Linnie’s eyes looked at Daddy’s shoes.

“Lindsay?” Daddy said very softly. “Is this a good way for you to tell me what you need to tell me?”

Lindsay closed her eyes and scrunched up her forehead. Part of her wanted to protest—to say, No, Daddy, it’s not a good way. And, Please don’t make me decide about that. Please don’t make me say I should be here in my underwear with my hands on my head, so I can confess that I touched the naughty places that belong to my daddy.

But she mumbled, still with her eyes closed, “It’s fine, Daddy.”

Lindsay knew how important it was to Rick to make sure he gave her not only what he wanted to give her, but what she wanted and needed, too. She knew that he would never even consider taking off his thick, stout leather belt and whipping her little bottom with it unless he could make himself certain that part of his little girl needed to learn that terrifying kind of lesson.

For my own good.

Little Linnie needed a belt whipping, for her own good.

“Look at me, pumpkin,” Rick said a little sternly.

Lindsay lifted her face and opened her eyes, the tension in her arms making her bite her lip as she met her daddy’s penetrating gaze.

“I think you know what I’m asking,” he said slowly and seriously. “If you’re not ready to tell me about what happened today, we can forget about it, and come back to it when you’re ready.”

Lindsay felt her eyes go wide. “No,” she blurted out. “This… this is a good way, Daddy.” Then she gave a tiny whimper, because her pussy had clenched in the lacy white panties.

Rick smiled gently at the sound, and then he nodded. “Alright, little Linnie,” he said, his voice now very businesslike and strict. “Daddy has to whip you—that’s very clear, and I don’t need to know anything more than what I learned just from sniffing the air in my car. You played with Daddy’s little pussy without permission, right there in Daddy’s car, and so you’re going to get a hiding, now.”

His hands went to his belt buckle. Lindsay’s jaw dropped, and her heart pounded. How could her daddy switch gears like that? She had thought she would have a chance to… to plead… to say she was sorry and couldn’t she get the belt next time?

“You’d better fess up to anything else you did, too, Lindsay. If I find out later that you touched yourself more than that, like maybe in bed this morning, you’ll get the belt even worse, with extra for lying.”

Her hands flew off her head and went behind her, and she backed into Rick’s bed so forcefully that she fell down onto her bottom, with her hands under it for extra protection.

“Please, Daddy. I… I played… I used the… the toy…”

Rick nodded solemnly. “Where, pumpkin? In bed?”

Lindsay nodded herself, but miserably. “And…”

“And?” her daddy asked, frowning.

“And I touched myself in the shower,” she whispered, lowering her eyes to his shoes again.

“Three times, little Linnie?” Rick asked. “How many times did you come?”

Lindsay’s cheeks burned. “Don’t know,” she mumbled. Then a strange thrill of hope came into her chest. She looked up. “I missed you so much, Daddy. You know that, right?”

She saw it: he couldn’t help smiling. “I know, pumpkin. Daddy missed you too. Now that I have a little girl to take care of, and to play with, and have very big girl time with, it’s hard to be apart. But what should you have done? Stand up, now, and put those hands back on your head. You’re not to cover up your little backside when you know you have a bare-bottom whipping coming.”

But now she couldn’t obey her daddy. She felt so scared for her little bottom, because she saw his hands unfastening the belt buckle now, and starting to tug at the heavy silver. Lindsay didn’t stand up: instead she tried to scoot backwards on the bed, away from Rick. She saw a very thoughtful frown cross his face, as if he were trying to decide whether Lindsay’s fear meant he should stop their play. She felt her nose wrinkle as she looked back at him, and she watched him take in the tiny movement, and draw what Lindsay knew despite the butterflies in her tummy was the right conclusion: little Linnie needed a hiding, and her daddy mustn’t hesitate to administer it.

