The Little, The Slave, and The Sadist - A Merging of Souls

Arastella was buzzing with energy as she watched the clock tick slowly by, her mind humming with excited anticipation as she sat at her desk at work. She fidgeted, tapping her foot and running her fingers through her red hair over and over, twirling the recently straightened strands around her finger. It was an anxious habit she’d picked up many years ago. Her mind wandered, and a glance at the strand wrapped around her finger made her grimace. The poor locks were long overdue for a trim, but she couldn’t stand to let the hairdressers take off any length. She kept glancing back at the clock on the wall, cursing its name and feeling as if it had decided to slow down tremendously. She knew that wasn’t true, but gods if it didn’t feel like it was. All she wanted was to see that clock show 5:30pm, so she could finally leave work and head off to the far more fun activities in store for her this evening.

 

    She was going to see her Sir again tonight. In her mind’s eye, she could perfectly envision his strong jawline and his broad chest and muscled shoulders, his messy light red hair, just a few shades lighter than her own. Just to torture herself, she drew up a vision in her head of him a few weekends ago during one of their date nights, standing over her, that sadistic glint in his blue eyes as he smugly smiled down at her with a look that much resembled that of a cat that’d gotten the cream. A look he often gave her these days right before a scene. Just thinking about it was sending butterflies through her stomach. She always looked forward to date nights with him. Since their relationship had progressed, she’d grown increasingly close to him, and found herself admiring him in so many new ways. She liked to watch him, study him, learn his ticks and his tells, his body language and facial expressions. She loved his deep rumbling voice, a voice he used to tease her so mercilessly once he learned that she had a thing for Irish accents. Which he could mimic almost perfectly. 

    There were many things about him that she’d learned as time went on, little quirks that were uniquely him, and she found she adored them. He had a funny little habit of sticking his tongue out as he spoke whenever it was a topic he was passionate about, or an opinion he had, or even sometimes when he was feeling a little sheepish or embarrassed. It would just kind of snake out for a moment as he spoke. He probably wasn’t even consciously aware of it, but Ara found it adorable. He also had a quiet confidence about him. Not to be confused with arrogance. No, he simply carried himself with a modest but healthy dose of self-awareness. You could tell that he trusted in his abilities and held himself to a certain standard. There was no way to adequately explain how she could sense this about him, as it wasn’t something a person could physically see. It was more of a… well, a sense. But it was that quality that she picked up in him that triggered a strong, and truly remarkable shift in Ara. Recently, she’d discovered that without even having meant to, she’d “tuned in” to him, as she put it. She’d become subconsciously aware of his subtle mood shifts, like picking up a change in the air, or a shift in his overall energy or demeanor. She found herself naturally picking up on his feelings and emotions when he hadn’t even said a word. It was that unspoken, unseen phenomenon that couples sometimes begin to develop. Those things you notice when you spend a lot of time around someone. 

If she was lying on his arm and he squirmed just the slightest bit, her high-alert senses would pick up on it and she’d instinctively readjust before he ever had to say he was uncomfortable. She could tell immediately when something upset him. She found herself putting more thought behind her words and actions. She was ever eager to show her intelligence, to let him know that she cared about his needs. It wasn’t just about her anymore. She wanted to be pleasing to him, make him feel comfortable. In essence, her subconscious mind had already begun the process of shifting into the “please and appear pleasing” mindset. What would make him happy? Would her actions please him? Was she considering doing something that would make him proud of her, or disappointed? She knew what this meant. The slave in her was responding to him. Which, naturally, blew her mind when she finally realized it. Her slave-heart hadn’t truly “tuned into” a Dominant since her last Master. Nearly three years prior. Of course, her little had imprinted on a few people since that time. But her slave-heart? Not once until now.

    As such, the anticipation for tonight’s date night was high. She’d slowly discovered over the past months that the man had a particular knack for the sadistic side of fetish and kink. And he wasn’t just good at it. He enjoyed it immensely, which shocked and delighted her. He’d become positively gleeful about making her squirm, and he adored making her beg. Beg for mercy, beg for more. He was capable of eliciting tears from her eyes, while simultaneously coaxing a moan of passion from her lips. It was an incredible paradox for her. That a man could seamlessly make her ache with heat and wanting, make her feel dizzy with pleasure, and still make her heart quake at the thought of what he might do next. Ara found herself trembling at the sight of him if she knew a punishment was coming. Yet, she craved him with a fierce intensity that took her breath away. He could flip on a dime, sweet and soft, gentle and tender one moment, then strict and fierce and no-nonsense the next. One minute he’d be stroking her cheek, the next he’d be gripping her hair. It was very Dr. Jeckle and Mr. Hyde, and Ara found that she loved it.

In the beginning of their relationship, Ara wasn’t sure if Jack would be able to handle some of her more masochistic cravings. After all, he was relatively new to the scene, and at first glance, he definitely didn’t give off the menacing or threatening vibe that Ara usually gravitated toward. The scary ones, that looked like they could break her in half, the ones with the natural “tough guy” look that made a person think twice about crossing their path. She liked that little bit of fear. Which Jack did not have. Well, not on the surface, at least. Later, she would learn just how wrong she was. Jack eventually let the sadist in him out, and Ara learned just how wicked he could be. On their very first date though, Jack seemed chivalrous and kind, friendly and intelligent, and he had a great sense of humor. Ara found herself enjoying simply engaging in a hearty discourse with Jack. But he didn’t scare her. Rather… he seemed sweet.

