I’d run from him. I’d hidden things from him and now I was paying the price.
I expected to feel angry that he was punishing me this way, but I wasn’t. I was safe over his knee and when it was over, I knew he would hold me.
I knew the guilt I’d felt for so long would be washed away. The terror I’d felt from the family would be a distant memory and then the two of us could move on to focus on what was important.
We’d be able to focus on us.
His palm peppered the backs of my thighs so hard that it was hard to catch my breath. I knew without a doubt that I would have trouble sitting the next day and he hadn’t even begun to use the wooden spoon.
“Oh, please,” I pleaded.
He paused for a long moment, likely admiring his handiwork and I took the brief respite to catch my breath. My bottom already felt scorched, and my thighs burned as if they were still ablaze.
“Has anyone ever punished your bottom hole before, little girl?” he asked, and I shook hard.
“No, Daddy,” I answered pleadingly.
“Do you think that’s about to change, little girl?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I cried out. “Please. You don’t have to do this.”
“Daddy has to make sure you’re properly punished, little girl. He wants to make sure you always remember that he cares for you,” he continued, and my lips opened and shut with quiet surprise. His fingertips petted up and down my scalded globes. He relaxed the hold he had on the backs of my legs. I hoped against hope my spanking was over and that he was going to let me up.
“Open your legs, little girl,” he instructed. Fearfully, I did as he asked; his leg pinned back over mine just as firmly as before and I knew at once that my ordeal was far from over. Carefully, he slipped his fingers in between my thighs and I moaned in mortification.
He’d spanked me so hard, and I was so wet. With my legs pressed together and the constant terrible pain of his palm spanking my backside, I hadn’t noticed just how much my body was betraying me. I hadn’t noticed how my inner thighs were soaked with my arousal until now.
And now he knew too.
I wailed into the couch cushion and he used the fingers of his other hand to spread my bottom wide. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, he dragged the fingers that were covered with my own wetness and settled them right on top of my bottom hole.
I stilled.
“Please don’t,” I pleaded.
He didn’t listen. He pushed his finger inside anyway.
Oh, God.
It hurt. I’d never been breached back there before, and his finger was so thick. My body revolted and tightened around him, which only made it hurt even more.
My tight hole burned, but it went deeper than that. My thighs started to shake, and a rush of painful sensation hurtled up and down my spine.
“Little girl, your bottom hole is so very tight. I’m afraid that’s going to make this next part that much harder on you,” he mused, and I felt myself clench all around him. The pain that had just began to ebb away flared hotly back to life and I cried out in mournful despair as he began to pump that cruel finger in and out of my bottom.
“Daddy,” I whimpered.
“This tight little hole needs to be punished too, little girl. You cannot hide anything from Daddy and he’s going to make sure that you never forget that again,” he scolded, and my guilt surged back just as hotly as before.
With my body snug against his, he reached forward to grab the carved ginger with the finger of his other hand still thrusting in and out of my sore bottom hole. Finally, he removed that ruthless digit and I sighed in relief before a wet cool tip pressed back against my tight rim.
“Daddy?” I asked, so terribly unsure.
“Daddy is going to put the ginger inside your naughty bottom, little girl. I should warn you. This part may hurt a bit,” he warned, and I tensed apprehensively.
The pressure of the root increased, and I tightened, trying to fight back against it. It didn’t matter though. He held my bottom open and pushed the thick root firmly into it. He’d stretched me just the slightest bit and once the tip breached me, I knew I was fighting a losing battle.
The ginger was thicker than his finger though. It stretched me wider, and I keened as a deeper, more thorough ache vibrated through me. My muscles clenched as I fought against it, but I was at a disadvantage.
“It would be easier for you if you pushed back against it, little girl,” he chided.
“I can’t,” I whimpered. No matter what I did, I couldn’t force myself to just relax and take it. This was a whole different kind of punishment than I had imagined, and I just wanted it to end.
He pushed down hard, and the rest of the ginger root went inside me.
The ensuing pain burned hot as my tight hole was stretched wider than it had ever been. I cried out and the agony continued for several long moments before my body finally began to settle down again.
I expected him to started spanking me again right away, but he didn’t.
Instead, I just laid there over his knee with the moist root in my bottom. At first, it felt cool and as if the punishment had simply been how painful the initial insertion was. For several moments, I savored the respite and then something strange happened.
My bottom hole began to feel warm.
I shifted, thinking that maybe it was just from being stretched like that for the first time, but as it began to intensify, I started to fear that it wasn’t.
It got hotter.
I cried out for the first time from it.
“You see, ginger has a certain way of reminding a little girl of just