Rick closed the distance to his bed, and though Lindsay tried to scramble further up it, he took her by her arm and flipped her over onto her tummy. She yelped at the suddenness of it, and she tried to move away, to the other side of the bed, thinking she would get off the bed and run away, despite everything she had decided. She wouldn’t run out of Rick’s apartment, certainly, even if she could manage to grab her clothes to put on in the hallway or something. She wouldn’t even run out of the bedroom; she’d get off the bed and go to the wall and stand tightly against it with her hands at her sides to defend her backside. Then she would talk to her daddy about maybe getting her sentence commuted to a hand spanking this time.

But, “No, pumpkin,” her daddy said, and he held her on her tummy on the bed. He didn’t have his belt in his hand yet—Lindsay hadn’t even let him get that far before she decided to try to escape. With his hands free, he could hold her down with his right hand and grab a pillow with his left. Lindsay’s heart raced as she tried to figure out what the pillow might be for, and then she whimpered when he rolled her up on her side for an instant and shoved it under her hips.

To raise my bottom, she thought, the whimper becoming a little sob at the thought and at the sensation of having her backside lifted up like that. To raise my bottom for my whipping.

“This is how I give a belt whipping, pumpkin,” Daddy said. “On my bed or your bed, the way a naughty child gets a hiding at home. Now take down your panties for me.”

Lindsay gave a little cry. The lacy white panties gave no protection at all from the stout leather that would soon come down across her pert cheeks, but how could she obey her daddy? How could she do that herself?

She heard something. She heard a sliding noise, a slithering. Leather coming out of belt loops.

“Oh, no,” little Linnie wailed softly, turning her head to see that Daddy was making the sound; he was doing it at last, taking off his belt so that he could whip her bare bottom with it.

“Do it, Lindsay,” he said sternly, doubling the belt and winding it around his hand. “Panties down right now. If I have to start whipping you with your underwear still up, those won’t count.”

“Please, Daddy,” she sobbed. “Please, no.”

Then, taking her by surprise, Rick stopped being patient. She watched her daddy as if in slow motion as he put his left hand on her back to hold her in place, and his right hand went up, and then it came down again, with a soft whistling sound and then a terrible crack.

For a tiny moment, it didn’t feel like anything. Lindsay watched his arm go up again before she felt the pain. Then it hurt so bad she gasped and her whole body writhed, but Rick held her backside where it was and whipped her again and again.

“Daddy! I’ll take them down!” she screamed. “I’ll take them down!”

“Go ahead and do that, pumpkin,” Rick said. He relaxed the pressure of his hand on his little girl’s back, so that she could move her hands around and hook her thumbs in the waistband of the little white panties. Her bottom-cheeks already looked pink in the light from the bedside lamp, and he felt confident that he had given her a proper taste of what the belt could feel like.

Her hands hesitated for a moment.

“Get them down, Lindsay,” Rick growled. “I don’t want to whip your hands, but I will if I have to.”

She gave a little cry, and she moved over the pillow to obey him, curling her body a little so she could draw the lacy underwear down to just above her knees. Rick’s cock swelled as he noticed that she seemed to try to hide her sweet pussy from her daddy, the way a little girl might, out of embarrassment. As Lindsay pulled the panties down, she turned a bit onto her left side, rather than her right, so that Rick couldn’t see the naughty place she had touched without permission.

“Pumpkin,” he said sternly. “You know Daddy gets to see your pussy.”

Lindsay gave a cry at that, so full of shame and need that it rent Rick’s heart even as it made his cock leap in his jeans. She cast him a glance back over her shoulder as she scrambled back over the pillow, her face propped up on her elbows and her knees tightly closed, with the panties in a pretty little tangle around them.

“Do you know that, little Linnie?” Rick asked.

Lindsay didn’t answer, but bit her lip, a crease in her forehead.

Rick put his left hand on her back again, firmly. Lindsay cried out as she understood what would happen now, and she tried to get her hands out from under her to throw them back behind her, but her daddy didn’t hesitate at all. He raised the belt and brought it down, and he did it over and over, the way a man gives his little girl a real belt whipping, a real old-fashioned hiding, when she’s been very naughty and needs it for her own good.

