That's what saucy Suzanne Amorelli was. She was spankable.
Her rounded ass globes were just begging to be bruised and abused by the heavy hand of her strict, Italian father. He believed in firm, old-fashioned discipline, delivered regularly, and severely.
When his hand became too hot from spanking his naughty, teenaged daughter, he'd switch to a doubled over leather belt to really blaze up the warmed up posterior.
He'd have to hold her down, of course, because after ten minutes of well-deserved punishment, she was kicking and crying, and trying to squirm away from his disciplining punishment strokes.
But he would beat her until she'd received the dose she'd earned.
It was on a family vacation in New York City that the disciplining really grew out of hand. Suzanne could feel her father's bulging erection slamming against her virgin pussy each and every time he brought the wooden paddle down on her upturned ass globes. She was being held over his knee for more than pure discipline.
When her mother told her to kiss her Daddy goodnight, she started to tremble, and she felt the quivers in her quim, as well as on her red hot bottom.
She knew that Daddy would kiss her back only after he'd kissed her ass with his strap. And then he'd force his tongue down her throat and punish her for being flirty. It confused her, and it bruised her.
Why was Suzanne so damn spankable?
CHAPTER ONE
Suzanne was so excited, she was looking forward to spending the time in the Big Apple with her mother and father. Suzanne was fifteen, although, unlike many other girls her age, Suzanne was something of a homebody. She still enjoyed being with her parents, and she was happy to be so close with her family.
As pretty as she was, she could have had practically any boyfriend. She was not a stupid girl, by any means, and she had a lot to offer in other departments, too.
More than anything, she was a shy girl.
There were times that she spent her afternoons walking, and daydreaming, rather than walk into the classroom late - after all the other students had been there.
She would rather suffer the entire day, than admit to being late.
There were reasons for that, although they were reasons that only she knew. Or maybe, just she and one other person.
But she would never tell; no, she actually vowed that she would never tell, the other reasons, and who had put them in her head - and how.
When she returned home later in the day, about the usual hour that she would have arrived home had she attended school's regular session, she just pretended that she had been to school that day, and this threw her into a further extension of guilt, since she knew that she had really been playing hooky.
She was afraid that her mother could look through her, and could read her.
She was afraid that her mother could see it in her eyes, that she had not been at school that day, and she feared that her mother might tell her father.
Her father ruled her with an iron hand.
His word in the house was law. He believed in corporal punishment. He believed in spanking.
Discipline was very important to Salvatore Amorelli, Suzanne's father.
He believed that through disciplining one's energies, anything could be accomplished in life. He, after all, had worked himself up in two generations.
His parents had come from Italy, where discipline was also strict, and usually administered by the male head of the household, and now Salvatore had worked himself up into a suburban home in a fair-haired neighborhood. He was making good money as a construction supervisor in the town, and he was pleased with the way he was training his daughter - and his wife.
Suzanne's mother was quite a good woman, according to Salvatore. She was a good cook, and a fine home-maker. She sewed, washed dishes, cleaned house, and even took a part time job filing papers in the afternoons before returning home to prepare supper so that it would be waiting for her husband and daughter.
In private, Salvatore also bragged about how he had trained his wife with spankings. How he believed in using the hand, and just as often, the belt, so that his hand wouldn't hurt and burn from the hard spankings he laid on upturned bottom globes.
The smooth, white ass cheeks of his wife were often spanked until they were red hot, or so Salvatore bragged to the men in the health club where he would go to relax in the steam room to relieve his muscles after working on a construction site.
He bragged that he knew how to use his muscles to keep his wife in line, and that he also possessed the one muscle which she needed most, especially after one of her ass-blazing punishment sessions.
"I hold a session every night. I think it's best never to go to sleep at night without first having had a session giving us both a chance to clean away anything that builds up between us," he would say.
Some of the men were already in disagreement with his decidedly sexist manner of ruling the roost, but almost everybody drew in close to listen to him.
"After I've beaten her, using my hand or my belt, or whatever it takes to teach her not to be late, or not to be snotty, or to be or not to be whatever it is I'm training her to be or not to be at the time, she behaves after a while, and I can tell by the way she cries if she's ready or not. She listens to me, alright," he'd say.
"When you say jump, she jumps, huh, Sal?" a guy named Eddie would ask.
"Yeah, she knows who wears the pants in my family."
The same technique of physical punishment upon a disciplined behind applied to the rounded rear of fifteen-year-old Suzanne, and had been taking place since her sixth birthday.
The only thing was, Daddy spanked her only once a week, so she had more punishments to build up, and more time to recover from the bruising her bared bottom might suffer over Daddy's knee.
Of course, if she specifically misbehaved at any time at all during the week, a notation was marked into her punishment book - both the record she kept, and the one her father kept from his own notes.
And of course, if she were especially naughty during the week, with a deed which required immediate attention, she knew she could expect a severe ass-warming from her father's stern hands any time of the week.
In fact, he had been known to turn her against the wall, have her yank her skirt up, and punish her at once, in the public streets. It was a rare happening, rather than the rule, and thankfully, he had spared the added embarrassment of pulling down her white cotton underpants - when he spanked her in the street where others could see her.
(When he spanked her at home, it almost always ended up a bare-bottom spanking.)
This had not happened since she was fourteen years old, however, and so she hoped that she was being good enough to avoid such rituals now in her fifteenth year.
She certainly was trying hard enough.
At times, she thought that she'd do just anything to please her Daddy.
She liked the way Daddy kissed her goodnight.
Usually, he would kiss her on the forehead, and she would feel the warmth of his lips, soft as they were on her smooth brow, and she would get all warm in the pussy.
Her little nipples would tingle and grow firm.
She was always quite careful in the way she hugged her Daddy and bounced up and down on his knees - when Mommy was around. Her mother had grown to be a challenge, in a way. She loved her mother very much, but sometimes she had terrible dreams.
They were more like nightmares, really, and she always awoke from them in a sweat, and she'd be startled to realize that she had been dreaming.
Sometimes, she'd still be breathing hard and fast, and sometimes she'd be shaking and trembling all over.
Sometimes she could hardly believe what she had dreamed, and other times she cried over what she had dreamed, and she'd thank whatever spirit awakened her before she wrang her mother's neck in her nightmare of competition and jealousy.
How could she feel that? She hated herself for those dreams. One time she told Daddy, in her weekly confession, about those dreams.
It was a warm Sunday afternoon. Mother had taken the car. She was going to the shopping center over in the next town where the taxes were less and where bargains could be found by the eager shopper out for a bargain.
Mother needed new sheets for the double bed in which she and Salvatore slept.
Ordinarily, Suzanne took her weekly discipline session late on Sunday afternoons. She always knew, as the afternoon drew on, that her spanking session was approaching.
It would give her that funny feeling in the pit of her stomach, and sometimes her quim would quiver from deep inside.
She could almost feel the way the heat of a spanking blistered her vulnerable and unprotected bottom during one of the more heavy punishment sessions.
She knew about the deeds she had written down in her weekly notes on punishment. She had a number of deeds which required some spanking - leaving her clothes out on the chair next to her bed for the whole night would earn her about five spanks, she estimated. Losing her library card would not only mean that she'd have to pay the fine to the library, but that she would have to pay her fine to her father, too, over his knee.
But she was troubled about the dreams she'd been having, and she wanted to put her feelings out in the open. She didn't want to walk around carrying them with her. She wanted to let go of these feelings by putting them outside of her.
Just by speaking these dreams would put them outside of her body.
She was so close with her family. She did so many things with them, and she stayed home and watched television with her parents on nights when other girls were out on dates.
She felt that it was only right to confide in her father about these dreams. He would know what to do. She believed that he always did know what to do.
Her bottom hadn't begun to quiver yet. She hadn't started to feel her stomach knot up with butterflies, and she hadn't felt her nipples tauten against the front of her blouse, and she didn't feel that stickiness on between her pussy lips yet.
No, she didn't feel these signs which always showed themselves in her body before her time approached. She hadn't started to think about the day's inevitable tallying up of punishment points.
She knew that she had earned a decent spanking.
She couldn't be sure whether or not she had actually earned a whopper of an ass-blazing, as she did when there were an especially large number of infringements, or when Daddy was feeling strict or in a bad mood, and punished more severely for minor infractions.
Mother had only been gone about 15 minutes when Daddy came knocking on Suzanne's door. She was lying on her belly, on her bed, wearing a t-shirt and a pair of shorts.
She had been studying for a history exam.
"Suzanne, as it's almost time for your weekly punishment session, and since your mother is out shopping, we shall begin early this Sunday. I will be waiting for you downstairs in the basement playroom. You are to come down in fifteen minutes, after you've thought it all over and added anything which needs to be added to your punishment book."
"Yes, Daddy," Suzanne replied respectfully.
"And you are to go into my punishment closet and take out the belt which you think you deserve to be strapped with. Remember, I'll decide how hard you deserve to take it across your flanks, but you'll pick the belt."
"Yes, Daddy," she repeated.
As her father had told her many times, these spankings were for her own benefit.
It he could help her to remember to be aware of her library card at all times, maybe she wouldn't lose it again. With a good spanking, her ass would sting and ache for nearly a week, so that for seven days, at least, she would be hard pressed to forget about the library card every time she tried to sit or run or walk.
She'd feel it on her bottom.
"I'll be waiting for you downstairs in the basement. Remember, fifteen minutes. Any later, and you'll pay for it with punishment strokes - one stroke per minute of lateness."
"Yes, Daddy," Suzanne replied.
She watched her father turn and walk out the door.
She saw the way his muscles flexed as he opened it. She watched the way his slacks hugged the wide muscles of his upper legs, the curve of his buttocks.
The last part she saw of him as he left the room was his hand, big and strong as it was, and she felt that tingle inside her pussy, knowing the way he spanked her with it.
She knew of the power he wielded on her bottom.
Yes, it would stay with her for several days after such a punishment.
She looked at herself in the mirror. At fifteen, her hair was the color of straw.
It was straight, and hung down neatly behind, and in bangs at the front of her face.
She tried to keep her hair neat enough to please her mother who liked it that way, but not too neat, because Daddy liked her to look natural. He even told her that she looked real "sexy" with her long, blonde hair, and her smooth skin, and the few tan freckles over her turned-up little nose.
She felt all flustered to hear it. When the boys at school called her sexy, she turned them away or ignored them. She just never imagined that she would hear those words from her own father.
Her breasts were budding nicely now. She tweaked the tawny nipples whenever she remembered to, because one of the girls at school had advised her that the nipples would grow larger that way. But it was important, this girl had added, that she cup the bottoms of her breast globes and push up on them with a gentle pressure each time she pulled at the nipples. This, it was said, would keep the little globes firm and upturned, and they wouldn't sag despite the fact that no bra was worn.
She wondered if she should actually write down her nightmares in her punishment book. She finally decided that it would be better just to tell her father of the dreams, when the time was right during this assigned hour of discipline.
It was almost ten, minutes after her father had entered the room, and she knew that to be on time, she had better get herself together and pick out a strap for her punishment.
She went into her father's bedroom with the slow but steady pulse which always was part of her at this time so close to her punishment's commencement.
She opened his closet, seeing herself at first in the mirror which was fastened, full length, along the front of the closet door.
Her image reflected in the mirror then moved clearly out of sight along with the high pitched groan of the door as she opened it. The hinges needed greasing.
Her eyes widened when she took in all of the punishment straps which were hanging side by side in her father's special closet.
She knew that each belt did its own work on a girl's unprotected bottom.
She saw the familiar wide belt, the black leather one, which her father wore around his waist when he wore his button-down jeans. She had never been beaten with it, and so she took it from the rack and tested the weight of it against her opened palm.
She couldn't really tell how it would ultimately feel across her bare butt if it were used there by her father. His swing would always be harder than her swing, just because of positioning, leverage, and the strength of his grown man body.
She turned her butt up and smacked herself across the short shorts which clung to her buttocks. She used the thick leather belt.
She could feel the weight of it when she doubled it over and cracked herself with it. Yet, it didn't bite into her or sting her terribly, the way some of the thinner leather belts did.
She placed it on the bed as a possibility.
Her trembling fingers caressed the many other strips of rawhide hanging in the closet. They all seemed so lifeless now. She knew that they would spring to life against a perfectly rounded bottom of bare girl flesh.
She knew from her own experience that these lifeless belts and straps would warm to the heat of her body; would warm to the ass into which they spanked their red hot heat.
She found the leather strap with the- big brass buckle on the end of it. He had never used a buckle on the business end of his spankings of Suzanne, but Suzanne was sure that her father did use the buckle on his wife, Suzanne's mother.
