DAY ONE OF DADDY 'S punishment




Then, with a look of grave seriousness on his facial expression, pa said he was angry, and that he was very disappointed with me. I don't know what I did to pee him so, but I was sure scared ; last metre pop said he was raging at me he made my lip bleed, and he made me stay in my way for a long, long time. I thought about hiding so Daddy couldn't get me, but I knew that would just pass water him more mad, and I'd get it twice as bad when he did find me, so I just told him that I was sorry for whatever I had done, and then I started cleaning up our dinner party plates.

pappa didn't say another word ; I am variety of used to that, Daddy stays really tranquillity when he is mad, that's how I know he's still mad, because when he is no longer mad he will lecture to me again. He watched as I cleared the table and then took the dirty dinner plates to the sink, and when I put the ketchup and the butter back into the refrigerator, but he didn't say a word. When I'd finished clearing the table I went to the sink to wash our knockout, and I could feel him staring at me, still sitting in his president at the board, and I was afraid to plow around to look at him because that would probably just make believe him mad all over again.

The H2O from the faucet was so moth-eaten that I could palpate pilomotor reflex pop up all over my body as soon as I put my paw in the water, but Daddy says that hot water is too expensive so I have had to get used to doing the beauty and taking my baths in the frigidness. I've tried to get used to it, but it's hard ; I guess my dead body still isn't used to it because I still get the gooseflesh, and it's been almost six months now since the high temperature was shut off, but I am thinking that maybe it'll be comfortable when it gets to be Summer again, and the days are warmer.

I was washing the glasses we drank out of at dinner, and I guess I let my mind wander a little because I was remembering back when I used to sit on Daddy's lap after dinner party and he and I would view Mommy standing right where I was then, doing the dinner dishes with her backrest towards us, and that was when I got really, really scared. I didn't hear pa get up from his chairman and walk up behind me, I was still thinking about watching Mommy when she would do the dishes, but when he spoke decently next to my ear it scared me so much that I dropped the shabu I was washing and it shattered on the tile floor.

I started to cry right-hand then ; I knew Daddy didn't like cry-babies and I knew I shouldn't do it, but I just couldn't stop myself. Too many store of what Daddy did to Mommy when he was mad at her, and how he would remove me from his lap and then get up and walk to where mom was standing at the sink ; he would be mad at her and he would make her cry, and now he was mad at me and I was sure he was going to make me cry, and it was all his fault in the foremost office because he was the one who snuck up behind me and talked in my ear, I wouldn't have dropped the glass if he had not done that, and I was already scared because he had told me he was mad. So, I cried. I couldn't service myself.

"Shut up !"pappa told me,"or I'll give you something to really cry about."He has said that to me plenitude of times before, and I've always managed to quieten down, but this time I was just too frightened. I tried, and I just ended up making stupid crying sounds instead. I braced myself to require the impact of the blow I was sure was coming to me, thinking about how unfair it was that he was so much bounteous and hard than I was, and how he was behind me so I didn't even know when and where it was coming, and that just made me nominate even gaudy, stupider auditory sensation.

I jumped a little when I felt him come out both of his big bridge player on my articulatio humeri, and I was still crying and trying not to, and still making baby sound, so it took me a few seconds to realize that he wasn't hurting me ( at least for the moment ), but instead he was applying pressure on my shoulders to force me downward. I guessed that he wanted me to bow down to pluck up the broken glass, so I started to do so, but when I got about half way down and was in a sort of hunker placement he slipped his big hands under my axillary cavity and stopped me, and then he started to turn me around.

It was kind of awkward to turn around with daddy still holding my shoulders, but I managed a variety of frog-walk in a half circle and when I was completely facing him I looked up to see his face ; he had a grinning I'd never seen before and it was sort of creepy, not the smile I had seen back in comfortably days when Mommy was still around and pappa was felicitous, more of a smile that said he had made a conclusion and that he was delight to no longer have to remember about it. That smile replaced my fearfulness with curio, and I opened my backtalk to ask him why, and that was when he slipped his big thumb into my mouth.

What a strange mickle we must cause been ; me squatting up against the kitchen sump and Daddy standing directly in front of me with his thumb in my mouth, but I didn't laugh or even try to resist, and when Daddy told me to close my mouth and suck on his thumb because I was just a child, I did so because I had never seen such a strange look on pop's font before. I stopped sucking my own thumb when I was six, and it took me a couple mo to do it correct for pappa, but I guess I got a hang of it pretty quickly because soon he was slipping his thumb back and Forth in my mouth, almost pulling it all the way out before sliding it back in ; saying thing like"that's right, Baby"and telling me to suck it harder.

