Cheri's New Rules

by Markie Morelli

  Instead he’d stuck to his guns as Michael always did, and she refused to safe word. Michael spanked her through the begging and pleading, the tears and screams until she was completely repentant for whatever it was she’d done wrong. There was no getting out of it and it set the tone for every bit of discipline to come. In the end, she was as limp as a noodle while he cuddled and soothed her afterward. Instead of being angry with him, she felt as though a great weight had been lifted from her. She fell asleep in his strong arms, and when she awoke, the feeling of being loved and cared for persisted. In fact, she truly believed her husband loved her more than he ever had. The euphoria wore off in a few days, but it took her awhile to connect the dots. The bliss vanished surprisingly close to the time her bottom returned to its normal creamy hue.

  She did not share this information with Michael.

  When the shower door opened, she realized she’d simply been standing under the water for a long time. Turning toward her husband, she moved gratefully into his arms as he held her close.

  “Are you all right, baby?” he asked, tucking her head under his chin.

  “A huh,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around him. “Are you?”

  Michael barked out a short laugh.

  “I’ve never felt better,” he replied. “Come on, let Daddy wash your hair and get you cleaned up. We’ll sleep in our bed tonight. I feel the need to have my babygirl curled up in my arms.”

  Chéri nodded and let Michael wash and rinse her hair. He picked up the washcloth, and after applying body wash, he slowly and gently cleaned every inch of her body. When he made her bend over so he could tend to her bottom, Chéri started to protest but one look at his expression, changed her mind and she complied. Even after everything they’d done, it still embarrassed her to have him inspect her anus for damage and gently clean away any residue of the lube and his come. He washed her thoroughly, not missing a spot and paying so much attention to the folds of her pussy she began to moan. She caught his smile out of the corner of her eye.

  “My, my, little girl, don’t you think you’ve had enough for one night?” he teased.

  “I’m not sure I’ll ever have enough of you,” she replied honestly as she tipped her head back and stared into his eyes. Taking the cloth from his hands, she added more soap and washed him paying special attention to his lengthening cock.

  “Michael, I love being your little girl,” she murmured as she stroked him gently from the thick base to the tip. “I love that I bear no responsibility for the things we do. It frees me. You’re in charge and while I know you’d never really ‘make me’ do anything, it’s thrilling to feel as though I don’t have a choice. Does that make sense?”

  “It makes perfect sense to me,” he replied before kissing her lips. “However, don’t fool yourself,” he warned with a sexy growl as he pulled her to him. “I will make you do anything I want. We’ve made a lot of progress but there is more, so much more I want to explore with you.”

  “More?” she gasped.

  “Yes, my darling girl. What we did tonight is just the tip of the iceberg,” he whispered.

  Chéri heard him chuckle as he felt the shiver that ran through her and weakened her limbs.

  “Come along,” he ordered. “We need to get you rinsed off and dry. You’re sleepy and you need your rest. In the morning, Daddy wants to have a good long look at your bottom to make sure no damage has been done. I have a special tool I’ve been saving for that.”

  “Yes, Daddy,” she weakly agreed, standing docilely as he finished bathing her. He helped her out of the shower and wrapped her in a warm towel while he dried himself and slipped on his robe. Then he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to their room.

  Michael entered their room the next morning with a hot cup of tea for her and a cat that ate the canary smile on his lips. Chéri took the cup from him without a word. She hadn’t slept well. With her bottom pressed firmly against him, and his heavy arm thrown over her, he’d limited her movement. Even so, she’d spent most of the night thinking about his words of last night and wishing she could get up and wipe the dampness from her thighs his threats evoked.

  He’d always been able to turn her on faster than a light switch, but now it was worse, much worse. All she had to do was think about submitting to him or listen to his deep voice giving her an order or describing what his plans for her were and she was on fire. Even when she was due for a good hard spanking, she always wanted to rub her thighs together for a small measure of relief. He never allowed it of course. His feelings were that her pleasure was a reward for being a good girl and many nights she’d gone to bed with a blazing bottom and a throbbing clit.

