Saturday, 1 October 2016

Saturday, October 01, 2016 -

No, Daddy, No!

a collection of father spanks daughter stories
by Perry Symon Fowler
Published: Sep 4, 2016
Words: 34,361
Category: teen
Orientation: M/f
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As soon as they arrived home, Dan Carrothers sent Vanessa straight to her room. There had been a disagreement earlier that evening, and he'd promised her an extremely painful lesson on the ride in from town. This left no room for doubt on Nessa's part; 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 take 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 punishment to some less severe alternative. The argument hadn't been very serious, and she was sorry now; it would never happen again. She was too old for a spanking, she wasn't a child, she was eighteen years old! None of her friends had to endure parental spankings, it just wasn't right.

"Please, Daddy, not a spanking," she wailed, desperate to overturn the final verdict, "It's not fair, I'm too big for that. You can't spank me like a little girl, you can't!"

Unfortunately for Vanessa, Dan was totally unimpressed by his daughter's rhetoric. He was her father, and as far as he was concerned, she'd never be too 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 in a moment."

So Vanessa ran weeping up to her room, already feeling her father's hot, stinging palm-print on her soft, curvaceous tushie. Throwing herself on the bed, she cried piteously, knowing she had no one to blame but herself. She knew her father well enough 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 ever argue with him? All she had to do was keep her mouth shut and pay him the respect he deserved. She'd been over his knee too many times to claim ignorance of the law: he'd been spanking her for years now, and she was well aware he had little tolerance for dissent.

After what seemed like 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, ready to start pleading for clemency the moment he walked into the room.