CHAPTER NINE

Reader’s Note: This is Joanne Swift’s journal, adapted for reading, detailing the events around October 8^th (Saturday) 2016 – after 30 spankings in to the 50 Tom planned to give Taylor initially.

It was all I could do to keep a straight face and sit quietly while I wrote down the rules my husband laid down. I was still processing the fact that the other kids’ heads hadn’t exploded, seeing their sister bare-assed and getting a spanking.

I suppose I had expected the world to come to an end or the secret moral police to come bursting through our windows any moment and take the kids away.

Yet, everyone was having fun and laughing; and even though there was a bare butt in the room, it didn’t seem sexual, perverted, or even wrong.

Tom and I had never discussed what would happen IF the kids found out, because the thought never occurred to us.

I had assumed a world-ending catastrophe would engulf us before I brought my daughter down, in her skimpy apron, to her intended fate—receiving punishment—because my mind could simply not wrap around what we were going to do.

I trusted Tom’s judgment to make the right decision, though, and I sat quietly making no comments at all while the rest of them teased and tormented their sister. They even started calling her ‘Fart Face’, and she tolerated it.

Taylor gave them back some smart-aleck remarks initially, but she’d gone along with it all. I’d expected her to protest, scream, or even storm out of the house. She was, after all, a tempest that could be set off by even the slightest provocation from her brothers and sister – certainly for much less than what she was currently enduring in front of them.

That is when I began to study her face, and I saw something in it that seemed familiar.

I recognized that face – I could see it in her eyes and the glow of her cheeks (both the ones on her face and her rear end). It became obvious to me once her dad spanked her really hard in the second set of ten.

I was not sure if Tom had picked up on it or recognized it the way I did. As a submissive, I know that look in all its various forms, and I’ve made those same expressions myself.

Tom had just returned her to the punishment position on the couch in front of her brothers and sister, and she protested with a surly grimace on her face, but stuck her butt out high and presented herself to her father.

As much as I hated to believe it, I suspected very strongly that my daughter was getting off on this.

I mentioned earlier about the “SAM” or smart-assed masochists we had encountered in the BDSM community. I never once would have made the connection that my daughter fit the stereotype perfectly.

I used to think that they liked to make a game of making their dominant angry. They would sarcastically march along and complain or joke but comply with their punishments.

The worst one I’d ever seen was a former stripper named Cathy with big tits and blonde hair. She would put little post-it notes with reminders under her skirt for her dominant to find. She once blew out the candles during wax-play at a demonstration he was giving and sang “Happy Birthday to me”.

I chalked it up to an extroverted, immature personality and a need for attention. I didn’t consider her a ‘real’ submissive, in that she was learning how to take pleasure in her service and to be humbled. It was not my place to judge her, though – if she and her dominant got off on that sort of thing, then that was good for them.

Cathy would make all kinds of snide remarks about how other dominants didn’t tie knots correctly at demonstrations. She and a girlfriend held up little notes with a score on them while they took turns getting paddled, to rate the dominant in how hard he hit. They would smile and giggle and be playful – so everyone thought it was just in fun.

There were some women who thought it was obnoxious behavior and over the top; but I mention this woman because I saw her face in my daughter’s face.

The thing was – despite Cathy kicking and screaming and incessantly giggling while she was being tortured in a public-play dungeon in front of others, she was getting off on the discipline. She was also possibly getting something deeper and more meaningful that helped keep her bitchy attitude in check and redirect her attitude.

On a scale of 1-10 on the pretty-bitch scale, Cathy was probably naturally an eight. I don’t think getting spanked, humiliated, and whipped could have brought her to a 1 or a 2; but I think everyone was just happy for a manageable 5 or 6 – a gregarious, fun-loving slutty girl who embraced her sexuality.

Cathy may never have become an obedient slave, but at least she was less of a selfish bitch through her training. I think the discipline her dominant gave her made her mellow out a little and become sort of a playful, giving bimbo, and that was at least a form of improvement.

