"It's not fair," she sobbed, working her mini over the sensuous curves of her full hips, "I didn't say anything; it was Charise and Zenya, they deserve a spanking, not me." A complete lie, of course; although Tessa hadn't actually started the argument, she'd been the most vocal in the ensuing dispute, believing - as always - that she could say whatever she pleased and get away with just about anything.
She was, in short, due for an extremely painful lesson.
"You've needed a long, hard spanking for quite a while now," Conrad growled in reply, transfixing the wailing, red-faced girl with his iron-blue gaze, "I think ten minutes across my lap will do you a world of good, Tessa. Now take your pants down and get over my knee."
"Nooo!" She stamped her feet in frenzied protest. She couldn't be punished like a naughty little girl. It was her body, sacrosanct and inviolate: nobody could touch her against her will; that's what she'd read in Dolly. Conrad had no right to treat her this way, making her present her naked bottie-cheeks for a spanking!
Unfortunately, all her convictions disappeared as Conrad rose to his feet and loomed over her, his face as dark as an Autumn thundercloud and twice as angry. Tessa felt her last shred of feminine pride evaporate as she looked into her step-father's furious blue eyes.
"You get those pants down - now!"
Voicing a little scream, Tessa stepped back, her hands covering her mouth in a childlike gesture of fear and surprise. Breaking into a torrent of fresh, choking sobs, she bent at the waist, took her pink, nylon panties by the g-strings, and slid them down to her ankles. The view of her lush, tender bottom and sweeping, ivory thighs was utterly breathtaking.
Tessa stood doubled over in the can-can position, moaning in wordless humiliation, her magnificent derriere on full exhibition. There was absolutely no question of refusing his commands. She was going to be spanked. Conrad was going to wallop her wayward little bottom, and there was nothing she could do about it. He was the highest authority in her life, and Tess understood - for the first time, perhaps - that his will would be obeyed. She was a young woman - a petulant, pampered one at that - and considering her behavior over the last few months, Conrad had every right to turn her over his lap whenever he chose.
Whatever Dolly may have to say on the subject.
---oOo---
I'm going to be spanked.
Quietly disrobing over by the bed, Zenya Greenheart ignored her twin's abject pleas in patient, blushing silence. Tessa's frantic entreaties seemed remote and unimportant. Zenya's mind was elsewhere. She was wading through an emotional whirlpool. Her daddy was going to give her a spanking: long, hard and extremely thorough. She'd be eating her meals standing up at the dinner table for the next few days (appropriate enough, considering that all the trouble had started there during breakfast), Conrad had promised her that much at the very least.
Her trim, flat tummy was swarming with butterflies: being forced to strip to her underwear was embarrassing beyond words, and the knowledge that she would have to pull her panties down to her heels filled her with looming trepidation. She considered herself far too mature for a spanking, and her sense of shame was indescribable.
And yet, despite her looming dread, Zenya was conscious of a warm, shivering sense of excitement she couldn't quite understand. The first glimmer of arousal was beginning to seep into her belly, her breath came in shallow pants.
I'm going to be spanked, she thought once again, reaching back with her right hand to undo her ponytail. She was wearing a skin tight Lycra mini-dress, the kind that seemed to seal itself hermetically to the female body. Apparently sprayed directly onto her smooth, tanned flesh, it only barely covered the edges of her underpants.
Taking the brief, clinging hemline in both hands, Zenya arched her spine and drew the floral slip-dress slowly over her head. It peeled off in a gliding, fluid motion. The cool morning air raised a hum of gooseflesh all over her torso. She suppressed an impulse to run her fingertips along her breasts and tummy and thighs.
She felt so terribly embarrassed.
Her panties were a pair of high-cut satin briefs. Virginal white and as pure as snow, they lay against her flesh with hardly a wrinkle distorting their platinum surface. They were her most delicious undercover secrets, something she was at pains to hide from the world (especially from Conrad, whom she'd always considered an uninvited male interloper). Now she was being forced to display her treasures in public.
Of course, the best was yet to come. Soon - very soon - she'd be forced to lower her pants right in front of him.