There had been a few words at the dinner table, one time. The words were from Mrs. Amorelli's mouth, and Salvatore told her that he would teach her lesson to keep her from opening her mouth up all the time.
He told her, "You're really gonna get it tonight. I'm gonna give you the buckle tonight."
The words of threat, or promise, sent chills up and down Suzanne's back as she sat at the dinner table and heard her father tell her mother.
She listened carefully for the sound of the heavy brass upon her mother's bared ass, but the walls of the house were thick, and once the door to the bedroom (where he frequently administered discipline to his wife) or to the downstairs playroom, were closed, no sound could be heard except if you put your ear right up to the door.
So she never really knew if her mother had received the buckle, but her mother seemed especially mannered and well-behaved after that incident at the table, the following morning.
Suzanne found the belt which her father had worn in the army. His old army belt.
Then she found a leather belt with her father's first initial in it, designed from little silver studs. She could imagine what the studs would do against a naked ass globe. The belt, in her father's hand, could hit hard enough to emblazon that initial into her flesh.
It was growing late. She could hear the alarm clock in her father's room ticking the minutes away; each minute bringing her closer to her spanking; each spank bringing her closer to her repentance.
She reached instinctively into the closet, almost without looking, and drew out a long, brown leather belt. It was made of a heavy leather. It was slender; about one and a half inches wide, and long enough to fit around her father's thirty inch waist.
She removed it from its rack and took it in her hands.
They were trembling as much as her cunny was, as she walked solemnly through the bedroom and down the stairs to the living room. Then through the living room, into the dining room, into the kitchen and then down the stairs into the basement playroom.
Downstairs, in the playroom, there was the color television, and the ping pong table, and the boxes filled with linens in storage, and old newspaper, and a few garage supplies and wood.
Plus, the room had been converted into the punishment room.
That was what Suzanne knew it was when she saw her father's face.
He had that stern look on his face. His features, all perfect, were still.
A serious expression was on his face. His full lips were closed. His dark eyes were piercing.
"Bring me your punishment book," he told her.
She extended her hands, holding the book, like an obedient little girl.
Her father took the book from her hands. He sat down on one of the pieces of Danish modern furniture. Suzanne remained standing with her head bowed slightly.
Looking downward, she saw the soft extensions of her twin mounds of breast flesh. She saw the subtle curves of her stomach, and the cleft and curve of her pussy.
She saw her feet, and further on, she saw her father's feet.
He was wearing his sweat socks and his bedroom sandals, and his foot was tapping as he read the things which Suzanne had written into her punishment book as being infractions of rules which deserved some punishment and some discipline.
He made notes and compared her listings with the listings he had made based on his observations of her behavior.
"You've been pretty good this week," her father said.
That made Suzanne feel good. It made her feel good to know that she was improving. It also made her feel all glowing inside to know that she pleased her father.
Of course, she knew that there would be a Sunday disciplining session every week, even if there were no punishments earned at all.
There was no such thing as a clean slate, her father would tell her, until after a spanking or similar disciplining session has been administered.
Therefore, even if there is nothing marked in the punishment book, a disciplining would be in order, simply on general principles.
Indeed, Suzanne did admit that she felt a whole lot better after a disciplining session over Daddy's knee. He did indeed spank a lot of badness out of her, and he felt better for being true to what he felt were his responsibilities, too.
He wanted his daughter to be a good girl.
"What have you brought for me to use on you today?" her father asked.
"I have brought this belt, father," she replied, handing it to him.
He held it in his hands and yanked it in both directions, making it snap.
"Fine. This is a fine one," he added.
He told Suzanne, "Assume the position."
She knew by now that this meant that she would have bend over at her waist so that her breasts would hang downward and that her back was kept straight.
The main idea was to raise the buttocks up and out in the back so that the rounded target would be well seen and well reached. She grabbed her ankles and stuck her ass way, way out.
She closed her eyes and awaited her punishment.
But it didn't come that quickly.
Of course not. Her father never started it when she expected it.
He let her wait a while, still stewing, still thinking about why she was being punished.
She heard her father's strict, deep, authoritarian voice cut through the silence of the downstairs playroom.
"You are going to receive twenty strokes of the belt for today's session covering the deeds of infringement of the past week. Five for leaving dishes in the sink after taking a snack; five for leaving clothing on your bed all night instead of depositing it in the proper drawers" (she knew she'd get five for that) "five for ... " And so the last went on.
There seemed to be so many minutes between the time she bent over and the time her father told her to pull down those shorts.
"Pull 'em down!"
She stood up and reached into the waistband of them. She tugged at them until they moved down the round part of her ass, down to her hips, down her thighs.
She was naked, with her shorts rolled up around her ankles.
She grabbed on to her ankles, and raised her twin globes back up again.
They were glowing in the dim light of the downstairs playroom at this hour of the afternoon. Outside, children were playing on the streets at street level, but the sounds of their laughter as they threw footballs back and forth and called each other as the rode their bicycles up and down the block, was blocked out from Suzanne's ears.
She was holding her ankles very tightly. She knew that if she let go of them during the spanking, she would be rewarded with additional punishment. She knew that if she placed her hands back on her blazing buttocks to protect them, she would be strapped right across her hands just as hard as she would have taken it across her butt.
Her bottom globes were very smooth. There was no hair at all on them. The only hairs on her butt were concentrated at the crack of her ass, and they were so fine, golden and downy, that they could only be seen when the light touched. Of course, only her own slender fingers caressed that intimate spot between her rounded legs. She felt the power of her father's gaze sort of breeze through her legs as she stood there with her head bent low. She could feel his eyes on her most private places. She knew that he was able to see the curves of her vagina as she bent over and it peeked out between her legs.
She hoped he didn't see the trickle of cunt cream which oozed from her tender young pussy and ran in a rivulet down the expanse of her creamy inner thigh.
That always happened as she waited for a spanking. She believed that it was caused by the anticipation of it all. She was in the position with her ass raised high, and bared, of course, and the waiting for the inevitable just made her wet. When a girl of fifteen gets all wet inside of her pussy, some of it is bound to drip.
All of a sudden, the belt whistled through the air.
Crack!
It landed squarely against both of her ass cheeks at once.
The impact of it landing so forcefully against her startled her, and nearly knocked her forward at first. But she remained in position, holding her ankles so tightly that she would forget the desire to stand up straight and avoid the next wallop.
But she knew better than to do that, of course.
Crack, crack, crack! The next three strokes were carefully placed.
Daddy knew how he was spanking her. He knew what he was doing. He gave her a spanking on both cheeks at once, making sure to cover every inch of her ass before starting over and striking areas which had already received his anger.
Of course, some spots were more sensitive than others, and by the time the third and forth blows with the belt landed upon these areas, the cheeks were well reddened because of it, and the soreness had already started the bruises to swell and to ache.
"Take your disciplining, you bad girl," Daddy said, as he spanked some sense into her. Over and over again, he gave her the beating.
It was left up to both of them to keep count, but it was Suzanne's responsibility to make sure of the tally if she didn't want to receive any extras.
She had been instructed to keep track of the whipping and to let her father know that she had done so by telling him when he reached the stroke of twenty.
Sometimes, the pain of the spanking was so much, she lost her count.
When she suddenly realized that she had been receiving punishment without keeping track, it always disconcerted her. But she took it as best she could.
She tried to figure out how many she'd taken, but was always certain to make the count go over, rather than under reality, if that was the choice.
She would never attempt to stop it before it had run its natural course.
No, she knew that she would be severely punished for that.
Her father spanked her according to the book. Five strokes were given for the specific infraction of coming home late from school without calling to tell her mother that she would not be home at her regular time. These five strokes were delivered with the doubled-over belt, in quick succession.
Suzanne's bottom was feeling very red and sore after that, and she was given a brief rest before the next series, given for another infraction of her father's rules.
As she stood there with her ass up and her hands clinging to her ankles, and her eyes shut tightly and her teeth gritting and her lips clenched, all in order to withstand the punishment, she wondered if other girls her age were still receiving similar forms of discipline at the whims of their fathers.
If they weren't, she thought that they were sadly lacking in the discipline they deserved to have. It was an honor for her to receive her father's love in this manner.
She was glad he cared enough to keep her in line.
After twenty strokes of the belt had crossed her now blazing bottom, Suzanne told her father, "Thank you, Daddy. Thank you for spanking me."
Daddy caressed the sensitive flesh of the swollen bottom globes.
"You know why I had to spank you," he would tell her.
"Yes, Daddy, because I was bad and because you want to train me to behave."
"Do you feel better now?" he'd ask, running his hands under the globes and in between her legs where the nasty strap had snaked, and bitten, several times.
"Yes, Daddy," Suzanne said, although her voice was quivering because her father was now touching her inner thighs where the cunt cream had dripped.
He knew that she was wet, and she was afraid that he might beat her again for allowing the ooze to flow from her in that manner. But it was just too much cooze fluid to contain inside so delicate a little pussy.
As her father massaged the body he had bruised, Suzanne decided that it was the right time to confide in him about the dreams she had been having.
Mother was out shopping, and so she started, "Daddy, there's something else that I have to tell you."
He continued stroking her battered flesh with his strong, now gentle hands.
He was listening, and told her to begin.
"I've been having these dreams, and I don't know why. They are always different in so far as different situations come up in each of them, but they always end the same. In one, I open the door of the closet and out comes my mother. She's chasing me. She's seen something that I've done, although in my dream, and even now, I can't remember what it was that she's seen."
"Anyway, she starts chasing me, and I duck down, and she goes flying out the window."
Suzanne was aware that her father had stopped his caresses. Her story about her dreams had caused him to stop the movement of his hands on her bottom.
He was listening intently as she continued.
"In another dream, Mother was teasing me. She was telling me that I couldn't do a hula dance as well as she could. We were both nude. I remember seeing her big breasts sticking out, and all that hair above her cunt."
"As for me, my pussy was hairless in this dream, and we were both doing the strange hula dance. At first, she swayed more dramatically than I did. Her hips really moved back and forth, and she had a way of making her belly roll up and down. It was amazing."
"But I did what I could to keep up with her. I wanted to show her that I could wiggle and wriggle my body just as well as she could wiggle and wriggle her body."
"In fact, maybe I could do it even better than she could."
"Well, she liked the way I was doing it at first, I know. I could even see her having a reaction to it, a physical reaction, when she let her hands move from her stomach down into the hills and valleys of her pussy!"
"Her fingers found the slit and she kept sticking them inside of it and bringing out these love oils which she used to slick her pussy lips."
"Her nipples were really extended now. They were firm and standing out many inches from the rest of her breast, or so it seemed. Her aureoles were as large as silver dollars; silver dollars of dropped chocolate, that's what they looked like on the curves of her huge breasts which moved back and forth across her chest with her dance."
"But suddenly, she became angry with me. She had an enraged look on her face, and it became a scarlet red in color. All the veins welled up on her neck. She looked as if she was under a lot of pressure."
"Suddenly, she jumped at me, grabbing at my neck. She forced me down on the floor and I could feel the weight of her on top of me. I felt her breasts pushing heavily against me, and her pussy was rubbing up and down against my thigh."
"The hairs of her snatch were scratching me, and the slit itself was emitting a cream which soaked my leg as I tried to squirm away from her."
"Even in the dream, I saw that it was just impossible to get her away from me. I couldn't even talk to her because she was squeezing my neck. Her fingers were around it and she was exerting pressure. I couldn't get any sound out except some silly little squeak which was almost silent, and more frustrating than silence for communication."
"Finally, I got all of my strength and I fought back against this strange and seemingly unprovoked attack which had begun so innocently with a hula dance."
"I had no choice but to grab at her neck and to force some pressure onto her. I saw her face become twisted with strain, and there was nothing that she could do. I felt my own power."
"I must have been screaming, even in my sleep, because suddenly, Mother herself was in my bedroom. She was shaking me, and I heard her soft, sweet, familiar voice. She was telling me that I'd had a bad dream, and that I was calling out so loudly, she'd heard me as she went to the bathroom in the middle of the night to fetch a glass of water."
"I thanked God that it was all a dream, and that even in the dream, I had not been allowed to go all the way and strangle my mother. It was such a horrible thought and I felt so badly for having dreamed it. I lay there in my bed with a cold sweat broken out on my forehead, as well as all over my body."
"I wondered if dreams were a way of acting out a suppressed desire, or exactly what they were trying to tell me. But I couldn't face my mother with them. I was afraid that she would grow to fear me."
"So I'm telling you all of this now, Daddy. What do you think of it all?"
