Home Again Cast Girls Who Played Daughters

  No Daddy, No!

a collection of male parent spanks daughter stories

past

Perry Symon Fowler

All rights reserved

Copyright © September 2022 by Perry Symon Fowler

Published past LSF Publications

http://www.lsfpublications.com/

Cover design by Nathaniel Scott.

This book may non be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher.

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

Strict daddies, stern step-fathers and misbehaving teenage daughters ... the perfect combination for a naughty girl going over her daddy's knee joint 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 hope to exist good, they are all properly punished. Many have to confess their delinquency before the spanking starts, and many are disciplined close to an open window so that their embarrassed wails and yelps can be heard by neighbours; it all adds to the humiliation of the disgraced teenage daughter... who inevitably ends up over the paternal lap time and time again as she submits to her daddy'due south discipline.

This drove features the following stories: Attitude; The Mitchell Protocol; The Walk of Shame; The Persuader; Breakfast at Suzie'due south; and The Triple Play.

Contents

Attitude

The Mitchell Protocol

The Walk of Shame

The Persuader

Breakfast at Suzie's

The Triple Play

Also from LSF Publications...

Attitude

As soon as they arrived abode, 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 boondocks. This left no room for dubiousness on Nessa's role; she knew from prior experience precisely what he had in shop 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 precipitous 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 after.

Standing in the living room, Vanessa tearfully begged her male parent to permit her off - or at least reduce her punishment to some less severe culling. The argument hadn't been very serious, and she was distressing at present; it would never happen again. She was too onetime 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 correct.

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

Unfortunately for Vanessa, Dan was totally unimpressed by his girl's rhetoric. He was her begetter, and as far as he was concerned, she'd never be too old to go over his knee. It made no divergence to him that her friends never received spankings. Tonight, she'd be going to bed with a hot, throbbing lesser, and that was the end of information technology.

"Now - upwards to your room, young lady," Dan told her, gesturing towards the stairway. "I'll be forth to bargain with y'all in a moment."

So Vanessa ran weeping upward 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 1 to blame simply herself. She knew her begetter 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 practice was keep her oral cavity 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 at present, and she was well aware he had fiddling tolerance for dissent.

Later on what seemed like an eternity, she heard his footsteps coming up the stairs. She fleck her lip confronting the oncoming inundation of fresh tears, and sat upward on the bed, ready to start pleading for clemency the moment he walked into the room. She knew there was little hope of a final minute reprieve, simply there was zero else she could do. She absolutely dreaded being stretched across her Daddy's lap - and with good reason.

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

Nessa'south eyes widened in alarm. She quailed at the sight of the strap. Nooo!

It was the hone: a ten-inch length of hardened leather, peculiarly adapted to fit Dan'south wide hand. Dissimilar others of its kind, this one was strong and rigid, more than like a paddle than a belt. At present 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 fear and supplication:

"No, Daddy, no, please not the strop, it hurts too much! Please Daddy, don't use the strop!"

Dan sat downward on a nearby chair, completely ignoring her frantic pleas, and took off his jacket. He and then flexed the leather confronting his left hand, checking its weight and swing. Information technology was perfect as always, the i implement he could trust to render his daughter's bottom a hot, glowing crimson.

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

Dan opted for a good, stiff talking-to before he got downwards to business. Scolding was, in Dan's stance, one of the most important components of the disciplinary procedure, allowing Vanessa ample opportunity to regret her misbehavior and drive home the point that she was getting exactly what she deserved. Existence spoken to like a naughty footling girl likewise 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 office which Vanessa hated the most. 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 bottom for parental discipline.

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

"No, Daddy, please don't make me blank my bottom, let me proceed my panties up, you don't know how bad information technology is-"

"Yous get those panties down now immature lady," Dan growled, his vocalisation rising in paternal fury.

The explicit threat in his voice overrode all desire 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 red all the manner from her tender immature bottom-cheeks to her smooth alabaster thighs. Tears flowing freely, Vanessa bent over to peel her lacy pink panties all the fashion down to her ankles. She was absolutely called-for with shame now; her father had a completely unobstructed view of her lesser.