    And he was sweet, there was no doubt of that. He was gentle, and tender, and incredibly handsome. From that very first date, Ara found herself wanting to simply share her stories with him. And he seemed to thoroughly enjoy hearing her tell them. She shared a lot more about herself on that very first date than she thought she’d ever shared on a first date in her lifetime. It alarmed her somewhat at the time. She wasn’t sure if sharing this much with a virtual stranger was the best idea in the world. But something about him compelled her to continue. Not being the type to ignore her inner desires, she went for it. Ara learned just how fun it could be to simply talk the night away with someone who enjoyed it as much as she did. She found that it was fun to pick his brain, and it was refreshing to find someone who’s views and opinions on so many different important topics so closely aligned with hers. So, lots of bonus points for him on the “potential partner” spectrum. 

Suddenly, Ara startled at the sound of blaring sirens riding by outside the front door of her office, the noise yanking her out of her reminiscence. Still in a mental fog, she watched in a daze until the ambulance drove by, the sirens dying away. Finally, she shook her head and wiped her face, trying to clear the brain fog. She had gotten so caught up in her little trip down memory lane, she almost didn’t realize the time. Glancing again at the clock, she realized it was 5:29pm. Clicking away at her computer, she pulled up the website and logged off, feeling a renewed sense of anxious anticipation as she hovered her mouse over the “clock-out” button, and pressing it with a satisfied smile. The weekend had finally arrived.

Gathering up her things and throwing her purse over her shoulder, she left the office, making sure to lock the gate on her way out, waving to her coworkers as she made her way to her car, and flashing the security guard her daily peace sign. She got into her car and fired up the engine, then buckled her seatbelt and took a deep, fortifying breath. After all, shaking hands don’t make for safe driving. Once she was sure she’d regained her faculties, she put her car in drive and headed off. As she headed in the direction of Sir’s house, she pondered again at what might be in store for her. In her head, she went over the week’s events, making mental notes of any times that Sir had to fuss at her for forgetting something, and recalling with a smile how many times he’d praised her for good work throughout the week. Putting all that info together, she came to the conclusion that Sir was probably going to punish her… and he was probably going to reward her.

So, a bit of both. A shiver ran down her spine thinking about it. She navigated her way through traffic, her excitement building as she pondered the possibilities. Someone cut her off in traffic, and she laid on her horn and spewed a few profanities and made liberal use of her middle finger, until she thought about her foul behavior. Okay, so she had a bit of road rage. But all the excitement and anticipation bubbling through her stomach was probably adding to it a little bit. Or maybe that’s just the excuse she was telling herself. She found herself pausing to consider in her head whether Sir would appreciate her foul language and reckless behavior. She wondered if her aggressive driving perhaps did not qualify as “safe”. Her number one rule from Sir was to take care of herself, to take care of his property. Perhaps she should work on this as well. And see, there it was again, that slave-heart mindset naturally drifting into her conscious line of thinking. But Ara wasn’t bothered by this. She’d slowly come to accept that the slave in her naturally tuned into Sir, and as long as he wasn’t objecting, she wasn’t going to fight it.

Finally, she made her way to Sir’s house, and pulled into the open space on the side of the road. And damn if those nerves didn’t kick right on up again. She grabbed her purse and slung it back over her shoulder again, then snatched up her overnight bag. Reaching for the door handle, she startled to realize that she’d almost forgotten Fred. Fred was a big soft white stuffed bunny rabbit that she’d snagged at a post-Easter sale, and it had kind of become tradition for her to bring him along whenever she went to Sir’s house. Snatching him up and clutching him to her chest, as much for comfort as to carry him inside, she opened the door and stepped out. She walked up to the front door and, taking one last fortifying breath, she reached out to push the doorbell, then wrapped her free arm around Fred and tried desperately not to appear nervous.

Sir opened the door with that soft, serene smile he often had and ushered her inside. Once inside, he removed her purse from her shoulder, and relieved her of the overnight bag she had clutched in an almost death-like grip, and closed the door behind her. “Hello little one”, he said in that deep, serious voice that always made her heart pound a little harder. He pulled her into his arms and Ara melted into his embrace, laying her cheek on his chest and breathing in his scent, as she often liked to do. He kissed the top of her hair and she lifted her head to smile up at him. “Good evening Sir,” she replied, using the honorific they’d chosen as part of their protocol. By now, their rule included her addressing him with the honorific whenever he greeted her for the first time in a day. Sir dipped his head and softly kissed her waiting lips, reading her unspoken request in her eyes. It still thrilled her that he could read her so well.

As they broke apart the embrace, Ara noticed Sir smirking at her with a ferocious glint in his eyes. Knowing that smirk always meant he had something diabolical up his sleeve, Ara tentatively backed away a bit, making Sir chuckle softly. “What’s wrong, little one? Do I frighten you?” Sir asked, cocking his head to the side. Ara shook her head back and forth, clutching Fred a little tighter. “I asked you a question, I expect an answer, young lady.” Sir said, his voice taking on an edge that Ara recognized well by now. She knew that right now would be a poor time to push her luck. Clearing her throat, she finally found her voice again and softly replied “No Sir, not frightened, exactly.” “Oh?”, he inquired. “What, my dear, is it then, exactly”, Sir inquired, punctuating the word “exactly” as if mocking her. Ara stammered, not knowing exactly how to respond. All she managed to come up with eventually was “Umm… nerves, Sir?”

He chuckled softly again and shook his head reprovingly, making a “tsk tsk” sound as he began to very slowly advance on her. “And what, may I ask, would make you nervous, babygirl? Could it possibly have anything to do with how much trouble you’re in right now? Hmm?” Ara gasped slightly and took another step back. “T-trouble, Sir?” Sir smiled wickedly at her, teeth showing. Ara thought it resembled a wolf, like in the Little Red Riding Hood story. Uh oh. If she was making fairytale references in her head, that could only mean Ally, her little, was beginning to emerge. Quite possibly lured out by Sir’s insistence on using pet names she associated with her little space. Which was probably deliberate, now that she thought about it. How very like the Wolf he was, to lure a little girl out into his trap. This…. Didn’t bode well. Ara swallowed past a lump in her throat.