She was never going to give up her wine, high heels, and posting everything she did or said that was witty on Facebook for the world to read. I don’t think she was looking for a commitment – she just wanted a snuggle-buddy for weekends watching Walking Dead, and a dominant to whip her once a month to give those feelings she couldn’t explain.

The ones my daughter seemed to be feeling firsthand. I can’t quantify the way they feel, and they may be uniquely female feelings to begin with, that have to do with unlocking primal hormones in our bodies.

The spanking wasn’t the catalyst to the changes in and of itself. I could take out a hairbrush and hit my own ass, if I was so inclined, and nothing would change for me. There was so much more to the formula than the sum of its parts to put a woman in her place – and to enter sub-space.

If you want to make soup, you need to use all the ingredients of vegetables, broth, noodles, and heat. Saying that the spanking is all you would need is like taking the uncooked potatoes from the pot and saying this is all you need to enjoy soup.

I suppose it may be different for Cathy and for me than for Taylor, but I can tell you how it affects me and let you draw your own conclusion. The way it feels to be disciplined, and to have these rules laid out for you – to not have to think because you know exactly what you’re going to do that day.

To have your femininity used to train you, by pulling your tits, stretching your pussy, and requiring you to expose yourself, is very taboo. We were told it’s so naughty and nasty; and yet there’s this man attaching weights to your clit and tugging on this very intimate part of your body as if you’re the subject of a science experiment to him.

There’s something shocking about it, but at the same time peaceful.

There’s something erotic about it as well. I get wet and aroused just being touched by a scratchy, frayed rope. I also can’t sleep very well unless I’m tied up.

This is my day-to-day life. I live daily with routine and the rituals that Tom requires me to do daily and weekly – in how I groom myself and prepare myself for him but blend them with the routine vanilla life of a house wife to the outside world.

Tom approves my outfits and even what I am permitted to eat. I never would have thought I would be, but I’m thankful for that relationship –it works for me. I love the balance of family life and the erotic adventures we have had.

Most men can’t color-coordinate to save their lives. They don’t know how accessories work and wouldn’t be able to pick out matching earrings to go with a necklace or choose a handbag that works with a belt.

It seems counterintuitive that I would let a man choose my clothes for me. I grew up as something of a feminist and to believe that women can do anything a man can do.

Yet, it doesn’t seem ironic or even that big of a stretch that I CHOOSE to submit to one and let him lead me.

It turns me on to be led.

I could write a full-length book about this feeling and still never scratch more than the tip of the surface of it.

What I saw on my daughter’s face was that entire feeling all glowing in her eyes. The harder that Tom hit her on the bare ass, the more she glowed.

The kids had no idea. They were too busy giggling and they wouldn’t have had any frame of reference to recognize it anyway.

They HAD noticed that her nipples were poking straight up and out through the apron. You could see them stretched and aching through the sheer apron, and she arched her back to stick them out further when her father had told her how to stand at attention.

They hadn’t noticed that her pussy was sploshing wet when she received a spanking, and that she backed into the spanking with her butt ever so slightly – whether she realized it or not. They hadn’t noticed the goosebumps along her arms and the way her cheeks were flushed. They hadn’t noticed the look of total submission on her face as she looked at her father, that she kept wiping off with her sarcastic smirks.

I suppose it can be normal for girls to look up to their father as a dominant. I had even heard of Daddy-Doms when I went to munches, but I won’t bore you with the details of that stereotype like I had the SAM. I’ll just say that I saw my own father in a similar light – as strong, confident, and smart.

The measuring stick that all men that came into my life would be measured up against, and usually fall short.

Tom had finished spanking her a third time, and put her back into the sitting position so he could go over her diet.

These positions Tom was teaching her were all familiar to me – they were ones he had used to train me.

Tom’s kneeling position for me was quite a bit different, and I was thankful he’d found no way to actually translate that one so that it would be ‘family friendly’ the way he had the others.

Tom had to have seen what I had in her face, though – I wanted to talk to him about it, but he was on a roll with her.

He told her that she would help me prepare and serve the meal, and that she would be at the family’s beck and call while we ate. Janie asked if that meant she would have to cut her pancakes or meat, and Tom agreed that it did.

