Helping Mandy with Her Projects

"I'm changing my project up a little," she said, with her back still towards me. "Can you hold on to the metal things? For like, two hours this time?"

I took them from her hand, "Of course, but what's up with the handcuffs? How do you even have those, they look serious."

Her back facing me the throughout the action she deftly cuffed herself. In one hand she held the key, and it she was thrusting it towards me. "I need you to take the key for the two hours too." At this point, though he back was still to me, she did turn her head so we could make a bit of sort of eye contact.

"Please?" she said as I stood there looking kind of stupid.

I did take the key and put it in my pocket along with the metal things, but asked her, "What is this for? And are you going to turn around and have a normal conversation with me?"

A normal conversation with my handcuffed daughter, right?

She ignored the second question, just explaining as she started to walk forward back towards her room. "It's so I don't keep fucking.... Fuck... I mean MESSING up my project. Without my hands there's no way for me to finish it early."

"Uh... huh," I said. "So, spanking on Friday?"

She stopped her forward motion, I thought she was about to get mad. She just sighed. "Yes, spanking on Friday. But I forgot one more thing, Dad."

"What's that?"

"Can you please... pull my shirt... down over my shoulders so it's just on my arms?"

"What do you mean, won't it rip?"

"Dad." She said my name almost like it was a sentence. "My shirt is completely unbuttoned, can't you tell?"

That clicked things into place for me--now I understood why it seemed so loose fitting. "Ohhhhh..." I said, trying to pass this off as humor but actually, to my chagrin, only just now realizing.

"So can you... pull it down?"

I stepped over to her after stirring the stew I was making. I took the collar of her shirt in both hands, worked my way outward and downward a little bit feeling for the topmost button, trying to avoid actually touching her. I pulled her shirt back over her shoulders, and then down along her arms, so that she was basically topless. I backed up before her hands might accidentally touch my erection.

"Thank you, and close the door behind me?"

"Why do you need to have no shirt on for your project?" I asked.

She was walking forward. "It's partly about um, about body positivity?" she said.

I nodded though she couldn't see me.

As she entered her room, I now remember something I hadn't really noticed before. She had two fans going in there, both at full blast.

"Good luck," I said, desperately wanting to kiss her bare back before she walked into her room. But I am a good Dad. I shut the door behind her.

***

I was right that she wouldn't last long with the fans. I don't know how we're going to avoid constant infractions throughout the rest of the night. I didn't even try to go to bed, knowing I'd just be back in her room in no time--and indeed, it's less than half an hour and I hear on the monitor the quiet sound of her vocalizing her shivers, then as she realizes what she's done, quietly saying over and over, "Shit. Shit. Shit shit. Fuuuuck no."

I walk back to her door. I know she is completely naked in there. I don't want to unfairly force a spanking offense on her. So I take a play from her book--I open her door, then walk in backwards.

I can hear in her voice that she is panicking. "This was a really bad idea Dad, I need to stop this!"

Glancing at my watch as I walk sideways over to the envelopes I tell her, "You've got about six hours to go, then you can stop."

"Daddy! I can't even go twenty minutes without making a sound!"

Picking up the "third infraction" envelope I tell her "So it looks like I might be coming in here about eighteen more times through the night. And I was worried about you getting any sleep!"

She makes a frustrated squeal as I move to open the envelope. Then loudly, the panic now full blow, "Oh shit oh no Daddy don't open that one!"

I open it and read it. "Tug hard on the binder clips without pulling them off, then rapidly release them. Then put them back on me."

I am reading this in some incomprehension.

"What do you mean by 'binder clips' here?" I ask, facing the wall so as not to look at her naked body.

"Dad don't you know what binder clips are? You use them all the time."

An image does start to form. The clips I use to keep sheafs of paper together.

"Put them back... on you?"

"Daddy," she's crying, "They're on me. On my tits. They're on my nipples."

Slowly, I turn. I am now looking at my crying, naked daughter whom I've tied to her bed, and there indeed on her nipples are two binder clips.

With metal handles. I suddenly realize what those metal things she'd been having me hold on to were. They were the handles of binder clips. She was putting them on her nipples--then making sure it was practically impossible to remove them. (At least, without hurting herself much worse.)