"I think you deserve a sound, old-fashioned spanking to correct such thoughts, young lady," her father had told her assuredly. "But I mean a hard one to really spank that shit out of you and free your mind of such wicked, wicked thoughts."
He wasn't even going to have her assume the position this time. He wasn't even going to take her and turn her over his knee the way he often did when she had a hard one coming. At such times she would feel the bulge at the front of his pants as it rubbed up and down against her belly as she squirmed in anticipation of the beating.
He would use his left arm to hold her down, for she would kick when the spanking became really hot, and she would arch her sweet ass cheeks this way and that in order to try and avoid the unavoidable spanking.
But this time he had a special spanking in store for her, and he took one of the Danish modern lounge chairs which was part of the basement playroom's decor, and he turned it over so that the legs of it, and the bottom of it, were up in the air.
"Bend over that chair. Rest your belly down, your butt way up," he said as he moved behind a screen where he had some auto equipment. He found a rope, although it was a rough rope which would burn the flesh for the use he was putting it to.
When his little girl had assumed the new punishment position over the bottom of the turned-over lounge chair, he spread her arms and legs and wrapped the ropes around her wrists and ankles many times.
When the wrists and ankles were covered with rope, he extended her hands and feet toward the wooden legs of the couch and fastened the rope around them.
He tied her to the chair. He tied her tightly enough so that she was unable to move. She struggled at first, just to feel the restraints. She soon discovered that she could not move very far. She was placed in bondage, and was helpless.
In a way, it almost seemed to cruel to her. She was such a delicate little girl, and her father was a fully grown, lumbering hulk of a man.
Yet, he took off the belt which he had been wearing around his waist, and combined it with the thin leather strap which he had just used to beat her twenty times.
He swung them both at once, the way a ballplayer will warm up swinging two heavy baseball bats instead of just one. But this was no warm up. It was the real thing.
It heated up her bared ass, pretty well though.
And she struggled vainly, unable to move except to feel the scraping of her wrists and her ankles where they were bound with the ropes and fastened to the bottom of the chair.
Welt after scarlet welt flared up on her naked bottom as time after time she was beaten by her Daddy's disciplining double-straps.
She cried out at the top of her lungs. She could not hold back her tears.
The entire lounge chair was moving with the movements of her body, but she was unable to avoid what was coming to her.
The tears were streaming down her face as he gave her more than fifty hard and fast strokes on the naked bottom which had previously been burned with twenty lashes.
At the end of the spanking, he kissed away her tears and she thanked him for spanking away the guilt and evil thoughts associated with the dreams which had been plaguing her about her relationship with her mother.
Daddy placed the belts which had spanked her close to her face. She could smell the scent of hot leather. She could feel the heat radiating off the leather, and she knew that the heat had been generated by her rounded ass globes.
She could feel the pain which burned inside the newly formed aches as she kissed the belt which had beaten her and thanked her Daddy again.
CHAPTER TWO
They were all so excited to arrive in New York.
They came from Pennsylvania where they had taken up residence, and Daddy had decided that it would be easier not to take the car, but instead, to take the bus and "leave the driving to them."
It had been a pleasant, two and a half hour trip into the city.
Mom and Dad were sitting together with Suzanne in the seat behind as the bus pulled into the station at Port Authority.
It was a warm, summer day, and they stepped down the steps of the bus and out onto the pavement. They felt at once to be part of the city.
This was Suzanne's first visit to New York. Her mother had been in the city once before, and her father had visited New York many times. In fact, he'd been raised in Little Italy, further downtown from the point they were at upon this arrival.
Port Authority was located at Eighth Avenue, a stone's throw away from forty-second street. They started to walk up this street of wet dreams.
Many people were out on the streets, most of them buying or selling.
Maybe it was sex; maybe- it was drugs; whatever, it was available here.
The prostitutes made that known, as they raised their skirts and offered seductive come-ons to everyone and anyone. The black dudes proclaimed that they had "coke, acid, loose joints, ups and downs."
Of course, Suzanne and her family tried to ignore all of these things. Perhaps it was a little bit much for Suzanne's young and tender mind to be exposed to so much at this time. She hung on tightly to her father's hand, feeling the strength of it, yet forgetting, at this moment, that it was his punishing hand.
Her hand felt so little and so slender in his mighty grasp.
But the sight of a huge cock clearly outlined in the tight white slacks of a street hustler, or the harshness of the street music which pervaded these streets, was not enough to do more than scare Suzanne, just a little bit.
However, there was something else about this street which embarrassed her terribly, and she could feel the shaming effects of it in herself.
All over, there were sex books and magazines. They were displayed in store windows. Large posters which served as movie ads for the relentless theaters which lined this street also made Suzanne squeamish - for one very good reason.
You see, there was a heavy emphasis on spanking, dominance and submission in these posters and on the covers of these magazines. There was the pervasive air that it was alright to feel arousal over sex, but that there would be a punishment to pay for it.
The street hustlers proclaimed it in their own way; that they were selling it, not giving it away, for who'll buy it if you offer it for free.
And these posters and pictures were giving Suzanne strange vibrations in her pussy. She was very turned on by the sight of a lovely woman in skintight black leather being turned over the knee of an angry college professor who's about to welt her up a bit with his switch.
She had to look away from the picture of a pretty little schoolgirl, with a short skirt and pigtails, turned over the schoolmaster's desk to receive a beating with a cane.
It was too arousing for her. She didn't want her father to catch her looking at such things. She didn't want her mother to see it, either. And she certainly didn't want her father to see it. Somehow, she was afraid that the sight of another's bottom obediently placed in a position for punishment, might encourage his hard-on to seek other bottoms for discipline.
Along this street, there were even live sex shows of a bizarre nature.
"Black and Blue" one of the sex show marquees proclaimed in bold letters.
From inside, you could hear the sounds of a paddle cracking against a silk-covered bottom.
"She's a bad girl and she's got a big ass," the theater's hawker stood outside announcing. "Go inside and see for yourself how her big, hot ass takes the punishment it deserves. Watch it get all red. Watch the way she begs for more, then begs him to stop. And you'll even be given a chance to participate. Just take a paddle and show that bitch what her flirty butt deserves. Beat her till she comes!"
Well, little Suzanne just thought that she would pass out.
"What's the matter, Suzanne?" her mother asked, quite nervously. "You've gone pale as a ghost."
"I, um, I don't really know. Maybe I just need a glass of water and some rest."
"It's been a long trip," her mother agreed. "And it is very hot out here on these streets. Sal, let's go to the hotel and let Suzanne lie down."
"Alright," Sal replied, heading them toward the hotel in which he had made reservations several weeks in advance.
He was a little bit disappointed at the hotel when they arrived there. The ad in the Yellow Pages promised something a bit more elegant. But for the money, it was not really bad, and so they moved in that afternoon.
They had adjoining rooms. Sal and his wife were set up in room 231, while Suzanne was given room 232 which was separated from the room next door only by a bathroom which both rooms shared.
There was not much that Suzanne could do until her parents were ready to go out with her. She didn't think that she wanted to be alone on the streets of New York.
She turned on the television which the room provided, but the reception was not good, and besides, there was really nothing that she wanted to watch.
She stretched out on the bed and stared at the ceiling, deep in thought.
Then, she heard what she had not heard within the thick walls of her parent's home. She heard the sounds of them, her handsome father and sexy mother - making passionate, unbridled, animalistic love!
It was coming clearly from the adjoining room. Newly arrived in New York, it was like a honeymoon for them, and they were fucking just as soon as they could.
But it wasn't gentle, loving sex. It was rough, wild, uninhibited and animalistic sex. There were cries from her mother, stifled only by a tongue, or perhaps a cock, which gagged her down the throat.
There were grunts and groans from Sal, her father, possibly for the energy expended in getting his huge dick hard, or for the feeling of her warm and wet mouth upon the full length of his shaft.
There were growling sounds coming from the room, too. It sounded as if she were running her fingernails into his strong back, or perhaps he was growling like a vampire as he bit at her neck.
There was no way to peep at them, but Suzanne just had to take the opportunity to get closer to the sounds. She was very careful not to make a noise as she entered the white tiled bathroom which separated the two hotel rooms.
In the bathroom, she could hear the sounds they made.
"Stick it up," Sal told his wife. "Stick up that ass and take it."
Suzanne's fingers fell to the area between her legs. She started to caress the tender cuntal flesh and her fingers found their way into the slit.
She stroked at her clitty, which was very hot, as she listened to the sounds which for some strange reason caused her breathing to get faster and harder.
Her breasts were rising and falling.
She placed her ear against the door which separated one room from the other.
She felt the hot cuntal juices oozing down her inner thighs and she shuddered.
"You know what you're gonna get, don't ya?" she heard her father say.
"No, please, not the hairbrush," her mother replied with a cry in her voice.
"Turn over, I told you," her father insisted, with much strength in his voice.
There was a period of silence which seemed to last for a long time. Suzanne knew from her own experiences that a naked ass was sticking way up, trembling below the raised arm of a strong man who enjoyed prolonging the punishment as long as he could.
All of a sudden, there was a hail of blows in quick succession.
There were screams and cries. Mommy was getting her ass well-spanked.
"You need a good beating, bitch," Salvatore told her. "Take it."
Suzanne listened hard, stroking madly at her pussy. She wondered if her mother were getting the smooth side of the brush or if it was the bristles that were hitting against her naked butt. There was no way to tell from the sound of the smacks or from the cries which followed.
For some strange reason, Suzanne felt her own ass cheeks quiver.
The sound of the beating was enough to make her realize all over again what a good, hard, old-fashioned spanking at the hands of her dominating father felt like.
It didn't take long before Suzanne's cunt was quivering from deep inside.
She leaned her beautiful young body against one tile wall as her inner cunt convulsed, sending shivers throughout her body, especially at her most sensitive points, like her tit nipples, her cunt, and even up her asshole.
The juices were really dripping down her legs now.
She found that she was trembling all over. She had difficulty catching her breath. It felt as if a million tiny needles were caressing her inner pussy.
She was sure that her mother was feeling something much harder on her naked buttocks. She was sure that by now the bared bottom would be blood red.
Again and again, the hairbrush continued to raise red marks on the upturned bottom which was now squirming in vain, trying to avoid the inevitable.
Daddy wasn't going to finish until he was sure she'd had enough to learn her lesson, and after Suzanne had finished coming, she wished that she could go next door and save her mother from more pain.
But she didn't dare. She knew by now that this was part of the family pattern. She wouldn't deprive her mother of the much-needed spankings any more than she wished to have the same deprived of her.
Daddy was a strict, dominating man, and that was all there was to it.
His wife and little girl were glad that he cared enough to beat them.
* * *
Later, they all met in the hotel lobby for an outing.
Suzanne received the telephone call in her room, and she got ready to meet her parents down in the lobby. She brushed her hair, taking a few moments to stand up on the sink of the hotel bathroom to admire her own naked rear in the mirror.
She ran the hairbrush over her naked buns, feeling the weight of it and imagining all sorts of things. There were only bare traces of former punishments on her nearly-flawless ass globes. They were round and full and beautiful.
Spankable.
It was getting late. Suzanne had spent too long admiring her naked rear.
She rushed to make it down to the hotel lobby on time, as she knew that her father was a stickler for punctuality. Certainly, New York City provided enough opportunities to earn punishment points without lateness being one of them.
She rushed downstairs and found that her parents were waiting for her already.
Daddy was standing near the center of the lobby. Mommy was standing also. It was apparent that sitting would still be uncomfortable for her.
But Daddy made no mention of lateness. He was happy to have Suzanne join them. As for Mommy, she was smiling contentedly. There was no reference made to the spanking which Suzanne knew full well had just taken place.
If anything, Mommy was always in a better frame of mind after these disciplining sessions. It was almost as if a tremendous burden had been lifted.
The threesome headed off to take in some of the sights.
They went to the Citicorp Plaza in New York. It was a center of concrete and steel, very modern. The lines of the architecture played with the rest of the magnificent New York skyline.
There was a church on one level of the center, and they went inside and meditated there. There was an air of relaxation and peace there.
They admired the modern sculpture which replaced the traditional stained glass windows in this church.
Upstairs, there was a magnificent shopping plaza filled with food stores, restaurants and fine good stores. Suzanne especially enjoyed sampling the chocolate- covered strawberries. They left a real sweet taste in her mouth.
Suzanne and her mother were standing outside one of the homemade cookie stores, waiting for father Salvatore to pick out some special goodies.
There was a free concert going on in the center of the plaza. The acoustics were extraordinary.
As they were standing there, Suzanne and her mother both caught sight of a well built young man. Suzanne could not recall ever being attracted to a man as much as she was to this one. She could never recall feeling that dampness at her pussy except when listening, or participating in, a spanking from Daddy.
