Part One: BDSM Sex Story

This is not your average BDSM sex story.

I hear the key turn in the door.
Shit.
I nervously begin to chew my lip, forcing myself to stay seated on the couch. I aimlessly surf through the tv guide. The Disney movie I’m watching fades into the background. The door opens, and my legs clench.
I listen as Daddy takes off his shoes, places keys on the table, and starts walking my way. I swallow. I know what’s coming.

Before I can even turn my head and greet him, he reaches out and grabs a fistful of my hair, pulling me to my feet. The remote clatters to the floor and he pulls my head back exposing my neck. I close my eyes, submitting. He growls in my ear and I shiver in anticipation.
“Find my lighter and meet me outside. I’m going to smoke a cigarette and then you’re getting punished.” He waits for a second for me to object. I slump my shoulders and nod; I know better.
He releases me and walks into the bathroom, shutting the door. I have a moment to breathe, but I know it’s partially just for show. Just to throw me off for a minute. I grab his lighter and cigarettes off the corner table and go to wait outside for him, leaning up against my car. I contemplate smoking myself but decide against it. I don’t really know what to expect, and the last thing I want to do is make it worse.
It’s not long before he joins me. I stare at my toes and wordlessly hold my hands out.
He stops in front of me. “Where are your shoes?”
I wince. “I didn’t think about it…”
He tips my face up with one finger. There’s fire in his eyes and I instinctively look down again.
“Look at me.” He says in a cool voice that I know better than to ignore.
I look. He raises an eyebrow, waiting. I love being barefoot but I know he doesn’t like it. The apartments we live in all kinds of glass shards from people drinking. And the parking lot is nothing but sharp rocks and gravel. It’s a constant battle. Anyone else I’d just say screw off too.
He grips my jaw and applies slight pressure. I feel my lips pucker and know I look ridiculous. The slight shame makes me melt and I let go of my stubbornness.
I mumble, “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
He moves his hand to the roots at the back of my neck and squeezes, giving a short little tug.
“Good girl.”
He slips off his shoes while he pulls out a cigarette and sticks it between his lips. Gives me that no-nonsense look that I both hate and love. I sigh and obediently step into them.
I wrap my arms around myself and fidget. I hate disappointing him. I hate the fact that I’m so stubborn. I really do want to be better.
He steps away from me and cups his hand around the cigarette in this mouth. He’s been trying to quit for a while now. That’s what our fight was about.
The night before we’d gone out with some friends, had a little celebration. He told me he was only going to smoke one, but more people were smoking when we got there, so he started bumming them. He knows I hate this but I also know better than to bring it up, especially in front of people.
But my bratty side reared its ugly head and not only did I say something, I fought with him in public about it. Actually yelled at him and called him names. Had thrown a tantrum.
We both were drinking and ended up talking it out. The night wore on and I’d assumed he was letting it slide.
Until this morning.
I was handing him his lunch, and as he kissed me goodbye, he pulled me close and said, “You’re not off the hook for last night. You’re gonna get beat tonight.”
My heart leaped in my throat at the same time my knees buckled. He smacked my ass and kissed me, saying he loved me. I’d mumbled back the same and had been trying to keep busy all day.
Now he’s blowing out smoke and leaning against the building. He’s staring at me and I feel my face heat up. He flicks his cigarette into the yard and gestures for me to come. I hesitate for half a second and he growls, “Now.”
I quickly go to his side and resist the urge to fall on my knees at his feet. He hasn’t asked me to, and I do want to be good.
He turns me with my back towards him and puts his arm around my neck, the other hand settling on my hip. Anyone seeing us would just think we were having a relaxed conversation with his arms around me. The pose is about quiet control though, and we both need

it.
“Oh, so now you want to be obedient and listen?” His arm tightens slightly. I bow my head and whisper against his arm.
“Yes Sir.”
“Yes Sir? I think you’re trying to suck up now.” He slips his hand into my waistband and rubs a thumb over my hardened nipple “I don’t want to hear ‘yes Sir’.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He pinches my nipple and a gasp a little. “Don’t you think you should have been better behaved last night?” Another pinch, harder this time. “What do you think we should do about that?”
Before I can answer, he’s pulled me back two steps, out of view, and pushed me against the wall, still facing away from him. He reaches down my shorts and rubs over my pussy. He still hasn’t stopped pinching and twisting my nipple. I feel myself getting turned on at being chastised in public. Getting wet from being in trouble, being controlled.
I whimper, rubbing my legs together and he spins me around, smacking me in the face, startling me. Ow. I bite my lip and say nothing.
“Good girl. You know you deserve it, don’t you?” I slowly nod. He rubs a hand over the red mark on my face. Gives it a firm pat. He grabs my jaw.
“Get inside.”

The slap took all my fight. I’ve definitely sunk into little space. I feel small.
“Yes, Daddy.”