Wake Up Call
By Sarah Thorne©
It was 5:58 a.m.
I remember this because I deliberately looked at the clock, as I was nowhere near ready to get up.
Anyone who knows what happened to me on Saturday knows that I was surely still very tender and sore at this point. I hadn't sat comfortably, even on soft material, since the day before when I was spanked, wickedly so, deliciously so, as a schoolgirl. But it was not without its own consequences, of which I willingly bore, as the fun and apprehension of being over Daddy's knee was more than worth the price of a pleasantly sore bottom.
I was in that state of sleep where one is not fully conscious but they are still conscious enough to remember how something happened although at the time it's happening, they are not fully comprehending of events enough to take certain preventative action, like run and hide. By the time I was shaken (spanked) out of that particular state of being, it was already too late to try and get away.
But, yes, I was blissfully sleeping. He had gotten out of bed at 4 a.m., I believe, as I do half remember him getting up as I glanced at the clock then also. He normally doesn't bother me; shuts the door so I won't be disturbed until I am ready to rouse and get up on my own, which usually is about 6:30 or so. But I was tired. And groggy. And in that wonderful in-between place of slumber and consciousness is when the bedroom door swung open in what seemed a fury. Like a bat out of hell he entered the room.
The light switch was targeted next, just as I had lifted my head to see what the commotion was. I had to squint my eyes.
"What...?" barely left my mouth as I allowed my head to fall back on the pillow. I was sleeping on my stomach...I am a belly sleeper. Figuring he just needed something, I relaxed a bit and closed my eyes, hoping he'd be quick about whatever it was he was seeking and get out.
The cool air hit my bare legs and barely covered ass as the top sheet was pulled off of me. Before I could even utter a protest, a solid smack landed on my sit spot below my right buttock. You bet I jumped!
"Ow! What was that for?" I demanded as he made his way all the way onto the bed right next to me, sitting with his back against the headboard. Another smack he gave me with the damn Cracker Barrel paddle and then patted his left leg.
"Time to get up! Come on, over this leg!"
"No way!" I protested but barely got it out of my mouth when he took hold of the arm nearest him and nearly dragged me over his left knee, his right leg swinging up over the crook of my knees, holding me down, disabling me from any kind of protests from my legs. He smacked my ass again over my panties and then grabbed the waistband, starting to pull it down. I reached back and grabbed it.
"NO!" I was adamant but he swatted my hand away and managed to wrestle my panties down despite my one armed attempt to stop him. It was then that I noted the time, as my nose was pretty much inches from the clock on the night table.
"Nooooo....not now! Not now!!" And another smack landed. I noticed these swats for sure because I was still very, very tender from the day before. "Please!" I begged but he paid me no mind. Once he had me properly positioned, he began a rain of smacks on my poor, sore bottom with that hard, solid, evil piece of wood. No modesty on my part, no pride in holding back. I was protesting from the beginning, feeling every swat literally branding me. I was yelling. I didn't think until later that in the duplex that he lives in, his neighbor's bedroom is right next to his. What a wake up call they obviously got that morning as well!
When he thought I'd had enough of the paddle, he took over by hand. In a weird kinda way it was a respite, but it still hurt, though not as much. The hand spanks were definitely harder and more swats were focused on one spot. My sit spots getting heated very quickly and getting lots of attention, as the always did. They had not forgotten the treatment from the day before and let me know through their intense burning that they were not happy to be a target once more. As his hand rose and fell, I wiggled, squirmed, yelled, begged....you name it, I did it. And I was awake. Oh yes I was fully awake now.
A brief interlude and I thought maybe we were done when he raised his leg slightly, raising my exposed tush even more and then I felt a slight movement as he picked up the paddle once more.
As he raised it, I yelled, "No, not that! Not that! NOT THAT!" Before the smack landed. Of course he paid me no attention and continued to smack the lower half of my cheeks while my vigorous struggling took on a renewed strength. Gads, how long was he going to go on?? Didn't he remember the spanking he had given me the day before? And with how many implements? How the hell much did he think I could take? And what the hell possessed him to come barging into the room like he was on a mission and arouse me from my dreamland in this manner?
Those questions, of course, were not in my head at that particular time. No, the thoughts in my head were based on when in the world he planned to stop smacking my bottom, which was quite sore.
Paddle thrown down and hand was used once more. Again, a bit of a break but the continuous spanking still had me squirming quite a bit. Surely he'd be getting tired of it soon? And let me up? But no, his leg (and my ass along with it) was raised again and the paddle was picked up once more and I hollered a protest, using the word "NO!" quite a bit and "please, not that again!" My buns were burning as if on fire and I'd not even done anything to deserve it! I gripped the edge of the bed and attempted to pull myself away. Didn't work. I tried to kick. Couldn't. All I had was my voice. But just when I thought I'd scream if he struck me one more time, he stopped.
I just lay there a second, breathless, bottom in flames, and looked at the clock again. 6:18. Damn! 20 minutes of straight spanks. Yeah, yeah...that may not seem like much to some, but my ass had already been tenderized the day before. This was a Saturday and it was Tuesday before I could sit comfortably again. And I am NOT kidding!
Anyway, as I started to get up, he laid back on the bed. Being the sweet, obedient, and thankful bottom that I am, I climbed atop him and kissed his lips slowly, teasingly....then down to his neck. Down, down, down I continued to travel with my mouth until his hands were entangled in my hair and I paid homage with my lips and tongue until he too was brought more fully awake than he may have already been before.
And even though caffeine wasn't really a necessity that morning, we went upstairs and had some coffee anyway. Me sitting gingerly on the couch, silently cursing him and he smiling, perfectly content with the morning and amused at my inability to sit still for more than a moment. He even threatened to spank me again if I didn't make haste in answering Jay's e-mail!!
At any rate, it was an effective wake up call. I do maintain that it is much more effective than any alarm clock could ever be. And hell, I had thought the alarm clock was painful enough!!