You always did like that part the best, though. After. When you would bury your face in the pillow and Daddy would rub the spanks away. You would still be snuffling and sobbing. “Oh, stop all that boo-hoo-hoo, young lady,” Daddy would say as he soothed your behind with gentle touches. “See? All the spanks are going away.”
“No they’re not, Daddy,” you would wail into the pillow. “They’re not.”
“Yes they are,” he would insist. “Here’s one here,” he would say as he rubbed one cheek, circling, rubbing, kneading. “Got it. See? All gone.” And sure enough, the sting would start to turn into a more gentle glow.
“There’s more, Daddy. There’s more.”
“You mean this one here?” he would say as her rubbed the other cheek. “This one?” He would circle and rub, gently massaging you. “See? All gone.” The warmth would seem to spread and intensify, even as the sharpness wore off.
“There’s more, Daddy,” you would say, almost whispering, craving more of his touches. Almost imperceptibly, your behind would flex and tremble slightly.
“I think I got them all, Princess,” Daddy would say as he gave the last rubs and pulled your bottoms back up. “This one, and this one, and this one.” You would get a funny little tickle in your tummy when his hand would trail across both cheeks and dip ever so slightly between. “Yup. See?” he would say. Was there a slight quiver to his voice? Or was that just your imagination? “All gone!” And sure enough, the sharpness had been replaced with a warm gentle blush.
“Bedtime, now, sweetie,” he would say as he brushed your hair back and gently kissed your cheek. “You’re going to do better in school, turn over a new leaf?”
“Yes, Daddy. I promise.”
“Good girl.”
You’d remember the stubble on his chin, the faint aroma of aftershave, the way he’d reach over you to shut the light before he stood up.
You brushed the thought away when it came, but it kept coming back. Maybe you liked it just a little when Daddy got mad? When he would get red in the face and stern in his voice? “Don’t defy me, young lady,” he’d say as you would stand before him, arms crossed, pouting.
And you knew exactly what was coming when his frustration would boil over and he would point at the staircase: “March.” Lying face down on the bed, waiting with your bottoms pulled down for him to come in always brought the anticipatory tears but lately the fear had taken on a trembling rush that felt more like accomplishment than failure. Something like satisfaction? But that just couldn’t be right. Could it?
But when the door would click shut in the darkness the gentle heat in your bottom would grow. Because this was the part you liked. After. The funny tickle down there. The way your parts would tingle. You would begin to circle your hips just a little, and it would spread into your tummy and you would help it along, squeezing just slightly with your thighs. In your mind, you would replay the words. “There’s more, Daddy. More.” You’d roll over on your tummy and bury your face in the pillow again. Squeezing and flexing, you would remember his touches. The smack of his hand and the tears on your face.
And soon, you knew, something delicious and wonderful would happen down there. The heat in your bottom would build and build, as you circled your hips and crossed your legs and squeezed. Sometimes you reached under yourself, make a fist there, feeling an inexplicable urge to push against something, to press against something hard. You’d replay the words in your mind. “Be a good girl. Be good for Daddy.” In the pit of your tummy a warm glow would build. The urgent rhythm in your hips would grow. Your parts would thump in time with your heart.
And then it would happen, a luscious and warm crescendo in between your legs that would make your body stiffen and your girl parts throb and pulse with a strange thick pleasure. You didn’t really understand why this always happened after Daddy rubbed the spanks away but it always did. You’d grunt quietly into the pillow, muffling your sounds so nobody would hear. You’d grind and squeeze urging it on and on. You knew it was naughty, but you didn’t understand why. You just knew you felt funny and squishy in your bathroom places and sometimes there was a teeny spot on your panties afterward. Were you really trying to be a good girl or was it something else?
But you knew it helped you sleep, too, and you told yourself that was why you did it. “Just to sleep.” That wasn’t really the reason, but it didn’t seem to matter as you drifted off anyway.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/fvy6x5/after_mf_spank_mast