“Yes, Daddy!” she says.
“Will you submit to me?”
She nods, fearful but also excited.
“And we’re going to deal with you running away instead of facing things. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, Daddy,” she says, her voice wavering a little.
She seems almost paralyzed and a moment later I have her over my knee.
“Daddy!” she cries.
I yank her tight little yoga pants down and then her panties. They both end up gathered at her knees and she gasps. “You’re getting a spanking. You’re an adult and that means you don’t storm off like a child, little girl. It also means the only time you use that kind of language is when you use it as a verb. As in…” I bring my hand down hard on her ass. She yelps and I say, “Fuck me, Daddy.”
“Oh my God!” she wails. I can see her ass cheeks growing red from where my hand connected. “You’re getting five spanks. You don’t run from uncomfortable conversations, little girl. You face them and you work through them. Do you understand?”
She lifts her head and stares at me in wonder. I bring my hand down hard in the same spot. It isn’t pink anymore but deep, dark red. “I asked you a question, little girl. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Daddy!” she exclaims.
“Good girl,” I say. “Now. Five spanks. After each, you will repeat that you don’t run away from uncomfortable conversations. Do you understand.”
There is a moment of silence and then she realizes what will come if she doesn’t respond and I get a panicked, “Yes, Daddy!” from her.
“I’m not going to spank you for the language,” I say, “this time.” This time comes out ominously, just as I intend.
She gulps so powerfully that I can hear it and I can also feel her body move. She says, “Thank you, Daddy?” as though she’s not sure if thanking me is the appropriate response at the moment.
“It’s five spanks now but let me tell you something, little girl,” I say, “If we deal with the same issue twice it will be ten spanks. If we deal with it again it will be twenty spanks. After that, forty spanks.”
“Oh, my God, Daddy,” she whispers.
“And five spanks is going to make it plenty hard for you to sit down for the next week already,” I say.
“God, Daddy,” she whispers again.
“What do you say after each spank?”
“I don’t run away from uncomfortable conversations,” she says.
My hand comes down hard and she yelps. “I don’t run away from uncomfortable conversations!” she shouts. My hand descends again and this time, she’s sobbing as she repeats the phrase.
God!
I don’t want to keep the spanking up now that she’s crying.
I do, though.
My hand comes down again and once again she tearfully says, “I don’t run away from uncomfortable conversations.” It comes down a fourth time and she repeats it again. The fifth spank might be the most difficult thing I have ever done but she wails the phrase out and then leaps off me.
I’m afraid she’s going to end things but she just kicks off her shoes and gets out of the clothes bunched at her ankles. “Oh, Daddy!” she says, still sobbing, as she straddles me and buries her head in the crook of my neck. “I’m so sorry for running away, Daddy.”
I hold her tightly and let her cry. When she quiets down after several minutes, I say, “You don’t have to be sorry, little girl. The spanking took care of that and you never need to talk about it again.”
She pulls back and looks at me. I wipe tears from her cheeks and she says, “So the punishment is over, Daddy?”
I nod, “Yes it is, little girl.” I kiss her forehead and add, “and when a punishment is over, it’s completely over.”
She nods and says, “Good.” She slides her hand down, right into my sweatpants and takes hold of me. “Because I need you right now, Daddy.”