Naughty Girl Caught Again and Punished by Daddy

  No Daddy, No!

a drove of father spanks daughter stories

by

Perry Symon Fowler

All rights reserved

Copyright © September 2016 by Perry Symon Fowler

Published past LSF Publications

http://www.lsfpublications.com/

Comprehend design by Nathaniel Scott.

This volume may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in function by whatever means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher.

This is a piece of work of fiction which depicts non-consensual spanking. Whatsoever resemblance to actual persons, places or events is purely coincidental.

Strict daddies, stern pace-fathers and misbehaving teenage daughters ... the perfect combination for a naughty daughter going over her daddy'southward human knee for a bare bottom spanking. In this collection of stories, the fathers stand for no nonsense, and various teen girls get their bottoms soundly spanked with hand, paddle or hairbrush. Though they may plead and wail and promise to be skilful, they are all properly punished. Many have to confess their delinquency before the spanking starts, and many are disciplined close to an open up window and so that their embarrassed wails and yelps can exist heard by neighbours; information technology all adds to the humiliation of the disgraced teenage girl... who inevitably ends up over the paternal lap time and time once again as she submits to her daddy's discipline.

This collection features the post-obit stories: Attitude; The Mitchell Protocol; The Walk of Shame; The Persuader; Breakfast at Suzie's; and The Triple Play.

Contents

Attitude

The Mitchell Protocol

The Walk of Shame

The Persuader

Breakfast at Suzie's

The Triple Play

As well from LSF Publications...

Attitude

As soon as they arrived home, Dan Carrothers sent Vanessa direct to her room. At that place had been a disagreement before that evening, and he'd promised her an extremely painful lesson on the ride in from town. This left no room for doubtfulness on Nessa's function; she knew from prior experience precisely what he had in store for her. Dan's philosophy was simple: the easiest way to settle a dispute was to have his daughter straight over his knee and give her a spanking. Not just a few sharp whacks on the derriere, either: Dan specialized in long, hard and extremely thorough strappings... the kind which invariably left her weeping and breathless, unable to sit down for days afterwards.

Standing in the living room, Vanessa tearfully begged her father to let her off - or at least reduce her penalisation to some less astringent alternative. The argument hadn't been very serious, and she was sorry now; it would never happen again. She was as well old for a spanking, she wasn't a child, she was xviii years old! None of her friends had to suffer parental spankings, it just wasn't correct.

"Please, Daddy, not a spanking," she wailed, drastic to overturn the final verdict, "It'southward non fair, I'thousand too big for that. You tin can't spank me like a piddling daughter, yous can't!"

Unfortunately for Vanessa, Dan was totally unimpressed by his daughter'south rhetoric. He was her father, and equally far equally he was concerned, she'd never exist likewise old to go over his knee. It made no difference to him that her friends never received spankings. Tonight, she'd be going to bed with a hot, throbbing bottom, and that was the end of it.

"Now - up to your room, young lady," Dan told her, gesturing towards the stairway. "I'll be along to deal with you lot in a moment."

And so Vanessa ran weeping upwardly to her room, already feeling her male parent'southward hot, stinging palm-print on her soft, curvaceous tushie. Throwing herself on the bed, she cried piteously, knowing she had no one to arraign but herself. She knew her father well plenty to realize that disagreements only led to a well-smacked bottom. She listened apprehensively for his inevitable approach, imagining how much it was going to hurt.

Why did she e'er debate with him? All she had to do was keep her mouth close and pay him the respect he deserved. She'd been over his knee besides many times to claim ignorance of the constabulary: he'd been spanking her for years now, and she was well enlightened he had little tolerance for dissent.

Afterwards what seemed similar an eternity, she heard his footsteps coming up the stairs. She bit her lip against the oncoming flood of fresh tears, and sat up on the bed, gear up to starting time pleading for clemency the moment he walked into the room. She knew there was little promise of a last minute reprieve, simply at that place was nothing else she could do. She absolutely dreaded being stretched across her Daddy's lap - and with proficient reason.

Dan stepped through the doorway, a tall, wiry man with wide shoulders and lean, muscular arms. He carried a brusk, blackness razor-strap in his right manus.

