Fiction: Lending a Hand to Disobedience (Part 1)

A long held fantasy, as a dream…

Orgasm control or having to ask permission to touch myself, and being “punished” with spanking, is a deep and long held fantasy of mine. It’s also the first non-spanko thing my husband and I connected on. We’ve had an “orange socks” rule about asking permission, just about since we met. That means, I have to ask him permission to touch myself or orgasm, but it’s not a “real” rule in that there are real-world implications for breaking it. But “breaking” it is between us, a way to set a tone and headspace for some discipline oriented play, for me to express submission and service. More intense orgasm control is definitely in my head, as well, and often comes back to my desire to please, serve, submit.

I rarely dream about these things – usually only spanking, but like I said in my last post, I have been reconciling different aspects of my kink and how they mesh (or don’t) together. The male tops/spankers in my dreams are usually, historically, unidentifiable. Not that they are anonymous or masked, but I don’t see their face in the dream, my “view” or perspective is from the side or behind, watching, so I can see myself but never the top. They’re more of an idea or concept, embodying the feeling of the scenario and blending the voices of those I have played with or talked about playing with.

I haven’t been having many spanking dreams lately, and even before, most of them were the same classic hard OTK spanking they always are, with some slight variations. I started 2025 off with a bang though, with this one. Apparently my NYE champagne was inspiring and I woke up on the first of the year having to contend with this.

This dream melds together some vague real-life scenarios (like being sent to bed & the idea of being caught touching myself which has happened…uh, a few times in RL with Daniel!) and fantasized about ones, such as a bedtime spanking that instead of being cozy, is hard because I was cheeky and earned it, thigh smacking on its own, uniform being a part of discipline, etc. It’s not about a specific person or real-life event, but it’s one of those that could happen, that I’d even like to happen, someday, even. The writing is more colloquial but I wanted it to feel more like how I did when I wrote it, like I was sharing it with a friend. But this is me, again, reconciling these different aspects of my kink with each other – how can they fit together? Will the fitting together work for me? What parts?

I hope you enjoy this sharing of my dream, as much as I enjoyed the dream itself. I woke up a bit confused, but content. Dreams have a surrealist feel to them, so I’ve embellished in parts, of course.

o0o

Lending a Hand to Disobedience (Part 1)

M/F, cons, punishment, discipline, anal play, masturbation, orgasm

There was a bedtime spanking. All the usual things: pajamas and panties taken right down to my ankles from the start, leg locked & wrist held because I’d been a bit a bit cheeky earlier. I was very tired and it was obvious. I kicked (to the extent that I could) and squirmed through the spanking which was harder than is typical for bedtime.

I was beginning to sniffle when he stopped. There was some rubbing, but it was brief, when he started to gently spread my bottom cheeks. My reaction to this was unusual, too – typically, I go very quiet and submissive. I whined instead. I was tired, he didn’t have to do that, etc, etc. He ignored me and used the thermometer anyway. Then I went quiet and submissive, and a bit sulky. After a moment he replaced it with his finger and told me – while doing that! – that when he was finished enjoying my bottom he was going to read to me a bit and then I was to go right to sleep. Nothing else. No phone, no anything. Just close my eyes and sleep. Hmph.

I did try. Maybe. For a brief moment at least. But I was feeling defiant and figured he wouldn’t find out unless he asked the next day – because I wouldn’t lie, but the chances of him asking were low.

I was wrong. My eyes were closed and I had let my phone drop because I was fully in my head by that point, instead of the story I was reading. The blanket was only half covering me and it would have been obvious to anyone looking why my hand was hidden below the waistband of my pajamas, buried inside my panties. I was so in my head, that I hadn’t heard him come back into our bedroom. I don’t know how long he had been watching me, and I was trying to be quiet, but the quiet whimpers and sighs that came out of me as I reached orgasm, were met by a rather inquisitive, “Hm?”

My eyes flew open and I was now panting for more than one reason, trying to catch my breath. My phone fell onto the floor next to the bed and my hand froze in my panties. My face flushed a vicious red. He had seen me touching myself. He had watched – he liked to watch, usually.

“This doesn’t look like you closed your eyes and went to sleep.” He pointed to the nightstand “I forgot my glasses.” I looked at the black frames, stupidly, slowly withdrawing my hand from my pajamas. I still couldn’t say anything but I tried to pull the covers over my face with my other hand. 

“None of that, young lady. Go wash your hands.”

My face flushed deeper – if it was even possible, and my ears burned with embarrassment. He had turned the bedside light on by now so I knew he could see my face. I whimpered and nearly ran to the bathroom where I tried to stay for much longer than was necessary. He called – not too loudly – a few minutes later, “I’m waiting.”

When I came back into the room he was again seated on the edge of the bed, and pulled me in front of him, between his knees. I closed my eyes and he pulled my pajamas back down to my knees!

“What! No!” I tried to reach for them and held onto the waistband of my panties instead.

