Acting Up, Wicked Tease, and Willful | free spanking story

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     "Clouds don't count for shit if the temperature is above 15C or 60F. (g)"

     I laughed out loud over those words printed on the screen in front of me.

     Master said, "What's so funny?"

     "Oh, something this guy, Barrister, said on the ASS newsgroup. I've been teasing him because it was so cold up there in Canada where he lives, that the other day, he and his wife had to stay home because they couldn't even get their cars started!"

     "Poor guy. What do you mean, you've "been teasing him"?

     "Oh, nothing. I've just been havin' a little fun, that's all."

     "Really? Let's see." My Master's chair squeaked as he slid it across the floor and moved in close to me.

     "Shit!" I thought. "Um, well, what do you want to see, Master?" I sweetly said.

     "All of it."

     My Master. He's pretty wise to my ways. I opened one of the messages; the one in which Barrister had described how bone-chilling cold it was up there in Canada, and I had told him how warm and sunny it was here in Arizona. Then I opened the next one; "Bite me," it said. Master and I laughed together over that. Then Master gestured with his hand for me to move along and open the next post.

     I had written, "ah well, then, i guess you won't want to hear how it's another beautiful day out there, or how yesterday i had my lunch out on the patio and the sun felt so good on my shoulders; the muscles there were kind of tight and the sun was like a giant heating pad." I giggled and looked at Master. He was smiling and shaking his head at me.

     "What'd he say to that?" he said.

     I was excited and encouraged; happily sharing with my Master what I thought was a bit of fun, and relieved that we seemed to be in agreement. I opened the next message from Barrister.

     It said, "You were right! I didn't want to hear about it. It seems to me that your Daddy needs to hear about what a wicked tease you are and how you're willful also. What might he do to you if he heard such reports?" Again, I shook with laughter but cut it off as soon as I realized that my Master did not look amused at all. He was quietly sitting there, staring at me, his arms folded about his chest, without even a hint of a smile on his face.

     "Hmmm, hmmm. And what did you say about that, little Louiza?"

     "Well, um, I said that it wasn't nice to be a tattletale! Isn't that right, Daddy?" I said, my voice suddenly and inexplicably transformed to a nervous, but softer, higher pitch.

     "Not exactly, little one. Show me what he said."

     "Um, well, the rest of it is pretty boring. You don't really want to see it, do you, Daddy?"

     My Daddy just looked at me with his eyebrows raised. I knew I had no choice but to show him Barrister's reply. But why, oh why, did I have to feel so damn *small*?!

     Barrister had said, "Ah, but tops and switches in top mode are *supposed* to tattle on bottoms and subs who are acting up. Didn't your Daddy ever tell you that?"

     My Daddy said, "He's absolutely right. I hope you apologized to the man. Did you?"

     "But Daddy, you told me that tattletales are naughty! You spanked me for being a tattletale one time, don't you remember?" I said.

     "Louiza, you know perfectly well that this is different. What *did* you say?"

     "Oh, Daddy," I sighed, "I just said something about how I didn't understand about "acting up", and, and I asked him if it was like when I dress up and play "Princess". That's all." I folded my arms against *my* chest and looked over at my Daddy. I didn't like what I saw. "But, Daddy, I was only having some fun! I didn't mean anything by it! I swear!"

     My Daddy's arms were no longer wrapped around his chest. His big hands rested on his thighs. "Young lady, go get the hairbrush and bring it here right now."

     My Daddy meant business! I jumped right up and did as he said. When I came back, Daddy was still sitting in his big office chair. His feet were planted firmly on the floor and his big legs were spread far apart. I held the brush out to him at arm's length, hoping that he would be forgiving when he saw how contrite I was; I kept my head bowed, and I looked at the floor. I sniffled.

      He said, "Take that hairbrush and go stand in the corner there."

     I peered around the room and said, "What corner, Daddy?"

     "That corner right there," Daddy said as he pointed to the corner directly opposite him.

     "That corner? Are you sure, Daddy? That's not much of a corner, there's lots of stuff in it."

     My Daddy knew I was just stalling. "Young lady, if that bottom of yours isn't in that corner in two minutes, with your pants down--both pairs of them--and that hairbrush in your hand, you will be one sorry little girl!" Oooh, my Daddy was *mad*!

