The Fort Part 2- Don't Call Me Daddy
Chapter 15- Punishment Time- Your Slipper, Your Cane
© L 2025
* Trigger Warning
If you don't feel you want to read a physical punishment chapter, if it would trigger you, then don't. L has received the cat, so read her aftercare. It will not detract from the overall story. It is more important to me any reader looks after themselves first.
There is little reprieve after the cat, you allow me a moment to catch my breath, and then you point to your cross. My stomach churns that much, I contemplate using my safe word. As I move to your cross, you grab Radcliffe, and take him out your room, placing him back on my bed. Returning, you head to your cuffs and select your 4 heaviest leather cuffs. Walking to me you are faced with seeing just how red and marked my ass is already from my earlier belting. You nearly point out that I chose a bad day to disrespect you, the strike of your slipper and then cane over the belt marks are really going to sting and rip into me physically, in more ways than one. But you don't, you believe you have pushed me mentally as far as you can, hence why you have now returned Radcliffe to my bedroom. The mental toll that being punished in front of my teddies takes on me can be crippling.
You also resolve that you will try and show me some mercy by working your way around the marks you have already left. But, it won't be easy, and unfortunately striking the welts is inevitable, especially by the time you come to cane me. You already know the cane will likely break my skin as it is already fragile, and after ten strikes with your rubber slipper, it won't take much more. You secure my ankles first, and then my wrists. You come round to the back of me and brush my hair over my shoulder so it is out the way. 'I really am truly sorry Master', I say quietly. You pause and stand completely behind me, kiss the back of my head, bring your arms round my waist and hug me, you are so loving, so gentle, 'I know you are baby girl', you say softly. You let yourself hold me, but only for a few seconds.
Letting me go you step away from me and my heart inevitably beats faster, I know what is coming. First you retrieve a medium to large butt plug, and smear deep heat over the end, you part my ass cheeks, and push the metal plug it in my asshole, no easing it in, the purple jewel sparkles, and you grin, knowing the internal discomfort I am already feeling, that will grow. Now you retrieve your slipper. Yes it will sting, but the rubber will also deliver a deeper pain too. You only use the slipper on me when I have been a very bad girl in little space. You are careful when I’m in little space how you punish me, and with what, for example you would never use the cat you just used, to punish me in little space. As a little, I am delicate, fragile, my head space can't take the kind of punishment it can when I'm in my adult mind-set. You also find spanking me in little space isn't generally effective as a punishment, there are much better ways to correct my behaviour. However, there is an exception to this, and that is your slipper. With it's plimsoll look, rubber back, there is no mistaking the slipper hurts, really hurts. It isn't something you use a lot because pain wise I put it at almost the same level as your cane, certainly the way you use it anyway. However, there is something inherently 'little' to us both about getting the slipper, that makes it perfect to spank my bare bottom when only a spanking to correct my naughty behaviour in little space will do.
Returning to me, you brush the cold surface over my ass, you slide it between my legs and move it up until you make contact with my pussy and I wince, the cat has definitely left its mark, you can see my swollen puffy lips easily. Removing it, you hold it back and bring it down in a medium to hard strength hit on my ass. I let out a gurgling cry, and my toes lift my feet, my back arches. Usually that kind of first strike would be met with nothing more than an exhale of my breath, maybe a light whimper or moan, you usually spank me with the slipper a lot harder. But I don't usually start my spankings with an ass as red as a ripe tomato. 'One, thank you Master', I say almost immediately, knowing you can hit harder, knowing you probably will. As soon as I have thanked you, you bring the slipper back down on my ass again, a different spot, the same level of impact, and I react in much the same way, saying 'two' and thanking you, as a small cry lingers from lips.
We slowly make our way through the strikes you don't hit me harder, you don't need to. The pain you are sure because of my reactions, is not a pain I feel often. Never have you inflicted a physical punishment on me, the day of a severe impact play session. However, you believe I deserve this, you want me to feel pain as part of my punishment. If you were working with a fresh canvas, 10 strikes at a medium to hard strength with your slipper is not how you would contemplate punishing me if this morning hadn't occurred. You might be sadistic, you might be cruel, but you also know me, know my limits, and right now I’m already nearing the edge. My red ass turns deep red, then purple, and bruising starts to show as strike three lands. But it's not just my ass you slipper, you hit my thighs and the tops of my legs as well, and they too turn various shades of red and purple.
Until strike eight, I have been relatively good at counting and then thanking you but as strike eight lands, my screams have turned to shrieks and howls, after every strike I wrestle in my restraints, not because I want out, I have my safe word for that. I fight my restraints because it is the only outlet I have before I recompose myself, which takes slightly longer after each one. While you give me time, you also don't want to loose your rhythm, and the longer I take to count strike eight the more frustrating it feels. Just as you are about to ask me to count, I say through gritted teeth, 'eight', and taking a breath as I exhale I say 'thank you Master'. The last two strikes are intentionally harder, still no where near as hard as you can and have slippered me before, but I have lost all sense of comparing pain at this point, my legs buckle each time, my restraints the only things keeping me somewhat standing.