"Wow." I say. "Just wow."

She continues to cry. "Please don't do this. I shouldn't have asked you to do this. I went way too far."

I am, amazing even myself, considering stopping this process. While thinking, I say out loud, "By the way you said 'shit' earlier, and now I'm seeing your naked breasts and vagina, so that's three additional spanking offenses. And that's not to mention all the times you've tried to quit tonight."

"I know I'm sorry, please you can spank me as much as you want just please stop and please don't do what that paper says."

"As much as I want?" I say.

She nods desperately. "As much as you want I promise."

"But I don't spank you as much as I want, I spank you as much as you earn."

She goes still. "You can spank me as much as I... earned..."

"Of course I can," I say. "And I don't stop helping you with your projects because you asked me to, I hold you to your word, and I hold myself to my own."

I'm walking towards her now.

"Oh my god Daddy you have no idea how much this is going to hurt me,"

"I'm just tugging and then letting them go? How is that so bad?"

"I've watched videos Daddy, I've tried it on myself, it's so bad and that's when I'm the one doing it..."

She's babbling a bit. I sit on a stool next to her, turning a fan off because it's uncomfortably cold and noisy. I'll turn it back on when I leave of course.

I am still hesitating. Can I do this without touching her?

She's wailing, "no, no, no," and I am reaching forward. I take the handle of the clip closest to me in hand, and I watch for her reaction as I start to tug upward.

"Tug hard, but not enough to pull it off" said the paper. So I slowly increase the pulling force. She tenses her whole body and makes an "mmmph" sound. I watch carefully, ever so slowly increasing the pull until I think I see the clip just barely start to move up the skin of her nipple. I stop, holding the clamp there for a few seconds. She's going "ah, ah, ah" now.

After holding it there, I quickly press on the metal ends of the clip, releasing her nipple in a split second.

There is a pause, then my daughter screams.

She is pulling mightily against her ropes trying to protect the nipple I just hurt, apparently hurt pretty horribly. I let her scream, let her cry, let her say her "no"s.

"You really did bite off more than you can chew," I say.

"Yehehehes I did Daddy please don't make me keep going!"

I take the other clip in hand, and in the same way, make my daughter scream again.

This is what she herself wrote on the paper. This was the incentive she planned for herself. It's her own fault for setting her expectations too high and then failing to live up to them.

Now the next step is to place the clips back onto her nipples. I take the first clip and open it up, lowering it towards her nipple.

As I let it close on her nipple she screams anew, which surprises me. I figured this would just return as whatever dull ache she'd been making herself endure when the clips were on her.

"That's not right! That's not right! That's not how you do it Daddy take it off!"

I recognize there's a real problem and I take it off immediately.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"I didn't have it directly on my nipple," she says after taking several recovery breaths. "I want to stop this whole thing but if you're really going to do it please do it right."

I think about how the clips were when I first saw them, and realize what she means. No directly on the nipple, but clamping down on the flesh behind them.

I am at a new level of internal discomfort at this. So far I've managed to do everything without making any actual contact between my skin and hers. But I don't see how I can get the clamp placed correctly without literally taking my daughter's breast in hand, pinching it somewhat flat and holding it in place while pushing the clip down over the nipple.

"I'm going to have to touch you," I say.

"I know, please don't, please stop this."

I sigh.

I grab my daughter's tit.

***

I did get her some water after all that. She's lasted an amazing amount of time since then. It's been over an hour. Considering how much I hurt her and then considering I turned the fans back on and everything, I'm pretty proud. She must be shivering like crazy and her nipples must be just constantly stinging. And yet she's keeping it together, keeping it quiet. I'm starting to think I might get some sleep tonight after all.

As I doze in my bed I'm thinking about how the handcuffs had turned out to be crucial to helping her las the whole time during her projects. I'm not saying she never asked to stop early after she started handcuffing herself, but since she literally couldn't finish her project (whatever that meant) without her hands, it was in a way impossible for her to finish early.

