“Fireworks On The Fourth” – PA’s Narrative

Jul 8, 2017 by

Fireworks On The Fourth  

Princess Anastasia


These were the rules for the holiday celebration:

At some point during every hour, the time of reckoning would come. I would never know exactly when. (You know how tops dislike being tied down to rules — unless they make them.) He would simply appear, hand held out, and then lead me to the place of his choosing. But only after I had rolled the die, releasing it behind my back and onto the table as I stood facing him and my sorely mysterious future.

He alone would know the number. He alone would know the implement, since, having adopted the position he ordained, I would be required to close my eyes and simply await my fate. Sometimes he allowed me the dignity of clothing. Sometimes he insisted I bear it bare.

This is what it was like.

11 am

Four with the riding crop, bent, bare, over the arm of the sofa, while counting. “No clenching,” he ordered. I didn’t, but I wanted to. Boy, did I want to.

12: 15 pm

Two with a large wooden oval paddle (thoughtfully provided by one of his many brats, without regard for the comfort of her sisters in sin). Nubby weave slacks and panties allowed while bending over the back of a chair with my hands flat on the seat. Grateful for small mercies. No counting. No instructions. Am I going to have tummerflies every time he stands up and moves in my direction from now on?


I think it was actually a few minutes later, but who’s counting? And, besides, it was an unavoidable delay, which I thought was going to work in my favor and mean I would get one fewer session. Silly girl that I am. Six with the plastic ruler on the bare, bent over his arm. All the sting is in the edges, which — let me tell you — bite. Deep! He took this opportunity to inform me he had discovered a whole new gold mine of implements in another part of the house. Lucky me!


So much for anything working my way! He insisted we weren’t going to deviate from the number of spankings I got, even if they weren’t all delivered precisely on time. I was smart enough not to mention that I was not the one late for what should have been the one o’clock opportunity. He was unmoved by my restraint and handed me the die. That time he used a wooden spatula on the bare over his lap, but it was only two smacks. The fates must have taken pity on me. I will be eternally grateful.


Woe is me. Almost time for what was beginning to look like another of those double whammies, when two hours run together, I was thinking, as the clock moved toward the fourth number after noon. I wasn’t looking forward to a replay of the previous two sessions that had only a few minutes in between. This was the one that almost got me. Six big ones, bare, stretched out on the bed, with a two-tailed tawse that bit deep and then chewed a while, so I sort of shrieked each number. I didn’t want to even turn over on the bed and sit up afterwards. Sheesh!


I suppose I should be blessed he took a bit of pity on me and didn’t insist on delivering this session right on the heels of the last. However, I am convinced we are playing this game with a weighted die. Bent over the bed, bare again, and beautified with a hairbrush, placed in his toy collection by a sister with a diabolical sense of humor. I not only had to count to six, I had to guess which implement had blistered me. I had the feeling he was losing patience and might think he needed to give me a few more smacks to help me get it right, but I believe he examined the evidence of the prior session, summoned up some compassion for me, and finally showed me one of his favorite little toys instead of trying to give me hints and holding me responsible for bad guesses. I took any mercies I could get, at that point.


Interesting lesson learned: a leather belt doubled over twice, so that there are four thicknesses, is not as stingy as the regular two-ply option. He says that makes sense, since there isn’t so much length to swing into the lick if it’s folded twice. Having to count only four on the bare, bent over his lap, that time, helped, too, I think. In fact, I think this option is what I will request for all discipline sessions in the future. Hmph! As if …

Oh, well, a girl can hope, can’t she?


Okay, I’ve got Number 2 on my list of never want to experience that again: It is the acrylic holey paddle of life for five gosh-awful stingy smacks, bent over the couch arm once more (“Elbows down, missy!”) At least he let me keep my panties on. I am praying I am not in an accident that requires me to be stripped and examined from head to toe. I cannot imagine trying to explain the interesting designs decorating my nether regions, courtesy of his little shop of terrors.