Nessa'southward optics widened in alarm. She quailed at the sight of the strap. Nooo!

It was the strop: a ten-inch length of hardened leather, especially adjusted to fit Dan's broad hand. Unlike others of its kind, this one was stiff and rigid, more than similar a paddle than a belt. Now she knew precisely how painful this spanking was going to exist. His choice of instrument meant that he was going to pay particular attention to her upper thighs. Vanessa immediately lapsed into loud sobs of fearfulness and supplication:

"No, Daddy, no, please not the hone, information technology hurts also much! Please Daddy, don't use the hone!"

Dan sat down on a nearby chair, completely ignoring her frantic pleas, and took off his jacket. He so flexed the leather against his left hand, checking its weight and swing. It was perfect every bit always, the one implement he could trust to render his daughter's bottom a hot, glowing ruby-red.

Vanessa covered her face up and sobbed bitterly: she could tell by the expression on his face up that she'd be over his knee for a good x minutes at the very least.

Dan opted for a practiced, stiff talking-to before he got down to business. Scolding was, in Dan's opinion, ane of the most important components of the disciplinary procedure, allowing Vanessa ample opportunity to regret her misbehavior and bulldoze dwelling house the signal that she was getting exactly what she deserved. Existence spoken to like a naughty little girl also added to the embarrassment she was already feeling.

When he finally finished the scolding, Dan called her over to his chair and instructed her to take down her shorts and underpants. This was the part which Vanessa hated the virtually. She remembered the many times over the years when she'd been required to perform this ritual, helplessly undoing her jeans and presenting her naked lesser for parental discipline.

Taking downwardly her panties was utter humiliation - despite the frequent spankings she'd received from her father, she'd never quite gotten used to baring her bottom to him. She lowered her shorts to the flooring, so begged him to allow her at to the lowest degree the dignity of a panty spanking.

"No, Daddy, delight don't make me bare my bottom, permit me keep my panties upwards, yous don't know how bad information technology is-"

"You lot get those panties downwardly at present young lady," Dan growled, his phonation rising in paternal fury.

The explicit threat in his voice overrode all want to preserve her modesty. Sobbing in abject misery, Vanessa slipped her underpants down to her upper-thighs, hoping to get abroad with only a partial baring. But Dan wouldn't stand for it. He was going to paddle her cerise all the way from her tender young bottom-cheeks to her smooth alabaster thighs. Tears flowing freely, Vanessa bent over to peel her lacy pink panties all the way downward to her ankles. She was absolutely burning with shame at present; her begetter had a completely unobstructed view of her bottom.

When she straightened upwardly, Dan reached out, took her by the wrist, and led her over his human knee. She was crying steadily at present, whimpering little pleas for mercy while he shifted her over his lap to let for maximum event. One time he'd placed her botto

m into the most vulnerable position he could find, he paused to survey the job ahead. Her lush, pale lesser cheeks were staring at the ceiling, clenching and unclenching with anticipation.

Dan Carrothers was something of an adept, a man who took pride in his work. His spankings were unusually long, mostly lasting for at to the lowest degree ten minutes, and often stretching out to fifteen. Today he might try for a new record. He always started with some initial manus work, working slowly upwardly to a throbbing cherry. When his hand got tired, he would simply switch to an instrument. Today, of course, he'd exist attending to Vanessa's bottom with the leather hand-strop.

Vanessa connected her whimpered pleadings. "Don't ... please Daddy ... no don't, noooo."

Dan ignored her, raising his hand high over his head. Vanessa clutched her lesser cheeks against the expected accident, bursting into new tears - her time had come. She lay passively over his knee, sobbing piteously. How could this exist happening to her? She was eighteen years old, a senior in high school. None of her friends had to suffer paternal spankings, their parents treated them like adults. Yet here she was, draped over her begetter's knee, panties downward, bottom up, well-nigh to take a practiced, hard spanking like a six-year-erstwhile daughter!