Sir was advancing on her again, his arms behind his back. “Aye, wee lass, quite a loht of trouble ye’v gohtten yehrself into, that be true”, he quipped in that Irish accent of his. Ara began panting, feeling wetness pool in her secret naughty place as she felt Ally fully emerge, pushing Ara’s conscious mind far into the recesses of her brain. “D-daddy, I dunno whatchoo mean, t-trouble.” Ally dipped her head down, trying to avoid Daddy’s face and the stern expression she knew she’d find there. Reaching Ally and continuing to advance, Ally was forced to continue backing up until he had her pinned up against the door. He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and tipped her face up. “Look at me, naughty girl.” That caused Ally to shudder and she nervously raised her gaze up to his.

Sir ran his thumb across her chin, while keeping her face tipped up with his pointer finger. He lowered his head, getting his face very close to hers. Very softly, keeping his eyes locked on hers, he asked “Now I’m going to ask you this once, and I expect an honest answer, young lady. Are good little girls supposed to be touching themselves without their Daddy’s permission?” Ally’s eyes widened. How had he known?! “I…. but… well… n-no Daddy.” Ally’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Daddy got his face right next to her ear and whispered, “Tell Daddy the truth. Have you been touching yourself without my permission?” She whimpered, but knowing she couldn’t lie to him, she reluctantly nodded, her cheeks reddening further in her shame. 

“Ah can’t ‘ear yeh, lettle one. That was a yes ahr no question.” Daddy’s voice was getting more stern, his accent becoming stronger, and she felt herself shudder again. “Ye…yes Daddy.” He responded with a grumble in his throat that sounded eerily like a growl and Ally felt her trepidation grow stronger. Her palms began to sweat, from fear or arousal, perhaps both. She didn’t know. What he asked next, Ally felt sure she couldn’t answer, it was just too mortifying. “How many times? How many times did you break my rules?” Ally, in her innocence, felt it was too dirty, too inappropriate to answer, and she feared her Daddy’s displeasure. Meanwhile, a strange occurrence was happening. She could feel the slave in Ara’s mind emerging too. Ally wasn’t sure how she knew that, but Ara’s slave-heart, fearful of her Sir’s disappointment in her, was surfacing. 

She felt suddenly dizzy with the flood of warring minds. Never before had the slave and the little been active in her mind at the same time. But she could feel them both, could feel the powerful emotions this scene was evoking within her. She felt the shame and guilt of the slave who’d violated her Sir’s wishes and chosen to be selfish and break the rules in pursuit of her own pleasure. Felt the crushing weight of her disappointment in herself for not pleasing her Sir. She felt the fear and embarrassment of the little who’d been caught in a naughty, grown up act. And she was surprised to discover that Ally felt the same deep, gut-wrenching shame knowing she’d disappointed her Daddy, that the slave felt disappointing her Sir. It felt like having two different worlds come together. 

She didn’t have the luxury of pondering on this discovery for very long though, as Daddy was becoming impatient, which she discovered when he cleared his throat, and grabbed hers, startling her out of her internal monologue. His fingers felt warm wrapped around her throat. She was sure he could feel the rapid beat of her pulse against his thumb. “I’m waiting for an answer, and I’m getting a bit tired of having to prod them out of you. I’m going to count to three, and if I don’t get an answer by the time I get to three, you’re going to be in a far worse predicament than you are already.” Again, his accent kicked in. “So, I suggest you come up with a response, and quickly. One…” He paused, raising an eyebrow at her as he let go of her throat and folded his arms across his chest. For a moment Ally’s heart jumped into her throat, as she tried desperately to recall how many times she had done…… the thing. “Two…” Panicking, she hurried to reply and blurted out “THREE DADDY!”. The corners of his mouth kicked up and it looked like he was trying not to laugh for a moment, but then his face became serious again. “Are you counting for me now, or was that your answer?” he asked, his voice giving away his amusement, although that did little to reassure Ally. “My… answer, Daddy. I…. did the thing three times.” Once she’d managed to get the confession out, she hung her head in shame, her arms falling limply to her sides in defeat, although she kept Fred in a tight grip in her right hand. She looked down and, seeing his smiling face looking up at her, thought to herself “little traitor, don’t smile at me, you’re s’pose to save me.” She glared back at him.

“You’d better not be glaring at me, little lady, you’re already in a lot of trouble.” Ally gasped. “No Daddy, I was glaring at Fred cause he’s smiling at my doom like a traitor!” He did let loose a laugh at that point. A big one. One minute he was looking at her with his most impressive stern Daddy glare, the next he was belly-laughing, his head thrown back, his shoulders shaking with his laugher. Soon enough though, he recovered. In the time it took her to relax the slightest bit and wonder if she’d managed to make him laugh enough to reconsider her doom, he was right back to frowning at her. Quick as lightning, his hand snaked out and grabbed hold of her upper arm, then pulling up till she was standing on her tippy toes. Again, she looked down at Fred, dangling from her uplifted arm and silently vowed revenge against the unhelpful little beast. But then Daddy was pulling, turning away and beginning to walk briskly across the room, and Ally’s shoes scraped the floor as she scrambled to follow on her toes.