But she did still occasionally give in and beg me to release her before her time was up, and eventually, I finally decided that yes, involving me in one of her projects then asking to end it early, would be a spanking offence. Once I told her I had finally made that decision, she almost never asked to stop early again. She got all the way to four hour long sessions with just a couple of false starts along the way.

Spanking is clearly a strong motivator for her. We spank on Fridays, and it's a three time a day thing. However many swats she's earned that week, I give her those swats immediately when she wakes up, then first thing after she gets home from school, then last thing right before she goes to bed.

Spankings are on the underwear, with a paddle, with her leaning over a chair or with her hands on her bed.

It's a straight five swats to the bottom for each offense. And the offenses are very clear: Lying, nudity, cursing, earning C's or worse, and making me have to tell her to do something three times before she obeys. You may wonder why I allow even one instance of disobedience rather than three, but like I said before, I am no authoritarian. I'm willing to talk. But if it's important enough that I remain firm three times she needs to obey, and if she doen't, she gets spanked. The "no quitting your projects" rule falls under that last offense. If she asks me three times to let her quit, that's an offense, and each time she asks after that is another offense.

I've lost count of how many times she's asked me tonight, and I'm not quite sure what to do about that.

I think I've fallen asleep but I do now, finally, hear something on the monitor. Glancing at the clock, it's been an hour and a half since last time. I had wondered if she may even have fallen asleep in there, but apparently not.

She's trying not to cry, and it's coming out as a high pitched squeaking sort of sob, over and over again. And that's a sound. I get up, put my clothes back on, and go over to her room.

She bawls when I open the door, but says nothing at first. I pick up the "Fourth Infraction" envelope and she begins to speak. "You don't have tohoohoo, you don't have to do it," she says.

I sigh. While opening the envelope I ask her, "Do you know how many times you've tried to quit tonight?"

"No," she cries. "I lost couhouhouhounnnt"

"Me too!" I say and amazingly, we share a weird laugh over that.

"We'll figure that out later. But please don't make it harder on yourself."

As I'm pulling out the paper she pulls herself together enough to say "I won't, Dad. I won't ask you to stop any more. I'm just telling you. It's just information. I have something to say."

"Okay?" I ask.

"I will never do this again. I am never going to let you be in control of my projects ever again. I'm just going to stop doing them completely. Because you're... so... MEEEAANNN!" she screamed the last word and I had no objection.

"Maybe you'll keep that promise to yourself after breaking this one so many times," I say before reading the paper.

It says, "Using the cane that is under my bed, hit my tummy, my legs, and my tits, five times each. If it doesn't bruise, it doesn't count."

As I crouch down to find the cane she visibly strains at her ropes. I rise with it in hand and her face is almost like something out of a horror movie. I look first at her tummy, but in the side of my view I notice something about her legs I hadn't noticed before. Very faint lines across both legs, too many to count quickly.

"Has someone been hitting you with this already?" I ask her.

She looks down at her legs and realizes what I'm talking about. "No I, I hit myself."

"Why do you do that?"

"Dad I don't know. It's hard to explain. Why did I do any of this? It's fun. There. It's fun."

"So you're going to be having fun while I hit you with this thing?"

She rolled her eyes at this. "I somehow don't think so Dad. I thought I might but you're proving that whole theory wrong."

"I'm just following your rules."

"Well then get going," she says this imperiously, trying to be cool, locking her eyes on mine.

And I do so, bringing the cane down on her tummy and watching as her eyes go back into horror film pose and she first just makes an "o" with her mouth, then in a panick, "Oh, oh, oh no, oh no, oh fuck no" and then I hit her a second time.

Of course bruises take some time to appear but the darkness of the red lines I'm laying on my daughter's stomach make it clear what will be happening.

"Is this fun?" I ask after the five blows to the tummy. As she yells "No" I land the first blow on her left leg. After four blows--two to each leg in alternation she is breathing like she's having a panic attack. I give her a moment to calm down before hitting her a fifth time. Then as I raise my arm again for another blow to the leg she yells "Wait that was five!"

"Five times each," I say. You wrote "five times each." Always teaching lessons. Always.

After laying five separate lines on each of her legs, I give her some water and again let her calm down.

