Page 12 of Daddy It's Cold Outside
I had a piece of equipment made for me to accommodate my proclivities. It looked like a slab, and it lowered from the ceiling on hydraulics. The slab had several spots where it bent and dropped away. With more attachment points for cuffs or rope than I would ever use, it ensured I could change Antonia’s position without having to move her.
Really with something like this, it replaced a spanking bench and a St. Andrew’s cross and resembled a whipping rack from the British prison system two-hundred years ago. Something I’d seen on a tour. But of course, they did not build those for comfort. This platform was like a luxury apartment by comparison; fully padded and almost as comfortable as a bed, while still offering full support.
I grabbed the remote from the nightstand and lowered the slab from the ceiling while Antonia watched on with a look of curiosity. When it was the height of my hips, I locked it in place.
“By the time I’m done with you, Antonia, doubt will be a thing of the past.”
Her eyes rounded with surprise. Did she really think I didn’t know her?
I placed her on her tummy, stretching her arms toward the corners. Using soft fur-lined cuffs for her wrists, and long leather bands around her thighs and waist, I secured her in place.
Pressing a series of buttons, the platform adjusted. Her knees bent and her thighs widened as her pelvis lifted slightly. The position mimicked her over the edge of the bed with pillows under her hips. By using the equipment, however, there would be no pressure on the balls of her feet. I stood back enjoying the view of her rounded backside and puckered rosette. Her juicy petals were already weeping with anticipation, despite the severity of the situation.
My walk-in closet held a collection of impact implements displayed for easy access. I examined the array of paddles that ranged in thickness and weight and grabbed a few from both ends of the spectrum. After her race to the woods and her subsequent punishment, I’d learned that wood was her least favorite implement to be spanked with. It seemed highly appropriate to start there.
“Did you miss me, baby?” I ran a finger along her exposed opening, circling her hardened nub. A guttural moan escaped her.
“Not an answer.” I brought the paddle down on her ass cheeks, loving the way they jiggled.
She squealed. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Better.”
I brought the paddle down again, and the sound of wood cracking on her skin filled the room followed by an oomph sound from Antonia. She clenched her muscles but being in the position she was, that was all she could do. The equipment was so much more effective for punishment than over the bed where she could squirm. Once again, I slid my finger along her slit. When she relaxed and opened to my touch, I spanked her sensitive mound.
“Ow, that hurt!”
“It’s called punishment for a reason, naughty girl. After each stroke of the paddle, you will say the number and ‘thank you, Daddy’. Understood?”
“Fine!”
“I love your fire, baby, but this is one battle you won’t win. You have descended into a pit of your own making, and I plan on dragging you back by your hair, kicking and screaming if necessary.”
I swung the paddle at her sit spot in an upward motion that I knew would increase the sting she’d feel.
“Yes! One, thank you, Daddy.”
“Good girl.”
Nineteen strokes later,her ass was a lovely bright pink and hot to the touch. She may not have been back, but she was certainly repentant. I knew Antonia better than anyone, and she’d be counting on me to give her absolution.
Plan B. I changed the settings until she was bent at her hips, suspended with her legs straight and spread but not as far as they had been when bent. Allowing the muscles to move helped to keep her from getting stiff and different positions changed how they felt. Increasing or decreasing sensations kept the experience fresh.
Leaving her comfortably suspended, I went to the kitchen for supplies, returning with a bowl of ice cubes and freshly peeled galangal.
I selected an ice cube from the bowl and moved it over her heated backside. Rivulets of water cascaded down her scorched bottom, with some sliding down her crack and mingling with her essence.
“Mmm. That feels nice, Daddy.”
Keeping the ice cube moving, I grabbed a heavier paddle and brought it down on her cooled bottom. Her reaction was delayed as the heat permeated through the effects of the ice.
‘“Owieee!”’
Now I had her attention.
“Rules, baby. Are you allowed to speak without permission?”
A sniffled, “No, Daddy,” came from the head of the platform.