When she straightened upwards, Dan reached out, took her past 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 permit for maximum upshot. Once he'd placed her botto

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

Dan Carrothers was something of an expert, a man who took pride in his work. His spankings were unusually long, generally lasting for at least ten minutes, and often stretching out to fifteen. Today he might try for a new record. He ever started with some initial paw piece of work, working slowly upward to a throbbing crimson. When his manus got tired, he would just switch to an musical instrument. Today, of course, he'd exist attending to Vanessa'south bottom with the leather hand-hone.

Vanessa continued her whimpered pleadings. "Don't ... delight Daddy ... no don't, noooo."

Dan ignored her, raising his hand high over his head. Vanessa clutched her bottom cheeks against the expected accident, bursting into new tears - her time had come up. She lay passively over his knee, sobbing piteously. How could this be happening to her? She was eighteen years onetime, a senior in high school. None of her friends had to endure paternal spankings, their parents treated them like adults. Even so here she was, draped over her father's human knee, panties downward, bottom up, virtually to have a skillful, hard spanking like a six-year-old daughter!

Dan'south hard, wide mitt finally came downwardly, meeting Vanessa'south soft, quivering lesser with a high, sharp corking sound that could have been heard halfway down the street. Vanessa screamed in pain, boot her feet helplessly as each blow descended. Dan gave her bottom his full attention, alternating betwixt each cheek, watching as the stupor-waves resonated all the way downwardly her thighs. Dan fell into a long, rolling rhythm, smacking away with all the force of his strong right arm. Vanessa'south lesser swiftly warmed to a bright, glowing ruby. The flush began to spread inevitably downward her legs.

Every bit mentioned earlier, Dan was an extremely thorough spanker, working his style systematically over every available inch of bottom mankind, covering both cheeks equally, and devoting enough of time to repetitious spanking. He always made sure to spank the same spot over and over again: in that location was no point in punishing the girl unless it was really going to hurt her.

He was also very conscientious to apply his hand to the upper thighs, merely below the curve of her cheeks. In Dan's experience, this was the most painful portion of a spanking, particularly after he'd switched to the paddle. He oft devoted the last 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 near frenzy. He ordinarily had to concur her down on his lap to prevent her landing on the floor.

By the time Dan had completed the 'hands-on' stage of the spanking, Vanessa's lesser was covered with a pulsing strawberry-ruby-red blush which reached from the top of her cheeks half-way down to her knees. Shining and tender, you could most see the heat rising from it.

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

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

Fifty-fifty the most determined of fathers would have been satisfied by this point; the job was done, the culprit punished, and parental justice was served.

But Dan Carrothers was something of a perfectionist; domestic correction should never be hampered past imitation sorrow or remorseful tears. He was definitely not the kind of man to let his naughty little girl off with a paltry eight minute hand-spanking.

It was time for the strop.

---oOo---

"No Daddy no! Please, not the hone!"

Vanessa's lush, smooth bottom-cheeks were already hot, red and throbbing. The thought of her father'due south heavy leather hand-paddle being applied to them reduced her to a fresh spasm of helpless, sobbing pleas. Here she was, limply stretched over Dan'southward lap, bottom turned up to the ceiling for her latest well earned spanking, crying like a lost child. Tears of warm shame streamed downwardly her cheeks while Dan picked upwards the strop in his sure, firm grip. Grinning grimly, Dan nodded blessing at its hard, precipitous weight, taking a practise stroke through the air. Vanessa shrieked as the leather whistled direct to a higher place her tender, unprotected derriere.

"Now, we're going to deal with your little attitude trouble once and for all," Dan told her, "I've had plenty of your sulking and petulance, and it's loftier fourth dimension yous learnt a bit of respect for the man of the firm." He settled her back into position, ignoring her frantic struggling, and raised the strop over his caput.

"No, Daddy, nooooo!" the girl cried, trying to cover her bottom with her hand. "Please don't, it'll hurt actually bad!"

"You take that manus out of the way, or I'll make this a lot worse, immature lady," Dan warned. "You lot're long overdue for a practiced, difficult spanking, and I'm going to make sure you go everything y'all take coming to you lot. Now stop that squirming and hold your bottom up."

