Big Girl Training
Part 126 of 309
He says it perhaps a half-octave lower than normal, and rumbling from his chest -- a mild admonishing tone, but she instantly removes her hand from him, looks up earnestly, apologetically with those stunningly gorgeous eyes, and demonstrates her best swirling technique upon him in her mouth, the enthusiasm of which pleases him, despite the oversight during tonight's Training.
She wiggles slightly to reach back with both arms, and grasps her left wrist with the right hand, as that Training apparently rushes to the fore, summoned, he has reason to believe, by that particular timbre of his voice.
A fairly mild tidbit of forgetfulness, and he is always so pleased with her earnestness. She's a Good Girl, and he makes sure she feels that even more than she feels the firm hand that keeps her safe and sound.
But he's obliged to be a stickler, after carefully sussing what's best for her, over time, long before he ever took the honor of her reins into those firm hands.
He cups her pretty upper apple-cheeks with one big hand, and guides her from her diligent attempts to demonstrate what she's learned from her Training, draws her up onto his chest, a big oak-branch of an arm slips around to pin her to him. He nuzzles her lovely hair, and whispers low.
"You know I have to have you bring me your hairbrush now, little one."
She keens a tonal objection, without risking the cheekiness which the actual words that've probably occured to her, might convey.
"Nooo... you don't! You're Daddy! You don't have to do anything you don't wanna!"
She smiles broadly, charming him instantly. But he shakes it off, For Her Own Good.
"Ah, but I do, little one. Whatever's best for you is what I have to do. You know that."
"But... no, Daddy, I'm a good girl!"
It's an understandable attempt, and the cherubic expression that sweeps over his wife's face might have been intentional, but it positively disarms him every time (if only for a moment!), and he fears she knows it.
"Yes. Yes you are. You make me proud every single day, little one."
He leans down to kiss her lightly, but makes it linger, just brushing his lips lightly on hers, the slightest semblence of a nibble, for several long beats, before he draws back to look down into her face as she's curled half around his ribcage, beaming up at him.
"And that's why you don't get punished every single day. Isn't it."
She blushes at the word "punished", it always causes a flushed stir within her that sparkles out through her gorgeous eyes so nicely, twinkling with the need/hate relationship she has with how prevalent Punishment is in her life.
"Now, isn't it the best thing for a Liddel girl to have a Daddy that knows what's right for her?"
She looks down, suddenly seems to find something fascinating about the buttons on the front of his shirt, but is bright enough to mumble "Yessir".
"And wouldn't it be sad for a Liddel girl to not have a Daddy that knows why Big Girl Training is important for her?"
She keeps playing with the button of his shirt, fixated there, the rising flush of her cheeks tells him that she knows, by now, perfectly well where the tone and cadence of this mini lecture is probably going. So he doesn't wait for a verbal response.
"I know it can be hard honey, having lots of rules, and having lots of Big Girl Training. Lots of stuff to remember... But you know why it's important, don't you."
She nods slightly.
"Being a single Daddy, in charge of a special girl like you are, comes with a lot of responsiblity. There's important stuff that you have to be taught...
"Now, I know you think you're a big girl..."
She nods fervently at that, the same fervency he sees whenever his Daddy instincts precipitate a night of Big Girl Training for his WomanChild.
"...but Daddy knows how Liddel you really are... you can't hide that from me. And any special girl that's as Liddel as you are, needs her Daddy to train her to be a big girl. Huh."
She looks back down fixedly at his belly button, and begins doing and undoing the pearl buttons there, like a physical mantra.
"After all, grownup girls are expected to do all kinds of things, and Daddy has to train you properly. What kind of Daddy would I be if I didn't train you for the things expected of grownup girls? Hmmm?"
She shrugs, finds herself unable to look up at him when he's explaining these sorts of things. Even after years of Big Girl Training, she still flushes all the way to her nibble-worthy neckline when he insists on speaking the details, out loud.
"So. Grownup girls are expected to know the proper way to thank someone for punishing them, or apologize to him. With her mouth. Huh. And it's my job to make sure you know the proper way to do it. Isn't it."
She nods, bright enough to know the rhetorical from the not.
"So Big Girl Training is important, little one. Whether it's bottom training, or kitty training... or nipple training... or mouth training."
She flushes anew as he gets specific enough to cause her to flush, which he quite enjoys doing.
"Now. What was tonight's Big Girl Training, little one?"
She turns her head and tries to bury her face in his belly, her answer muffled by a sincere attempt to disappear completely.
"What was that honey?"
He strokes her hair lightly, reassuring her as his touch always seems to, uses the stroking motion to turn her head slightly, so he can see her exotic eyes. She looks upward, as if the ceiling is suddenly the most fascinating thing in the room, but smartly answers again.
"Mouf training," she replies, in a very Liddel, high-pitched voice. His tone and words have driven her deeply into Littlespace.
"Uh huh. That's right. That's how a Big Girl thanks someone for taking the time to discipine them. And there's a reason it's not called Hand Training. Isn't there.
"Are you permitted to use your hands when thanking Daddy for taking the time to discipine you?"
"Nosir..." Again, very soft and very Liddel.
"Then would it make any sense for you to be permitted to use your hands during Mouth Training?"
