Dungeon Crawl – Spanked in the Kitchen

Welcome to RTK’s Dungeon Crawl!

Last week it was in a nightclub, this week we’re in the kitchen. Leah is in trouble again and Rick thinks he has the solution to her problem.

***

His hand landed with a smack. Leah’s feet lurched forward and she toppled down on to the worktop. There she remained, it was easier than holding her body up. Arms scrunched up under belly, legs slightly parted and bottom raised, she waited for the next one.

She watched the second descend out of the corner of her eye. The way he swung his arm a measured distance back and landed it with accuracy right where she sat on the wooden seats in the lecture hall. She was sure he was doing that on purpose. She cursed under her breath. It stung immediately and he hadn’t even picked up the spoon.

Another two and he stopped. A few brisk rubs on each cheek and then he added another four. She could feel the temperature of her flesh rise, radiating out.

“Time for this now,” he said picking up the wooden spoon. “A dozen. Do you think that will get you out of bed in time?”

“Oh yes,” she exclaimed. “Do you have to do so many?”

“If you decided, it wouldn’t be the same, would it?”

She shook her head. “Please don’t tell my daddy,” she whispered.

“Your father won’t be told because you are going to be good from now on, aren’t you? Miss Leah.”

Rick tapped the spoon a few times on her right buttock. Leah found she was instinctively holding her breath, her eyes screwed up and her teeth clenched in anticipation. Her body went rigid and consequently, the first landing of the spoon stung.  The impression it left in her flesh may have been small in size, but its impact ricocheted throughout her cheek. Her gritted teeth held back the gasp, it came out more like a sharply inhaled hiss. Then, before she could register the pain properly, her left cheek was targeted.  Each attempt at relaxing, removing the tension was thwarted by the swift smarting. The spoon definitely hurt more than his firm hand.

It couldn’t be helped, as he spanked her with the spoon, her nightie rose up and exposed her bare cheeks. Initially embarrassed by the unveiling, she tried to lower her nightdress but he warned her to keep her hands clear. After four whacks of the hard spoon, she thought about how close she was to failing her daddy and losing her independence. Resolve seeped into her, so did determination to take her little punishment and put it to good use. She juddered, baulked a little and stamped bare feet on the wooden floor, but she didn’t cry nor beg for him to stop.

The smarts of the spoon lingered on and each one added to the next. A small fire had been lit in each buttock cheek and with it she could not help feeling different kind of fire being ignited alongside it. Could he see it? Between her bare legs, below the cleft of her buttocks, her lips had swollen and she suspected she was wet, like she was when she fantasised about movie or pop stars.

“Ow,” she grimaced as the eleventh blow landed.

“This could have been much worse for you,” he told her. “At my school, miscreants were soundly thrashed with a cane.”

“Please don’t.”

“No, Miss Leah. Your bottom doesn’t deserve that. Not if you are good for me.”

***

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