As if to verify the accuracy of that thought, Conrad raised his voice in her direction.
"Zenya - over here. Now."
Placing the dress on the bed, Zenya looked over to where Daddy was lecturing Tessa on her behavior (it was strange how naturally she could apply the word 'Daddy' to her step-father now). Tessa was standing before him, sobbing like a truant schoolgirl. She was still wearing her bra, but her panties were dangling down around her ankles.
Zenya strutted over to the spanking chair with her hands crossed over her cleavage. She'd never expected to model her lingerie before her step-father (and certainly not in preparation for a spanking), but now she had no choice whatsoever. She could blame only herself for her current predicament. She'd taken part in the argument, she was just as guilty as Charise and Tessa, and now she was paying the penalty.
Incredibly, she was almost fainting with anticipation.
In a matter of minutes, she would be told to drop her panties to the floor, to bare her bottom for quick justice. Her discipline would begin as Conrad's steely hand flashed down on her soft, unprotected bottom. Weeping and helpless, she would receive the spanking she so obviously deserved.
It was going to hurt. So much.
Zenya waited in breathless, cut-glass silence.
---oOo---
Meanwhile, Tessa wept in silent misery as Conrad concluded his scolding. She felt totally humiliated, obediently waiting for him take her wrist and guide her over his lap. Standing before her step-father with her panties decorating her ankles, Tess felt completely vulnerable. Her impending punishment hung vast and unavoidable in her consciousness: in less than a minute, she would be lying upside down with her unprotected bottom staring at the ceiling, scrunching with expectation.
She had no illusions as to how painful it was going to be. She'd heard Charise's ear-splitting screams; there could be no doubt her new father was a man who knew his business. He'd promised to tan her firm young bottom for ten minutes at the very least. He could easily stretch it out even longer.
Worse still, there was going to be a witness to her tears, shame and agony. Her twin sister would be permitted watch while she and squirmed over Conrad's muscular thighs. The fact that Zenya was also due for a spanking made no difference. Tessa couldn't bear to think that anybody would see her naked bottom being smacked, let alone her own identical sibling. She knew better than to protest, however. Tess was coming to realize that her new daddy had zero tolerance for rebellion in any form. Besides, her time was up - Conrad was finishing his tirade.
"... you'll be going straight back over my knee at the first sign of trouble young lady," he told her, waving his finger sternly before her face. "Your mother and I have had enough of your back talk and snide remarks; and we're determined that your conduct will improve, no matter how many spankings it takes to settle the account. Now - climb over my knee: it's high time your tushie met my hand."
"Daddy, nooooo," Tessa sobbed as Conrad took her by the elbows and lifted her lightly across his lap. She whimpered hopelessly as he spread her into position, shifting her nude, alabaster bottom into the place of honor. Lying over her step-daddy's thighs with her nose suspended inches from the floor, Tessa shivered as the heavy, black shadow of finality settled over her. The moment had finally arrived, Conrad was already lifting his hand, and there was no escape.
Tessa's cheeks quivered invitingly as Conrad's wide, blunt palm swept down.
---oOo---
Zenya watched in awe as the performance began.
It was a masterpiece: a symphony of pain which could only be designated virtuoso. Conrad's arm rose and fell in rapid-fire strokes, clapping away at the girl's simmering haunches until she was screaming in red-faced shock. Tessa's bottom flashed scarlet as his palm connected. She thrashed her legs in a wild attempt to escape her punishment. Holding her down on his lap with a soft grunt of effort, Conrad doubled his tempo, searing her melons with a white-hot touch.
Tess pummeled the floor with her fists, bawling for mercy and spraying her tears across the room. Conrad spanked both cheeks in succession, alternating right to left in a hail of swift, blazing slaps. He circled systematically around her peach, scalding every available inch. She squirmed in exquisite torment as he moved onto the smooth, curving pillars of her thighs.