Taylor said something snarky about Janie being too old to need that, and my husband told her that it wasn’t about being too old – but teaching a model of service and obedience.

“You’ll thank her for allowing you the opportunity to demonstrate your obedience. In fact, I think I’ll have you go around to each of the people at the dinner table and apologize to them for being such a brat. Ask them about their day and listen. I’ll quiz you afterwards and spank you for the details you miss. You’ll then tell them about your own day, if they ask, EVEN if they ask the same question someone else did. You’ll ask if there’s anything you can do for them, and then apologize for having to put on this spectacle during dinner, but explain that your behavior warranted you being put in your place!”

I fully expected her to say, “Hell to the No, Naw to the Hell, and Fuck You and the horse you rode in on,” as Taylor had told me before for far less than this. My daughter never had a problem standing up for herself even when she was dead wrong and I expected her to protest this whether it was warranted or not.

“Yes Sir, thank you – do I have to wear this apron during dinner?” she asked with a look of shamed defeat. I was floored by the reaction – it wasn’t what I was expecting at all but Tom looked on soberly as if weighing his response.

“Hmm,” Tom considered and, despite being begged by his children to make her do it, he told her that if she’d been good that day she could wear her school clothes. He came off fair and generous rather than cruel – something her brothers and sister seemed wholly disappointed with.

He told her that she would however have to eat from the sitting position afterwards on the kitchen floor –without indicating how long this new requirement would last.

This electrified the kids who began to suggest she eat from a dog dish and that she get nothing but scraps. Donny and Scotty seemed to feed off each other but even Janie had a few choice ideas for how the “Doggy” should behave. They were teasing of course and didn’t expect their father to take any of their suggestions. They just wanted to dogpile onto Taylor’s uncomfortable situation.

“She’ll get the same food the rest of you do, albeit somewhat colder,” Tom explained with a grin. He didn’t want her starving or malnourished. “She can be cold-hearted – so this will teach her to appreciate hot food. She can use a fork and knife, but she does have to finish it all!”

“What happens if she doesn’t?” Janie quickly smiled. My youngest is full of light, and loves My Little Pony and unicorns, but I could have sworn I saw the trace of a sadistic smile cross that pretty little innocent face of hers.

“Good question.” Tom looked at me, but I said absolutely nothing. I wasn’t going to be the one to be blamed if these rules were too harsh.

“You’ll have 10 minutes to finish everything on your plate, and if not, then…,” Tom started, and added he would, “address it when it happens – based on whether it was a pattern or if she finished most of it.”

Taylor was the one who actually said, “So you’ll probably spank me then?”

There was something in how my daughter asked the question that was overtly suggestive. She may have not even been aware that she was doing it, but her question came across to me as a subtle hint that it would be fine with her.

“Spanking isn’t a panacea, unfortunately.” Tom explained that he had other tactics in mind.

Donny had to explain to his younger siblings that a panacea was a cure-all for everything.

“No, it’s not a panacea, but you have 20 more to give me, so can we get this over with? I’d like to go out tonight.” Taylor’s audacity in suggesting she could go out after all of this almost seemed unbelievable. That was until I realized she was pushing Tom’s buttons.

My husband didn’t budge, and said that she would remain home and in her apron for the full 24 hours. “I was going to see if you’d learned your lesson, but we’re halfway done and you haven’t begun to learn anything,” he said.

“Oh, she’s learned something alright,” I smirked as I thought quietly to myself. She’s learned that she craved that discipline and she wasn’t getting it as fast or as intense as she wanted.

“Fine, but you buttheads had better not invite your little pervert friends over here,” Taylor demanded.

“My friends are not pre-verts!” Janie pouted.

“She means OUR friends,” Scotty corrected.

Janie nodded in understanding and agreed that Scotty’s friends probably were total perverts.

“I don’t think you get to talk to your brothers and sister that way.” Tom ordered her back into the punishment position, and when I saw how rigorously my daughter held her body, I could have sworn she was trying to let the apron fall off completely.

It hung down so that her tits were almost completely visible, and I could smell the musky scent of her bare pussy even though she had faced away from the couch. Her hands were planted firmly and slightly bent on the couch as she arched her back and held her chin up high.