Lindsay screamed and struggled over the pillow. Her hands did fly back, but Rick imprisoned her wrists atop her back and held her firmly in place on the bed, barely pausing in the rhythm of the strict whipping he had determined his little girl should have.

“Daddy, please… please… please, stop, Daddy… it hurts so much,” Lindsay sobbed as the belt came down again and again on her young bottom. Rick kept her in place despite her writhing, and went on whipping her. He moved the lashes of the belt from cheek to cheek, then up and down her thighs, making sure to turn the whole area from waist to knees a bright, glowing pink.

“Does Daddy get to see your pussy, Lindsay?” he asked, still bringing the belt down hard and rapidly. “Who does Daddy’s little girl’s pussy belong to? This doesn’t feel as nice as what you were doing in Daddy’s car in the parking lot, does it?”

“It’s yours, Daddy,” Lindsay wailed. “It’s yours! Please, stop! I’ll show you!”

She spread her knees then, as far as she could with the stretchy fabric of her panties around them. Rick’s cock grew as hard as an iron bar at the lewd, lovely sight: his little girl’s private pout, bare for his pleasure, presented over the pillow for his inspection.

He took the belt from his right hand and coiled it back up again. He laid it on Lindsay’s back, and she gave a tiny cry as she realized what he had put there: a promise that her whipping was done for now, but also that her daddy wouldn’t hesitate to tan her hide again if he must.

“Please, Daddy,” she begged. Part of Rick wanted to make her tell him exactly what that please meant, but he decided to leave it a mystery. He put his left hand gently on her tailbone, and Lindsay whimpered. He bent down, bringing his face close to the shadowy valley of her bottom, close to the warm, humid pussy that had gotten her into so much trouble.

“Daddy’s pussy is so pretty, pumpkin,” he said softly. “So pretty, and Daddy knows how tight it’s going to be for him, too, when he has big girl time with you in a little while.”

To his delight, his words made the pink little lips that peeped out between the creamy ones move. Lindsay let out a low moan.

Rick started to rub her warm, red bottom, then, with his left hand. Gently, he rubbed the right cheek, and then a little more firmly. His little girl’s moan became a sob. Gently, he rubbed the left cheek, and then he tugged it so that he could get a good look at her adorable bottom-hole.

Lindsay’s hips bucked, and her punished bottom moved up and down. Her pussy clenched again.

He took a deep breath through his nostrils, relishing the wonderful rich scent of her feminine need. The sound brought a whimper from Lindsay.

“I can smell how much you need your daddy, pumpkin, even after he whipped you.”

“Oh, Daddy,” Lindsay said in a sniffly voice, turning her head over her shoulder with pink cheeks. “That’s so embarrassing.”

“It smells a lot like my car did,” Rick teased, smiling to show that the offense she had committed against his rules had received full forgiveness in the fiery consequences delivered by his belt.

“Oh, Daddy,” she repeated. “I knew… I knew I was being naughty, but…”

“But what, Linnie?”

“But… I thought about your belt, and… well…”

Rick’s smile broadened. “Did that make it a little worse?”

“A lot worse, Daddy,” she confessed. She bit her lip, and her brow furrowed deeply. Under his still rubbing hand, her bottom squirmed.

Rick pressed his forefinger in between her warm, pert cheeks. He laid it on her tiny bottom-hole, and pushed gently, so that Lindsay gave a submissive sob deep in her throat.

“Daddy’s going to have big girl time in here, now, pumpkin. That’s what will always happen after a belt whipping.”

“Why, Daddy?” Lindsay asked, her eyes widening.

He pressed the finger in more deeply. The little bottom bucked against his hand, and she gave a tiny cry, closing her eyes as her cheeks got pink in embarrassment at her helpless, needy reaction to the shameful, invasive touch of her daddy.

Rick moved his finger gently in and out before he answered her question—once, twice, three times, each impalement of her little bottom-hole drawing a soft moan.

Finally, he said very softly, “Because bottom-fucking means you belong to Daddy.”