Conrad's hand traced a devastating tattoo over her hot, pulsing heinie. Tessa's globes wobbled beneath his relentless barrage. Her whole body shook convulsively. Her panties had fallen all the way to her ankles; she waved her bare feet in empty air, restricted by the sheer, pink nylon. Raising her tear-streaked face from the floor, she shrieked for clemency in sharp, piercing tones.
"Ooww! Daddy! Aaaooww! My bottom! Ooww!"
Stoically ignoring her screams, Conrad continued to fulfill his paternal responsibilities, devoting his attention to the girl's upper-thighs (an area of exceptional sensitivity, to judge by the Tessie's keening howls). His hand leapt from left to right almost faster than the eye could follow. Tess dangled pliantly over his knees. Her derriere had turned a merry shade of red. Her big, round bottom-cheeks gleamed like a pair of oversized grapes.
Ten minutes later, Tessa's derriere was a mass of splayed, scarlet hand prints, criss-crossing both cheeks from a variety of angles. The marks spanned the length of her lean, smooth thighs. She lay over Conrad's knee like a broken doll, weeping for mercy in a little girl's voice. Her spanking was over, but Conrad had decided to round things off with a stern word or two - just to drive a few points home.
Zenya stood by in mute fascination, utterly incapable of tearing her eyes away from those trembling, agonized buttocks. That will be me in a few minutes, she thought in silent rapture, imagining how her firm, creamy bottom would glow beneath Conrad's hand. Tessa's bottom-cheeks were absolutely radiant, literally trembling with repressed suffering. Zenya placed her hands over her mouth, feeling a subtle heat spreading throughout her features. In a matter of moments, she'd be ordered to bare her tushie and submit to her punishment.
"Oh, my bottom, my bottom," Tess wept in complete exhaustion, sobbing like a child. Zenya couldn't blame her. She must have been terribly sore: ten minutes over Conrad's knee would have been a marathon of torment. Zenya shivered unconsciously, wondering how long her discipline would last. She'd been unforgivably naughty, arguing with her mother at the breakfast table. She deserved a hot, throbbing bottom (and secretly hoped she'd get more than her fair share).
Conrad was just finishing up his post-spanking lecture, extracting promises of future good behavior. He emphasized each sentence with a light slap to the rear. Tess sobbed her agreement, her cheeks quivering gently.
"Yes Daddy," she sniffled, her nose poised only an inch above the floor, "I promise I'll be good, I'll never bad mouth Mummy again, I'll do everything you tell me, but please don't smack me again-"
"Alright," Conrad stated, satisfied that the message had gotten through, "get dressed and get on your way. We'll discuss this further when you get home from school." He helped her off his lap with a final (and none too gentle) whack to the bottom. Tessa scrambled to her feet with a little scream, pulling her panties up her thighs as she rose.
"Go on," Conrad told her sternly, "you're late enough already." He shook his hand about to one side, absently trying to dislodge the numbness. It was nearly as red as the girl's simmering backside.
Tessa picked up her clothes and walked tearfully towards the door, rubbing her freshly smacked bottom like a disconsolate child. She looked like the world's tallest six-year-old after a well-earned trip to the woodshed. Conrad watched her disappear into the hallway, nodding to himself in evident satisfaction, then looked over towards Zenya.
She stared down at her feet in sudden dread, unable to meet his gaze. Her eyes began to fill with encroaching tears. Despite her arousal, Zenya felt an enormous, looming sense of fear settle over her.
"OK," Conrad said, his brow creasing with slow, parental wrath.
It was her turn now.
Part 3: Zenya
"Go and get your mother's hairbrush off the dresser," Conrad told her grimly.
Zenya's eyes widened in sudden terror. She put a hand to her mouth, suppressing a gasp of shock.
"But Daddy," she wailed, "you only spanked Tessie with your hand-"
"Yes, and I'll be spanking you with the brush, young lady," Conrad replied, his face etched with hard-line determination. "Now go and get it".
Unwilling to provoke him any further, Zenya walked across the room, her slim, white thighs gleaming in the bedroom mirror. Her complexion darkened with each step. Her heart was galloping with anxiety, her breath came in quick, shallow spurts. There was no way out, no escape: her time had come. She was about to be spanked for the first time in years: turned over Conrad's knee with her panties down and her bottom twitching in expectation. The image flooded her mind with shame and longing.
