My mind wanders to me lying on my stomach, my bottom in the air, his hand holding me down while he spanked me.I flinch as I relive the swats.The sound seems so loud in my memory.The pain increases as if it’s happening now.
I feel dirty for letting him punish me like that.Filthy.
Naughty.
Like a girl who needs discipline.
Do I?
My stalker thinks I do.But is he really a good judge of what I do and don’t need?After all, the man is obviously extremely anal.Why should I be punished simply because he likes the lid on the hamper closed?
I whimper as I relive the sensations.The pain.The release.The tears.It was so intense.A life event I’ll never forget, no matter how much time passes or what my life becomes.
Is something like this sustainable?Just because I craved his discipline doesn’t mean I want him to do it again.But that’s the point, isn’t it?I have choices.I could have cleaned my room.Instead, I opted to experience a hard spanking.
I don’t have to endure that again.I can obey him instead.What would that feel like?Would he also reward me when I’m good?
Tears are running down my cheeks.I don’t even realize I’m crying until I look in the mirror again.Why the tears?
Sadness?
Relief?
Acceptance?
What does that mean?Acceptance?Who’s accepting what?I think it’s me.I’m accepting…myself.It’s like I didn’t really know myself at all, and I’m suddenly finding out who I am.My mystery stalker is dragging me out of me.
Is that intentional?Does he realize what he’s doing?
I’m on a precipice.I need to make a decision.The hair removal is monumental.It’s like a line in the sand.For no particular reason.Using it doesn’t have to mean anything.I can still change my mind about him.I canalwayschange my mind.
But it feels big.Bigger than letting him spank me.I didn’t really know what to expect after he swatted my ass.It seems like he’s testing me.Pushing me.He knew I would wake up today and have doubts.He’s fucking with me.That’s why he didn’t respond to my text.He’s still playing with my emotions.This hair removal is a test.
“Fuck it.Don’t be a pussy.”I grab the bottle, climb into the tub, and sit on my sore ass.The cold porcelain feels good against my heated skin.I’ll remember that for next time.If there is a next time.
I squeeze a generous amount of the pink lotion onto my hair and use one finger to smear it around.If anyone walked in here, they would think I’ve lost my last brain cell.I look ridiculous, sitting here with my legs open wide, propped on the sides of the tub, my pussy covered with the cream.
Bending forward, I turn on the faucet to wash off my finger, careful not to get my pussy wet.And then I lean back in the tub and stare at the ceiling.I forgot to bring my phone to use as a timer, so I start counting.It’s a good use of my time to keep my mind off my odd decision anyway.
I count to sixty five times before turning on the water.I hope this hair doesn’t clog the pipes…
Scooting forward, I let the water hit directly against my folds until I’m rinsed clean.It feels good.The stream is hitting my clit, turning me on.But I reluctantly stand, switch the spray so it comes out of the shower nozzle, and grab my shampoo.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m back in front of the mirror, touching myself.It feels weird.Naughty.I might like it, though.It’s not like I’m the first woman to remove her pubic hair.Seems like damn near everyone does.I heard girls talking about it in high school.I’ve just never considered it for myself.
I need to hurry.I work a comb through my hair.It’s going to have to be wet this morning.I don’t have time to dry it or style it.When I open my makeup drawer, I groan.My stalker seems to have eliminated several of my products.I guess that means he only left what he approves of.After applying mascara and lip gloss I rush back into my bedroom, naked.
For a minute, I hold up the dress my controlling stalker set out for me.It’s new.The tags are still on it.He bought it for me, which means he wants me to wear it.The only other article of clothing he left me is a bra.White.Plain.I bought it.He clearly likes my boring bras, though.I put it on and then the dress, leaving my ass bare underneath.
He told me not to wear panties, and he didn’t leave any out.I’m certain he’s right.The elastic would fucking hurt.
I cringe when I sit down to put my shoes and socks on.It’s not until I’m stuffing everything in my backpack that I check my phone again.
Daddy: I don’t appreciate your tone or your language, naughty girl.You will not speak to me disrespectfully, nor will you cuss.Read through the rules I left on your desk.Both of those are listed.
Trembling, I pick up the rules.He’s right.Fuck.
My phone pings again.