She wobbled a few times as she scrambled behind Daddy, rushing as he all but dragged her, the act of walking on her tippy toes making her unbalanced. Once she got a hang of it, she looked up to see that Daddy was marching her through the kitchen, past the bathroom, down the hall, and through his office until they got to his bedroom. He still hadn’t said a word since he’d recovered from his belly laugh. Ally was beginning to get very worried. The silence was unnerving her and she began to whimper as he pulled her into his bedroom and firmly slammed the door shut, causing Ally to jump. Alarm bells started going off in her head, like “danger! Danger, Will Robinson, danger!”. He finally let go of her arm, and Ally rubbed at it with her free hand as Daddy resumed his disapproving stance, arms once again folded across his chest and that frown returning. Then he finally spoke. “I’m sorry Daddy” he said slowly in a deep, no-nonsense voice.

Ally cocked her head to the side, thoroughly confused now. Until he spoke again and she began to understand. “Repeat after me. I’m sorry Daddy.” Realization dawned on her and her embarrassment began to return. But, desperate to please, and that slave-heart desperate to obey, she did. “I’m sorry Daddy”, she uttered softly, her cheeks growing red. He continued, “I’ve been a very naughty little girl Daddy.” Ally felt mortified now, but she had to obey. Must make Daddy happy again, must please Sir, Ally’s core need, slave’s core need, it was all there as she choked out the words, “I’ve been a very naughty little girl Daddy”. But he still wasn’t done, and when his next sentence came out, Ally started to wish the floor would just open up and swallow her whole, hide her from the shame and embarrassment and utter humiliation. 

“I deserve to be spanked long and hard on my bare bottom for disobeying your rules, Daddy. Please punish me for my naughty behavior.” Ally’s eyes went wide as saucers in horrified shock. She wished she’d heard that wrong, but she knew deep down that’s exactly what he said. And what he was now waiting for her to repeat back to him. She didn’t know how she managed to get the words past her lips, and what she did manage was such a stuttering mess, it was barely even understandable, gibberish almost. She blubbered it out and her eyes were already glistening as she attempted to parrot back the sentence. That heat was pooling between her legs again too, making her pant just as she did whenever his accent came out. It was as if the very words that mortified her also aroused some part of her. Ally couldn’t think about that though. She didn’t want to think about her big girl parts ever again. Apparently, she did manage something relatively close to his sentence. At the very least, Daddy seemed satisfied, as he responded to whatever nonsense came out of her mouth by muttering “you most certainly do”, and with a quickness that astounded her, he was sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling her sharply down over his lap before she could even register what was happening.  

She whimpered again, squirming a little bit, but her squirms were half-hearted at best, as she had no real desire to fight her way off his lap. Besides, she knew such efforts would be in vain. Daddy was FAR stronger than she was, and he was already wrapping a firm leg over hers to keep her in place. She clutched Fred in a death grip, now lying just beyond her head on the bed. No good, worthless rabbit, she thought bitterly. Her chest heaved with the first real sign of a sob. “Don’t think your cries are going to sway me now, my naughty one.” Again, that accent of his kicked in. “You know what happens to little lasses who break the rules. You brought this upon yourself, and now ye-kinnae pay the price for it, right here over meh lap. In fact, ye’ll be fetching me the hairbrush before we’re through here.” She started crying softly at that last sentence. Her arms were lying folded in front of her and as he spoke, he gathered her wrists, securing both in one of his large hands, and had them pressed firmly together on the bed above her head, leaving Fred as her only source of comfort from here on forward. 

Immediately, he started spanking her, his strikes coming hard and fast, alternating each cheek, back and forth. She was still in her work clothes from the office, but if her thin work pants were offering her any amount of protection, she couldn’t tell. Not that it mattered much, if that sentence he made her say was anything to go off of. She wriggled on his lap as his strokes got harder and her bottom began to burn and smart, writhing without really trying to go anywhere. She couldn’t help it. She wasn’t deliberately trying to resist the punishment, but it hurt so much already! She cried, tears already flowing down her cheeks, wetting the bedspread beneath her face.

He stopped just long enough to reach beneath her waist and unbutton her work pants, deftly freeing the button from its hole without much trouble. He tugged the pants down, and they went without a fight. Her own pants were betraying her, as if to say “I’m going down without a fight, you deserve this.” She sobbed again, as his hand resumed laying fire to her hide. Those pants apparently were protecting her somewhat after all, because now that they were gone, the pain was twice as intense. It was getting harder for her to keep still. She tried desperately to lie pliant and accept his discipline, but unlike her grown up counterpart, Ally lacked self-control, which was obviously part of what had gotten her into this position in the first place. Which Daddy soon reminded her of, though his hand never ceased.

“Why am I spanking you, Ally?” Daddy asked in an angry tone. Ally was still sobbing. She tried to collect herself, sniffling and hiccupping and attempting to catch her breath enough to answer him. “B-becau..b-because I…I… t-touched myse..myself without p-permission,” she stammered. “Without whose permission? Who are you talking to, Ally?!” The sharpness in his voice struck her as hard as his hand ever could, the question coming out angry and loud, more demand than question. “You D-daddy! Without YOUR permission! I’M SORRY DADDY!!” With that, she broke back down into sobs, as she felt him lowering her panties, the last layer of protection she had. “Oh you WILL be sorry, little one, I can assure you of that. We’ve barely begun.” His hand resumed spanking her now bared behind, back and forth and back and forth, like rapid fire. She cried, she wailed, nearly incoherent phrases coming out of her mouth. She could barely understand most of what came out of her own mouth, other than “please Daddy” and “I’m sorry daddy, please, I’m sorry!” She mentally vowed never to touch that part of her body again unless he told her to. By now, her tears had soaked the bedspread, and Fred stared at the wet spot she made with that smile on his face like he was mocking her. 