She sighs audibly, resigned it would seem, for she knows the air-tightness of Daddy logic, and long experience has given her a sense of the tone and cadence with which he wraps up a "talk" like this, and moves on to what usually follows when she hears his voice dip that half-octave, as it did moments ago... but she doesn't answer, her tummy is already twinging, the Butterflies are fluttering there, summoned by that tone and cadence and experienced prediction of her near future, hanging thick in the air.
Suddenly, the butterflies very low-down in her very low tummy make her feel like she has to pee.
"No it wouldn't," he fills in for her. "Which is why you're not permitted to use your hands when thanking Daddy for taking the time to Punish you -- and certainly not during Mouth Training."
"Yes Daddy," she says, in an even smaller voice now.
"And you know that, huh..."
She lowers her face again, the warmly flushed cheek she lays on his tummy felt through his shirt.
"Which is why you need to bring me your hairbrush, my Love. So I can help you remember. And so we can get back to finishing tonight's Big Girl Training, and still have some snoogling time before I have to get you ready for bed."
"Yessir", she says, resigned, as she lifts herself up and walks over to her bedside table, opens the drawer, and takes out the wooden hairbrush he had made for her.
Back at their big bed, she keeps her eyes on the carpet and hands it to him. He sets it on the bed beside him, and reaches a hand to each of her hips, tugging down her Tinkerbell PJs and thick cotton underpants to her knees in one smooth motion.
There's a momentary lapse when her womanly instincts bring her hands down to twist fingers in front of her kitty, but this silly motion is overridden as her hands rise to meet the bed, when he deftly tugs her over one knee, the other leg swinging across the backs of her knees to pin her there.
"This is just a reminder, not a real Punishment honey... but you know why Daddy must do this..."
He doesn't wait for a response, but picks up the brush, and with neither preamble nor warm-up nor ceremony, he begins peppering her adorable bottom with very sound, flat, cracking strokes of the hard, wooden hairbrush.
It is sudden, it is not a "scene", it is practical, and meant to imprint a quick, harsh lesson, within the very moment which precipitated it.
She begins to cry immediately, it is searingly sudden, it takes her breath away, and he does not pause for gentle reminders in her ear of why she's being Punished, and why it takes a mighty mighty Love for him to do this, as he would for a full-blown punishment -- he resolutely delivers the degree of attention-grabbing intensity that he feels will help her, as a Reminder.
She kicks her legs like a toddler, cries very real tears within seconds, this woman he adores, which once again charms him for the symptoms of Littlespace which they are.
But for all it's intensity, it is also short-lived, much moreso than a real Punishment would have been, and after what would normally have been a first of many volleys, perhaps only 25 firm, no-kidding-around strokes with the wooden hairbrush, when he'd normally have just paused to stroke her hair, and whisper adoring reminders of why she was being Punished into her ear, he sets the hairbrush aside, and picks her up effortlessly with two big hands at her waist, to set her up and astride his legs, facing him.
She immediately buried her face in his neck, throwing arms which manage to feel Liddel around him, squeezing him tight, and crying hard, despite the relative brevity of attentions which she's experienced much more intensely, before.
He squeezes her hard, and reaches down to cup both lower cheeks, and rocks and murmurs into her ear.
"Okay, all over, little one. That's all, just a reminder. Daddy's not angry honey. Just need to help you remember the important things, my Love."
His tone, the reassurance melting together with the sting and heat of her bottom, despite that it was a very short Reminder from him, merges into the warmth of their bodies pressed together as he holds her very very tightly, rocking and soothing and reassuring
The Liddel-girl tears quickly dry up, the twinging butterflies low in her tummy move even lower, begin to quicken something in her lowest tummy, as his big hands palm and stroke and soothe her flushed bottom, his dark-chocolate voice murmuring in her ear.
"It's okay my Love, just a Reminder... just Daddy helping your remember... all over now... everything's okay... Daddy loves you... You're the apple of your Daddy's eye..."
Soon all semblance of tears have morphed into mewling, and she twists on his lap a bit, pressing her bottom back against his soothing, stroking hands behind her, twisting her lower back in a very talented feline attempt to coax his fingertips between her bottom-cleft, as he soothes and holds a cheek in each big hand.
"Good girl... that's my good girl."
Her talented attempts to draw his touch further have their effect upon him, which she detects, and she smiles into his eyes, and kisses him passionately.
But he pulls back gently, and captures her eyes, with his.
"Ah. Not so fast, young lady. You know it's a Training night. If you're very good, Daddy might soothe kitty at bedtime. But right now, we have some important Training to finish, don't we."
Now her eyes twinkle an especially lovely mixture of his wife, and his Liddel girl, as she wriggles back off his lap, to her knees beside the bed.
She exaggerates the movement as she reaches back behind herself, to grasp a wrist with the other hand, safely out of the way, and grins up at him with those stunning eyes, sparkling now in such a dual, and special, way.
"Like this Daddy?"
She moves to take him into her mouth once again, returning to the Training exercise for tonight.
But it's her eyes he's still peering at, as if the aching hardness between them didn't exist, for he sees every bit of the woman he's devoted his life to, dancing so prettily with the little girl inside her, in those stunning eyes.
"Exactly like this... and Forever, Liddel Treasure..."
Her happy girlish expression at that, as she returns to the lessons of the evening, sends him falling falling falling back onto the bed, and over some edge, already, from which he hopes never to return.
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