Punishing Little Missy

Little Missy climbed into the hayloft to snoop on Auntie Jordyn and her beau. She got so excited she disobeyed an important rule, and when the man of the house caught her being naughty, she talked back to him.

Dirk Manley knows best and has no patience for broken rules, bad manners, or backchat. He takes her to the tack room for a discussion of obedience. Missy’s earned a reprimand, and Dirk makes her choose among the riding crops and brushes for the instrument of her punishment.

A saddle on a sawhorse stands at the perfect height for Missy to lean over for her spanking. Really, such a perfect height…

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Have a taste of the ouchie parts:

 I swallowed hard. Daddy had to approve my choice. I could pick something I thought was lenient, and he might give me three times the strokes that he’d give with something harsher. I cast my eyes around.

Oh no, not the quirt. Even a few strokes with that would be too much. Not the riding crop either, I hated the riding crop. I could ask him to use his hand… Or his belt. But I didn’t want to feel Daddy’s skin on mine for pain. And his belt got way too much windup. That would be so OW!

I finally tottered over to the box of grooming supplies. Not the curry comb, nor the people brush we used on the horses’ tails. I finally selected a wide finishing brush with soft bristles set into a square wooden back. I hoped he would agree to it—the broad business end would make a decent paddle, still wide enough not to hurt me too much. I hoped. I handed it to him, handle first, and waited with a churning belly to see if he approved. “This, Daddy.”

He turned it over, considering. “This will work.” He glanced back at me, his eyes stern again. He motioned to the Western saddle on the saw horse. “Bend over.”

I wobbled over to the saddle. This was going to hurt, no matter how clever I thought I was in my choice. Leaning my tummy against the broad seat of the saddle, I held on to the stirrup leather and braced for what was to come. I was trapped between the high cantle in back and the tall roping horn in front.  I couldn’t even wipe my face on the red saddle blanket below.

Daddy lifted my skirt over my back. No fabric to defend my buttocks.

Daddy unfastened the velcroes of my diaper, and dropped the puffy pant between my thighs. No padding to defend my bottom.

The leather-scented air licked at my private parts, cooling the liquid from my pussy and making my butt hole pucker. I had no defense at all.  Daddy loomed over me, my chosen paddle in his hand. “For defying me and touching yourself, you get four. For spying on your auntie and her beau, you get four. And for using inappropriate language for littles, another two.”

I do numbers in my other life. “Ten” came without a thought. Ten with the wide-backed brush on my bare bottom. I’d be eating my lunch off the mantelpiece for sure. A tear dripped from my eye down my nose and fell plop on the wooden floor. 

“Count them.” 

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Want to know more about Jordyn and Deputy Mack? They have a story too! You can read how they met in The Dairy Maid and the Deputy.