It seemed to go on and on forever. Her entire existence narrowed to this one moment, until all she could think about was the pain of his hand relentlessly, endlessly, crashing down, meting justice on her rear. All she could feel was his strong body beneath her, Fred’s soft little arm in her hand, her body pinned entirely, unable to escape, and the burning fire his hand was continuing to stoke. The hand of fate if there ever was one. Eventually he stopped, and that hand that was just punishing her so fiercely started stroking the poor tenderized flesh in soft circles. As her cries began to quiet, she could hear a strange swooshing sound. Suddenly, she realized with clarity that it was Daddy making the noise. He was shushing her like you’d shush a fussy baby. 

“I know baby, I know… that’s it, you’re okay,” Daddy crooned, releasing her wrists to stroke her hair and her back, soothing her until she quieted down. His other hand continued to rub her bottom in slow circles. When she finally calmed down enough, she turned her head to the side to look at him, still sniffling a bit. “I really… *hiccup* am sorry Daddy.” *hiccup* He smiled softly at her, but his face held a note of concern and pity. She understood why when he spoke again. “I know you are babygirl. You’ve done very well so far. Now, I want you to show me how much you can be my good girl again, do you know how you can do that for me baby?” She shook her head, her voice hoarse as she replied “No Daddy, how?” He gave her another soft, sympathetic smile. “By going to the dresser and bringing me the hairbrush that’s sitting right on top.”

That made her start crying again, though her cries were more subdued this time. Not budging, Daddy continued, in a soft but firm tone. “I told you we were just getting started, little one. You’ve taken your punishment so far, but I know you didn’t really believe I’d be letting you off that easily. I told you you’d be fetching the brush before we’re through. How many times did you break my rule again?” His voice was still gentle and had yet to regain that angry tone from before, but there was steel in his question. “Three times Daddy”, she all but whispered. Ally wanted to argue that what he’d given her so far hadn’t been easy at all. But then she remembered him asking if she wanted to be his good girl again. And gods, but she did. She wanted that so badly. And that slave-heart in her was positively aching at the idea of pleasing him again. The slave needed to finish the score, needed the absolution like needing air to breathe. She needed to finish paying the price, thus wiping the slate clean.

Decision made, she rose, sniffling, and stumbled a bit from having her pants and panties bunched up at her knees. She looked up at him, hoping he’d help her with them or something, but he simply raised his eyebrow at her and waited, though he did appear mildly amused. Realizing she’d have to stumble to the dresser and back to fetch the brush, her face heated again, but she dropped her gaze submissively, and dutifully hobbled over to retrieve the brush. Her hand trembled a little as she wrapped her fingers around it, but she picked it up and hobbled back over to him. Slave-heart beating hard at the promise of pleasing him, she dropped to her knees in front of him and offered the brush up to him, a move that was entirely the slave pleading with her Sir to finish her punishment and clear her soul of guilt.

He took the brush from her hand and stroked her hair and then her cheek. “That’s my very good girl. My sweet little slave. I’m very proud of you, Ally, Daddy’s so proud of you. Come on now, back up over my lap so we can finish this and move onto happier things.” He patted his lap, and Ally rose up unsteadily from her knees and tentatively placed herself obediently back over her lap. Reaching over, she once again grabbed Fred, who laid where she’d left him, right next to her wet spot. She pulled him in, snuggling him into her neck and burying her face in his soft tummy. “I’m sorry I said mean words to you, Fred,” she whispered to him. “I was a bad girl, you’re a good bunny.” 

She heard Daddy chuckle very softly deep in his throat. “That’s right Ally. Be nice to Fred, he’s only been there to comfort you.” His voice was soft and full of affection as he spoke. “Now, one more time babygirl. Tell Daddy how many times.” She didn’t hesitate this time, and her voice was clear and audible, with a certainty and determination she’d not had before. “I broke your rule three times, Daddy.” He stroked her hair as a reward, running his palm from the top of her head down the length of her hair. Ally could feel him lean in, and when she felt his knuckles caressing her cheek, she lifted her face from Fred’s tummy to cover his knuckles with soft kisses. Both of them clearly needed this tender moment. 

Then Daddy’s body straightened back up. When he spoke again, he sounded firm and determined, but not angry. “Three times. 10 strokes for each time. That’s 30 strokes of the hairbrush in total.” That made Ally shudder and whimper, but she didn’t protest or make any move to get up off of his lap. Daddy continued. “I want you to keep your hands wrapped around Fred, because I won’t pin your wrists this time. If you do anything with your hands to block your punishment or attempt to protect your bottom, I’ll start over. Now, I want you to count them, Ally. And after each one, I want you to say “I’m sorry for breaking the rules, Daddy.” Do you understand me, little one?” Ally nodded. “Yes Daddy, I understand.” The words sounded muffled, as she spoke them directly into Fred’s tummy, but she was pretty sure Daddy understood. She readjusted her grip on Fred, making sure to grab him with both hands. She held on tight, determined not to let go until her punishment was over. She was beyond ready to get back into her Daddy’s good graces.

She felt the cool wood as Daddy rubbed it across her bottom a few times, warming up the wood. He made sure to give both bottom cheeks a few cursory taps to re-warm her skin and bring the blood to the surface so he wouldn’t accidentally split her skin open. They’d already learned that lesson in their extensive time scening together. She actually smiled a little despite her fear, remembering Ara obsessively guzzling water at her desk all day to prepare for her night with Sir. She’d had to run to the bathroom to pee quite a few times because of it. Ara, the girl, not the slave or the little, but Ara, amidst this tense moment of anticipated punishment, couldn’t help but smile proudly at how much the two of them had grown, and this moment was the proof of that.