He had a crazed look on his face, and I guess I was now more mesmerised than scared because I started to get into it for him, sucking his ovolo like it was the human race's tastiest popsicle, as he continued to encourage me. But then he removed his early hand from my shoulder and placed it upon the back of my read/write head, his big fingers wrapping around my cervix, guiding my head back and Forth River over his thumb. dad continued to err his pollex back and Forth in my oral cavity, but now he stopped talking and just closed his eyes while he did it, but he still had that unusual, kind of creepy smile on his sass the whole time.

It was eldritch, and I form of felt a piffling mirthful sucking Daddy's thumb, but it was much effective than getting a whooping from him, so I just kept letting him guide my pass back and forth over his thumb. There's no clock in the kitchen so I don't really recognize how long we did that, my best supposition would be maybe five arcminute or so, and eventually he instructed me to use my tongue to lick his quarter round each time it went all the way into my mouth. I began to relax a little because pa was using a a lot delicate smell of spokesperson by now, I didn't think he was still angry with me because he was saying things like"yeah, Baby"and"that's right,"so I just shut my eyes and continued to do what he wanted, just waiting for it all to be over so I could go back to cleaning the bag and dinner things.

dad stopped moving his thumb into my mouth eventually ; like I said, I don't have it off how much time later and just paused with his pollex just at the tips of my mouth. He still had his big hand on the back of my neck, but he was no longer trying to actuate my head forward or his ovolo into my mouth. I opened my eyes to appear at him but he still had his heart closed. We stayed that way for a short time, and then with his eyes still closed he stepped forward and directly up against me. I had no idea what was coming future, and there really wasn't much more than a half step between us to begin with, but I stayed put as he removed his thumb from my mouth and pressed his jeans up against me.

The first gear affair I realized was that Daddy had something very hard in his bloomers, maybe in his pocket or something, but he was pressing it up against my face. He began using the mitt that was on the cover of my neck to hold me against him, and whatever was in his pants felt very lovesome. dada then put his early hand behind my neck as well, and as he held me firm against whatever that warm, hard thing in his pants was, he also started to make a motion his hips a little, kind of like he was dancing up against me, rubbing his blue jean on my mouth and against my face. Daddy did this for a couple of hour, occasionally moving one of his big stiff hands up to the binding of my head so that he could turn my face, which would earn the hard thing in his pant agitate up against my cheek and ear, all the patch he remained pipe down and his optic stayed shut.

Daddy picked up the pace a little, moving his hips a little bit faster as he pressed up against me and I started to worry that whatever the severe thing he had in his pouch was going to offend me, but then he made a loud grunting auditory sensation that sounded like it came from deep inside his throat, and stopped completely. He let go of my neck and the back of my straits with both of his men and then he took a stride backwards and opened his oculus. He didn't look mad at me anymore, in fact, he looked variety of sleepy, but I stayed exactly as I was and just looked up at him because he had not given me any farther pedagogy and I didn't want to anger him all over again. We stayed that way for a little bit, me looking up at him from my squat position against the console below the cesspit and him looking back down at me with his sleepy optic, and then all at once he shook his drumhead as if he was coming out of a revery. His center cleared and he looked around quickly then back down at me.

When he finally spoke his part held no ira, but that look of grave seriousness was back on his face. There was no smiling, creepy or otherwise, and his eyes had cleared and sharpened in the looking at I had become very familiar with, the look that meant he was not screwing around. I was told that I would have to be punished for making daddy mad, and also that I would birth to"do spear carrier employment"to make up for the glass I had broken. I didn't daring dissent, the sincerity on his face told me that I had no choice but to listen to what he said, so instead I stayed silent and just nodded that I understood.

Daddy informed me that he was going to take a shower, and that he expected me to have the broken deoxyephedrine picked up and the rest of the dinner looker finished before he was done. I was told that as soon as I finished these chores I was to go get my pajama on, and then I was to climb into his bed and wait for the rest of my punishment. I hadn't said a single Word of God since dinner and when I spoke my vox was kind of thick and crackly because of my crying, but I managed to squeak out a soft"Yes, Sir"at his book binding as he walked down the residence towards his bedroom.




WF 13.1.2016