"Right, girl, you know why you are here," I said as soon as the door to our third floor room had been closed and locked.
Lauren began to fidget, fingering her long cotton skirt as she did so, but she said nothing. Time to increase the voltage, I decided:
"Look at me when I'm talking to you, girl," I instructed. Good, she was now doing her best to look me in the face. Not doing a very good job, it has to be said, as her eyes darted all around it rather than meet my eye, but at least she was not looking at the floor. "That's better," I told her.
"Thank you," she replied, in a voice scarcely above that of a whisper.
"I shall repeat my words, since you obviously have trouble understanding simple English, girl. I said that you know why you are here, didn't I, girl?"
Lauren's lips moved but no sound came out. Eventually she managed to nod, and I gave her one of the mirthless smiles that I reserve for times like that with girls like her.
"Good, you are here to have your rump steak tenderised just as it should be for your disgraceful behaviour," I told her in my past paternal manner.
"Tell me what I have done, daddy," she whispered.
"What you have done! What you have done! You have the temerity to stand there and ask me that! How dare you, girl!" I was extemporising like mad to buy a few seconds so that I could think of some plausible reason to order her into the traditional posture to receive discipline. Ah, I thought as inspiration hit me, this is a good one: "Look at the shameful marks on your neck and face! Tattoos - the marks of a slut indeed!"
"Daddy," Lauren wailed, in a tone that proved to me that I had scored a hit.
"And do you think that it was right and proper to run off down here, spending all your money on a man who does not love you? And what about that poor child of yours? No, this is long overdue, my girl," I said as I unhooked my belt.
"Nooooo, please, nooooo, not that daddy," cried Lauren, but I was not to be dissuaded from my duty.
"Girl, I am going to tenderise that rump steak, you mark my words," I announced as I pulled the belt slowly from out of its trouser loops and then doubled it menacingly.
"Please daddy! Please, I'll be good in future daddy," Lauren whimpered.
"You most certainly will. And you will remember to be good every time you feel your backside for the next few days. Now get yourself onto the bed and take up your position," I ordered her.
I have to be honest and say that the last bit was pure guesswork, because I had no real idea if Lauren had been trained to take up a punishment posture, but it turned out to be inspired as she demonstrated that she had. Without a word she turned and walked to the king sized bed that took up about a quarter of the space in that hotel room. The pillows had been covered by the bedspread, so Lauren took two of them and placed them in the middle of the bed. Then she lifted her skirt to just above her knees and climbed on top of the bed to kneel just behind her pillow mound. Finally, and without saying a word or waiting for any further instructions from me, she lifted her skirt above her waist and then lay down on top of the pillows.
To say that I was stunned by the performance is putting it mildly. To give myself time to relax I walked over to the bed and tugged her white girly panties up so that the wrinkles were removed and they hugged Lauren's bottom firmly. I noticed that she certainly had an interesting collection of tattoos on both legs, so it was hardly surprising that the Mexicans found her foreign and strange. I stepped back to admire the sight of Lauren lying quite submissively with her face buried in hands that were clenched into fists.
Enough admiring the scenery, I decided. Then I stepped forward, placed my fingers into the waistband of Lauren's knickers, and then I peeled them slowly and gently down to just above her knees. Then I stepped back and took up the belt. I folded it in two and smacked it noisily against my left palm.
"Lauren, this is going to hurt and you are going to cry, but I do not expect you to move or try to cover your bottom, do you understand? Answer me, girl," I demanded quietly but firmly.
"Yes, I understand," she said, in a voice already growing liquid with tears that would soon be falling from her eyes.
With that I raised the belt above my head and brought it down with a resounding crack across Lauren's bare and defenceless buttocks.
To be continued.
"And do you think that it was right and proper to run off down here, spending all your money on a man who does not love you? And what about that poor child of yours? No, this is long overdue, my girl," I said as I unhooked my belt.
"Nooooo, please, nooooo, not that daddy," cried Lauren, but I was not to be dissuaded from my duty.
"Girl, I am going to tenderise that rump steak, you mark my words," I announced as I pulled the belt slowly from out of its trouser loops and then doubled it menacingly.
"Please daddy! Please, I'll be good in future daddy," Lauren whimpered.
"You most certainly will. And you will remember to be good every time you feel your backside for the next few days. Now get yourself onto the bed and take up your position," I ordered her.
I have to be honest and say that the last bit was pure guesswork, because I had no real idea if Lauren had been trained to take up a punishment posture, but it turned out to be inspired as she demonstrated that she had. Without a word she turned and walked to the king sized bed that took up about a quarter of the space in that hotel room. The pillows had been covered by the bedspread, so Lauren took two of them and placed them in the middle of the bed. Then she lifted her skirt to just above her knees and climbed on top of the bed to kneel just behind her pillow mound. Finally, and without saying a word or waiting for any further instructions from me, she lifted her skirt above her waist and then lay down on top of the pillows.
To say that I was stunned by the performance is putting it mildly. To give myself time to relax I walked over to the bed and tugged her white girly panties up so that the wrinkles were removed and they hugged Lauren's bottom firmly. I noticed that she certainly had an interesting collection of tattoos on both legs, so it was hardly surprising that the Mexicans found her foreign and strange. I stepped back to admire the sight of Lauren lying quite submissively with her face buried in hands that were clenched into fists.
Enough admiring the scenery, I decided. Then I stepped forward, placed my fingers into the waistband of Lauren's knickers, and then I peeled them slowly and gently down to just above her knees. Then I stepped back and took up the belt. I folded it in two and smacked it noisily against my left palm.
"Lauren, this is going to hurt and you are going to cry, but I do not expect you to move or try to cover your bottom, do you understand? Answer me, girl," I demanded quietly but firmly.
"Yes, I understand," she said, in a voice already growing liquid with tears that would soon be falling from her eyes.
With that I raised the belt above my head and brought it down with a resounding crack across Lauren's bare and defenceless buttocks.
To be continued.
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