Then she heard him speak, and just like that, Ally was back out in the forefront of her mind, the girl Ara shoved firmly back into the deep recesses for the time being. “Are you ready, little one?” Daddy’s voice was firm, and a last shudder coursed through Ally’s body. “Yes Daddy, I’m ready.” “Very well then. Brace yourself, little one. This is really going to hurt. We begin.” The first stroke fell on her left cheek with a resounding CRACK that was loud as thunder, the sound equaled only by Ally’s scream, followed by her reply of “One! I’m sorry for breaking the rules, Daddy!” He followed her reply with the second one, just as hard, to the right side. “AHH! Two! “I’m sorry for breaking the rules, Daddy!” Again he struck the left and she screeched as the tears once again began to fall from her eyes. “Three!! I’m sorry for breaking the rules, Daddy!!”

At ten, he gave Ally a momentary respite. She was heaving and sobbing, tears flowing freely as she sought to catch her breath. She sniffled continuously and she sucked a giant breath in and blew it out. Her whole body was trembling, but she still clutched Fred. When she felt the next sharp CRACK, she sobbed “Eleven!!! I’m sorry for breaking the rules, Daddy!” She was soaking Fred with her tears now as the next CRACK made her scream again, but still she dutifully followed his strokes with “Twelve!! I’m sorry for breaking the rules, Daddy!!” and “OWWWWW!!! Thirteen!! I’M SORRY FOR BREAKING THE RULES DADDY!!” By the fifteenth stroke, she was positively hyperventilating, so he gave her yet another momentary respite.

He went back to stroking her hair. She felt him place the hairbrush on her back, leaving it there to free his other hand, which she felt now caressing her flaming behind. She could hear him shushing her again. She found that it really did comfort her and calm her down. The shushing combined with the feel of his hand lovingly petting her hair and those soft circles of his other hand on her bottom lulled her as effectively as it would any baby. She found herself smiling, thinking “I’m baby..” and as if hearing her thoughts, he murmured “that’s it baby, thaaat’s it, you’re okay.” She sighed softly, the thought of her punishment being only halfway over a faraway reality, not even part of her consciousness in this moment.

She even felt herself beginning to grow warm between her legs again. Perhaps it was the combination of his gentle, loving caresses, his soft deep voice murmuring words of encouragement to her, the endorphins running through her body from the spanking, all mixed with the pride she felt within herself for enduring this punishment for him, the knowledge that with every painful strike he delivered, she was getting closer and closer to being his good girl again. The slave in her could practically feel her soul being cleansed as she suffered under his hand. All of these ingredients blended together, causing a growing state of deep arousal. Ally, still very much out in her present consciousness, almost resented the feeling. It was this grown up arousal and her own lack of self-control that had gotten her here in the first place. She didn’t want to feel this arousal, didn’t want to crave that deep feeling of pleasure, of release. 

“Okay babygirl,” Daddy said, bringing her back to reality. “It’s time for us to finish this.” Well that made the arousal go away, gosh darn it! No, this is good, we want it to go away. Ally took a deep breath. Daddy continued. “You’ve been SUCH a good girl so far, and I’m so incredibly proud of you. I know it hasn’t been easy, and I need you to know that I can see how much effort you’ve put into accepting my discipline. You haven’t reached back once, you obediently spoke every word I ordered you to say, which I know was humiliating for you. And you’ve maintained the count and the apology. I’ve decided to remove the last ten strokes. Which means you have only 5 more to go, and you don’t have to count these. But I’m going to deliver these last 5 very fast, and very hard. These will be the hardest you’ve received yet. I want you to know that. But all you have to do is make it through these last ones and all will be forgiven. Do you think you can do that for me, baby?

Ally was relieved to hear this, and she replied immediately “Yes Daddy I…. I can do it,” her head nodding enthusiastically despite her hesitant tone. She was definitely afraid of the pain she’d suffer from these last strokes, but the reduction in the number meant she was that much closer to his forgiveness. And the slave inside would blossom from these most intense strokes. She knew it would be enough to feel that she’d suffered adequately for her disobedience. Glancing at the hands clutching Fred, she experienced an unbelievably profound moment. She saw her left hand, partially obscured by Fred’s fur, making that hand look smaller, and her right hand, laying over the top of him, fingers curled around the left hand. As if the left hand were Ally, hiding, and her right hand, the slave, gripping Ally in support. And then she watched, almost as if in slow motion, Jack’s left hand come into view and descend, coming to rest gently over her two hands. He didn’t grip, or pin them down, he simply rested them atop hers. It was like everyone was there. All their various personas, selves, all together. Jack and Sir, Ally and the slave Ara, united in support and love.

She stared in awe at the linked hands until Daddy asked, “Are you ready?” She nodded, a slightly confusing reply of “Yes Sir. Yes Daddy” coming from her lips. Except it wasn’t confusing at all. It was the perfect response in that moment. It was followed by the rapid series of five EXTREMELY HARD strokes that made her scream so loud, her throat felt sore, and she broke once again into fresh, almost hysterical sobs. Her body shook with the force of them, her entire body from her head to her toes breaking out into a sweat as she trembled and shook with sobs that were from pain and relief, pride and release. A full body experience so powerful, it could never accurately be put into words. And all the while, all three hands remained linked.

After that, Jack let her simply release all her emotions until she finally, finally, calmed down. At which point, he wrapped an arm around her middle, and using his other hand, pulled them both fully up onto the bed, using his elbow to scoot them back until they could both lay fully stretched out. Jack lay on his side, pulling Ara into his body. She instinctively curved her body into his and buried her face in his chest. He pulled a blanket over both of them, and they simply stayed there for quite a long while, Jack running his hand up and down her arms, her back. He cupped the back of her head and kissed her all over her face. He praised her and told her how proud he was of her, reassured her that he forgave her, that all was forgiven and the slate wiped clean. He called her his good girl, over and over. At one point, she stared up into his eyes and said “I did good Daddy?” He laughed and smiled. “Yes. Yes, you did so so good. 