  Only once had she sought her own release. It had been a horrible mistake.

  It had been a particularly trying week for her. On Friday night when she arrived home, she was practically looking for a fight. Apparently her husband’s week hadn’t been much better for she’d only snapped at him twice before she found herself upended and over his knee; dress up, panties down getting a very rapid and thorough spanking. His foot was placed on the rung of the stool at the kitchen island and Chéri was dangling helpless as he continued setting fire to her ass without saying a word. When she was sobbing her head off, he stopped and planted her feet on the floor. Taking her hand he led her upstairs to her little girl room where he quickly stripped off her clothes and pulled a short baby doll nightie over her head.

  Placing his big hands on her shoulders, he steered her to the corner and moved her hands to the top of her head. He stepped back and all was quiet. Chéri didn’t know if he’d left the room and peeked over her shoulder. Her husband was several yards away admiring her fully exposed and scorched cheeks.

  “Face that corner, young lady,” he snapped briskly.

  She obeyed instantly, the tears still dripping down her face.

  “I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” he began lecturing, which was often worse than the actual spanking. “Personally I’ve been counting down the hours, anxious to get home to you, and what do I find when you come in? A bratty little shrew, that’s what. Well I won’t have it, not tonight, not any night,” he informed her, coming up behind her and clutching her bottom firmly. “There will be no sassing me, no snapping at me and certainly no misbehavior. Do I make myself clear?”

  Chéri nodded.

  “Use your words,” he ordered, slapping her ass.

  “Yes, Daddy,” she said, followed by a huge, shivering sniffle. “I’m sorry.”

  “As well you should be. Now I’m going downstairs to finish making dinner and you, my girl, are going to stand in this corner until I call for you, is that clear?”

  “Yes, Daddy,” she whispered.

  “Good. After dinner I’ll be giving you a complete examination to see if there’s a medical reason that might justify your poor attitude,” he concluded, releasing her cheeks and walking from the room. He left the door open and Chéri thought he’d never taken so long to make dinner in her whole life. Finally he called her from the bottom of the stairs.

  “You may come down now.”

  Chéri slowly walked to the top of the stairs and looked at him warily.

  “May I put on some panties?” she asked hopefully.

  “No, you won’t need them,” he replied as he waited for her to join him. Taking her hand, he led her to the kitchen and lifted her easily, plopping her smartly down on a stool and ignoring her hiss of pain.

  In front of her was a bowl of alphabet soup and a toasted cheese sandwich. She looked longingly at his steak and salad. He’d given her a small glass of milk and she watched him pick up his glass of her favorite wine and take a sip. Frustrated, she stared at him.

  “I like being your daddy,” he remarked casually. “I adore it when you’re my babygirl, but that does not mean I’ll allow you to act like a spoiled two-year-old. It is my intention to treat you accordingly. Do it again and you may find your dinner has a nipple attached.”

  Ga
sping, Chéri felt her face heating and looked down at her plate. He wouldn’t! Not really, she assured herself, but as she peeked up at him from under her lashes, she wasn’t so sure.

  After dinner, he ordered her up to her room to wait for him. Chéri knew what a complete medical exam consisted of and she paced nervously. While it could be pleasant if Daddy was in a playful mood, she didn’t think that was the case tonight.

  Michael entered the room a good half hour later and by then Chéri was fraught with tension, chewing her nails and biting her lip. He went immediately to a section of the wall and after inserting a key pulled down his examination table. It had been installed much like a Murphy bed and cost him a pretty penny. From the far side of the compartment he pulled a light attached to a long, positional arm and turned it on. Chéri knew the heat would warm the rich dark leather and she was grateful for she was suddenly shivering.

