Punished Take Two

I didn't forget to tell the rest. I was just embarrassed about it. Sometimes when these feelings are fresh and the bruises are still tender it's hard to talk about them. We've never shared these things publicly: I feel like a shamed child spanked in front of my friends.

After dinner he sent me to the bedroom to await my punishment. Awaiting punishment means that I am to stand in the corner with my hands behind my back. In the corner I am not permitted to speak or move without his permission. At times I have been cornered for close to an hour. I hate being cornered because there is nothing to do but wait, imagining what's going to happen to you and getting more and more nervous about it. When you're waiting in the corner you can feel your breath getting fluttery and your bottom tensing up in apprehension. This time cornertime was about twenty minutes.

When he came into the bedroom I heard him enter and sit down on the spanking chair. The spanking chair sits in the corner of our bedroom, a wooden chair without arms, used only for that purpose. I'm not allowed to turn around when he comes into the room, even though I always want to. I want to see what implement he's holding, I want to see what look is on his face. But I didn't turn around because that would get me into more trouble. I held still and waited for him to speak.

After awhile he told me to come to him and so I went and stood before him. He wasn't holding an implement, which I thought boded well for me, but it turned out I was incorrect. He talked to me about what I had done for a very long time, making me tell him what I did wrong and why it was an important rule and also admitting that I knew I had broken this rule before. This is the hardest thing to admit because conceding that I broke the rule again means that I recognize the last punishment wasn't effective in helping me learn my lesson. He asked if I remembered what happened to me last time I left the fireplace on and I really couldn't. He told me that I was grounded for a weekend the last time, and clearly that wasn't severe enough to drive home his point. He said that this time he needed to make sure I was listening.

Then he told me to go to the bed, which is unusual, since usually spankings are delivered over his lap. I did as I was told, and laid down on my tummy on the bed. Honestly by this point I think I was hyperventillating a little bit. Even though I love and trust Daddy completely, being punished really scares me and Daddy is very serious about real punishments when he deems them necessary. So I lay there breathing fast, and he put some pillows down for me to drape over to lift my bottom up higher, and placed his hands on my back and told me to calm down and breathe slower. He rubbed my back while I tried to calm down.

Then he told me to close my eyes and concentrate on breathing even slower and I did that. Meanwhile I could hear him doing something behind me. It turned out he was whittling a ginger root over the garbage can. Now, apparently this is a semi-common practice in the S&M world, but I was completely blissfully ignorant of it until last night.

Daddy said he was going to give me something to help me imprint a stronger memory of the rule and the punishment. At this point I still didn't know what he was up to but I did tense up when he pulled my pajamas bottoms down leaving me bare-bottom-up over the stack of pillows. Then he put his hands on my bottom, pulling the cheeks apart. This action ALWAYS embarrasses me no matter what he's doing it for, and it's a struggle not to clench against him but I have learned over the years that doing that can NEVER lead to anything good. So I tried to relax even as I felt him start to push something into my bottom and took some more deep breaths trying to relax.

It scared me right away that he wasn't using a lubicant for whatever it was. At first I thought it was a bottom plug, but it seemed smaller and wet in spite of the lack of lubricant. So it didn't cause the stretching sensation that the big plug causes, but I could feel it holding me open. Daddy told me to lie still and I obeyed.

About a minute later I felt a sensation I've never experienced before. Being lit on fire from the inside. Now Daddy has used Bengay on my bottom before which was what I first thought this must be. But it only took a couple more minutes to ascertain that there was NO way this was Bengay. The ginger was much MUCH hotter than that and did not have the mixed hot-cool sensation that Bengay creates. The ginger was pure heat. I couldn't stand it. I was wiggling like a fish on a fishhook within minutes and the more I moved around the worse it got. The heat kept building steadily and then Daddy told me that I had to hold still for fifteen minutes or he would tie me. I hate being tied when I'm in pain. (Love it during pleasure but that's different!)

So I held my breath and bit my lip and cried and tried to keep as still as I could while the ginger burned scortching hot. The thing about ginger that's different than Bengay is that it makes you lose control of your movements a little bit. With Bengay you can take some breaths and remind yourself that fighting it makes it worse and force yourself through the sting. Fighting the ginger makes it worse too, but for some reason you can't stop yourself from clenching around it even as it burns hotter and hotter. You just can't stop yourself. At least, that's how it was for me. Also, Bengay seems to peak out at about five minutes. Ginger has a good twenty in it.

During those fifteen minutes, Daddy kept stroking my bare bottom and talking to me about being an obedient girl and how he hoped I was going to remember this for a long time. I was sweating by the time Daddy said I could relax, and relax didn't mean taking the ginger OUT of me. It just meant that I wasn't going to get spanked any harder if I wiggled around at this point. And I couldn't stop myself from wiggling even though I wanted to stop, mostly because it was embarrassing to have my bottom shuddering before his eyes like that.

That's when Daddy told me to stand up and brought me to the spanking chair. The ginger root was still in my bottom: he had carved it in a shape like a bottom plug so it wouldn't fall out. He pulled me over his lap reminded me again about the rule I had broken and then he gave me a hard spanking first with his hand and then with his slipper. That's something about Irishmen. They all seem to have these AWFUL rubber-soled slippers that sting like nothing else when they connect with your bottom. Daddy doesn't even WEAR the terrible things. Just seems to keep them for me. (His mother gives him a new pair every year for Christmas and it makes me want to cry every year I see that shoebox wrapped up so prettily.) Anyway, he spanked me with that slipper long and hard which was a distraction from the burn of the ginger root but it hurt like crazy and I was screaming and crying and begging him to stop by the end of it.

He pins my hands behind my back when he spanks me. I know he has to but I hate it. One time one of my hands slipped out and he accidentally spanked my finger with the bathbrush as I tried to cover my bottom with my hands. That hurt a LOT!

So when he was done spanking me, he pulled the ginger out for me, which was starting to subside, partly from the time, I think, and partly from the distraction of the new burn across my backside. And he cuddled me and held me for a long time and dried my tears. Then he pulled the flap back up on my pajamas and tucked me into bed. It was just before 9:00 then, very early for bed, but I was so worn out that I didn't mind at all. I think I fell asleep before he even left the room.

And that is the full account of what happened last night and I am going to try very very hard to make sure Daddy doesn't need to punish me for this ever again.