She floated off into the blissful abyss of subspace after that, her eyes fluttering shut as she laid her head back down and sighed. At some point, Jack took off her shoes, freed her legs of the clothing that was still bunched at her knees, and divested her of her blouse and bra. She couldn’t remember him doing it, but as she slowly began to surface from the floaty subspace she’d been in, she noticed she was naked. It warmed her heart that he’d spent time and energy to see to her comfort after such an intense experience that had to have been physically exhausting for him, and likely emotionally exhausting as well. But maybe doing this for her was a form of aftercare for him too.

She came back to full consciousness to find him slowly, methodically running a warm wet wash cloth up and down her body, then dipping the cloth into some water source out of sight, and bringing it back over to wipe her some more. The rag always felt warmer when it would touch her again, so she knew whatever water he had must be fairly hot. She remained in a daze, her brain still not entirely present. She didn’t move, she simply wanted to enjoy the feel of him caring for her. She felt so treasured in this moment, she didn’t want to do anything that would make him stop. She wasn’t quite ready for this moment to end just yet. When he was done bathing her down, she felt the most heavenly soft fabric now wiping her down, drying her body of all the water. 

As more of her brain came back online, it occurred to her that she was still lying on his bed, and suddenly she was worried that the bath he’d given her would get his bedspread all wet, which she’d already done quite enough of, thank you very much. But then she noticed the towel underneath her body, the same incredibly soft, plush fabric he’d used to wipe her down. Gods, the man had thought of everything. And she’d been so blitzed out, she didn’t even remember being lifted. But he had to have lifted her at some point to get the towel under her. She was curious how much time had passed. Maybe she fell asleep? But what about him? Surely he needed a little care too. Aftercare is important for tops as much as for bottoms, and now she felt like a slacker. Her consternation must’ve shown on her face, because he spoke to her then. 

“Hey there, love bug. Welcome back to the world of the living. How’re you feeling? Are you okay, you have a worried look on your face.” She opened her eyes and smiled as her gaze met his, and actually laughed a little bit. “Heh. Yes Sir, I’m okay. Here I am, getting myself all worried that I’ve neglected to give you a bit of aftercare after how thoroughly you’ve cared for me, and you ask if I’M okay.” She moved closer to snuggle back up to him, and he laid on his back so she could rest her head on his chest. “I’m okay, sweet girl, but it’s very generous of you to consider my needs. Don’t you worry your pretty little head. I promise you’ll have plenty of opportunity to provide service to me later this evening. Right now, I just want you to rest.” 

Her body grew warm again at just those words. Already, she could feel herself growing aroused, the space between her legs becoming increasingly wet. The words “provide service to me” were a powerful aphrodisiac for her. Those words were almost as capable of arousing her as his accent was. Almost. But the sexual implication they had now were having a very strong affect on her. Sir looked down at her and laughed out loud again. “Why are you pouting, little one?” She hadn’t even realized she’d been pouting, and she blushed at the realization. “I was pouting, Sir?” There was legitimate surprise in her tone, which made him grin. “Yes, you were. Would you prefer that I not let you rest? Is that it? Perhaps some other activity, one less… restful… is on your mind?” His tone was both teasing and tempting, taking on a sinful inflection as he almost growled the word “restful” in her ear. Her blush deepened.  “Mmmm, I think that is it,” he mused, cupping her chin in his palm and forcing her to look up at him. “Come now, little one. Tell your Sir what you need.” As he said this, he cupped her between her legs with his other hand, making her moan. “I know what it is,” he continued. “But I want to hear you say it.” 

She was breathing very hard now, and her face couldn’t possibly get any redder. “I… it’s not… bad?” she asked. “Noooo, baby, it’s not bad. Touching yourself without permission? That’s bad. But being hot and wet and needy for me? That’s not bad. In fact, it’s precisely how I want you. Now, do as I say. Tell your Sir what you need.” “I… need… you..” she panted. “Aye, that ye do. How? How do you need me?” As he asked, he stroked his finger slowly up and down her cleft, then began circling her clit. Her back arched as her body erupted in heat. She was powerless to resist. “I need you… in me. P..please… please Sir… please fuck me.” She begged, as she so often had before. He smiled wickedly at her. “Mmmm, I think I can do that,” he replied, his head dipping down to take her nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and flicking back and forth over it, then giving the other one the same treatment, until she was moaning and writhing uncontrollably beneath him.

Finally, he rose up, then slapped her breast causing her to yelp, more in shock than pain. “Turn over onto your belly, I want you with your head down and your ass up. I want to watch that red ass of yours while I plunge my cock deep inside that pussy of mine.” He didn’t have to ask her twice and she hastened to obey, eager to feel him inside her, taking what was rightfully his. Today’s lesson was a well learned one. Her body belonged to him, all of it. It wasn’t for her to decide when she’d get to experience the explosion of orgasm. Her pleasure wasn’t her own, but rather a gift that was his to bestow upon her, at his discretion. When he wanted to, or when he felt she’d earned it. He alone could choose to reward her by pleasuring her body. 

He might order her to touch herself, and she’d have no choice but to obey. He’d already done so once, in fact. While she was at work one day, he’d spontaneously sent her a message with a direct order to touch herself. She’d had to rush to the privacy of the bathroom to obey his command, and although she hadn’t been able to bring herself to orgasm despite having his permission to cum should she want to, the experience had been exhilarating. There was something altogether different about stroking her pleasure center at the command of another, versus doing so in the privacy of her bedroom, alone, for no other reason than because she wanted to. It was more powerful, the sensation far more intense when she was following her Sir’s orders.