Dan's hard, wide hand finally came down, coming together Vanessa's soft, quivering lesser with a high, sharp bully sound that could have been heard halfway downwardly the street. Vanessa screamed in pain, boot her feet helplessly as each accident descended. Dan gave her lesser his full attention, alternate between each cheek, watching as the stupor-waves resonated all the fashion down her thighs. Dan barbarous into a long, rolling rhythm, smacking away with all the strength of his potent right arm. Vanessa's bottom swiftly warmed to a vivid, glowing carmine. The affluent began to spread inevitably downward her legs.

As mentioned before, Dan was an extremely thorough spanker, working his manner systematically over every available inch of bottom flesh, covering both cheeks as, and devoting plenty of time to repetitious spanking. He ever made certain to spank the same spot over and over again: there was no point in punishing the girl unless it was really going to injure her.

He was also very conscientious to use his manus to the upper thighs, only below the curve of her cheeks. In Dan's feel, this was the most painful portion of a spanking, especially after he'd switched to the paddle. He often devoted the terminal six or seven minutes of a spanking solely to Vanessa's upper thighs, during which time she would shriek and squirm on his lap in a nearly frenzy. He usually had to concord her down on his lap to prevent her landing on the floor.

By the time Dan had completed the 'easily-on' stage of the spanking, Vanessa'south bottom was covered with a pulsing strawberry-red blush which reached from the meridian of her cheeks half-mode downwards to her knees. Shining and tender, you lot could almost see the heat ascension from information technology.

Vanessa lay doubled over her Dan's lap, sobbing out exhausted little pleas for leniency.

"No more, Daddy, please don't spank me any more, I've learned my lesson, I'll never do it again."

Even the most adamant of fathers would have been satisfied past this signal; the job was done, the culprit punished, and parental justice was served.

Merely Dan Carrothers was something of a perfectionist; domestic correction should never exist hampered by fake sorrow or remorseful tears. He was definitely not the kind of man to let his naughty niggling girl off with a paltry viii minute mitt-spanking.

Information technology was time for the strop.

---oOo---

"No Daddy no! Delight, non the strop!"

Vanessa's lush, polish bottom-cheeks were already hot, crimson and throbbing. The idea of her father'due south heavy leather mitt-paddle being applied to them reduced her to a fresh spasm of helpless, sobbing pleas. Here she was, limply stretched over Dan's lap, bottom turned up to the ceiling for her latest well earned spanking, crying similar a lost child. Tears of warm shame streamed down her cheeks while Dan picked up the strop in his sure, firm grip. Grinning grimly, Dan nodded approval at its difficult, sharp weight, taking a exercise stroke through the air. Vanessa shrieked as the leather whistled directly to a higher place her tender, unprotected derriere.

"Now, nosotros're going to deal with your little attitude trouble in one case and for all," Dan told her, "I've had enough of your sulking and petulance, and it's high time you learnt a bit of respect for the man of the house." He settled her back into position, ignoring her frantic struggling, and raised the strop over his caput.

"No, Daddy, nooooo!" the daughter cried, trying to cover her lesser with her paw. "Please don't, it'll hurt actually bad!"

"You have that manus out of the way, or I'll make this a lot worse, young lady," Dan warned. "Y'all're long overdue for a expert, hard spanking, and I'm going to brand sure you get everything you have coming to you. At present end that squirming and hold your bottom upwardly."

Vanessa removed her hand, sobbing miserably.

This had to be the worst spanking of her life (even worse than the fourth dimension Dan bent her over the armchair and thrashed her with the plume duster. That had lasted a skilful twelve minutes, and her round, naked bottom had been absolutely criss-crossed with glowing pink stripes that took days to fade). Dan continued to scold her in his stern, paternal tone; lecturing on her responsibilities every bit a daughter, and reminding her that she could blame no-one but herself. Vanessa wept pitifully, alternately flinching and clenching against the inevitable caress of the leather.

Finally, the strop flashed down across her lesser.

The leather met her mankind where the cheeks overlap the upper thighs. Pain erupting like an exploding star halfway downwardly her legs, Vanessa screamed at the top of her lungs. Dan drew back and the strop slashed downwards in a red hot arc. The girl kicked and bucked on his lap, her long blonde hair flying. Dan favored her upper thighs, laying on smack after agonizing smack onto her tortured little fanny.

