A futuristic world where every girl has to submit it be kicked out of The Society. At age 16, all girls are forced to leave home and try to look for a master. If they can't find one by their 20th birthday, they are kicked out. (BDSM book)
**********...
"Being the considerate person I am, I'll let you choose your punishment." Hale states, letting go of me. I slowly walk to the center of the room, to the rug. Why am I gravitating toward it?
"Your choices are are the following. 1. You spend the week crafting a heavy duty paddle that I will spank you with once your ass has healed. And 2. You can become a pet for the week. That means losing all your human privileges. You'll be naked, on a leash, and likely wear pet gear. You won't be able to talk, or walk. You'll have to act like the pet I chose for you to be. Any questions?" I looked up and into his hard stare. These were both horrible.
"What are the requirements for the paddle?"
"You'll have to make a paddle that I'll use to paddle you when you misbehave. If it breaks, you'll have to create another paddle that is much thicker. And the paddle will be used on multiple occasions."
What do I choose? Either make a paddle that will be used multiple times, or act like an animal. And the paddle has to be great quality, otherwise I'll have to start over again and then get punished even more. It's bound to hurt. But becoming a pet seems worse. I mean, I'll be treated like an animal. It would be humiliating and degrading.
"I'll go with the paddle." Hopefully, I made the right choice.
"Great. Sam has excellent skill when creating paddles. He'll show you how to create one, and which ones you should use because we want you to learn. Don't we?" A sickly sweet smile is on his face. It's as if he thinks I'll actually submit to him. I'm not some puppet that follows commands.
"Yes, Sir."
He is so frustrating. Soon. Soon I'll be able to leave.
"The paddle has to be effective, so there are a couple shapes you can craft," Sam states as Hale walks out of the room. "Let's go." Sam starts heading toward the door but I stay in the same spot. What is even going on?
"Let's go." Sam voices from the hall.
I move out of the room and run after Sam. These guys are barely taller than me, yet they walk so fast. How is it that I have to run after them?
Sam heads to the garage and I follow, closing the door behind me. Where are we going?
Sam pulls a stool out from the corner and dusts it off. Then he clears off part of the countertop. He reaches for a ladder and sets it near the large garage door, the one that leads outside. Is there a secret button there that opens the garage? He climbs up and pulls a sturdy board of wood from a box, dashing my hopes.
I'm going to have to make the paddle here? Sam put the board on the counter and rummaged through a tool box and came out with a pencil of sorts.
"This board is what you'll be using to create your paddle. We'll use the pencil to sketch the design on the board so you know where to cut. We'll do that tomorrow and you'll cut it. The next day you'll sand it again and again until it's smooth. Then I'll help you apply the finishing gloss and stain if you want it to be colored."
Sam went on and on about different types of paddles. He discussed which hurt the worst, and which left bruising and which just created sting. He listed the pros and cons of every paddle I could think of.
Then he went on to narrow down my options. He cut out a huge portion of options because they wouldn't be effective. Why would he go through all the information about each type of paddle only to cut most of the paddles out of my options?
On his phone, he pulled up images of each type of paddle I was allowed to make. I want a small one, but smaller means more spanks. But the larger ones leave more bruising.
In the end, I decided on a paddle I did not want. It was medium sized. It would apparently cover an entire butt cheek, but it would be thinner than a normal paddle. The worst part about it was that it was heart-shaped. But it would be the least painful for one smack, even though it would mean more spanks. And it wouldn't leave bruising.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I lay in bed that night, thinking about it. The pros and cons to it. And the dread of starting to make it tomorrow. Sam thought it was cute. Maybe he thought this paddle would mean I loved Hale, or some other crap like that, but maybe he knew I chose one that was not very painful. Or maybe it was painful and he was trying to confuse me. Maybe it's really painful and he was smiling at my choice because I chose the exact opposite of what I wanted.
I'm overthinking this. Maybe waiting for all this is punishment too. Not knowing when you'll be punished is punishment enough. One of the last lessons I actually listened to in school referred to waiting for punishment. Something about it drawing out the punishment and making the submissive anxious.
If that is the case, it sure is working. This will haunt me all week. The last thoughts I had before I fell asleep were of that annoying paddle.
*********
The week wasn't as bad as I originally thought it would be. I spent most of my time making the paddle, which isn't really a good thing. But there was no training and no cleaning! All I had to do was make breakfast and make sandwiches for lunch. For dinner, Hale ordered take-out.
But off course, I had to deal with bleeding out. Hale tried to convince me to wear tampons, probably so I wouldn't be able to wear underwear, but I wasn't putting anything in my body. He was going to have to deal with it.
My ass has been healing, but I'm dreading when Hale deems that I can finally get punished. The paddle is almost done, and I convinced Sam to let the paddle stay the shade it is instead of painting it. I don't want Hale or Sam to get the wrong idea. Today I sanded out the paddle and tomorrow I apply the gloss. So I have at least 2 more days of no punishment.
What worries me the most is the letter from the Supreme City. Or the lack thereof. It's way past the date they said they would contact me. The weather is getting cooler, signaling the beginning of fall.
The letter was supposed to be sent weeks ago. I should've been in the Supreme City for at least 2 weeks by now. When I get there, I will demand multiple times to know why the letter was so delayed. Why was I left with handsome Hale- No! He's not handsome. He isn't attractive. He's rude, and arrogant! Why did they leave me to fend for myself?