  The table was situated very near to his cabinet. All the drawers with their mysterious contents were within easy reach. From one large cubby he removed his medical bag and placed it on a pop-up shelf that slid from the underside of the table. It seemed her husband thought of everything when designing what he would need to properly care for his little girl and occasionally errant wife.

  “Come here, little girl,” he ordered sternly.

  Chéri obeyed quickly, not wanting to make him any angrier than he was. Lifting her, he placed her on the crisp white paper he’d pulled down from a roll at the top of the table and secured with a strap at the bottom.

  “Stay put while I wash up.”

  With her stinging bottom and her nerves on edge, even that was difficult. He spent a long time in the bathroom, but Michael was nothing if not thorough. When he returned, his shirt sleeves were rolled up exposing his muscular forearms.

  “We’ll start with the basics,” he informed her opening his bag. His hands were cool as he placed them around her throat and pressed gently, checking for swollen glands. Next, he had her open her mouth and say “Ah” while he peered down her throat holding a tongue depressor and pen light.

  “Any sore throat, headache?” he asked her as his hands once again returned to her neck, sliding them up to the base of her skull.

  “Not until I got home,” she responded smartly.

  Michael grinned.

  “Very funny, but you might want to keep your smart-assed comments to yourself, my little love. They will not benefit your situation.”

  “Sorry, Daddy,” she murmured.

  He ignored her lame apology and peered into her ears with his lighted probe. Next, he took her blood pressure and noted it on a chart he kept on a clipboard of the inside of one of the larger cabinet doors. Her pulse was rapid and he noted it, telling her it was likely due to what was coming soon. Michael listened to her heart and lungs and was apparently satisfied. Removing his stethoscope from his ears, he left it hanging around his neck.

  “All right, sassy-pants, over on your tummy,” he instructed.

  Chéri frowned. She knew what was coming next and hated it. He possessed an ear thermometer which he’d used many times when he thought she was really sick, but she had no doubt which one he was going to use tonight. Her attitude had guaranteed it.

  When she’d complied with a huff, he reached beneath the table and pulled a lever that dropped the lower section of it down, leaving her with her bottom at the edge and her legs dangling uselessly. As always, the snap of his gloves sent a chill through her even as the sound caused her pussy to spasm.

  Michael wasted no time in applying a large glob of petroleum jelly directly on her bottom hole and inserting the much larger than normal thermometer deep into her rectum with very little fanfare. She heard him set the timer, each tick making her more aware of the picture she presented. Chéri knew from past experiences the thin paper under her would be incredibly wet by the time he removed the thick instrument and she hid her face in her hands.

  For the first time that evening he took pity on her.

  “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, sweetie, other than your earlier deplorable attitude, of course. Good daddies frequently examine their little girls to be sure they are in good health. I’ve taken your temperature this way many times.”

  “I know, but it’s still embarrassing,” Chéri whispered.

  “I imagine it is,” he agreed. “That’s what makes it so much fun,” he teased.

  “It’s not fun for me,” she protested.

  “You may say so, my love, but I know different.” Slipping his gloved hand between her legs, his long finger slid easily into her vagina. “Your little kitty tells me the truth. I can feel that rod through the thin wall that separates your lovely passages. It’s exciting, isn’t it?”

  Chéri moaned helplessly but didn’t answer. Thankfully the timer went off and he removed his hand from her core and withdrew the offending rod.

  “No fever,” he announced. “I sincerely doubt I’ll find anything wrong that could justify your naughtiness, but we will continue nevertheless.” Lifting up the end of the table he locked it into place and resumed his exam. “Turn over.”

  During the next hour or so, her daddy/husband inspected every inch of her. Using the stirrups, he kept her legs in place while he inserted a speculum and probed her extremely wet vagina, making sure he spent several minutes rubbing the rough spongy area that had her crying out in pleasure.

  He spent quite a while checking her breasts both with his hands and mouth until her poor reddened nipples stood painfully erect. Even her bottom was not spared. Changing gloves, he inserted his long finger and probed relentlessly.