This young man reminded her of her father in that he was massively built in comparison to her slender, feminine charms.
As the young man walked past her, she watched the way his legs were positioned like the legs of a cowboy who had just gotten off his horse after a ride.
She noticed that his body was really well-built, and that his face was rather handsome, too. He was wearing glasses.
Suzanne wanted to say something to her mother about how much she liked the looks of this boy, but she didn't. She really wasn't all that close with her mother.
True, she shared her mother's secret knowledge of her father's hand, and perhaps that alone should have been a bond for them, but it really wasn't.
And then there had been those nightmares.
Suzanne could not forget them.
For a few moments, she forgot about the well-built young man, too, but then, suddenly, there he was again, coming in the other direction.
He was definitely heading toward them, and he was looking their way.
Daddy was leaving the cookie shop at about the same time.
He was heading toward his wife and daughter, too.
Little did any of them know what was going to happen, as the complications would be more than any of them had anticipated.
CHAPTER THREE
At first, Daddy didn't realize that this young man was looking at Suzanne as he walked beyond them in the other direction. He didn't see the way their eyes met, nor did he see the shy smiles on both of their faces.
As for Suzanne, as excited as her little cunny was over him, she wasn't really sure if he was looking at her or her mother.
Mother was a very attractive woman, and it was possible that the boy liked older women.
It didn't take too long for Salvatore to sense that something was up.
He saw the guy standing around, shuffling his feet, looking at both women with a sort of mooning look on his handsome young face.
"It looks like that guy over there is interested in one of you," he said.
The guy was so handsome, Suzanne thought, that she had to seize this opportunity.
Here she was in New York City for the first time, and she had a handsome young native interested in her. She really wanted to experience him.
After all, she was a young teenager, and although her experience with boys was limited, that was by her choosing. Maybe she just hadn't found the right fellows back home in Pennsylvania. Here she was in big New York, and she wanted to find out.
She had never done anything like this before, since she always felt rather inhibited in the company of her parents, with whom she went out most often.
But this time, she just couldn't resist. There was no doubt that he was her ideal dream man, physically, at least. There was something in his smile which suggested to her that there was a spiritual quality which was even more important, perhaps, but that burning feeling between her legs was what made her know without question that she had to have her chance with him.
Standing there, thinking about taking the opportunity, she realized that he was a bit on the shy side, even though he had made his interest apparent.
She also realized it would be easier for her to leave her parents and walk up to him than for him to approach her in the presence of her parents.
After all, they would have more privacy if she went to him, and besides, it was a bit intimidating to have two adults there as well as she herself.
Also, this girl who had been so long under the domination of her strict father enjoyed taking the lead in this instance.
"Excuse me," she said. "I'm going to find out what that boy wants," she told her parents.
As walked toward him in a direct line. She really had no idea as to what she would say to him. But she knew that he would be responsive from the smile he offered her.
"Hi," he said.
"Hi," she said.
"What are you up to?" he said.
"Oh, just sightseeing. I'm in from out of town with my parents," she said, pointing to them. Mother was sampling a cookie. Daddy's eyebrows were arched sternly.
"Oh, that's great. Where are you from?"
"I'm from Pennsylvania," she replied.
"How long have you been here?"
"Oh, we've only been in New York a few hours. This is our first sight, really."
"Wow, that's great. It's a first for me, too," he said.
"Oh, do you live out of town?" she asked him sweetly.
"No, I'm a New Yorker. As a matter of fact, I'm one of those rare native New Yorkers. I was born here. I've gone other places, but I always return. I love it."
"But I thought you said that this was new for you?"
"Oh, it is," he told Suzanne. "I've been living in a great apartment on the west side for two years. I don't get over to the east side of town very often. Gee, I'd love to play piano in this concert hall. The sound is terrific."
"I bet everybody would applaud you," she told him, smiling.
"Oh, don't say that until you've heard me play. I'm afraid the guards might try and take me away if I started to give a free concert here."
"I should think they'd give you a contract," Suzanne laughed, looking at his muscled chest through the fishnet t-shirt which clung to his wide frame which tapered down into a narrow waist, and then into a snug pair of jeans which revealed a considerable bulge of flesh going down his left leg.
"That would be nice," he laughed, taking his chance to watch the way one long hair curled from her head, into her mouth where it became slicked with her saliva. He saw the way her nipples were pressing insistently against the front of her blouse, and the way she kept moving her weight from one leg to the next in an apparent effort to cope with the intense stimulation which was growing between her legs.
"Well," she said, after a short pause, "I'm here with my parents. I guess that it would be alright if you wanted to join us. Maybe you could give us a little tour of the city."
"Oh, that sounds nice. I just went to a movie, by myself. It was terrible. The movie, I mean. It was a French film. It felt good to see how much of the French I understood, though."
She was impressed.
He walked back with her to where her parents were standing.
She knew that Daddy had to be the first person she introduced him to. Unfortunately, Daddy was staring off into the distance. It was obvious that he really was not interested in being introduced to this stranger.
There had not been many occasions for Suzanne to see the way her father reacted in the presence of a potential boyfriend. It had just never come up.
But right from the beginning this time, Suzanne was aware that her father was not being hospitable. Not at all.
Mother was very pleasant about the whole thing though.
"Oh, yes, the boy, who introduced himself to Suzanne as "Mike," had told Suzanne that he'd been staring at her, thinking, "Good things come in small packages."
How happy that made her! It meant that he had indeed been interested in Suzanne and not in her mother, who was much taller and much bustier.
Now Mike was making conversation, telling them all that he was a gymnast.
Naturally, Suzanne and her mother were interested in that fact, as it explained the discipline which he exerted in his own direction in order to develop so perfect a physical form. His body was indeed magnificent, and now it became apparent that he exercised all the time. He was telling about the discipline of it.
Suzanne tried to get her father involved in the conversation as she had often seen his friendly side at times like this. But he was decidedly cool at this point and did not take up any of the cues which invited him into the conversation.
Mother, too, was becoming aware that Salvatore was not enjoying himself.
Something was bugging him. He was obviously uncomfortable, although Mike was a very nice young man and Suzanne knew that it was Daddy who was making himself feel uncomfortable.
"Is it time for us to go?" Suzanne's mother asked Salvatore.
Salvatore grimaced.
"It is," he said curtly.
Mike looked at Suzanne with a look which said, "What now?"
He was horny as hell for her, and she was horny as hell for him.
Again, Suzanne simply had to take the initiative. She knew that if she let him go now, he would vanish forever into the vast tapestry which was New York.
She just had to see him. His manner confirmed that, as did his body, close up.
She had a mad desire to touch him. His strong stomach muscles rippled through the fishnet t-shirt. His massive biceps were bulging, too.
She stepped aside, away from her parents by a few feet.
She looked into Mike's eyes, and she glanced down at the bulge in the front of his jeans. It seemed to be bigger now than it had been before.
And there seemed to be a wet spot at the place where the head would be.
She wanted to kneel down then and there and look straight at it to make certain. She wanted to stick out her tongue and lick it right through the material of his blue jeans.
But she had to get back with her parents. She could tell that Daddy was really pissed off, and she knew that she'd be earning a more severe spanking with each second she delayed.
But this only made her look at the strong arms of Mike.
Golly, he was so damn strong, she found herself wondering what it would be like to suffer a beating at his insistence. She wondered if he had a temper.
"Listen," she finally blurted. "I'm at the Gorham Hotel."
She gave him the room number and told to make sure that he didn't ask for her parents' room instead. That would be a mistake!
He handed her a small piece of paper on which he'd quickly written his name and number, and she was glad that he did, because she really wanted to get together with him before the end of this vacation, and she told him so.
He smiled at her, then turned and said goodbye to her mother and father. She noticed that he gave her father an extra-nice smile, which was not returned.
It had been obvious to him as well as to her that her father was the one who was putting a damper on his joining them. She was upset about that, but that's what was so, and now that it had happened, she couldn't change it.
All she could do was deal with it.
She watched as his muscled hulk of a body moved slowly up a stairway.
"You can go with him if you want to," her father said abruptly upon her return.
She didn't know quite what to say. He had been so hostile, and now ...
"No, really, you can go," he repeated. "I know you want to be with him, don't you?"
Suzanne wasn't sure if this was some kind of a trick being played on her by her father. Maybe it would earn her an extra hard spanking.
Sure, she was certain that Mike was a safe person to go with, even though she didn't know him. He was just a stranger in New York City.
That was why it was hard for her to believe that her father was willing to allow her to go off with him. He could have been a killer or a rapist, or anything.
But she knew, in her own heart, that he was good - and hot.
"Well," she finally said, as Mike disappeared from view, "I would like to get to know him. He's very nice."
"Go, then," her father said.
But he still had a mean look on his face and Suzanne was concerned that he was angry with her. She asked him about it. She asked if anything was wrong.
"You take care of yourself and I'll take care of myself," he told her.
She knew that he would also "take care of her" when she returned after the date. He would take care of her with the back of his hand, and the front, too.
Over and over again.
Harder and harder.
Faster and ...
"Alright," she said. "I have the key to my room and I'm sure I'll be alright. I'll see you later," she said to her parents.
She felt good about following her feelings. It was true that at this moment she didn't want to be with her parents. She thought she wanted to be with Mike.
Suzanne raced up the stairs. It was an escalator, but it wasn't running at the moment. She was the one who was running. When she reached the top of the stairway, she saw that there were at least four directions to choose from.
Which way did Mike go?
"Shit," she cursed to herself.
She turned to her left and walked into the upper level of the plaza.
But she came quickly to a dead end. He wasn't there.
"Fuck," she cursed again. "Where is he?"
She tried the door which she passed up before. It lead to the outside.
Hopefully, she looked down the block for him. She was certain she would recognize the huge, bulky frame which she so desperately wanted to feel against her, on top of her. But the street was dark, and he was nowhere to be seen in the collection of people who roamed it or milled about.
She tried to imagine where he would go and she followed her instincts, despite the fact that she knew so little about New York, and really wasn't certain where she was going.
After about fifteen minutes, she realized that it was futile.
She had lost him.
She held the scrap of paper on which he had written his name and number, tightly in the palm of her hand. The sweat of her palm had caused the letters of his name to run together.
She finally decided that perhaps he had headed home. She thought that it would all work out for the best after all, and so she started back toward the hotel.
Suzanne decided that she would telephone his number from the hotel, and then she would be able to take a cab and join him at his place.
Yes, that was what she would do. It was a perfect solution.
She had made mental notes of various places she and her family had walked by to get to the Citicorp Plaza, and using these signposts, she found her way back to the hotel.
She went up to her room, and the first thing she did was call him.
To her surprise, the telephone rang two times and then there was a voice.
"Hello, I'm not at home right now," said a recorded voice. She recognized the voice as Mike's. Again, a feeling of wetness came to her pussy.
She placed her hand between her legs.
"Wait until you hear the beep," the recorded voice said. "Then leave your name, number, and message. I'll get back to you as soon as I can."
B-e-e-e-e-p ...
They didn't do this so often in Mt. Bethel, Pennsylvania.
Suzanne had to think fast.
"Hi, Mike. This is Suzanne," she said, aware of the tremor in her voice.
"You just met in the Citicorp Plaza," she added, to make certain that he would remember her. "I decided to come back to my hotel, and I'd like to get together with you. Please call me. Bye."
She hung up.
She waited for him to call.
She went into the bathroom. She wanted to wash her hair so that it would be real soft, and shiny, and silky for his mouth, his nose, his flesh.
But she didn't want to risk missing his call by being in the shower when it came. She might not hear it with the water running, she realized.
And so, she went out into the other room and watched some television.
She thought about what she would wear to see him again, and decided that she would stick to the blouse and jeans which she'd been wearing when they met.
After all, why change her appearance when he had expressed interest in her just the way she was then?
After about an hour and a half, the telephone rang.
"Hello, Suzanne?"
"Hi!" she exclaimed.
"Uh, this is Mike," he added. (That wasn't necessary. She knew it was him even before he'd said a word. His voice had only confirmed it.)
"You left a message for me on my machine," he said.
"Yes, I came right back to the hotel. I was hoping we could get together."
"Gee, I wish that you had thought of that an hour and half before. I mean, I wouldn't have gone downtown."
It sounded as if he'd found somebody else instead, and was no longer hot.
"As a matter of fact, I did change my mind back at the Citicorp Plaza. I ran after you. But by the time I got up the stairs, you were gone."
"I was walking real slow," he told her. "I'd hoped you'd change your mind."
"Well, I did. Can I come over?"
"It's a bit late now," he said. "I have to be up tomorrow morning."
