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That sentiment flew straight out the window when the switch lashed across her bottom. Worse than the cane, it stung like a fury. She had resolved to be still and take the spanking as stoically as possible, but that plan was dashed the second the searing pain of the switch snapped across her bottom. She shrieked, bucking against the restraints that held her in place.
"Oh, you don't like that, do you? Good. You're not supposed to. And don't buck like that. You'll just end up hurting yourself." His words were stern and unsympathetic, but his voice was soft and calming as he stopped to rub her lower back. The gesture and the kindness that went with it, along with the mellow tone of his voice calmed her.
She relaxed against the bonds that held her in place, making her body slack against the bench.
"There you go, that's a good little brat. No more of that shrieking and bucking stuff. You need to settle in and relax because you were very naughty and you're going to be here a while."
Her throat was parched, but she managed a shaky, "Yes Daddy."
His hand disappeared from her back. It appeared before her mouth, pushing a small ice cube between her lips which melted quickly on her tongue. She had no idea when he had managed to gather ice, but she appreciated the forethought. His footsteps sounded thuddy against the floor as he moved to stand behind her once more.
When the switch fell again, she nearly wished she was gagged so she would have something to bite down on. This part of a spanking was always the worst. This tug of war for power and the way the pain was too intense to settle into. She knew if she could hold out just a little longer, her body would give in to the pain, welcoming it. He didn't draw it out and the switch rained down a plethora of tightly spaced blows across her bottom. Each stinging snick took her breath away. She couldn't focus on anything but the pain. She hated that feeling.
She knew he wouldn't use the switch for too long. She held her breath as she counted the stinging lashes. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. She prayed it would break. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Was this stupid thing indestructible? Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty.
Finally, it stopped and the breath she had been holding came out in a whoosh of relief.
She could hear the echo of his movement as he looked for a different implement, and she knew her reprieve would be short lived. Another ice cube appeared before her lips and she eagerly sucked it into her mouth.
He didn't speak, preferring not to announce what he was doing or hint at which implement he’d decided on next. She could only hear the shift in the air around her as he drew back his arm and then the loud crack as it met its target, her already sore bottom. It was definitely wood. A wooden paddle to be exact. She wanted to cry out when it hit, but all she could do was whimper. At least wood was something she had experience with.
She was still not prepared for the unrelenting pain that came as he rained down a symphony of hard and heavy swats against her ass. Some on one side, some on the other, and a few that fell right across the center, hitting both cheeks at once. Those were the worst.
She clung as much as she could to the bench as she lay prostrate against it with nowhere to go. In that moment, she understood the appeal of OTK and the security of body-to-body contact. It wasn't something she had ever had, but she suddenly craved it desperately. She longed to be pressed against his side, with his arm wrapped around her knee and his cock bulging against her thighs. She wanted to feel the heat of his body and hear his heartbeat in the moment of silence between swats. But she couldn't do any of that so she leaned into the pain, letting it wash over her. She listened to the cadence of the paddle, turning it into a song in her mind, and soon the pain wasn't quite so overwhelming and all encompassing.
Of course, the pain being replaced with numbness only served to leave her alone with her thoughts. Each heavy swat seemed to bring with it a memory of their time together, time that would soon be ending.
She needed the break. Her body needed the break. She knew that. She couldn't live with this 24/7 nor did she ever want to. This encompassing intensity that drove their entire weekend wasn't the kind of thing one could keep up round the clock. It wasn't meant to be, and she knew that, but with each second that ticked by, bringing their time together to an imminent end, she panicked. She died a little on the inside. The thought of waking up tomorrow alone in her dorm made her heart beat faster and her stomach sink to her toes.
Never before had playing with a Dom brought her these kinds of highs and lows. She didn't recognize her actions and the thoughts she was having scared her.
It was better to have the pain to focus on than this, she decided, thankful when he switched implements again, from the paddle to the strap. Leather was a wicked beast that stung like a bitch, but it had a deliciousness to the pain, and left welts like she’d sat on a burning heater and stayed there a while.
The particular strap he’d picked out was an old-fashioned razor strap, several inches wide and far too thick. She knew this because he stood behind her describing it in great detail.
"This is the perfect thing to use on naughty brats who lock Daddy out of his own bathroom and then run from him when it's time for their punishment," he said, teasing her bottom with a caress of the thick leather.
Her only response was a lone whimper. She wasn't looking forward to feeling it, but at the same time she wanted to get it over with. He seemed to want to draw it out, as he continued to lecture.
"I told you fifteen minutes," he reminded sternly. "I gave you permission to take a shower, not a bath. You disobeyed me. And then, when I discovered the locked door and told you to open it, you disobeyed me again. You refused to open it and I had to call down to housekeeping and have them come unlock it. If you think that story won't be all over this place by lunchtime, you're crazy."
"Sorry!" she squeaked, not feeling very sorry at all.
He ignored her. "Maybe you are a little crazy, hmmm? At least, your behavior certainly was. A perfect submissive all weekend, a picture of submissive decorum, and then our last day comes and you let the brat full out!"
She started to apologize, and she would have meant it a little more that time, but before she could get out a sound, the strap set fire to her already scorched ass. It covered the whole of the fleshiest part as it cracked against the skin with a vicious snap.
She screamed, yanking against the cuffs holding her in place.
He paid no heed to her violent reaction and brought the strap down again, just a smidge lower than before, overlapping the stripe it had left in its wake.
"You naughty little submissive," he scolded her. "I think I know what happened. It was our last day and you were afraid of the unknown. You wanted it to go a certain way and so you used your actions to make sure that happened. You were trying to be in control again, weren't you?"
"No," she protested, feeling unsure. She didn't think that was what had happened but looking back she could see why he might think that. "Maybe." She amended her answer. "I'm sorry."
"Is this what you wanted to happen?" He raised the strap again and brought it down hard across the lower part of her bottom, right above her thighs. "Did you want Daddy to haul you down to the dungeon, strap you to a bench and paddle and strap your bottom until it was all marked up and sitting was not a thing?"
He punctuated his question by strapping her again, letting the leather fall directly on her sit spots this time.