I'm going to be spanked.
Retrieving the brush from the dressing table, she walked lightly back to her father (as she'd now begun to think of him), crying softly in anticipation of the inevitable. A mellow heat was flowing through her belly. Her breath began to hitch as she walked back to the spanking chair in her flimsy panties. She bit down hard on her lower lip, trying to control her mounting hysteria.
Conrad held out his hand.
Quivering with fear and excitement, Zenya handed the brush to her daddy. Conrad inspected the polished wooden implement, casually testing it against the flat of his palm. Zenya flinched with each echoing retort. In a very few moments, she'd feel that smooth, maple wood weapon applied to her tender, white bottom.
I'm going to be spanked.
Having finished his appraisal, Conrad turned back to his daughter. A chill finger stroked her heart as his eyes swept over her trim figure. He made a curt, dismissive gesture towards her skimpy white knickers, and Zenya knew exactly what she would be made to do next.
"All right," he commanded gruffly, "get those panties down, young lady."
The moment had arrived. It was time to bare her bottom.
Sobbing quietly to herself, Zenya leant over, slipping her briefs down to the floor - then stepped out of them. She could feel the brisk morning air teasing her milky buttocks, making them twitch and quiver. Her humiliation was complete. She stood up before her father, naked and blushing. Face glistening with warm tears, she crossed her hands in front of herself, waiting for Conrad's next instruction.
"OK," Conrad grunted, "let's get you over my knee, girl."
Conrad reached out to take her wrist and lead her into position. Zenya stretched herself carefully across his lap, breasts swaying restlessly as she was settled over his thighs. An overpowering sense of injustice rose up within her: what right did Conrad have to degrade her like this? He had reduced her to a spoilt little girl, showered her with contempt, treated her like a naughty child.
Which of course, she was.
He was a man, she was his daughter. She needed a sore bottom; Conrad was going to give her the spanking she so richly deserved. End of story. No question, no argument, no compromise. It was Conrad's duty, his obligation to paddle her firm, young bottom. And she would submit to his will no matter what.
Draped over his lap with her bare bottom on full display, Zenya was glaringly conscious his hand smoothing down her naked thigh. She'd never felt so vulnerable, so defenseless. She waited in passive acceptance of her penalty, whispering her pleas in the quavering voice of a six-year-old:
She was crying freely now, sobbing with shame and abject misery. Her sense of disgrace was overwhelming: she was a teenaged girl having her bottom spanked like an errant child. Her pulse was ticking in her throat; she could feel Conrad raising his arm. He was a large, powerful man: this would be unbelievably painful. Clenching her cheeks against the anticipated blow, Zenya abandoned herself completely to his unquestioned superiority.
I'm going to be spanked.
The brush hesitated for three interminable seconds, then descended with a deafening Thwack!
Zenya jerked her legs in pain as the brush cracked across her cheeks. A wide, dark print sprang up on her virgin flesh. Raising her head, she screamed at the top of her lungs. Conrad held her in place with his left hand and laid in with the brush, systematically polishing her bottom up to a bright, pink sheen. Zenya twisted and wrenched over his squared knees, her tail blushing with each stinging smack.
Leaning in for a better swing, Conrad patiently targeted the tops of her thighs. He was an extremely methodical spanker, knowing precisely where to land the brush for optimal effect. Within a few minutes, her heinie was covered with a network of angry red marks trailing midway down to the backs of her knees.
Zenya shrieked as Conrad redoubled his efforts, paddling the same two spots over and over. He lashed down with a stunning combination of force and accuracy. Her hips shook from side to side as the brush whaled her clutching haunches. Zenya began to wail her apologies in a pleading, childish voice.
"Aoooow! Oww! Daddy, please, Aooww, I'm sorry, really I am, OW! Please I'm sorry Daddy, Aaaooww-"
No, Daddy, No!: a collection of father spanks daughter stories Page 10