Back at the Citicorp Plaza he'd been so hot for her, he'd let her know that he would make room for her in his busy schedule. Now he didn't seem so sure.
"Call me tomorrow between three and four," he said. "If I'm not here, leave a message for me and I'll get back to you."
Well, at least there was hope. And Suzanne consoled herself with the fact that he called her as soon as he'd gotten home, and that he had kept her number at the hotel (as she hadn't left it on the answering machine, and still, he'd called her.)
She breathed a sexy goodbye into the receiver, and just in time, too.
Daddy and Mommy were back.
She heard them enter their room, and a moment later, Daddy came through the divider which separated the rooms by the bathroom in between.
He'd been drinking. She could smell the liquor on his breath.
"Where's Mommy?" she asked, having assumed that her mother would be there, although now it certainly seemed that her father was alone.
"She's waiting downstairs in the lobby. I told her to give me a while up here alone with you. There's something we have to get straight," he told her.
He was speaking real seriously. His voice was deep and commanding.
"Y-y-yes, Daddy," she stammered sweetly. "What is it? Are you going to spank me?"
"You know I am," he said in all seriousness. "And I'm going to do more than that. I'm going to teach you some manners and some lessons that you'll never forget," he said.
Instead of reaching for his belt, he reached for his cock!
He grabbed it through the material of his slacks and held it around at the base so that the length of it was clearly outlined for Suzanne's terrified eyes.
"Oh, no, Daddy!" she gasped.
He was on top of her in an instant, forcing her to the bed with his masterful body. He overpowered her with ease. She tried to scream, but he grabbed a pair of stockings which she had left on the chair, and he stuffed her mouth with them.
He pressed his body into her body. She squirmed, trying vainly to get away from him. He was simply too strong. She couldn't stop him from thrusting his pelvis into her pelvis. She couldn't escape feeling his fleshy pole grow stiff against her virgin pussy.
He stuck his big, pink tongue out, like an animal, and lapped at her neck.
One long stroke of his tongue muscle covered most of her delicate neck with his hot saliva.
His mouth found its way to her ear. He bit into her ear lobe.
She felt her own stockings inside of her mouth gagging her.
She felt his stiff prick stabbing her pussy realm, again and again.
She could smell his breath in her face, and she could feel his muscles on top of her. Strangely, it started her pussy to juicing, but she knew that it was very, very wrong. She knew that it was a sin for a father to fuck his little girl.
No, she didn't want it. She wanted him to train her, and to make her behave.
But these tactics of discipline were simply too much to take.
It was unnatural!
Daddy quickly turned her around over his knee.
He was sitting on the side of the bed now, and his cock, still hard, was pumping her cunny. It made her ass rise up to meet his stroking palm.
He hadn't raped her. He hadn't performed an act of sexual incest.
Had it just been Suzanne's imagination that his disciplining session had gotten out of hand?
She couldn't be sure.
Was this spanking like all the others had been?
Was she perceiving more about the pattern which had already been established by her constant spankings, or was she simply seeing that something more had been added?
She was fairly certain that Mike had something to do with all of this.
Jealousy, apparently, was a family trait. She had been jealous of the relationship between her father and her mother. Now her father was jealous of the relationship between her and Mike.
It was silly, really. Mike posed no threat to her Daddy.
Her Daddy had loved her and had taken care of her all these years.
Her Daddy was the one who spanked her when she needed it. Regularly!
Mike was just a handsome young stud who appealed to her. Being in New York for so short a time, she wanted to take advantage of getting to know him.
She wanted to broaden her horizons; expand her experiences.
Certainly Daddy wouldn't be jealous about that, would he?
Her blazing bottom told the answer.
He used his hand on her to warm her bottom up. When he had covered every portion of her twin globes and the backs of her upper thighs with the palm of his very hot hand, he took over with a thin, leather strap.
She thought she felt something pulsating between his legs as he strapped her.
But she was too concerned with the blazing spankings which burned her poor ass to be fully aware of anything at her pussy, despite its huge size.
He left her on her bed, face down, red ass up.
He left her to cry all night long.
His hands were still hot when he placed them on his wife's breasts.
They made passionate love in the room next door while Suzanne cried herself to sleep.
Hot as her father's hands were, they were cool compared to her poor ass.
CHAPTER FOUR
The next day, everything was fine between Suzanne and her father, although at one point, he did ask her about her date with Mike.
"I came directly back to the hotel," she told her father. "When I left you, it was too late to find him. So I went back to the hotel."
"Why didn't you come back to us?" her father asked of her.
She knew the reason. Not only was it a matter of looking for Mike. More than that, her energy had changed. She didn't want to be with her father at that time.
"Oh, it doesn't matter," he said abruptly, getting her off the hook since she was not forced to answer him on this question. "You're back with us now."
It was as if he were demanding a very close, and closed relationship.
Had he really spanked her because she'd shown interest in somebody other than her family members?
She couldn't be sure, and she didn't want to bring it up.
The family went out for an early lunch. They went to a restaurant which looked out over Central Park. It was quite beautiful in the park at this time of year, and the view was quite lovely.
The meal was very good, too, although Suzanne was not sure of which fork to use for what, and whether or not to leave her fork on her empty plate after finishing or to place it on the table. The place was very fancy, and she was concerned.
The time went quickly, and pleasantly, despite several references to spanking which made both Suzanne and her mother less than comfortable as they squirmed from ass cheek to ass cheek on their hard-bottomed, straight-backed chairs.
After lunch, they all took a walk into the park. Suzanne had heard stories about muggers and maniacs who roamed the park, but there was no sign of any of them.
There were, however, a number of young Hispanic youths hanging out in the park. One of them whistled at Suzanne, who ignored it, of course.
Actually, she was flattered, and would have looked back.
But there was no reason to risk that in the presence of her father. Not after the spanking which followed her flirtation with Mike the night before.
Further on into the park, a group of young black men called out to them. They sang out a song about buying cocaine, hash, grass and pills.
Suzanne was afraid. She clung close on her father's arm. Her mother did the same.
Salvatore just sucked in his stomach and heaved out his chest.
He was sure that nobody would press a point with the likes of him. He could defend himself just in case they tried it, but nobody did.
They came to a lake and watched the few people in boats on it. For a lark, they rented one of the row boats, and as it became warmer in the sun, Salvatore took off his shirt and rowed them along. Suzanne watched the way his muscles flexed as he pulled the oars through the water. A trickle of sweat dripped down from his armpits.
She sighed and breathed in the scent of him.
But she was thinking about Mike.
After about an hour on the water, they walked to the carousel, but they didn't take a ride. Daddy was interested in taking in a Broadway show, and he and Mommy decided to go to the place off Duffy Square where half price tickets were being sold. They were tickets which went on sale that afternoon for the shows of that evening, and there was a line of people waiting to get these goodies.
As for Suzanne, who knew that it was fast approaching the hour she was to phone Mike, she excused herself, saying that she was tired and that she was going back to the hotel to rest. She said that already she knew her way around so that her parents would not be worried about leaving her alone.
She wanted to make sure that she had some time without them while in the city.
She walked quickly back to the hotel. When she reached her room at about three thirty, the telephone was ringing!
She reached for it, knowing that not too many people could be calling her. She certainly hoped that it was Mike, and indeed, it certainly was!
She was happy to hear from him. They stayed on the telephone for a while as he was enthused about a tape he had recorded earlier that day. He placed the receiver next to his tape speakers and let her hear his original composition.
Over the telephone, she couldn't really hear it too well, but what she heard sounded very nice. She knew that she was no longer in Pennsylvania.
The boys just didn't do things like this in Pennsylvania.
After some more conversation, he told her where he lived and how to get there. It was only a walk from where she was staying, down on forty-third street in a building which was filled with artists and musicians.
She told him that she would be there within forty-five minutes. She left a note on her bed for her parents, and a duplicate note which she slipped under their door. She wrote that she was going out exploring, or maybe to take in a movie. She added that she wouldn't be going far and that she would be very careful.
She knew that New York had a reputation for being a dangerous town, and she didn't want to give her parents any cause for worry.
She virtually ran to the apartment building on West forty-third Street.
As she approached it, she saw Mike. He was on roller skates!
He was quite a colorful character. She had to laugh; she just couldn't hold back her smile, when she noticed the way everybody in the neighborhood smiled at him. He was very friendly and everybody liked him.
He skated to the corner to mail a letter, impressing her with some fancy formations which zigzagged him back and forth and all around at the corner.
She was so damn hot for him, she just could hardly wait to get up into his apartment. She had never experienced this with a boy before.
Maybe it was because of the close relationship she shared with her father.
Maybe it was because she was still a young teenager and she had never really met a boy who sent tingles up into her cunny before.
What did it matter? It really didn't matter at all.
When he suggested that they go back to his place, she was delighted.
She stood close to him in the small elevator. He was as muscled as he had been the night before when they'd met. She was as aroused as she'd been then.
Her pussy was juicing and there was much dampness at her crotch.
She wondered if he could smell it, that close to her as he was in the elevator.
Once inside his apartment, she admired the view from the windows, as he admired the view of her long and lovely legs. He was especially attracted to her rounded ass. He was an ass man.
"Would you like to smoke?" he asked her.
"Oh, I don't smoke," she replied innocently.
"You don't smoke grass?" he asked.
"Oh," she said.
She hadn't realized quite what he meant.
"I've never tried it," she said, knowing that her father would beat the shit out of her if he ever even suspected that she'd taken a puff of dope.
But Mike didn't seem to be a pervert, or a drug addict.
She sat opposite at the round dining room table as he placed some grass into a pipe. She watched his features as he lit it and puffed the smoke in.
He held it in his mouth and forced it gently down into his lungs.
He closed his eyes and when he'd had enough, he let out the sound of "ahhhh."
Suzanne smiled a tentative, but none the less seductive smile, and took the pipe when he handed it to her. Her soft fingers caressed his own as she did so.
Suzanne then placed the tip of the pipe between her perky lips. She sucked the smoke in as she'd seen him do.
"Hold it in," he told her, and the authoritarian tone of his voice was enough for her to follow the directive, despite the urge to cough it out.
Mike reminded her of her father in that respect.
He didn't have to yell to get his point across. His manly voice conveyed it all.
"That's it," he smiled as she sucked the smoke into herself.
When she handed the pipe back to him, the tip of it was wet with her saliva.
She watched it wet his own lips as he took it.
She found that she was very much aware of the folds of her young pussy as she sat there. And she realized that she was very curious about his cock. She had seen the bulge of it through the front of his pants, but was curious to feel it, to see it naked, and even to suck it.
"Your father and mother seemed nice enough," Mike said as he handed the pipe back to Suzanne. "Your father seemed to be running the show, though."
"He is the boss," she told Mike.
"He looks like the type who comes home and beats up on his wife," Mike joked.
It was not a joke as far as Suzanne was concerned. She couldn't help but feel that certain "funny" feeling in the pit of her belly to hear these words from Mike. She was beginning to realize that she had developed something of a fetish for spanking after being so severely and so regularly, and so ritualistically spanked.
"I think some discipline is good for a girl," Suzanne said.
"Oh, so do I. Some men say that a girl is like a carpet. She should be taken outside and beaten regularly. That will keep her clean."
Suzanne felt tingles at the innermost part of her quivering quim.
She was afraid that she would spasm into orgasm, right then and there in the chair, without even being touched. Her mind was very powerful. It could turn her on with this kind of mental provocation.
Of course, Mike didn't even realize that his simple conversation was a sexual one for Suzanne. The overtones of meaning were arousing her dripping snatch.
"How do you like the grass?" Mike asked after a while.
"Oh, it's fine, I guess, but I don't feel anything from it."
He grinned.
"What are you smiling at?" she asked.
"I think you're really stoned," he told her. "If you weren't stoned, would you have your legs spread apart like that?"
She looked down. To her amazement, she had unconsciously parted her legs and had begun stroking her inner thighs. She had started undulating her pussy flesh, tickling the outer meat with her fingernails as she sat there.
"Oh, my goodness!" she snapped, closing her legs fast.
"No, I like it like that," he said, and he took his hand and placed it on her inner thigh. With a gentle, steady pressure, he parted her thighs again.
He stroked her in her most sensitive places until she was writhing in her chair.
"If we weren't stoned, do you think we'd be doing this?" he asked her.
"I don't know," she replied. "But I like it a lot."
She watched as he stood before her and placed his crotch against the side of her face. She watched also as he unzipped his fly, opened the top of his jeans, and allowed his cock and balls to flop out. He was not wearing underwear.
He stroked his veiny prick until he managed to evoke a clear drop of pre-cum which oozed from the piss slit of his purplish, bulbous cock head.