And when she felt him plunge all the way into her to the hilt in one massive thrust, when she felt him grab her sore ass cheeks with his hands, felt him begin to piston in and out of her rapidly, that intense pleasure coursed through her entire body. She moaned and shuddered, gripping the sheets and raising her ass up higher, arching in what she hoped was a most pleasing sight to his eyes. He leaned over her and his right hand came into view next to her face. With his other hand, he turned her head to the side, placing a kiss on her cheek and whispering “gorgeous” in her ear and she smiled at the praise. She basked in the warmth of his pride, her slave-heart beaming at the knowledge that she’d pleased him again.

“Prop yourself up on your elbows, my darling,” he ordered, and when she obeyed, he rewarded her by grabbing her nipple in his left hand, tweaking it between his thumb and forefinger, causing her to gush with renewed moisture and moan deep in her throat. “Now, play with your clit while I pound into this needy little pussy. And don’t you DARE cum without my permission! Do you understand?!” “Yes Sir! Yes, lesson learned Sir!” she promised, as she obeyed and moved her hand down between her legs. “Mm. It had better be,” he replied, slamming his hips hard against her ass to drive the message home. She cried out as he started tweaking her nipple again and pounding into her with renewed fervor. His right hand was still planted on the bed next to her face, and she locked eyes with the hand that had punished her so fiercely as her pleasure continued to build until it was reaching a fever pitch.

That pleasure rose higher and higher until she was chanting “oh god… oh god..” over and over, nearly overcome with all the powerful sensations combined. “No god here,” he quipped cleverly. “But Sir will do.” He pounded into her faster, harder, pinching her nipple just barely hard enough to cause pain. She cried out again until she could take it no longer, at which point she finally pleaded. “Sir! Please.. please Sir..” she panted. He grabbed her hair at the base of her skull, pulling her head up. “Please Sir, what?!” he demanded. “Please, please may I cum Sir, PLEASE!” she begged frantically. “Yes,” he replied. “Yes, my good little girl, cum. Cum hard for me.” She didn’t need to be told twice, obeying with a scream of passion as her body convulsed over and over, waves of overwhelmingly intense pleasure washing over her, leaving her spent.

Afterward, she lay like a limp noodle on the bed, unable to move. She’d managed to turn onto her back but that was about it. Her body felt so heavy she could barely lift her head. Again, she felt the wet rag from before as Sir ran it between her legs, cleaning up the mess she’d made. She opened her eyes and watched him, feeling wholly content. “When are you going to let me take care of you,” she asked teasingly and he smirked. “You already did, love bug, that was wonderful. But if you really want to, I’ll let you cook us dinner. How about that?”  That perked her up, and she sat up with a sudden burst of energy, kissing his lips before answering. “That would be wonderful Sir. Thank you.” He kissed her back, his hand cupping her cheek. Then he broke the kiss, slapped her ass, and said “well get to it then, ya wee lass.” She yelped and scampered off to the kitchen with a big wide smile on her face.

 

Epilogue

 

Several weeks had passed since that night. Arastella sat at her desk at work, swamped with calls. The phone had been ringing off the hook all day, giving her barely any time to think. She wasn’t even able to engage in the playful, flirty back and forth banter she usually enjoyed having with Jack when she was at work. He was equally swamped at his own job that day, so it wasn’t a huge issue. But the few times she’d been able to come up for air, she found herself missing that little exchange. Then the phone would ring again and she’d forget about it as she once again redirected her focus on patiently handling the string of angry clients who’d been calling in all day. She was good at her job. The slave tendencies in her that gave her the urge to please, to care for, also afforded her a unique talent for handling the impatience and rudeness she dealt with on a daily basis. 

“Ma’am, I completely understand your frustration, and I’m so sorry to hear that you’re having to go through that, but as I explained before, unfortunately I can’t guarantee that your lawyer will pick up the phone… no, I can’t put you on hold until they’re free to answer the phone…. I know, and I’m really very sorry, but the best I can do for you is to transfer you back over to their line. If they don’t answer, you’ll have to leave a message for them…. Okay, one moment.” She dialed the extension and transferred the ornery woman over, secretly smirking when she saw that they didn’t pick up. Her office was now dealing with yet another big litigation suit, this time against the state government regarding how they’d handled things during the plague. 

Thinking about the plague brought back all those memories of the quarantine days. It felt like a lifetime had passed since then, although in reality, it had only been several months. But it amazed her when she thought about just how much could change in a person’s life in such a short matter of time. In just one year, she and Jack had grown leaps and bounds, both as a couple, and as people. As always, a smile spread across her face as she thought about him. She sent up a thank you to the powers that be that the phone had finally calmed down enough for her to have this moment to just reminisce. 

And then that darn phone started up yet again. Well that didn’t last long, she thought as she took a deep breath and picked up the phone. “Good afternoon, thank you for calling” *BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ* Arastella gripped her chair and started coughing to cover up the gasp she’d just made, taking a breath as the damn thing kept buzzing away inside of her. “I’m so sorry about that, this is Arastella, how may I help you?” Ara finished handling that client by the skin of her teeth, cursing Sir in her head the entire time, and vowing to burn his children for turning on the Bluetooth toy yet again, before slamming the receiver down and grabbing her phone. The buzzing kicked up a notch as she pulled open messenger, clicked on Sir’s name, and began to furiously type away an angry string of curses and not-so-nice names… then deleted the whole thing as the toy started a fast, rhythmic beat until she was dancing on the precipice. Finally, with fingers that shook, she typed out “Please Sir…” and pressed send. He replied by turning the toy all the way up to its highest vibration, and at the same time, she saw his reply. “Permission granted.”

Once she caught her breath and slowed her heart rate down from the powerful orgasm she’d just had, she picked up her phone again and sent another message.

 

 “Thank you Sir.” 

 

A few seconds later, he replied. 

 

“You’re welcome, little one. Happy anniversary, baby. See you tonight.”

 

She smiled. Life was good.








 

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