If Vanessa idea her male parent's hand-spankings had been painful, they were nothing compared to this treadmill of desperation. Holding her firmly in identify with his left mitt, Dan watched in growing satisfaction as her lesser gradually inverse from red to a sharp, angry and tormented shade of crimson. He swept downwards mercilessly, increasing his speed and force with each blow. Nessa sobbed and gasped and shrilled, hiding her face in her hands, close to the floor.

"Daddy no!" she wailed. "Not like that, don't hit me in the same spot, it hurts also much. Don't, noooo!"

Leather connected to rain downward on the girl'due south lower bottom and upper thighs. If there was one thing Dan Carrothers had learnt in all his years of disciplining his girl, it was that repetitious spanking got the message through, come what may. It would be a long time before she questioned his volition again, by god. Dan redoubled his efforts, the paddle flight with blistering velocity.

"Owww! Daddy, non my thighs! Terminate information technology – information technology hurts! Owwww, it hurts!"

Vanessa'southward mind was spinning: she was small and naughty and helpless; and her bottom was so sore. The spanking went on and on like it would never stop, and all she could do was beg and whimper and cry. Her male parent was so much bigger and stronger than she was. He could take her over his knee joint like a six-year-old girl, and there was admittedly nothing she could do about information technology. His spankings were long and embarrassing and they hurt then much. How could she ever confront her friends at schoolhouse after this? What if they somehow found out? She was the just girl in her class who had to blank her bottom; they'd never let her live it down. In an other year, she'd be the only girl at Academy to accept regular spankings from her father - she'd never alive that downwards, either.

How long had she been over his knee? Fifteen minutes? Twenty? Twenty-v? It felt similar forever. Each stroke of the strop seared her bottom similar blue fire. Vanessa's litany of child-similar pleadings had no effect on Dan Carrothers; he was determined to teach his piddling girl the lesson of her life this night. He alternated swiftly between soft, vulnerable cheeks, periodically switching over to lavish his attending on her slender, quivering thighs.

"Ow! Aaaooww! Ow-aaooww!!"

Afterward what seemed like two years, Dan put the strop down and stood Vanessa upward beside the chair. She stood trembling on uneasy feet, rubbing her o

utraged little bottom with careful easily. Her tushie glowed a brilliant tone of cherry ruby-red. Dan closely inspected the radiant blush which covered her derriere all the way down to her mid-thighs. A good night's work, truthful plenty, he decided, but not quite complete. Not yet, anyway.

"Now - fourth dimension to finish upward, little girl," Dan told her. "Anxiety together, legs direct; bend over and put your easily on the dorsum of the chair."

Vanessa's eyes widened in fear and shock, a new flood of tears cascaded down her face up. Information technology still wasn't over!

"No, Daddy, no more, it's too much. I can't take any more, please Daddy, I tin can't stand information technology!" She swiped at her wet eyes with the back of her pocket-sized manus, crying openly.

"Yous'll take every bit much as I dish out," Dan told her sternly. "Now bend over and take your medicine, or you'll be going back over my knee for another ten minutes."

Vanessa wailed, but complied with her father'southward command, grasping the chair-back with both hands and bending over to class an inverted right angle with her trunk. The action acquired her to thrust her bottom out, ready for the strop'south final administration.

Dan raised the leather in one case more.

---oOo---

Placing his free manus on the small of her back to steady himself, Dan paused for a moment, because which spot should feel the first cut swipe. His eyes wandered over the splendid rose tinge of Vanessa's beautiful, heart-shaped bottom. A magnificent work of art, it needed only a few finishing touches to consummate the limerick.

Nessa braced herself for the touch, squeezing another pair of enormous tears out of her tightly closed eyes. Standing like this with her pastel pink undies gathered around her ankles (and her pretty fiddling tushie glowing in the cool evening air), she felt humiliated across all measure out. She'd been scolded like a naughty schoolhouse girl and reduced to whimpering tears of remorse. She'd been forced to conduct her bottom like a disobedient child, enduring both her father's house correct hand and the irresistible stroke of his leather hand-strop.

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Source: https://graycity.net/perry-symon-fowler/411094-no_daddy_no_a_collection_of_father_spanks_daughter_stories.html

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