Say It Again, Louder | Paddle Spanking

Sofia_xx
Jul 17
3 min read

It was already sitting on the dresser when I walked in—the paddle. Heavy. Smooth. Silent. Just the sight of it made my chest tighten. He hadn’t said a word yet, but I knew exactly what it meant. There was no avoiding it this time. I stood frozen in the doorway like a child caught red-handed.

He stepped in behind me, closed the door, and locked it. The sound echoed in the quiet room. I turned slowly to face him.

He didn’t yell. He never did. That wasn’t his way. His voice was calm, deliberate. “Do you remember what I told you last time about lying to me?”

I nodded.

“Out loud.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And did you lie to me again?”

I tried to come up with a softer word. Something like stretching the truth, or leaving out details. But that wasn’t going to fly, and we both knew it. “Yes, Sir.”

He looked toward the paddle. “Then you also know what happens next.”

My mouth went dry.

“I didn’t mean to—” I started, but he raised a hand. Not harshly. Just a silent signal that my excuses weren’t going to matter right now.

“I gave you clear boundaries. You crossed them. Now you’re going to be reminded why you don’t.”

He pulled the chair from the corner and placed it in the center of the room. No theatrics. No anger. Just quiet, absolute authority. He sat down and gestured to me. “Skirt off.”

I hesitated.

He raised an eyebrow.

I undid the zipper and let the skirt fall to the floor. My fingers trembled. I stepped forward in just my blouse and underwear, already feeling the hot shame rising through my chest. I wanted to look away from him, from the paddle, from this whole moment—but I didn’t. That was part of the punishment, too.

He reached for my wrist, guiding me gently but firmly to his right side, then across his lap. The second I was over his knee, the gravity of it sank in. I was no longer in control. My bottom was perfectly positioned, arched just enough, panties tight across the curve of my cheeks.

“This isn’t just about the lie,” he said, resting one hand on my lower back. “It’s about respect. About learning. And about the words that come out of your mouth.”

Then he hooked his fingers in the waistband of my panties and pulled them down, slow and deliberate, until they bunched around my knees. I gasped, squirming slightly.

“Please…”

“No,” he said calmly. “You knew what this meant.”

The cool air made my skin prickle. I could feel how exposed I was, how real this was. And then, quietly, he spoke again:

“Before every swat, you will say ‘Yes, Sir.’ You will own this punishment.”

I swallowed hard. “Yes, Sir.”

CRACK.

The paddle landed like a thunderclap—deep, sharp, filling the entire room. I yelped, my fingers gripping the chair leg tight.

“Again.”

“Yes, Sir.”

CRACK.

Tears stung my eyes. My bottom throbbed instantly.

“Louder.”

“Yes, Sir.”

CRACK.

He gave me space to say it between each one, but not much. The waiting, the anticipation, was part of the punishment. Every time I said those words, it felt like handing him more of my pride. And every time the paddle landed, it took another piece of the defiance I’d been clinging to all week.

By fifteen, I was sobbing. By twenty, my voice was shaking too much to get the words out properly. But he waited. He made me say it. Every. Single. Time.

“Y-yes, Sir…”

CRACK.

“Good girl. Last one.”

I braced myself. “Yes, Sir.”

The final strike landed low, just above the backs of my thighs, and I cried out.

He set the paddle down on the dresser with a soft thud. I stayed bent over his lap, too overwhelmed to move. My bottom burned. My pride ached even more.

After a moment, he helped me up gently, pulling me close until I stood between his knees, half-naked, flushed, shaking. He didn’t tease. He didn’t ask if I was okay. He just looked up at me with quiet expectation.

I knew what he wanted.

“Thank you… Sir.”

He nodded. “Go to the wall. Hands behind your back. Five minutes.”

I turned and walked to the wall slowly, every step a reminder of the paddle spanking I’d just received. I stood there, panties still at my knees, arms behind me, feeling the burn in my bottom and the heat in my face. But beneath the shame and the sting… was clarity. And something that felt dangerously close to peace.

I needed this.

I needed him.