She looked defiant – her beautiful blue eyes smoldering and her dark jet-black hair whipped around her head. She looked like she was putting on a brave face and submitting for a punishment she didn’t deserve, but to me… I could tell she was bracing for ecstasy.

Tom laid into her and she stopped on the fourth one to ask if that last one counted. “You kind of missed my ass-cheek and glided off to the side,” she said.

She was toying with my husband – a fact he did not appreciate.

“It counts.” Tom’s next swat lay squarely between her ass-cheeks and left a mighty red handprint on her ass. “That’s going to turn yellow, then orange, then purple,” he told her.

“I want to see! I want to see!” Scotty, Donny, and Janie were all curious.

“Fine, go ahead and look.” Taylor’s snarky response sounded like she didn’t care if they did, but once they all rolled off the couch and began examining their father’s handiwork, she bit her lip. It was the kind of soft, almost subconscious, kind of thing that Marylyn Monroe might have used after meeting Cary Grant for the first time to show to women through on-screen body language how hot and bothered she was.

“I can see her poop hole!” Janie screamed with giggles.

“That’s a butthole!” Scotty corrected.

“It’s an asshole, actually!” Donny chimed in.

“That’s funny.” Taylor remained stoically in place and on display. “You’re all assholes. It must be like looking in the mirror,” she quipped.

Donny smacked her butt playfully.

Tom started to stop him but my daughter teased, “Good thing it’s Dad and not you spanking me– I’d never know when I had to actually count,” she laughed, implying how weak her older brother’s swat had been.

“Okay, that’s enough looking and pinching, guys,” Tom settled them down.

They’d said nothing about Taylor’s bare pussy, but I had seen her from behind and noticed the pink lips between the dark pubic hair.

“You don’t mind they can see your stinky doo-doo hole?” Taylor’s sister, Janie, asked a very honest question.

Tom answered before Taylor could think of something sarcastic to say to brush off the question. “Some women wear things that would keep them from appearing so obscene and yet still be able to present their back side for a spanking,” I enjoyed how he stumbled a little on his explanation. It was hard for him to find quite the right way to put things when talking to his little girl.

“You mean like the butt-plug mom had in, Sir?” Taylor asked with a snarky know-it-all type of comment.

“Yes,” Tom answered slowly. “That’s one way to decorate the body in a pleasing manner. It also controls who can see the bare pink asshole when bent over,” he explained.

“Taylor’s butthole looks like a balloon knot – all wrinkled up and crinkly!” Scotty said with a grossed-out expression while laughing.

I thought Taylor was going to smack her brother when he launched himself downward just inches away from where she waited in the punishment position on the couch. He was far too close to her for my comfort, but Taylor tolerated his horseplay without smacking the shit out of her brother and I thought it best just to ignore it. I may actually make things worse just by saying something about it- or at the very least awkward.

I actually liked seeing them being goofy together.

She asked instead if she could have her own plug. “I don’t want these perverts looking up my asshole!”

I could tell from her plea that she wasn’t quite honest with herself or her father. She was curious about what it felt like, and Tom may have picked up on that or just felt like that was too much, so he said he’d think about it and continued spanking her.

After he finished giving her 10 more, and with just 10 spankings left, he made her stand in the attention position. The kids once again danced around her and checked out their sister’s ass – noting that she was fully aroused and her nipples were poking out again.

Tom once again made her stand in the corner and she dutifully obliged. I could see traces of slippery goo rolling down her thighs, but if anyone else noticed they didn’t say a word.

My husband seemed to consider me for a moment and asked if I could think of any other rules that should be in place.

“Given my part in today’s escapades, I can’t see that I should be in any position to make rules, Tom.” I wanted to call him Sir or Master so badly, but I had never done that in front of the kids and he hadn’t told me to do so.

“She has to do all chores, right? Like clean OUR rooms too?” Scotty chimed in for me before Tom could respond to me.

“No,” Tom answered his son, and said that there were some things they needed to do to learn responsibility themselves. “She’ll do all the general shared chores, but you’re cleaning up your own mess,” he insisted.

