FILE9>Masokimstic

I stayed on my knees, even when Mommy wasn't around.  What if she came in and I was standing?  I'd get punished again.  The fear shook me to my core.  So I crawled around the padded room, playing with toys Mommy had brought me.  I hardly thought about my diapers anymore; I would fill them when I needed to.  Mommy would come in and change me.  But the times she came in with a photograph in her hand... those times were different.  She held up the picture of my butt, diaper-clad and locked in chastity.  Notably, there was a serious bruise on my thigh.  That was a fun night, I reminisced.  But it felt like a lifetime ago...

"Last time I punished you with this," Mommy said, holding up a switch, "you made me so proud.  Let's see how you handle it today."

I remembered that day.  I didn't give up.  I didn't surrender.  I never begged or told her to stop.  The one thing I was good at: letting her hurt me.

~~~

Eventually, Kimmy would earn the precious reward of being spanked with the woman's bare hand, but she had a long way to go. Today could be the tipping point in her training, though, depending on how well she handled this and how she framed it in her mind. She put her ass up in the air, she presented herself, her sagging padding, her bare thighs, and not even a word given because Mommy didn't ask for her input. It almost made the woman shiver in delight.

~~~

Last time, I had survived eighteen strikes.  But back then, I was panicked.  I was afraid.  This time, after each slice across my thigh, I took a deep breath and braced myself for the next.  Eighteen strikes came and went, and I felt dots of blood drip down my thighs.  My head was filled with a fuzzy sickness, and fresh tears spilled down my cheeks.  When I tried to take a breath, it bubbled into crying.  I was shaking...

"Should I stop?" Mommy asked.  I quickly shook my head.

"N-no Mommy," I muttered between sobs.

~~~

"This isn't punishment."

The words carried a lot of weight, and they were, in their own way, a kind of reward. A permission to enjoy this, the knowledge that she /should/ be liking this, and if she doesn't, she needed to learn to. 

"How many more should my little masochist doll have?"

~~~

"Wh-whatever Mommy wants," I muttered.  Because that was the right answer.  But she returned to me with something I didn't expect.

"Say stop, and I'll stop."

I could stop this.  It wasn't a punishment.  I was letting her do this.  I wanted it.  Why?  Because it made her proud of me.  Because, in a way... I... I liked it... I must like it.  Right?  It was the only thing that made sense...

My knees buckled and I fell hard to the padded floor.  Every muscle in my body was on fire and I was bawling like a toddler.  But no matter what, I didn't tell Mommy to stop hitting me.

~~~

The count had to have topped thirty before the woman stopped, before Kimmy couldn't stop from quivering and shivering, and she was pulled up into her arms. A soft embrace, a warm one, holding her tightly in place and telling her some important truths.

"You wanted that. You loved that. You need that. It's not a punishment, Kimmy, it's your reward. You would have stopped me if it wasn't your reward. You need the attention, you need that kind of love."