     I hurried to the appointed corner. The filing cabinet to my left was just far enough away from the corner to leave it open and yet made me feel confined as I took my place there.

     As soon as I stepped into the corner, I felt something inside of me move downwards, as if I was in an elevator descending to another floor. I felt calm and yet, I didn't; my face felt hot and sweaty as did the palms of my hands. I clutched the hairbrush tighter, fearing it would slip out of my hand, but when I did that, it's presence heightened the odd quality of the moment. The room felt too quiet, and the whirling noise of the computers' fans was almost hypnotic. I sighed heavily, again and again.


     Oh God, my Daddy had never made me lower my own pants before, and I did not want to do it, but there was no question of my obedience. My hands shanking, I pushed my soft jersey pants down past my bottom, the wooden hairbrush grazing my skin along the way. When I grasped my thin panties and began pushing them down, I noticed that they seemed to pull away from between my legs as if they had been stuck there with some sort of glue. I blushed furiously.

     But I guess I didn't do a good job with my pants, and I jumped when my Daddy's big fingers grabbed hold of the them and quickly and roughly yanked both of them further down my legs to my knees. I almost lost my balance. If my body would have mirrored how I felt inside, it would have melted into a hot pool on the floor.

     "Now you just stand there, young lady, and think about the meaning of "acting up", "wicked tease", and "willful". You just think about that hairbrush and where it's going to be in the near future, and what it's going to be doing!" my Daddy said.

     I gasped. My breath caught in my throat. Did I do that from fear, from the very thought of that hairbrush in my Daddy's hand, raining smack after smack down upon my bare coolie? Did I do it from the insistent arousal that prickled my skin everywhere? Or was it from the warm thick liquid squeezed from my pussy and trickling down my leg?

     Did my Daddy seriously think I could think about those things, about *anything*? Didn't he know that my thoughts were everywhere and nowhere, but coming right back round to him?

     Oh god, I hated it that my legs were bound by my clothing, holding me to my nakedness and defining my vulnerability. I hated it and my eyes stung, but I loved it more and my heart was full.

     An eternity later, the squeak of my Daddy's chair broke the silence of the room. Daddy cleared his throat. I held my breath and listened closely.

     My Daddy said very softly, "Little one, are you clear now about the meaning of "acting up", "wicked tease", and "willful"?"

     "But, Daddy, Daddy, I only...."

     "Apparently not. Before you are taught what "acting up" and "willful" mean in a manner that will get through to you, turn around and show me what else my naughty little girl is about."

     I slowly turned around and faced him. I was acutely aware of the shaved, swollen lips of my sex open to his gaze.

     "Something tells me that my naughty little girl's pussy is probably soaking wet. Am I right, little one?" I stared at him in speechless embarrassment, and I knew--I knew--the wetness he spoke of was growing. "Show me," he said, his attitude sure of my compliance.

     I transferred the hairbrush to my left hand and then lowered my right to my crotch. My fingers easily dipped inside the soft moist folds of my cunt, the proof my Daddy sought clinging to them as I pulled them free. I coyly held them up and out to Daddy.

     My Daddy smiled at me. "Now, that's my good girl; not willful or acting up at all. See the difference, little one?"

     I said in a very, very hushed voice, "Yes, Daddy."

     "Clean your fingers off like I know you want to, my naughty little slut," Daddy said.

     Giggling and squirming, I put my wet fingers deep inside my mouth and purposely, noisily sucked them. I pulled them out and slowly licked each one from the joints at my hand to my fingernail tips. My eyes moved in slow motion; meeting Daddy's and then dropping down to the bulge in his pants, and then back up again.
     The hairbrush lightly dangled from my other hand. I hoped my Daddy would forget all about it. I hoped he would order me to the bed for other things than what that brush could do.

     My Daddy smiled at me. It was a big smile. Daddy patted his muscular thigh. My heart beat quickened. Daddy sweetly said, "Come here, little girl, I have something for you."

     "Ooh, Daddy!" I purred. I bent down and setting the hairbrush on the floor, pushed and pulled my pants off and away from my feet. I straightened up and took a step towards my Daddy.

     "Don't forget your hairbrush, little one," Daddy casually said. "There're lessons still to be learned about being a "wicked tease" and "willful". After you learn them well, as I know you will by the time I'm done with you, maybe Daddy will give you something else to suck and lick. Maybe he will give you something else to squeeze between your slick little legs."


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