Suzanne moaned as she stuck her tongue way out. The warm, wet tongue muscle found the droplet of cum at the tip of his cock. With the gentle movement of her tongue, she managed to make the dew drop become a thin string.
It connected his prick head with her mouth.
He reached down and felt her soft, blonde hair in his hand. He exerted a gentle pressure on her head, directing it further to the cock.
She breathed him in. The grass she'd smoked for the first time made her very aware of every sensation. She could smell the sweat of his pubic patch.
This was not only the first time that she'd smoked, but it was also the first time that she'd been so close to a naked cock. Her experiences with her father never had included the baring of his genitals.
She moved one trembling hand to the heavy sac which hung down from the root of his cock. She felt the hairy sac of balls and played with them as she licked his cock shaft, and flicked her tongue around the flared head until he moaned.
When she had him moaning with pleasure simply by doing what came most naturally to her, based upon her female desires, he reached down to her parted legs and unzipped her. He began touching her pussy flesh like nobody had ever touched her.
She had played with her snatch many times, and had learned how to give herself tremendous pleasure with her own female fingers.
She knew just how to tease her clitoris to evoke cries of desire.
She knew just how to run her fingers along the tightly stretched membrane which defined her as a virgin. She knew, of course, not to press too hard into that delicate area, for she knew that if it broke, her virginity would be gone along with it.
She knew that it felt wonderful to caress the inner folds of her moistening cunt lips, but she wondered also how it would feel to have a cock inside the deeper caverns of her cunt.
"Ahhhhhh," she sighed, as Mike made her ooze profusely.
"Suck my big dick," he told her, moving his hand back to her head as he forced her onto his stiff penis. "Suck it," he repeated as her mouth opened up.
Taking the big prick head into her mouth was like taking a lollipop.
She started sucking gently on the warm, soft flesh of it. It tasted like a mushroom to her as she sucked on it. Saliva dripped from her lips.
He pulsated his shaft by working his sphincter muscle inside his asshole.
This caused the pecker to move back and forth with a life of its own inside of her sucking oral cavity. But it was moving so much, she was afraid that it would slip from her mouth. She didn't want to lose it.
So she went down further on it, taking some of the thick shaft into her mouth, too. Each time she took more of his fleshy organ into the warm, wet channel of her mouth, and onward down into her throat, he groaned, and so did she.
Soon, he had all of it in her. Eight inches deep into her throat, his cock found the shape of her inner oral cavity and made her adjust it to accommodate his rod. The prick was hard as iron now, and her soft palate, way down where her mouth became her throat, took every bit of it.
"Yeah, suck that big dick, baby," he groaned in near-ecstasy as he started to pump her face. She could feel the curly wires of his sweaty pubic patch against her lips and nose as he grinded every last inch into her mouth and made her swallow it.
When she started to gag on it, he wriggled it out, although not all the way.
He was just giving her a breather before shoving it back down into her.
It was like a sword of flesh, and she was determined to suck it off.
When she felt his balls bouncing against her chin, she bit down slightly into the very base of his big boner so that he would know how far she had taken it.
But this only turned him on more, and he started to bump his body into her with a relentless motion. He face-fucked her for ten minutes.
Several times he felt the scum bubbling up in his balls. It felt as if he were going to shoot it, and she could feel the pulsating pressure building in the veiny shaft of the throbbing member.
But he would always stop just before ejaculating.
This prolonged the sucking.
After a while, her jaw was tired. It was time to change positions.
He pulled his cock out of her suctioning lips. It escaped her lips with a wet, popping noise.
Still stiff and standing up with a wicked curve in it, it bounced up and down as his strong arms lifted her from the chair. With deft fingers, he began to undress her.
Never having had been undressed by a man before, she was breathing very hard.
Droplets of sweat traced a wet path down from her underarms, and droplets of honeyed nectar flowed down her inner thighs, forming a sizzling pool at her feet.
He unbuttoned her blouse, running his hands over her smooth shoulders.
The blouse opened up, revealing a lacy, girl's bra.
She helped him unfasten it, as girls are usually more adept at that than men.
It fell off gracefully, exposing her milk white breasts. The flesh was the color of alabaster, but the globes themselves were soft and warm, and the tawny young nipples responded to Mike's touch.
He placed his face down on the breasts. Up close, he could see the delicate veins which ran through the budding young breasts of this gorgeous girl.
She undid the catch at the waistband of her jeans, but it was Mike who pulled them down over the mounds of ass flesh which he craved so very much.
He placed his palms on the full, fleshy globes, and squeezed.
"Ouch," she had to tell him. "Not so hard, please."
The effects of the spanking which her father had laid on her were still very much with her now. Although she was a strong girl, and very used to pain in her buttocks, it would be foolish to assume that she could forget about the night before.
After all, she had received her spanking for being with the man she was now ready to go to bed with.
He pulled his jeans off of his feet, and his cock jumped up as the pants came all the way down. He pulled off his shirt, revealing those well worked muscles.
She ran her hands over the bulging biceps and she ran her fingers down into his armpits. When her hands were full of his sweat, she placed her fingers to her nostrils and breathed it in. Then she sucked on her fingers, drinking his sweat.
He liked that. It turned him on. He had other juices for her to drink.
"You're such a man," she moaned, running her tongue over the muscles of his chest. She felt the little nipples standing at attention, just as her own were firm and ready for battle against his body.
She ran her tongue muscle over his muscles, tracing a path of wetness down over the ripples of his washboard muscles at his stomach.
"I do a lot of setups," he told her. "I'd like to do a lot of pushups, too, with your naked body underneath me."
"I'd part my legs and open up for you," she moaned hotly. "I'd take you inside of me and feel you stroking inside of my pussy with your prick."
He stood back to admire her. She was perfection.
Then he showed her how he had learned to stand on his hands in a gymnastics class. He placed his palms down on the floor with enough space between them to give him support. Then he put his weight on his hands, and all the muscles of his arms and chest flexed up.
He kicked himself up and slowly brought his legs up behind him until they were straight up in the air. His big dick and low-hanging balls were now flopping down in the direction of his head.
With his head down at her feet, he could look up and see her pussy. The golden hairs above the slit were glistening in the afternoon light which came in through the window.
She moaned as he did still another trick while balanced on his hands. Slowly, he parted his raised legs, spreading them apart.
His asshole was fully exposed now, and Suzanne couldn't hold herself back.
Maybe it was the grass she had smoked which freed her of her inhibitions.
Maybe it was the fact that she was in New York on a vacation.
Maybe it was the sight of his muscular legs, parting to expose the puckered flesh of his manly young asshole.
Maybe it was just her animal instincts. She was a hot little girl who had never been with a man. Her father had ruled her - sometimes with a ruler!
Now, she touched him between his legs and brought her mouth down toward his asshole. She was standing so her naked pussy rubbed against his body, squeezing its juices out onto him.
Her mouth found the quivering flesh of his butt. She was scared at first, and moved her lips quite gingerly over the soft folds of private flesh.
Gradually, the sight and smell of him in that private place spurred her on until she was rubbing her face between his legs and over his ass.
Her face would smell of his sweat.
He was straining to remain balanced on his hands with his legs in the air like that. Blood was rushing to his head. His arms were trembling from the weight they were supporting.
But when her warm, wet tongue muscles probed the crack and licked the hairs around his anus into her mouth like so much spaghetti, he made every effort to remain in that position to savor the full sensation of her hungry young girl-mouth.
She was deliberately dripping saliva from her mouth onto his asshole, and then sucking it up. He allowed her to have her way with his ass, and when she finally inserted the tip of her delicate female tongue into his musty hole, he groaned.
It was just too much, and he had to come down. She moved right along with him. Both of their finely shaped, naked young bodies moved as in a ballet.
They moved together, connected to one another at his ass.
Her tongue was now deep inside, and he closed the walls of the channel around it.
She bit gently at the outside of his asshole.
He was ready for her ass now. He was starved for it.
He grabbed her cheeks and directed her body onto his bed. He flopped her down on it so that her butt was sticking up and her golden-haired pussy was peeking out from between the globes of her ass.
Mike looked at her ass and gasped.
"You've been spanked!" he said.
CHAPTER FIVE
Suzanne was embarrassed.
She had no idea that there were signs that she'd been spanked.
"What makes you say that?" she asked.
"Well, there are hand prints on your ass cheeks. Why, the hand is larger than mine. Somebody with a big hand smacked you so hard, it left a print."
"Are you sure?"
"Don't you know whether or not you were spanked?" he replied. "Who did this?"
"Oh, I was attacked in Central Park," she lied. She couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth - that she'd been spanked by her father and that spankings were a regular part of her discipline routine.
"You mean, somebody grabbed you and spanked you?"
"Yes, I was shocked. He pulled down my pants, pulled down my panties, and hit me as hard as he could."
"Did he rape you?" Mike asked.
"No, no. I'm still a virgin. He was only interested in spanking me."
"How odd," Mike mused. "A spanker is on the loose. Well, did you report it to the police?"
"Oh, no. I'd be too embarrassed to do anything like that. I'd have to pull down my pants and panties and show them the evidence. Besides, this guy in the park was only doing it for fun. He really didn't hurt me."
"Didn't hurt you? Why, you'll have a black and blue mark there."
"I really had no idea there was any bruise there at all."
"Well, there certainly is," he said emphatically.
"Does it turn you on?" she rasped, a seductive smile coming to her lips as she licked them. "Does it make you want to spank over those bruises and make new ones on my naked flesh so that I'll wear your tattoos on my hot little ass?"
"Of course not," Mike said. "I'm not into that kind of treatment at all. I'm a lover, not a fighter."
Suzanne suddenly felt strangely let down. Mike was so nice. He was too nice.
She realized that she had become trained to her father's discipline.
It had always seemed that it was offered as punishment - well-deserved punishment which would train her to behave the way she should.
But now that she thought back on her experiences, she realized other implications.
She realized that the bulging bump of man-flesh which poked at her cunny when she was placed over her Daddy's knees was not just accidental.
It had aroused her, and she had longed for it in dreams.
She realized now that the nightmares she'd experienced about her mother were not just silly fantasies, either. There were reasons for them, and the reasons were rooted in a jealousy she experienced. Her mother received spankings almost every night! She received spankings only once a week.
"You're not into spankings as part of sex, are you?" Mike asked.
Up until today, she would have never thought so. Up until these new realizations, she would have never even considered spanking as part of a sexual scene.
But today she resented the way he phrased his question - "You're not into spankings, are you?" - as if she'd be perverted to answer in the affirmative.
"I never really thought about it until today," she told him.
"I could see how getting an unexpected beating in the park could ... "
"But I can see where it might be interesting," she interrupted. "I mean, it does provide a sensation on a tender part of a girl's anatomy," she continued, sort of thinking her situation out aloud, as if she were speaking to a psychiatrist.
She continued.
"You know, the rounded globes of a firm young buttocks are very inviting to many men."
"I know," the ass lover said. "I know that very well."
"So naturally, a pair of cheeks like mine just invite spanking. I mean, look at the way they curve up behind me. They're like ripe melons. I've often been pinched just walking through a crowded store, even back home in Pennsylvania. The way my denim jeans cling to the curves of my ass just makes certain men hard. They feel their pricks pulsating up against their underpants. They want to sink their teeth into the girlish young flesh of my ass, and work their way around to my virgin pussy."
"But not until they've spanked me red hot," Suzanne continued. She was trying to turn Mike on to her fetish, and she played with his cock and balls as she spoke. She caressed the organs gently, running her fingertips around in concentric centrals over the wrinkles of his ball sac; running her fingertip into the piss slit and making the juices ooze out onto her finger, then rubbing the slick goo over the surface of the entire head, making him tremble and shudder, and feel the reaction right up his own shit chute. And then she'd lick the excess jism off her finger.
"When I got spanked by that stranger in the park, it was an unusual experience," she told him softly, as she went with her fantasies, exposing them for the very first time - surprising him, as well as surprising and arousing herself.
"Being new and on vacation in New York, I didn't realize that it was dangerous to walk through Central Park alone. I was walking through a desolate area of the park. I was walking through a little stone tunnel when a man grabbed me from behind."
"At first I thought it was some kind of a joke. But of course, I knew nobody in the city. He wouldn't let me see his face. All I got to see were his hands, which cupped my mouth as he whispered in my ear that I'd better stay quiet and do what he told me, or else I'd really be in trouble, and I'd regret it."
"So I followed his commands. His fingers were slender, and encased in tight, black leather gloves. It was as if they fit him like a second skin. They actually reminded me on the hands of a gorilla. King Kong, attacking the innocent girl in New York. What a vacation! Huh?"