He smacked my hands away – not gently either – and told me to put them on top of my head. He slowly drew my panties down and tsk’d. I wanted to cry.

“I think you’ll be needing clean panties for bed. Get a pair – white please.”

Couldn’t the floor swallow me whole?

I was too embarrassed to protest and simply did as I was told, returning with a pair of white briefs and handing them to him before returning my hands to the top of my head. He held them out for me to step into, one foot at a time, and pulled them up snugly, with my pajama shorts to follow.

“I am not going to spank your bottom again tonight, but we’re going to have a long conversation tomorrow about obedience and what happens to naughty girls who disobey at bedtime, is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

He turned me slightly to the side and started smacking the fronts of my thighs, hard. I did cry this time, mostly from embarrassment, and wished he had been smacking my bottom. He was thorough and by the time he was finished and turning me back around, I had handprints and bruises forming from the tops of my thighs to a few inches above my knees. They stung fiercely but he wasn’t finished.

The backs of my thighs got it even worse. I’d be sleeping gingerly, and I was sure I’d be going directly to sleep this time. He stood up and pulled the covers back for me to climb in, and tucked me in. He turned off the light but paused at the door, and didn’t leave until after I’d fallen sleep – which was luckily quickly. I didn’t feel him come in later and wrap his body around mine, but I know he did.

The next morning, there was a uniform laid out for me and a note. I was to get myself ready, change into the uniform and put myself in the corner to wait for his office hours to finish. The new tawse, my ebony hairbrush, and a ruler were all set out on the table along with my notebook for writing. I changed, paying particular attention to the details – my tie was snug and neatly tied, my gymslip sash was even and flat, my ankle socks were properly cuffed. I even wiped down my shoes and braided my hair! My thighs still stung from the night before and I did not want to add to the reasons for him to smack them.

I had been in the corner for several minutes when he came out of his office and stood behind me. He took me firmly by the ear and lead me to the couch, stopping to pick up the ebony hairbrush on the way. My stomach dropped. He briefly inspected my uniform, then sat on the arm of the sofa and pulled me right over his knee.

My bottom was high and although I still had my knickers on, I felt very exposed with my legs in the air and my head low in the cushions. He held me firmly around the waist and began scolding me about doing as I was told, the first time I am told, and that when I am tired and told to go to sleep, that’s what I am to do, not look at porn on my phone and touch myself. He made it clear I wasn’t being spanked because I had touched myself necessarily (that might have been hot, actually, maybe next time?), but because I had been disobedient – it just happened to have been how my disobedience had manifested – and only naughty girls are disobedient so he was going to spank me how a naughty girl was spanked and maybe I’d think twice next time.

Then he walloped me. It didn’t matter that my knickers were up, because he spanked my whole bottom and the tops of my thighs, the hairbrush falling on the tender spots he had smacked the night before. He was not holding back and I was soon kicking and begging him to stop. At one point I reached my hand back and he pinned it at my hip, “Haven’t these hands gotten you in enough trouble young lady?”

I blushed furiously and that’s when I started crying. I felt badly for being disobedient and embarrassed (but not shamed) that he had seen me not just touching myself, but…well, finishing. My tears didn’t stop him though and he continued until I was a very sorry little girl, saying I was sorry and promising that I would be a good girl and listen. I couldn’t believe how sore my bottom was with my knickers still up.

He stood me back up, lifted my gymslip, and pulled them down to my knees. My mouth fell open and he pulled me back over his knee. I thought he was going to use the hairbrush again and I started begging and squirming immediately, but it was his hand that fell. He spanked me hard and slow but I was so relieved it wasn’t the hairbrush, I just let go and sniffled.

After he let me up the second time, he held me for a few moments, rubbing my back, then lead me over to the dining table by the ear. He neatly folded my kicked-off knickers onto his side of the table and quietly pinned my skirt to my shoulders at the back. He told me to sit and moved the notebook and pen in front of me. He had already written my line across the top of the page for me.

It is important for a good girl to be reminded of what happens to girls who are naughty. 

[or something – this was fuzzy so I embellished]

“You’ll sit here and write this 200 times. You may get up to use the bathroom and I filled your water bottle. If you need a break, you can ask to stand in the corner.”

o0o

Now, it’s not finished, well, not finished here. This is where the dream ended, but the next day, I escaped into the fantasy while awake and enjoyed the thoughts of the uniform discipline part that the dream only skimmed over: punishment, and line writing, so there is more to say…would you want to read that, as a Part 2? Maybe? Probably?

I had to expand on the dream details, given how dreams work, because if I hadn’t, it would have been one paragraph of “I was told to go right to sleep after a bedtime spanking but I masturbated instead, was caught, and had the shit smacked out of my thighs. Then he told me we’d have a ‘discussion’ about disobedience the next day! And there was a uniform!” But that’s not as exciting, now, is it?!

I am also curious if you can guess my particular favorite part of this story!

-M