I thought I was imagining things. Or had gone completely numb — all my nerve endings (in a certain part of my body, at least) having given up the ghost in despair that they would ever be the same again. Then, after four piddly little swats — and yes, I did have to count, and, yes, it was on the bare — across his lap, he showed me the only joke in his whole toy bag. It’s a spindly little plastic diamond-shaped paddle attached to a handle. Oh, one side is studded with fake jewels along the edges, and I suppose that might have accounted for a tiny bit of discomfort, but this one was a sore relief, let me tell you.


Almost 8 and time to call it a day. Of course, leaving never comes easy. Or painlessly. I’m always sent on my way with a stress reliever session over his lap, panties down, bottom pinkened until I am limp as can be and plenty ready for bed. Somehow, given the fact that my day had been virtually filled with attention to that portion of my anatomy, I thought he might find a hug an adequate send-off. I wouldn’t have thought of myself as short-changed in the least. In fact, I wasn’t thinking of anything except how uncomfortable the drive home might prove to be.

Then, all of a sudden, there I was — back in that old familiar territory and hearing the sound of his titanium palm making contact with my tender spots a millionth of a second before my brain registered the impact as decidedly ouchy. No roll of the die that time, which meant it went on for well past the maximum six I had been accustomed to all day.

And that was that.

Well, not quite. Because in the time it took him to prepare me for a good night’s sleep and help me find my keys and gather up my belongings, the hands of the clock suddenly slipped past 8 — AND HE HANDED ME THE DIE AGAIN! He did offer to let me choose the implement for what he assured me could not possibly be avoided and, silly girl that I am, I decided to replay the one padded experience I had endured all day. The one with the big paddle. After all, how much worse could it be on the bare?

MUCH WORSE. Number-three-on-the-list-worse. And I only got one smack, bent over the table. One smack from which I came upright and shouting immediately, by the way.

And he?

He was still chuckling. Still flexing the muscles in his spanking arm. Still admiring his collection of implements, spread out in all their glory on the table, as I took my leave.

The neighbors had only just started their fireworks in celebration, at that point.

But then, he always has been an overachiever.

I can testify to that. From the bottom of my — bottom.



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  1. Jane

    I’ve not been able to stop giggling for a good hour or so! :giggle: Bless you, dear sister. That man seems to get more inventive – and mean! :worried: – every day! :popcorn: :hug: :kiss:

  2. Princess Anastasia

    Go right on giggling, sweetie,
    Now that he’s had his fun with me, I think you may be next on the list. :whistle: He’s got a far away look in his eye that means he’s plotting new games. :switching: :spank: :ridingcrop: :paddle: :hairbrush: :belt: :cane: :fire:
    If I were you, I’d :run4hills:

  3. Audrey

    I wonder what inspired this game, dear sister? :dunno: Could it have been your colossal naughtiness? :wink: Some girls are quite short-sighted when they give gifts to their favorite uncles. :nonono: Wooden spoons, hairbrushes, giant blocks of wood carved in the shape of a pizza board, ridiculously thick holey paddles of life. :shocked: Does it not occur to these girls that such gifts are soon turned upon the givers as weapons? :thud: :runaway: It boggles the mind, I say! :hypnotised:

  4. Ang

    Wonderful story, PA. :shock: Ouch! :rub_bum:

    The :brat: who gave him the large oval wooden paddle told me that she gave it as a joke. She never expected him to use it on her sister :brat: s! :nonono:

  5. Princess Anastasia

    Oh, Audrey, I am wounded — wounded, I say. :sad: (In more ways than one, come to think of it. :rub_bum: )
    It was all supposed to be a GAME! On a holiday! Who knew it could turn into something so w’hol’y stingy and serious? :swear:
    As for those who contribute to their uncles’ “collections,” I say those implements should be reserved entirely for the givers. :nod:

  6. Ang

    Well, PA, she had told Uncle Dev about the the implement and that she was about to throw it away. (she won’t tell me how she got it in the first place) :shock: He said to bring it and that he’d keep it safe. :dunno: She was just naive :innocent: enough to think he’d never use it on his :brat: s. Especially since most of the time his :brat: s are so :angel: ic. :nod:

  7. Princess Anastasia

    Boy does she have a lot to learn! :swear:
    :swear: And may she learn it all on her own sweet little :!: some day.
    As for where she got it, someone probably was trying to dispose of it as an instrument of torture and she made the mistake of rescuing it. Know what she deserves, I say … :paddle: :paddle: :paddle: :weep: :weep: :weep:
    But I’m not the type to bear a grudge. Tell her I’ll be more than willing to forgive once she understands what she understands completely how things “ended” up because of her. :soothe: Maybe he could seal the deal by letting her experience that nasty tawse, as well. :whistle: Just so she would always remember, you understand.