"Well, he snaked his hands down my throat, on to my breasts, which he cupped and squeezed. I was trembling all over. I was afraid. I couldn't see this stranger, and I didn't know how old he was, what color he was, nothing."
"But when he yanked down my pants, and virtually ripped my white cotton panties to shreds in an effort to bear my ass, and fast, I knew that he was dangerous. He would go to any extremes to get what he wanted."
"I didn't dare scream. Nobody was around anyway, and there was no telling what he might do to me if I didn't cooperate. I was his slave girl."
"I was terribly afraid that he would rape me. I mean, that's the first thought that comes up for a fifteen-year-old girl who has been good this long and is still a virgin despite many offers from guys who thought her pretty enough for fucking."
"The cool air was breezing across my pussy, making me shiver as it caressed the moistness which was becoming greater at my cunt, out of nervousness, I guess."
"I think you were getting wet because you were hot," Mike told her. "You were beginning to like being dominated by a black-gloved stranger, weren't you?"
Suzanne continued to stroke his cock, and during this brief pause, she bent down and licked the head and the shaft of it, down to the nuts.
Then she blew gently on it with her sweet, girlish breath.
Her voice was a rasp when she continued.
"Yes. I was getting hot. I knew, of course, that I deserved to be soundly spanked. What teenaged girl doesn't? Sometimes it's easier to bend over and take what's coming to you than to carry all that guilt around with you all the time."
"But I don't really know what was causing my virgin pussy to drip like a faucet. I couldn't turn it off. I was making a puddle of cunt cream in the dry earth which formed the floor of this little, secluded tunnel in the middle of Central Park."
"There wasn't much time to think about anything. He was a phantom, in search of quick captives, and he forced me down to the ground on my knees. He placed one booted foot on the back of my neck, pressing my head into the dirt."
"I begged him not to hurt me, but he told me to shut the fuck up. He forced his leather-gloved hand into my mouth and explored my oral cavity with it the way a slave trader explores the mouth of a slave on the auction block."
"When his black gloved hand was wet with my saliva (he'd shoved it down my throat as if it were a black dick, forcing the fingers back until I spit up on it), he returned the soaked leather to my bared bottom, and caressed the naked cheeks with his hands, leaving my own spit all over me."
"He told me that he'd whip the spit into steam. It was then that he started to spank me in a steady rhythm. Sometimes he'd hit the same spot over and over again. Each time, I figured that it was the last time he'd smack me on that spot, but he showed how cruel he could be by keeping it up, doing exactly what pleased him."
She was thinking of her father now.
That was the way Daddy handled her.
"That must be why the imprint of his hand is still on your buns," Mike said. "He beat you in the same exact spot with the same hand, over and over again."
"Yes," Suzanne replied, still stroking his now fully erect cock.
She went on.
"You know, the ass cheeks are located very close to the vagina. Look, I'll show you," she added, standing up to show him some of her own gymnastics.
She bent over in the position which her father made her assume when she was to bend at the waist and hold her own ankles.
"Can you see how close the ass globes are to the cunt. When I spread my legs like this, you can see both the ass and the pussy, too, can't you?"
"Yeah," Mike rasped. "The cunt is glistening wet."
"That's because I'm thinking about the way I got spanked. Each time I was disciplined across the cheeks, either one cheek at a time or right across the crack, hitting both at once, I would feel the fire in my pussy."
"The ass and the cunt are so close that it was impossible not to. Each stroke on my ass was a stroke to my virgin pussy and I was forced to ... "
It was too much for Mike.
He couldn't hold back.
His hard-on was raging.
He grabbed her at the waist and held on very tightly.
"Hey, wait a minute!" she screamed. "What the fuck do you think you're ... "
He took his stiff rod and placed the bulbous head of it at her pussy.
"I'll scream," she threatened.
"Nobody will hear you."
He knew that if she hadn't reported the spanker to the police, there was a good chance that she would be convinced not to go overboard this time, either.
She had cock teased him to the ultimate.
Any young girl who plays with a man's big dick until it oozes, while telling him how she was forced to the floor in a park, in a tunnel where the sounds of a leather-clad hand spanking an upturned bare ass just echoed like crazy, well, any girl who would bend over and ask a naked stud to see the relationship between her rounded ass globes and her juicy pussy, well, any girl like that deserved to be fucked! Raped! Screwed from behind - doggie style!!!
She felt the hot cock head between her sweaty ass cheeks, moving toward her pussy. He used his fingers to part the moistened lips, while his other hand held her at her belly, forcing her back onto his stiff shaft.
She was struggling to escape him, but the muscular gymnast had her where he wanted her. And he had his thick dick where he wanted it, too.
He bit on her neck as the head of his cock slipped into her.
She moaned when she felt it pressing against her precious hymen.
"So you liked to be spanked, huh?" he said.
She didn't answer.
"You need to get it across your ass, don't you?"
Again, she remained silent.
He placed his palm against the place on the side of her body where her ass met her thigh. He raised his hand back, and then he slapped it down so hard against her that she screamed.
He smacked her so hard, she felt only that terrible spank, and she didn't even realize that the first five inches of his thick prick had entered her, shattering her membrane of virginity in one quick plunge.
She felt her inner pussy juices, mixed with virgin blood, dripping down the insides of her legs. It was only then that she realized what had happened.
By that time, it was too late to turn back.
You can't make a waterfall run backwards.
You can't make a virgin out of a girl who has been broken.
It was only then that Mike forced the full weight of his body on top of her, pressing her to the floor. It was only then that he forced the full eight inches of his prick into her wet snatch, and started to plow it with all his might.
He worked his cock up and down and all around inside her dripping cunt.
Mike fucked her bad and he fucked her good.
He slapped her ass real hard all throughout the fucking, to give her what she needed and to be sure that she behaved while he took what he demanded.
It hurt terribly at first. He gave her no time to get used to the feeling of a big dick up her cunt for the very first time.
But after a while, she couldn't help but enjoy it. She felt all that manly power inside of her. Not only did she feel it on her ass, as she always had during her spankings, but she felt it deep inside of her, too.
She started to wriggle backwards on to the bone of his dick, begging him to screw her good and long and deep and hard, the way she needed it.
"You're a hot bitch for a first time fuck," he told her.
"You've got a newly devirginized pussy on your dick," she told him.
"And you know how to take care of a man's prick," he replied between strokes. "Yeah, snap that twat around this dong of mine. Wrap your cunt around my boner and show this man that you know how to make a dick feel real good."
She responded by working her cunt muscles on his dick until her cunt juices were virtually frothing.
Many times, he felt as if he'd have to shoot his heavy load into her pussy.
But then, he stroked the inside of her pussy real, real deep, and it must have triggered something deep inside of her. She started bucking her beautiful body around like a bitch in heat.
"Spank me, Daddy," she cried out to Mike. "Spank me, Daddy!"
He could tell from the way she was moaning, begging and writhing, that she meant it. He didn't feel funny because she had called him "Daddy." He gave her what she needed and he gave it with full fervor.
She cried out as he spanked her real hard, making her ass as red hot as her pussy.
All the time he spanked her, he rammed his stiff dick into her cunt, all the way down. The thick shaft rubbed her clit raw as it rammed her deep.
Her juices were flowing and she started to convulse inside her pussy in multiple orgasms.
"Ahhhh, I'm coming!!!" she shouted.
Mike groaned like a mad animal. Her orgasming cunt was triggering his climax, too, as the walls of her snatch snapped on his prick, draining it of its pent up jism.
They were screaming together at the tops of their lungs.
Ropes of liquid energy spewed forth from his cock, flooding her newly broken pussy with blazing hot, white semen.
She could feel the sticky stuff burning into her abused young pussy.
He could feel the syrups of her pussy gushing out of her, mixing with his thick scum.
Their mutual climax went on for nearly five breathless minutes.
Then it was over, and only their heavy breathing remained.
The world came into focus again. Suzanne realized that she was in an apartment in New York City. Outside his window, she could see the Hudson River.
"I really have to go now," she said, while his softening prick was still inside of her. "My Daddy will beat me silly if ... "
"Hey, Suzanne," Mike asked seriously. "How much of that was real? Were you really spanked in the park? Do you really need to be spanked by your Daddy in order to come?"
"I really have to be going," Suzanne insisted.
There were certain things which she could never reveal.
Mike was a nice guy, and he may have been the first to have her in that special way. But already she felt guilty that she had not given her father the first taste of her deeper pussy.
She didn't feel clean, having just been fucked so savagely and everything, and yet, she didn't want to take the time to shower at Mike's place.
Something was telling her that she had to get back to the hotel as soon as she possibly could. Perhaps it was some sixth sense which called to her.
She really knew that she had to go, in fact, if she had known what had happened in her absence, she might never have left her father's side at all.
What awaited her back at the hotel was more than most teenaged girls could possibly handle.
It was something more terrifying than she would have even imagined in one of her nightmares.
CHAPTER SIX
Suzanne still felt her reddened ass cheeks and sore upper thighs with every step she took on her way back to the hotel. She was going as quickly as she could.
She sensed something telling her that she had better get back there quickly.
Maybe it was just that she wanted to get to the hotel before the arrival of her parents so that she wouldn't have to explain where she'd been.
Maybe it was ... well, she had a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach.
She had come to realize some of her special talents. She considered them to be quite extraordinary. Specifically, she had learned to recognize her abilities in the world of the occult. That is to say, she could sense things and could predict things. In fact, she could even create things happening to herself and around herself.
This time, she wasn't quite certain what awaited her, but she could tell that there was something out of the usual realm of experiences and that it would be ready for her exploration once she returned to the hotel.
Perhaps that was why she decided to walk back, rather than take a bus.
Walking could be faster in New York than sitting on a bus or in a cab in heavily snarled traffic jams. She had learned that simply by observing the city.
As for taking a subway, she was unfamiliar with that form of public transportation, and besides, as it happened, there was no readily available subway route which would have taken her from Mike's place back to the hotel where she was staying with her parents.
Of course, her thoughts continued to drift back to Mike, and this started her cuntal juices flowing, and it made her tit nipples firm against the front of her.
She hoped that she would not earn another spanking from her father within the next day or two, if only because she didn't want him to see the bruises left on her once-flawless bottom by the sexual wrath of Mike.
Not that Suzanne hadn't egged Mike on.
Indeed, it was another example of her power, that special sixth sense of a power which got people to do what she wanted. Of course, her incredible young beauty also played a part in that aspect of her power.
It could work wonders.
Of course, if her father made any comment about the marks on her twin buttocks, she was prepared to tell him that he had placed them there himself.
Indeed, his constant working of discipline on her butt had produced such results many times, if not, in reality, this time.
Still, she was prepared with that explanation, should the need arise, because she felt that it would be better than admitting the truth.
If her father knew that she had engaged in sex with a virtual stranger on her very first days in New York, there was no telling what he would do to her.
She had seen his reaction - and felt it, too - at the very first meeting of herself and Mike. It had caused her father's temper to flare, and it had resulted in a very sore backside for her.
That was exciting, now that the sting of it had left her, and she could not deny that she was looking to recreate that experience with Mike.
When she begged him to punish her, and when she called him "Daddy," she was living out the fantasy which was also a reality for her.
Although she had her doubts about whether or not this was actually good for her, she had to go through with it. She needed this experience. Her ass needed it.
She felt that it made her a better girl, and it was with this belief that she was able to go on.
She seriously believed that if she were not monitored in this way by her father, she would get herself in a lot of trouble. But still, she took her chances and experimented with Mike without telling her father about it, and she begged Mike to spank her because she had learned to require that kind of stimulation to reach her own point of orgasm.
She hoped, too, that her father would not have a chance to discover that her virginity was now a thing of the past. She knew that she was responsible for that loss, too. She had encouraged it.
But she did not regret it, and even on her way home, back to the hotel, she thought of the experience as a gain, and not as a loss.
It was busy on the New York streets at this hour. People were rushing about, and Suzanne felt like a real New Yorker as she rushed about right with them.
Several times she bumped into people on the crowded streets.
It seemed that everything was like an old-time Charlie Chaplin movie.
Yes, everything was moving at a speed which was just a bit faster than it should have been.
But Suzanne enjoyed all of it, knowing, of course, that she would only be spending a short time in this city before returning with her parents to Pennsylvania.
Maybe that had also been a factor in her seduction of Mike. She knew that they could only be together for a brief time, and she wanted to experience him in New York, where all those people made it safe and anonymous.
Back home she could not have received a spanking from a boyfriend without the word getting around, and she wanted to be certain that such information only got around to those who understood and appreciated it for what it was worth.
