Obediently Yours (17 page)

“I see under Medical Tests that we have a big problem on our hands. Please tell me how, at forty years old, you have never had a mammogram before?” The dominant tone is back in his voice.

Oh, crap, how do I maneuver around this one? I have never had one before and I do not relish the thought of scheduling one. Okay, I know I am being silly, given my family history of breast cancer, but I don’t want to tell him that. I’ll schedule one someday. Maybe in ten years. Or twenty. Or never! I don’t want to have one. Should I be honest and tell him how I feel about it? Or should I just say “okay, I’ll get one” and put him off? His usual mind-reading capabilities kick in yet again when he asks, “Tell me the truth, little one.”

“Well, no, Daddy, I have not had a mammogram before. I do not need to have one yet. I’m too young for a mammogram. Honestly, I’m also a little afraid of it. I have several friends who have told me it hurts,” I finish. Looking up at his face, I can see intensity and, dare I say, anger pouring off of him. His eyes are dark. His jaw is tight.

“This is unacceptable, baby girl. You are forty years old. The medical recommendation is for women to have a baseline mammogram by age forty and annual mammograms thereafter. It is an important part of your overall health care. You need to have one. There is nothing to be afraid of. Yes, there might be a small amount of discomfort, but the test will be over quickly. Most important, it could save your life!” he exclaims.

“Well, it is easy for you to say, you’re a man! Lots of women skip having them. I don’t want to have one and I won’t do it! I don’t want to hear your diatribe about the ‘medical recommendations.’ Most men do not even pay attention to these things. Why don’t you act like one of them and drop this!” I snap, my voice going up several octaves.

“Be very careful, little one,” he says, his voice tight but controlled. “Remember your rules about respect and obedience. You are bordering on disrespect and I will not tolerate it. Keep it up and you will find out first hand just how dominant a daddy I can be. Your bottom will find out, that is for sure.” His threat is clear. “You need to schedule a mammogram, Siobhan. It is important to your health. You agreed to follow the rules, did you not? Rule #1 is ‘I must always respect and obey Daddy and follow all of my rules.’ Rule #2 is ‘I will always be honest and forthcoming with Daddy, especially with regard to my health and well-being.’ Remember?”

Ah, crap, he’s right. I did agree to follow his rules and I want to embark on this experience with him. What do I say now? “But…but…I’m afraid. Please, I don’t want to do this.”

“Tell me why you are so afraid, Siobhan. The truth,” he demands.

“My mom had breast cancer. She’s fine now after a double mastectomy. Her sister, my aunt, also had it. I am terrified that they will find something. I do not want to go through all of that worry. I know it sounds stupid and irrational, but there it is,” I whisper.

“Oh, baby, you are an intelligent woman. With a family history, you have to know that mammograms are even more important for you. A mammogram can find things early so you can be treated early. Yes, I understand that it is scary if something were to be found, but it is better to know and get it dealt with. Early detection saves lives,” he says with such conviction and compassion.

I burst out in laughter. I do not know if it is the seriousness of the subject or the intensity of the past twenty-four hours, but I laugh and laugh and cannot stop. Richard looks at me, perplexed, but with an amused face. Finally I croak out, “Daddy, you sounded just like a commercial. Early detection saves lives!” I continue, laughing.

Richard joins in with a chuckle. “Well, it does save lives. Oh, sweetie, please listen to me. This is important. Your health and well-being are the most important things to me. You are the most important thing to me. You need to schedule a mammogram. I will go with you if you want,” he offers.

Stunned, I ask, “You would go with me? I’m not sure what to think of that. I have known you in person for less than twenty-four hours and you want to come with me to have an invasive and painful medical test. That is incredibly sweet of you.”

“Sweet or not, I expect you to make an appointment tomorrow. As your boyfriend and your Dominant, I insist. You will have regular physical exams, pap smears, and mammograms from now on. I will monitor your health and demand that you see a doctor when needed. This is non-negotiable if we are to continue. Now, let’s talk about your naughtiness, little one.”

“What naughtiness?” I ask, pretty sure where this is going.

“Did you just use a disrespectful tone with me?” he asks.

I sigh. “Yes, Daddy, I was disrespectful and I am sorry. Please forgive me?” I plead.

“I will forgive you, sweetie, but I think you need to be punished for your behavior, don’t you agree?”

“Punished?” I ask hesitantly. Inside I am excited at the idea of being punished.

“Yes. There are all different types of punishments that I use to teach naughty little girls a lesson. I think you deserve punishment for being disrespectful. I would normally spank you, but since this is our first time together and we have not hammered out all of our negotiations, I will give you a less intrusive punishment. Like corner time and writing lines. Do you agree that is fair, baby girl?”

I feel that involuntary clench between my legs and wetness seeps. Squirming, I ponder my options. I would really love to experience a spanking. Should I ask him?

“Baby girl, answer me.”

I decide to go for it. Looking contrite, I say, “Daddy, I was naughty and I should be punished. You are very fair to have me do corner time or write lines as punishment, but…I think I deserve a spanking. Will you spank me?”

Richard clears his throat. “Baby girl, I told you that you could have a lesser punishment. But you have asked for a spanking and that is what I would normally give you. Are you sure you are ready to receive a physical punishment? Be sure, because if you are, then I expect you to lie over my lap and show me that naughty bottom of yours!”

Positive this is what I want, I slowly get up and stand before him. Richard rights himself so his feet are on the floor. His lap is an invitation. I slowly drape myself over his lap, my bottom across his thighs, high up and waiting for his hard hand. More arousal seeps out as feelings of submission overtake me. It is more than I could ever imagine, lying here like a naughty girl waiting for her Daddy to spank her. It’s fantastic! I feel his warm hand rub my bum cheeks.

“Baby girl, I’m going to give you twelve spanks on your bottom for being disrespectful to me. I expect you to keep your hands in front of you and stay in position.” His dominant voice speaks right to the sensitive area between my legs as my arousal grows. I’m sure Richard’s pajama pants are wet with evidence of it. “What is your safe-word and when do you use it?”

“Red, Daddy. I use the word ‘red’ if it is too much and I need you to stop,” I answer.

“Yes. Say ‘red’ and I will stop. Understand? Count each spank out,” he says as I feel his hand pull my tee shirt up over to my waist, my naked bottom now exposed. Before I can have another thought, his hand comes down hard on my butt cheeks. “One,” I shout out. Crap, that really hurts. “Two,” I say as his hand hits my bottom again, causing it to sting. “Three. Four. Five.” Ouch, ouch, ouch. Having never experienced a spanking, at least as an adult, I am caught off guard at how much this really hurts. “Six. Seven. Eight. Ahhhh, that hurts, Daddy.”

“Yes, baby girl, it does hurt. Punishment is supposed to hurt. You are being spanked for your naughty behavior. Four more to go, little one. Are you okay? Do you need to use your safe-word?”

“No, Daddy, I want to take my spanking. I’m okay,” I say, determined.

“Good girl. Four more. Count.”

His hand comes down. “Nine.” That one was the hardest yet. “Ten. Eleven.” Tears in my eyes, I ready myself for the final one. His hand comes down hard on my tender bottom. “Twelve.”

“Good girl.” I hear the pride in his voice. “I’m very proud of you, sweetie. You took your punishment like a good girl. I am impressed that you asked for a spanking. Your naughtiness certainly earned you a spanking and it shows true submission to ask for the punishment you know you deserved. Now, do you have something to say to me, little girl?”

I hesitate, trying to figure out what he wants me to say and it comes to me. Rule #9 – “I will thank Daddy after a punishment session.”

“Yes, Daddy, thank you for punishing me,” I respond.

“How do you feel?” he asks.

“I’m okay,” I answer, still lying over his lap. I feel Richard’s hands on my hips as he pulls me to a sitting position. As I go to stand, he scoops me up into his lap, holding me closely.

“How does your bottom feel?” he inquires.

“It is okay, stings a little but not too bad,” I tell him.

He smiles down at me and I feel like I am home in his arms. We just stare at each other enjoying the feeling of contentment for many minutes. Richard rubs my back and holds me close to him. I have never felt so content and calm before. It is enlightening, a true sense of peace and stillness within me.

“Baby girl, how about we finish reviewing the paperwork now. Does that sound okay?” Richard asks, kissing my cheek.

“Sure, Daddy,” I agree, placing a sweet kiss on his lips.

Daddy grabs the paperwork and reads my answers to the Age Play and BDSM Negotiation forms. It is quiet for a few minutes as he reads. I continue to sit on his lap, looking at his face. He really is a beautiful man. So handsome. I still cannot believe this is happening to me. I have found a good man, a man who treats me kindly and cares about me. A man who makes me feel beautiful and submissive. An overwhelming rush of warmth invades my body. It is arousal, pure and animalistic. I can feel my heartbeat pick up. Daddy’s head perks up and he looks at me.

“Are you okay, baby girl?” he asks.

“Yes, Daddy, I’m okay,” I answer.

“As far as your answers regarding bodily functions, you seem open to everything except soiling a diaper?” he asks in a questioning voice.

“Yes, I don’t think I can do that at all. I have just gotten used to the experience of wetting a diaper. I am not ready to do any more than that at this point.”

“That is fine, it does not exactly float my boat either,” he says. “And enemas for punishment, you want to discuss that first. No problem. We won’t engage in that immediately anyway. However, it can be a very effective punishment for naughty little girls.”

“I imagine that it would be,” I say, chuckling.

“You are very open to trying most things on the negotiation list. Almost all of the age play scenarios I like you seem to agree to. It looks like we are very compatible in terms of Dominant/submissive play. Is there anything else you want to discuss?” he asks.

“Well, I think I am open to trying most everything. I haven’t done many of the things on the list, such as acting like a child, you know, using toys and such. I definitely do not want to try suspension and I do not want to be locked in a cage. I can become claustrophobic.”

“When you say locked in a cage, does that include being put into a crib?”

I think for a minute about his question. “Hmmm…I guess I never thought of a crib. I was thinking more about the type of cage you would see in a BDSM dungeon. I think I would be okay with a crib.”

“Excellent. Speaking of which, would you like to see my playroom and your nursery?” he asks.

I stare at him for a few moments. His playroom? My nursery? Seriously? Holy God. His having a playroom does not surprise me. Having a nursery does though.

“You mean I have a nursery? Here?” I ask.

“Yes, baby girl, I have a nursery for you. Fully equipped with everything a Daddy Dom needs to care for and discipline his baby girl.” He takes my hand, leading me down the hallway. First we walk into what is obviously a BDSM playroom. The walls painted a deep crimson color with dark wood wainscoting and crown molding completing the style of the room.

Straight ahead along the far wall, I see a St. Andrew’s cross. There is a large padded table with multiple straps hanging from it to the left of the room and a spanking bench to the right. Next to the spanking bench, I see a straight-back chair that is adorned with straps and buckles. It looks like an electric chair. One entire wall is adorned with hanging paddles, crops, floggers, and canes. Another wall has a large chest with drawers, no doubt with all kinds of wickedly wonderful toys stored within.

“This is very impressive, Richard, truly what I would imagine a playroom to look like,” I say.

“You aren’t freaked out or anything, are you, Siobhan?” he asks.

“Not freaked out. Really, I would classify my feelings as highly charged and eager to see what you would do to me in here.” I am amazed at the candor in my response.

Richard smiles at me. “While I like to be Master to a submissive in this room, the place I love most is down the hall.” Taking my hand, he leads me further down the hallway to the next door. We walk into a room that is painted cream with bright white trim. It is completely opposite from the room we were just in. As dark and menacing as the playroom is, the nursery room is the exact opposite. It is light and airy. A nurturing environment. Immediately to the right is a long table with shelves, clearly a changing table. Interestingly, there are straps on it similar to the ones on the table in the playroom. Those were black. The straps on this table are white.

There is a twin-sized bed with what looks like bedrails straight ahead. In the opposite corner is a full-size, looks-big-enough-for-an-adult crib. There is a dresser against the wall and, next to it, what looks like a closet door. The furniture is all white. There is an overstuffed chair in the other corner that is covered in a calming green fabric. The room is truly an adult nursery. I stand there in awe, taking in the details of room before me. Finally finding my voice, I ask, “Have you always had this room? Have you had other women here?” A pang of jealousy runs through me at the thought.

“I had this furniture when I lived in Chicago. I brought it with me along with the BDSM furniture. I had to hire people to move it who were discreet. This is not the type of furniture a moving company usually comes across. To answer your question, I put the furniture in this room with the intention and hope that one day I would have an adult baby girl again. I have not brought another woman here. I have been waiting for you, Siobhan. I have this room ready for the baby girl of my dreams. You are that baby girl.”