True to her word, she doesn't ask me to stop. She is resolved. I know she thinks she's never going to do anything like this again but I'm still proud of her. Even if it feels like a kind of defeat to her, it's still her owning the experience she has laid out for herself, just being in it, letting it happen.

I hit her left breast.

I hit each one, hard, twice, with the clips still in place. And then I decide to use a little discretion. It seems clumsy trying to aim clear of the little things, so I remove them. Not quickly like before, as she didn't name this as part of her infraction incentive. I very carefully and slowly remove them so she just hisses a little. "Why did you take them off?" she asks.

Then I hit her right nipple.

***

After it's all done, I replace the clips while she weeps openly. She still is managing not to beg, so that's good. She's just crying a lot. I give her more water and wait for her to show she can be quiet.

She's badly bruised all over, she has had these clips on her nipples--tugged, removed, replaced--for four hours. She has fans pointing directly on those nipples and sweeping across her whole body. She's going to be a sniveling, shivering, crying wreck. I am not sure she can even make it ten minutes. I'm really curious, almost scared myself, to find out what's in that fifth envelope.

After a few minutes of quiet I lean down and kiss her cheek again, half expecting her to move away but she doesn't. "You can do it," I whisper, and somewhat to my surprise she whispers back "I know. I will."

I smile gently. "Where did this newfound strength come from?"

"It's like I've given up," she says, with no negative judgment evident in her tone.

"I understand!" I say.

"And Dad?"

"Yes?"

"I really. I really. REALLY. Don't want you to read the final envelope."

"Must be really terrifying?"

"It is."

"Okay, well, great incentive then!"

Exiting her room I stand by the door for a long while, as I'm expecting to have to just go right back in. But I don't hear anything. Eventually I move to my room and lay down. I don't hear anything as I doze off, and finally I'm sleeping, and I wake up to an alarm.

Her time is up.

Did she make noises that I slept through? Maybe but I doubt it. I had the monitor up loud and right next to me on the bed. I think she actually made it. After all that fuss, she managed four hours being chilled, laying bruised, her nipples surely in total agony, without making a single discernible sound.

I open her door quietly. She is awake. "Mandy! You made it!" I say.

She actually smiles. "I know."

"Did you... did you get any sleep?"

She laughs. Amazing. "Ha, no, not a wink. I just did math in my head until you came back in."

"I am really proud of you," I say as I begin untying her legs.

"I was a complete fucking wimp," she says.

"Ah," I said. "Speaking of fucking." I continue untying her leg. "It is Friday you know."

"I was half hoping you'd forget."

"I have no idea how many swats you've earned. You've cursed and begged to quit, it has to be at least 250 swats worth and that's being conservative. There's no way I'm going to swat you 750 times in a day."

"That's..." she exhales. "That's a relief."

"I want to give you a choice. We can split 250 into weeks of 50, so 50 swat spankings every Friday for the next five weeks. Or alternatively, we can make it 30 swat spankings every Friday for the next ten weeks."

The most she'd ever had was fifteen.

"But that second option, that would be 300..."

"Consider it a fee for taking the easier option.

She nods. "I'm taking the easier option."

"Perfectly valid," I say, finishing the untie on her second foot.

She looks around the room. "Did you forget the paddle?"

"We're going to do it a little differently. Scootch up now that your feet are free, and then flip over so your arms are crossed."

"Wait, what?"

"For a second time: Scootch up, then flip over. Your arms will be crossed because they're still tied down."

She has presence of mind not to make me say it a third time.

I stand behind her while she strains her neck trying to see what I was doing. "I'm looking at your bare bottom now so that's going to be 35 swat spankings today, you understand?"

She flops her face into her pillow. "Okay. But I still have my clamps on. And where's the--"

I hit her ass with the cane.

***

She reacted so strongly to being hit with the cane on the ass and the backs of her legs she actually scooted the bed over a foot. I considered tying her down again and starting over (moving away from spankings invalidates them of course) but I knew this was all a big shock to her system so I just went with it.

When I was finished and she had cried it all out, I untied her wrists and let her get ready for school. As soon as they were untied she covered her tits with her hands, I think not out of modesty but to begin removing the clamps. "I need privacy. Now Dad."