“Yeah, but we’ve been cleaning up our own messes and look at what it did for Taylor. It hasn’t helped – surely a week of watching her clean up after everybody in the house will be a good warning for us.” Donny was always the smartest of the kids.

“I agree! I’d be scared straight!” Scotty was jokingly quoting a line from a TV show about how criminals examples scare young kids into the straight and narrow.

“I think you two lazy jokers just want to throw your cum towels on the floor and make me pick them up, wearing just an apron, with all your friends sitting in your room! Sir.” Taylor’s snarky comment painted a very specific picture – one that she seemed to be secretly turned on by.

Tom had originally seemed inclined to turn them down and make them clean up after themselves. I didn’t want to burst his bubble and tell them the kids barely cleaned up after themselves, and that I came around behind all of them and did it anyway.

“Fine, your sister can clean up after you, since she thinks this is a joke,” Tom warned, saying that if anyone comes to him saying she didn’t do a good job that he would punish her on the spot.

“What if they aren’t being fair and they messed it up after I just cleaned, Sir?” Taylor actually wiggled her ass back and forth like a dog waving their tail – Tom HAD to have seen that but he didn’t acknowledge it.

“Us? Be unfair?” Her brothers both quickly descended into laughter at the possibility, while clearly meaning they would probably be pretty harsh little taskmasters.

“It may do you all some good to learn that with authority comes responsibility.” Tom explained that leadership was more than clapping hands and saying ‘let it be done’.

“You never want to make someone do something you wouldn’t do yourself,” Tom started to explain.

“You’d bend over bare-ass and get spanked, Sir?” Taylor asked playfully – her voice became softer than usual.

“If I’d done what you’ve done, and the situation required it,” Tom admitted – although everyone highly doubted he would submit to anything remotely as humiliating. We also knew he would never have done anything as absurd and immature as Taylor had done.

“You also cannot take advantage of your position. If any of you want to come to me and tell me when Taylor’s misbehaving and you’re making things up to get her in trouble… there’s room on the couch for someone to join her,” Tom promised.

The kids got the message. Tom told her to assume the position for the fifth and final round of spanking.

-SWAT-

“One, thank you. Sir – that was very kind of you, may I please have another?”

-SWAT-

“Two, thank you. Sir – that was harder than the last – may I have one like that so that I can learn to be obedient?”

-SWAT-

I could have sworn on the third one I heard her gasp seductively and moan, but there came a knock on the door at the same time, and then the doorbell rang as well.

TAYLOR’S RULES: - First Draft (as scribed by Jo-Ann Swift)

SPEECH PROTOCOLS:

Call all men Sir, by their name with Sir, and all women Ma’am, Madam, or Miss and their name. The exception is her sister who she is to address as Princess Janie.

Taylor can be addressed as any name, but Dad asks that the family be aware of who is listening and how that reflects on us as a family.

POSITIONS:

Punishment: Unless otherwise instructed, go to the living room couch and place hands on ankles and bend over with legs apart, looking straight ahead. The discipline will begin after:

1. Addressing what she is being punished for

2. Her acceptance of her mistake and acknowledgement of the need for punishment

3. Apologizing to whoever was affected and waiting for them to accept

4. Statement of what she will do differently

In step three the modified apology position is kneeling with hands behind head and legs slightly apart. The person being apologized to should stand over her. Mouth is slightly apart when not talking.

The punishment, if it is a spanking, is to be counted; she is to thank the person executing the punishment; and then ask for additional correction in order to learn from her mistake so further corrective action is less necessary.

Attention/Standard position

Tits out, shoulders back, chin up, ass cheeks clenched, hands interlaced behind head, shoulders apart.

Taylor’s Spot – is facing the living room couch.

There is no sitting when bare –ass.

EATING:

Taylor is to serve dinner in her apron and cut the food of anyone who wants it. She can then eat from the sitting position with knife and fork while sitting on the floor.

Arousal:

When Taylor is aroused she is to be sent to the corner with her toes and nose pressing into it and wait for 5 minutes. If her nipples are still hard she is to repeat until she cools off.