Vanessa removed her manus, sobbing miserably.

This had to be the worst spanking of her life (even worse than the fourth dimension Dan aptitude her over the armchair and thrashed her with the feather duster. That had lasted a proficient twelve minutes, and her round, naked bottom had been admittedly 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 as a girl, and reminding her that she could blame no-one but herself. Vanessa wept pitifully, alternately flinching and clenching confronting the inevitable caress of the leather.

Finally, the strop flashed downward across her lesser.

The leather met her flesh where the cheeks overlap the upper thighs. Hurting erupting like an exploding star halfway downwards her legs, Vanessa screamed at the top of her lungs. Dan drew back and the strop slashed down in a cherry 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 thought her father'due south hand-spankings had been painful, they were nothing compared to this treadmill of agony. Belongings her firmly in place with his left hand, Dan watched in growing satisfaction as her bottom gradually changed from red to a sharp, angry and tormented shade of crimson. He swept down mercilessly, increasing his speed and strength with each blow. Nessa sobbed and gasped and shrilled, hiding her face in her easily, close to the flooring.

"Daddy no!" she wailed. "Not like that, don't hit me in the aforementioned spot, information technology hurts likewise much. Don't, noooo!"

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

"Owww! Daddy, not my thighs! Stop it – information technology hurts! Owwww, information technology hurts!"

Vanessa's mind was spinning: she was small and naughty and helpless; and her lesser was and then sore. The spanking went on and on similar it would never stop, and all she could do was beg and whimper and cry. Her father was so much bigger and stronger than she was. He could take her over his knee similar a six-twelvemonth-old daughter, and there was absolutely nada she could practice about it. His spankings were long and embarrassing and they injure so much. How could she ever face her friends at school later this? What if they somehow found out? She was the only girl in her class who had to bare her lesser; they'd never permit her live it down. In an other year, she'd exist the only daughter at University to take regular spankings from her begetter - she'd never live that downwards, either.

How long had she been over his knee? Fifteen minutes? 20? Xx-5? It felt similar forever. Each stroke of the hone seared her lesser like blue fire. Vanessa'south litany of child-like pleadings had no effect on Dan Carrothers; he was determined to teach his piddling daughter the lesson of her life this evening. He alternated swiftly between soft, vulnerable cheeks, periodically switching over to lavish his attention on her slender, quivering thighs.

"Ow! Aaaooww! Ow-aaooww!!"

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

utraged little lesser with conscientious hands. Her tushie glowed a brilliant tone of cherry red. Dan closely inspected the radiant chroma which covered her derriere all the mode downwardly to her mid-thighs. A skilful nighttime's work, true enough, he decided, but non quite complete. Non withal, anyway.

"At present - time to finish upwards, little girl," Dan told her. "Feet together, legs straight; bend over and put your hands on the back of the chair."

Vanessa'southward eyes widened in fear and shock, a new alluvion of tears cascaded down her face. It still wasn't over!

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

"You lot'll have as much as I dish out," Dan told her sternly. "Now bend over and have your medicine, or you'll exist going dorsum over my knee for another ten minutes."

Vanessa wailed, but complied with her father's command, grasping the chair-back with both hands and bending over to form an inverted right angle with her body. The action caused her to thrust her bottom out, ready for the hone's terminal administration.

Dan raised the leather over again.

---oOo---

Placing his complimentary hand on the pocket-sized of her back to steady himself, Dan paused for a moment, because which spot should feel the first cutting swipe. His optics wandered over the splendid rose tinge of Vanessa'southward beautiful, centre-shaped bottom. A magnificent piece of work of art, it needed only a few finishing touches to complete the composition.

Nessa braced herself for the bear upon, squeezing another pair of enormous tears out of her tightly closed eyes. Standing like this with her pastel pinkish undies gathered around her ankles (and her pretty footling tushie glowing in the absurd evening air), she felt humiliated across all measure out. She'd been scolded like a naughty school girl and reduced to whimpering tears of remorse. She'd been forced to acquit her bottom like a disobedient kid, enduring both her begetter's firm right hand and the irresistible stroke of his leather hand-strop.

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