  “Daddy, please,” she cried, tightening her anus against his intrusion as best she could. It didn’t help of course. Michael was not a man to be deterred once he made up his mind.

  “Stop it, you naughty girl,” he ordered. “Daddy wants to make sure you’re not constipated. Often that is the cause for a little girl being grumpy and rude. Thankfully, I have the perfect solution if that is the problem,” he assured her with a confident smile.

  Chéri groaned and covered her face with her hands.

  Finally, he withdrew from her body and pulled off his gloves.

  “Well, I can find no good physical reason for your extremely poor behavior. In hindsight, I should have checked your urine as soon as your temper got the best of you. It’s possible you were having a bout of low blood sugar. Did you eat properly today?” he asked.

  Chéri looked away as she answered, “Yes.”

  “Ah, now we are adding lying to the mix. You know how I feel about that.”

  “I know, and I tried to eat a healthy lunch but I got caught up in a meeting that lasted forever. By the time it was over I just wanted coffee.”

  “So another rule broken,” he scolded. “You know you’re not supposed to drink caffeinated beverages after 1:00 pm. It makes you fidgety.”

  “I know, Daddy. I’m sorry,” she said softly.

  “Well the next time you come home like that, the first thing I will do is check your blood sugar,” he informed her.

  “What if I don’t have to go?” she questioned with a touch of smugness.

  Michael turned to his cabinet and removed a clear plastic packet. Inside was a long tube with something attached to the end.

  “This is a sterile catheter,” he explained. “I will feed this into your sweet tiny urethra and believe me I will obtain the sample I need. You won’t like it, at least I don’t think you will, but one never knows, do they? In any case, I’ll know if you’ve taken proper care of yourself at work. Now slide down to the end of the table. Daddy wants to take his pleasure.”

  Warily, Chéri did as he asked. He placed her legs back in the stirrups and pulled her bottom to the very edge. With little to no effort, he freed his large cock and entered her with one solid thrust. She sighed in delight when he used the tip of his cock to locate the spot inside that brought her the most pleasure. Then suddenly he changed his angle as though having once found it he was determine
d to avoid it. In long, slow, measured strokes, he took her over and over. With one large hand he gripped her hip and held her in position, with the other he used his fingers to spread the lips of her vulva, exposing her clitoris, yet never touching it, never stroking it. By the time he growled out his satisfaction and filled her with his come, Chéri was beside herself with need.

  “Please, Daddy,” she panted

  “Please what?” he responded, pulling from her gripping kitty. Gently he patted her mons before walking away.

  “Aren’t you going to…help me?” she asked.

  “Help you reach an orgasm?” he asked coolly.

  “Yes, Daddy. I need it so bad,” she nearly sobbed, wiggling uncomfortably on the now sticky table.

  “No, I don’t believe I am. You’ve been a very naughty little lady tonight and I don’t think you deserve to be rewarded. In fact, I believe I’ll give you another good spanking and send you straight to bed. What do you think about that?” he asked as he adjusted his clothing and planted his hands on his hips.

  “But it’s only eight o’clock,” she protested.

  “Yes it is, the perfect time for you to be in bed. Maybe tomorrow you’ll be better natured and not so difficult. “Up you go,” he said as he lifted her from the table and set her down with a swat to her backside. “Go potty, wash your hands and face and brush your teeth. Then come back to me and I’ll put you to bed. Go on now,” he scolded, giving her a nudge in the right direction. “No more nonsense.”

  Chéri took her time in the bathroom dragging things out as long as she dared. She didn’t want to go to bed, she wanted to watch a movie or something and she resented the grin she noticed on her husband’s face when she turned around to scowl at him as she stomped away to do as he’d ordered. Even that turned her on, damn him!

  Finally, when she could delay no longer, she returned to her room to find everything back in order and him sitting on the bed holding her hairbrush.