  8. Audrey

    But, Ang, surely you know by now that it’s the angelic girls who need Uncle Dev’s attention the most. :nod: :wink: :angel: :fallenangel:

  9. Ang

    Well, PA, I don’t know about her :wink: , but I have experienced that nasty little tawse. So, I can see where you would want her to experience that implement. Fair is fair, right? (Oh, that word doesn’t exist with Uncle Dev.)

    I found out that all one has to be is curious about something and wham! :switching: I’ve also experienced, during the same :spank: ing :pout: the tawse with a :paddle: . :shock: :hides: And :nonono: it wasn’t that large oval wooden one.

    Hey, Audrey! :wave: I know, right? :angel: :refuse: :fallenangel: :whistle:

  10. Gracious! :shock: What a stunning tale that was, PA. You certainly fell in with a harsh gamesman, didn’t you? As Audrey said, one does have to wonder what on earth you did to deserve such cavalier :horse: treatment.

    And, as far as sharing devices of bottomnal stimulation, it seems as though all girls have, at one time or other, contributed something she shouldn’t have to someone who has, would, or will very soon turn it, as someone said, into a weapon to use against her, as well as against her fellow :brat: s. :dunno: Such, apparently, is the way of TTWD. :wink: :hug:

  11. Gary

    Great fireworks story, PA. :thumbsup: Lot’s of pops, sharp reports, and crescendo at the end. :nod:

    I must question the interpretation of harshness, however. :shock: I’m sure there are a number of us who wonder, why was there only one die? :wink:

  12. Princess Anastasia

    Thank you, Gary. Sir. Some of us have to suffer for our art, :angel: you know. That’s how I try to look at it.
    Only one die? I’ll tell you why — because I swallowed the second one as soon as he explained the rules of the game to me, and I was well on my way to taking care of the first, but he pounded me on the back and then did that heinie maneuver thing and it popped right out of my mouth. :tantrum:
    As for the question of “harshness,” I would never describe it thus. I think in terms of “torture,” :swear: , however, I think believe it’s only fair for you to have the benefit of more expertise than mine. Perhaps Susan would volunteer to clarify matters for you.
    I know where she can borrow a perfectly good tawse … :wink: :yuckitup: Be sure and let us know what you think, Gary. Sir. :whistle:
    Photos are always instructive, too. :shock:

  13. Keri

    Nice story, PA. :thumbsup: You sure no how to spin a yarn. We all know personal experiences make great short stories! :wink: Thanks for taking one, er, a few for the team and sharing it with us! :cheers:

    It does sound like you received plenty of attention. Something us girls who do TTWD really need some times. :nod: It often means getting more than we asked, wanted, or dreamed would happen BUT the afterglow is so nice. :kiss: :loveyou: :hug:

    Loved what you said to Gary. I’d pay good money to hear the details of that encounter! :thumbsup: :brightidea: :giggle:

  14. Princess Anastasia

    Hi, Keri – :wave: :wave:
    Yes, the afterglow was lovely, but just about the time I was basking in it, the clock would march on. I thought I was getting to be an old hand at this, but those tummerflies were in full flight every time he came near me. :worried:
    Maybe Gary. Sir. is being so quiet because Susan is clarifying matter for him. :wink:
    And thanks for the kind words. Hope you’re having a beautiful day out there.

  15. Ripley

    “…heinie maneuver thing…” LOL

  16. Audrey

    :yuckitup: Our PA does have a way with words, doesn’t she, Ripley? :rollonfloor: