Today is National Cut the Cord Day, and I wanted to share some of the holiday story I wrote for it. Please note that, although the phrase “little girl” is used, the main character in this story is 34 years old.

“I’m going to make you cry, little girl,” he said over the sound of each ringing impact. “I’m going to bring tears to your beautiful eyes.”

I squeezed said eyes shut and clenched my jaw, because — whack! — yes, somehow he was spanking me — whack! — even harder now. I could cry from punishment spankings, sure, but from a requested one, when I hadn’t misbehaved?

Whack! Whack!

He spanked me tirelessly, dozens of times, not stopping no matter how I kicked and squirmed. When I got too unruly, he put his free hand in my hair and twisted, and I squealed, tears springing to my eyes. “I’m sorry!” I howled. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

He pulled harder. “Not yet you’re not.”

Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! 

“Ow! Ow ow ow ow!” I lost track of the ability to speak, and as he spanked me — whack! whack! — and pulled my hair — whack! whack! — I started letting out incoherent sounds of pain.

“Cry for me, little girl,” he urged, slamming his palm against my bottom. “Cry for me!”

I couldn’t help it. I did, a sob breaking free from my throat.

That didn’t stop him from spanking me, though he did let go of my hair so he could hold me down; when I started crying during a spanking, I fought harder, and he had to make sure I couldn’t go anywhere, not until he was done.

And he wouldn’t be done until I gave in, until I went limp over his lap.

It didn’t take long. Just a few whack! whack! more whack! whack! hard whack! whack! spanks, and I was done. I gave in and wailed, fists clenched, ass on fire, lower body pounding, sobbing and begging him to stop.

Whack! 

“Please,” I babbled. “Please, please, please–“

Whack! 

“Ow, please, please stop, please–“

Whack! 

“I’ll be a good girl! I promise, I’ll be a good girl–“

Crack!

That final spank, right across both cheeks, drew a scream out of me, but it was the last one.

Even as I cried, I was vaguely aware of him picking me up and carrying me into the bedroom. He put me face-down on the bed and pulled off my leggings, and then I felt his weight on top of me, his cock hard against my scorched bottom.

“My turn now,” he growled, pushing his way between my thighs. His cock found my lips, and after a moment’s adjustment I felt him stretching me open, until my ass was against him.

Then he fucked me.

Hard.

Writing this scene reminded me of a scene I did with a former sub, more than five years ago. The woman in this story is small and thin, maybe 110 pounds, and the man is much bigger and stronger. The scene I did was very similar — my sub was small and thin (though leanly muscular), with a small (but round) ass. Here’s what it looked like after the first time I spanked her, with nothing but my hand:

(A bruised, red bottom, bare, with pants and panties pulled down.)

I like to think that’s what my main character’s backside looked like after the scene I wrote.