“No! I won’t do it. And you can’t make me.” I found myself half surprised to hear those words. We had agreed that would be the trigger for a physically dominant scene, as it seemed to set the right tone; but I was so used to your soft, submissive nature, I sort of didn’t think you’d actually do it. But you had. Okay, I thought to myself, flexing my fingers, you’ve asked for it.

One of the fastest ways I knew to subdue you was a tight hair grip, so that was my first move. You surprised me by putting your hand in the way, but I quickly changed tack, grabbing the wrist and pulling it down, whilst shifting myself so that I was side on to you, rather than facing you. You growled, struggling to break free, whilst my other arm came around your waist, pulling you in tight against me; effectively trapping your inside arm between our bodies. My right hand coming up to cup your chin, fingers and thumb pressing into your cheeks, as I turn your head toward me, whether you want to or not.

“That isn’t. How. This is going to be.”

I stare into your face, watching you avert your eyes, mouth trying to form words, but my grip not allowing you to. Your other hand has come up, ineffectually pawing at my arm. “Listen to me, my little slut. You ARE going to do it. Because I can make you.” My hand releases your chin, dropping to the neckline of your top. With a hard tug, I rip the stitching, using both hands now to tear the front open. I pull the arms back, off your shoulders, the sleeves working to trap your arms as I pull it partway down. “You can’t do that. It’s not faiiiiiiiir.” Your words are shrill and indignant - but I can smell your arousal already.

“No? Then I can’t do this, either.”. My hands at your waist, gripping the waistband of your leggings, and roughly dragging them, and your panties, to mid thigh. You squirm against me, fingers twisting against my chest, trying to find a little something, anything, to use. But in vain, as I use my grip to turn you, so you’re facing me. My hand on the back of your head, fingers entwining through your hair, pulling hard enough that you are careful not to move your head around too much. My other hand comes up, diving inside the cup of your bra, finger and thumb taking up threatening tension, either side of your nipple. My grip on your hair tilts your face toward me once more.

“Still want to defy me, little girl?” Your glare says you do want to, but can’t think of a way to. “Dirty little thing - you’re so turned on right now, I can feel it.” You lock eyes with me.

“You have ten seconds to remove the leggings and panties. Or I can squeeze your nipple until you beg, then I’ll just rip them off you anyway. Outcome is the same. Easy, or hard?” My finger squeezes a little bit, reinforcing my threat. You make a noise that sounds half growl, half sob, and reluctantly bend, my hand in your hair lowering accomodatingly, as you quickly push them to your ankles, and step out. You straighten, eyes meeting mine, but with a little less defiance now.

Releasing your nipple, I step back, sitting on the chair. The controlling hand in your hair draws you closer, positioning you to one side, before I pull you forward and down, your half naked body now draped across my lap. Releasing your hair, I reach over, grasping your wrist, and pulling it behind you. Taking a breath, my free hand roaming across your lower back and ass cheeks, calming myself from the exertion.

“Do you want to accept now that I can, indeed, ‘make you’, baby?” I asked, hand continuing to stroke and explore your upturned flesh. . “Well, maybe. But it felt like you cheated.” I laughed at that one, as a finger delved between your cheeks, checking how wet you already were.

“Cheated, eh? How exactly did I cheat?” You sniffed. “Well, d’uh. You’re stronger than me. Doesn’t mean anything.” I stiffen a little at the increasingly bratty tone of voice. “And that is a surprise, is it baby? You didn’t know that before now?” This question punctuated with a sharp slap to your bottom, followed quickly by a second, to the other side.

Other than a sharply drawn breath, you don’t respond, so I repeat the slaps. “I’m waiting, baby.”

Slap. Slap. “No, Daddy. Not a surprise.” I smile. The tone has changed completely now. No more the brat, it seems. “We are going to deal with your little rebellion now, baby.” You nod, burying your face against my leg as your spanking begins, slowly reddening your cheeks until I can feel you start to squirm uncomfortably, holding back a sob.” I release your arm, other hand stroking your reddening bottom. “You can stand up. Take off the rest of your clothes. Then fetch me your collar and buttplug. You have two minutes, or I start over again.”

You quickly stand, yelping as your hands massage your bum, before glancing at me, and quickly removing the ruined top, and your bra. You gingerly go get them from the table - the two items that caused the whole outburst to begin with. I grin at the large wet spot on my trousers, waiting for you to return, watching you, admiring your figure, trying not to allow my own desire to fuck you rigid detract me from the scene. I reach out, taking the metal plug from you, then slowly lift my gaze to your face. “Yes, baby?”

“I brought you my collar, Daddy.” I smile, your eyes still looking down, cheeks red. You know what is coming. “Do you want to beg me to put it on you, my baby?” I watch as your whole body shudders at my words, and you drop to your knees, holding the collar out toward me. Slowly, your gaze comes up to meet mine, your breath catching as you try to control your emotions. “Please collar me, Daddy. Pleeease.”

Fuuuck, I always have the same reaction when you do that…the same reaction you do. I can see your juices glinting as they drip down your thigh. “You know it will be locked on your neck, baby? It comes off when I decide to unlock it. Do you understand?” You look into my eyes. “I do, Daddy.” I reach out, taking the collar from you, watching as you dip your head submissively, for me to fasten it around your neck. The soft click elicits another, deeper shudder, as you squirm with desire.

“Back over my knee, my girl. I’m going to plug your bottom, then finish your spanking. Oh, and we will have your legs apart, this time.” You sob, partly in anticipation of the spanking, partly with the raging arousal, but obediently get into position, spreading your legs wide, as I swirl the plug in your juices, lubricating it. My fingers slips, seemingly accidentally, between your slick lips, scooping up your natural lubricant, and rubbing it slowly against your exposed hole, before slowly working the plug into you. My hand returns to stroking, kneading and toying with you. “Are you ready, my girl?” “Yes, Daddy.”

I slowly begin a harder series of spanks; knowing that this time, every time you clench, you’re clenching onto the plug, feeling it increase your arousal even further. I’m willing to bet I can actually make you squirt from, what will be, a quite sound spanking. You’ll certainly be reminded of this lesson, each time you sit now for the next few days.