Daddy Hurt Me So Bad
Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 09 Aug 2011
I'm thirteen years old. I'm sitting on my bed waiting for Daddy. He is very angry with me.
I called my mother a "bitch" just as he came into the living room. All he did was say, in a really low voice, "Get to your room! Now!" I know what's about to happen to me. I'm a pretty tough guy,
but tears are running down my cheeks as I wait. Even though he's still downstairs, I know what he's doing. He's gone to the garage for the leather strap he uses to whip me. Soon – too soon — I can hear him coming up the stairs. When he comes in he's holding the dark brown strap in his right hand. My heart almost stops. It looks evil. "Take down those bluejeans right now!" I do it quickly.
"Lay over the bed and grab the covers — and don't you dare try to cover your butt with your hands."
I did as told.
The five or so seconds between when I was ready and the first lick seemed to take an hour.
Then it came. I heard the "swoosh" and heard the crack. At first all I felt was the
dull impact. Then a few moments, after that, the horrible burn. It seems hard to believe, but
I had forgotten how bad
it hurt. I saw stars and let out a shriek. Then the next lick. "Oh Daddy, please! Please stop!"
Another lick. My butt felt like it was being seared with burning coals. I screamed and yelled,
"I can't take it Daddy! It hurts! No more!" The fourth lick landed and I thought I might faint — and wished I could. I screamed again, too filled by fear and pain to beg anymore. A fifth lick.
I couldn't make a sound because I was out of breath even though I was in agony. Finally, the last lick — right across the back of my legs beneath my butt. I had caught my breath and let out a high wail.
It was over — the whipping, I mean. The pain was still awful and I knew it would
hurt for an hour or more. He left the room and I lay on the bed sobbing, the covers becoming
wet with tears and snot.
After a few minutes I got up and limped to the bathroom. My butt was deep red — almost purple in places. I know that tomorrow it will be yellow and blue with the bruises. As bad I felt, all I wanted to do was sleep. When I woke up it was about 3 am. My butt still hurt and ached. Suddenly I was aware that my cock was hard as a rock. I had never felt the need to cum as bad as I did that night. Something about my whipping had made me incredibly horned. I got up and went to the bathroom and started stroking. Within seconds long streams of semen began squirting into the tub — at least
eight heavy squirts. I stood there breathing hard, the last drops of cum dripping from my cock. I ran the faucet and watched the thick yellow sperm as it swirled down the drain.
I crawled back into bed and lay on my stomach. My butt seemed to hurt more than before I stroked off. But the memory of the worst pain of the whipping was gone again. How weird is that? I think it's the way our brain tries to protect us. Even though I can't remember the pain, I remember it was really bad and that Daddy hurt me something awful. That's why, the next time I get it, I'll sit on the bed waiting for Daddy and his strap...and I'll cry.
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