The second I have thanked you for the tenth strike you put the slipper down, and you come behind me and embrace me. Holding me close, allowing your body to take my weight. You kiss my neck, and soothingly rub my ass. After a short time you undo my wrist restraints and allow my arms to hang by my side. You retrieve the water from the table and pass it to me, ordering me to drink, helping me to do so, slowly stroking my hair. When I have drunk about half the bottle I pass it to you. You take a short drink from it yourself, and then replace it back on the table. Then slowly, you reattach my wrist restraints to the cross, 'almost there', you say, knowing that might be the case, but the worst we both know is still yet to come. I can't, I can't do this, I know I can't. I whisper 'please don't Master', and kissing the back of my head you say 'we both know I have to', and I say nothing more as you collect your cane from the cabinet.
While you are fond of the cane, I certainly am not. It is a soft limit of mine for a reason, as such you keep the cane purely to punish me, but that doesn't mean you don't enjoy using it. You tap the cane up my legs lightly, my wrists move in my restraints, I whimper slightly in anticipation. As you come up behind me, the caring side of your dominance has evaporated. 'I won't start until you ask me to strike you', you say in a calm but very authoritative tone. I want to scream at you that I can't, that you just need to hit me and get it over with. But I also know, that response will not be met with kindness or sympathy.
You are as deep into Dom space/Master mode as I am into sub space right now, your sadistic tendencies really have been let loose. I have signed a contract, I wear your collar, we mutually agreed what my hard and soft limits are, if this was a court room I would have no defence, I broke a core rule, there is no way out. Metaphorically speaking there is one emergency eject button, my safe word, but I don't use that when I am scared, when I don't want a particular punishment. It is there just in case you hit my limit.
I rarely use my safe word 'red', and I haven't in a long time, as you know me so well you know when you are about to push me too far and you stop before we get to that point. If you need to, you use the safe word yourself, which brings with it, its own consequences (but that's a different story, for a different day). Occasionally I will use yellow to signal when I'm nearing my limit, or when I need a break, but again you factor these into every session, and we communicate. Green I use when we are trying something new, a new playing position, technique, toy, it's an easy way for me to communicate with you to carry on without you stopping to ask.
The tension in the room is electrifying, I speak but I can't bring myself to say the words you have ordered me to. Instead I whimper 'Master, I’m truly sorry'. 'You will be', is all you say as you acknowledge my words. The room falls silent again, you will not start until I ask you to. After several minutes you say 'if you don't ask me to strike you, I will pick up the slipper, and carry on using that. But I will not undo your restraints until you ask me to strike you with the cane'. I whimper again, and just as you begin to think I won't, you hear me say in barely more than a whisper 'I know Master, I'm sorry, please hit me with the cane'. Your reaction is instant, you don't hesitate, you bring the cane down, again only at a medium strength, but to me it feels like the hardest strike you could give me, that you have given me. I cry in pain my knees almost buckle, my wrists pull in my restraints. I shriek and howl, the cane feeling like a hot iron swiping my body. Without thinking my legs try to move, only to hear clank of the chain between my ankle cuffs and the D rings at the bottom of the cross, holding my legs down.
You allow me time to regain my composure, I slowly do, 'One' I say followed by 'thank you Master', but I don't say anything further. We both know what I need to say next, you continue saying nothing, you pace softly back and fourth behind me, admiring your work, as time passes, you say 'I've got all night'. 'Please cane me Master', I say tensing as you almost instantly strike me again. I again, instantly cry, screaming as the cane lands. Between the belt, the few cat strikes and the slipper my ass is shades of bright red, deep red and purple, and now the cane marks finish it off, another work of art to compliment my cat strikes. Quicker this time I count, thank you, and eventually as tears begin to fall down my face, I surrender, and ask you to cane me again. Sobbing, as the third cane strike lands, am no longer fighting your order, my body and mind has accepted its fate. Each time I count, thank you, and ask for another that little bit quicker.
You strike me 5 more times like this, you bring the eighth strike down hard. Hitting me as hard as I can manage, it's still not as hard as you could hit, but you would never subject me to that. My whimpers and sobs have not stopped, saliva drips from my mouth, tears of pain fall from my eyes, the only reason I am still fully standing is because my restraints have me pulled tight. 'Eight.....thank you..Master.........please cane me again', I whisper. As soon as I say this you drop the cane on the floor. You immediately come to me, taking my weight you remove the plug, undo my restraints, my wrists then my ankles and you pick me up and place me on your bed. I curl up laying on my side, gripping you tightly.