Even as she hurried toward the hotel, she thought of that, and fantasized about how it would be if everybody in her home town knew of her special interest.
It would be embarrassing, of course, in reality. But in her fantasy she was able to dream of another side of it, and this too, made her pussy wet.
She thought of how it would be if everybody in her school knew that she liked to be spanked. Certainly, many of the students would be turned off by this.
Many of them, as Suzanne well knew, were prudish to the extent that their knowledge of sex and their experience in it was limited.
That could not understand how anybody would find anything pleasurable about pain. Suzanne, of course knew, that sensually applied pain could stimulate an inner pussy.
She had been disciplined by her father because she needed it, and indeed, most of her spankings had been for punishment value only.
But she had come to incorporate her punishments into her sex life.
She did not know why this was so, but since it was so, she didn't waste her time trying to figure it out. She merely indulged in it with Mike, and imagined that she would experience the sexuality of it the next time she was spanked by her Daddy.
Of course, if everybody at school knew of her special interest and the fact that it aroused her sexually to received a well-applied spanking across her bare butt, more than a few would respond with their own desires, whether previously suppressed or not.
Some of them, she supposed, would be eager and willing to spank her, merely for a chance to get at her bare buns. They were certainly attractive as seen through her dresses and slacks, and the way they swayed back and forth as she walked was just an open invitation to pinch, tweak, kiss, and certainly to spank.
Once her secret desire were made known, the boys at school would be lusting after that ass of hers, and they would use any available excuse to turn her over their knees and give her a spanking she would not soon forget.
She could just see herself being held over in class with that boy with the sandy blond hair who sat up front near the teacher's desk in her English class.
He seemed much more mature than the others in her class, and although she had always been too shy to get to know him, she had certainly noticed him.
Now, in her fantasy, as she walked to the hotel, she realized how much she had noticed him. She recalled the way his voice was deeper than the less mature boys in her class. She recalled the way his neck was thick and had an Adam's apple clearly visible.
She recalled the tan color of his skin, and the handsome features of his face behind a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. She liked that.
She recalled the muscles which showed through even his baggiest of shirts. He was sexy to her without even trying, and she recalled how she had been attracted to his bulky body.
She had even noticed the bulge at the front of the cord jeans which he usually wore. The bulge had actually rubbed a spot in the pants.
It was easy to see it, even from a distance.
That meant he had a fat cock, and she longed to be held down between his legs after class one day in an otherwise empty classroom.
It was her fantasy that she would be spanked by him, possibly with the long, hard ruler, which rested menacingly on the ledge below the classroom's blackboard.
She could almost hear the cracks of the ruler across her vulnerable, upturned rear.
Although she was often, if not usually, spanked across her bared globes, in her fantasy with this high school boy, she imagined that she was wearing white, cotton panties which clung to her cheeks like a second skin.
Still, the boy would spank her squirming butt so hard, she would feel it directly through the material, and he would make her cry, and beg him to stop.
But, (and she could almost hear his deep, sexy voice) he would tell her that she had to take the full extent of the spanking she deserved for being such a flirty little cocktease. She had showed him her tit nipples pressing firmly against a tight and revealing blouse, and now she had to pay the consequences.
He would take it out fully - on her ass.
She imagined the way her cunt juices would flow into the white, cotton panties, soaking them at the front and making the material cling like a second skin not only to her ass globes but to the curve and the cleft of her pussy as well.
She knew that her little, frothy girl-juices flowed abundantly. They always had. And now that she was no longer a virgin, she assumed that the cream would ooze even more than usual, simply because there was more room for it, and. less of a membrane to block its release.
She, in fact, felt the juices oozing from her pussy at that very moment, and she almost forgot to look both ways before crossing a crowded city street.
It was only her special sixth sense which caused her to look suddenly to her right as she stepped out into the street against the traffic light.
To her shock, a taxi cab was coming straight toward her.
Her eyes opened wide and her jaw dropped, but she was frozen to the spot.
Perhaps there was no time to think. She had been so deeply involved in her fantasies. Now suddenly, the cab was almost on top of her.
Fear froze her.
Her feet would not move.
The cab came to a screeching halt just steps from her.
Another few inches, and it would have knocked her down, run her over, or bucked her beautiful body up in the air with its impact.
"What the fuck's the matter with you, bitch?" the driver yelled.
He screamed it loud enough for everybody to hear.
If anybody who was there had not turned around to see what was making that terrible screech of rubber burning against the pavement, they turned around when this cigar-chopping New York cabbie started yelling at her harshly.
She was too embarrassed to say anything to him.
The fact that she was just a pretty girl from another, quieter state, only made it more difficult for her. She was not used to this kind of treatment, even though it took place all the time in New York, even to the prettiest of girls.
She stepped back onto the sidewalk.
After a moment or two, the cabbie stopped cursing her and started on his way. As he started off, she felt herself wish a silent wish which wasn't very nice.
It was a natural reaction to what had just happened, perhaps, and it seemed so instinctive that she didn't even have a chance to regret wishing it.
But then, a few moments later, there was a terrible crash.
The taxi cab rammed into another cab from behind.
There was a loud noise as the impact was made, and then the cab which had nearly run Suzanne over so shortly before, exploded in a cloud of black smoke.
Something had happened to the oil in the front part of the car, apparently.
Suzanne gasped. She knew what she had silently wished.
The police were there in an instant, and they tried to pry the cabbie from the wreckage, but it was no use.
Suzanne took a deep breath and continued on her way.
She was sweating now, and breathing hard.
She went right up to her room upon her arrival at the hotel.
She was soaked with sweat, more from fright than from the quick pace of her walking. She was recognizing more and more the power she possessed.
That was what frightened her.
She wanted to be in control of this power.
She was afraid that the power was in control of her.
The telephone rang.
Who could it be?
Her parents were the first ones to come into her mind. The only other person it might be was Mike. But why would he be calling so soon?
Still shaking after the incident with the cabbie, she picked up the phone.
Indeed, it was Mike.
"Hi, it's me," he said this time, and she knew his voice already.
"Oh, Mike. Hello."
"You sure got back quickly," he told her.
"I'm glad I got back at all. New York's a fast city."
"It sure is. Everybody here is either rushing about, speeding, or has learned to take a deep breath and enjoy life, for what it is," Mike told her.
"Oh, I'm glad you told me that," she said.
"I feel better already."
It was good to hear his voice. She didn't tell him that, however.
"Well, I really don't have anything to say to you," he told her. "It was just that I wanted to thank you again for coming over. And I wanted to make certain that you arrived home safely."
"Yes, I did. And thank you. I'll talk with you again soon."
"Oh, yes. I definitely want to see you again before you leave New York. It can be for fun, or sex, or a spanking or ... "
"How about all of those?" she smiled into the receiver.
"Oh, yeah. That sounds good," he told her.
"Well," she said, "so long."
"Bye."
And she hung up the phone.
No sooner than she dropped the receiver onto the cradle did she want to talk with Mike again. She wanted to tell him what had happened to her on her way home and she wanted to let him know how much he really meant to her.
It was not that they were serious about each other after only meeting, but she did want to tell him that she liked him a lot and she felt that he would appreciate knowing the fact that she really didn't do this sort of thing all that often.
Of course, her broken virginity should have told him that much.
She had only taken three steps away from the telephone when it rang once again.
She picked it up quickly, for the sharp ring of it had startled her.
"Hello," she said.
"Hi, this is Mike again."
"Oh," she smiled. Had her wishes actually created his calling her?
He told her that he had forgotten to express in all reality how much he really did appreciate her company, sexual and otherwise.
"You really turned me on to something which I never really would have thought of before," he said to her. "I have to thank you for broadening my horizons, and that was really the reason I called you back. In fact, that was the reason I called you a few minutes ago in the first place."
She could hardly believe her good fortune in creating this call. She began to take responsibility for such phenomenon. She realized, now, that such things had happened before. Maybe she had thought about somebody she had not seen or heard from in many years. The next thing she knew, that person appeared out of the blue.
Things like that.
She took her opportunity to tell him the things she needed to tell him.
She did explain that she was almost run down on the street, and that the cabbie had cursed her and yelled at her.
But she didn't tell him about the cabbie's accident a few moments later.
He told her that he would be available in case she needed some comfort, although he assured her that these sorts of things happened in New York City all the time.
Again, they thanked each other and said their goodbyes.
Suzanne, exhausted from all she'd been through, flopped down onto the bed to relax. It was very quiet in the next room, and she assumed that her parents had not returned to the hotel, which was all for the good, of course.
She decided that if she went to sleep, it would serve her well.
She was very tired, and she knew for certain that she was not in the mood to take in any more sightseeing with her parents, or without, this night.
It was already dark, and she knew that her parents would be looking in on her before they went to sleep, and so she took her clothes off.
She looked at her naked body in the mirror.
Suzanne saw herself turning into a woman. She noticed the way her hips were filling out. No longer was she a skinny little kid.
She was blossoming into a woman.
She saw the moistness which remained at the slit of her cuntal mound.
She rubbed her cunt meat softly, knowing what she had experienced that day.
It made her moan, and invited her to tweak her tawny tit nipples with her other hand as she massaged the abused cunt.
But she didn't give in to masturbation.
After all the sex she had been through that afternoon with Mike, she was ready for a rest, to say the very least.
The last part of herself that she looked at before going to sleep was her well-rounded, and well-spanked bottom.
She moved her hands gently over the flesh.
She could feel raised surfaces which had welted up.
She knew from past experiences that it would take three days, at least,. for these to heal to the point of disappearance.
It was strange to her that even now, just looking at the reddened ass cheeks made her pussy tingle deep inside. She could actually feel her clitty without even touching it. It seemed to glow inside of her when she caressed her naked bottom.
After a short while, she slipped into her night gown, a soft, cotton nightie which tied into a bow at the high neck, and came down to her ankles with a ruffled hem at the bottom. It was pale, baby blue, with a deep blue sash.
She fastened the sash tightly around her waist - tight enough, in fact, to secure her waist at a trim nineteen inches.
Her voluptuously inviting ass mounds swelled out from there.
Suzanne turned out the light by the side of her bed, but left the dimly lit emergency light, or night light, burning, so that when her parents returned to look in on her, they would easily see her there in her bed, sound asleep, and they would rest easy, knowing that she had returned to the hotel without incident in this big city.
Without incident, indeed!
* * *
It was only a short time later that the door dividing the room of her parents' and her own room, was opened. A crack of light filtered through.
The shaft of light reflected on Suzanne's face.
She had fallen right to sleep, but now she was wakened by the shaft of light.
She opened her eyes and saw her mother standing there.
"Where were you?" her mother rasped.
"W-w-what do you mean? What are you talking about?" Suzanne stammered as she wiped the sleep from her heavily-lidded eyes.
"You know what I mean," her mother seethed ominously. "I came back to the hotel a few hours ago to fetch you. You were gone. I called the room several times in the nervous panic which ensued. You weren't here. Then I couldn't find your father either. He had vanished."
"Well, I'm sorry, I was out for a walk," Suzanne said in explanation.
"Liar!" her mother bellowed irrationally.
Suzanne was stunned. Her mother had never behaved like this - except, of course, in one of her nightmarish dreams!
"You frustrated old bitch," Suzanne yelled, almost unable to help herself.
It was almost as if she had yelled these words before, some other time, some other place, in some sort of similar circumstance.
A dream, perhaps?
"You're just pissed off because you lost Daddy when you came looking for me. Don't blame your marital mix-up on me! I'm not responsible if Daddy was off spanking the pants off of some little New York chippie instead of spanking you!"
"So, you know about the spankings!" her mother declared.
"Of course I do. I'd have to be deaf, dumb and blind not to know. But I've gotten plenty of spankings from Daddy, too, and I've discovered the secret meaning of them. It's sex!"
"You brazen little hussy," her mother said, lunging at Suzanne and pulling her from the bed.
Suzanne was standing by the window now, and her mother swung at her.
Suzanne ducked, and her mother missed.
It was then that the front door to this hotel room opened, and standing in the doorway was Daddy.
He watched as his wife lunged again at his daughter.
Suzanne ducked.
Her mother leaped forward, flying through the opened window behind Suzanne.
"Oh, my God!" Suzanne screamed.
It was one of her horrible dreams, now a reality.
She knew it, and her Daddy knew it.
Was she responsible for creating this?
If she was, she knew she would get a good, hard beating.
Even if she wasn't, she knew that Daddy would spank the shit out of her, anyway.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Suzanne found herself stretched over a straight-backed chair.
Her wrists had been tied to the two legs which were now on the right-hand side of the chair. Her ankles were fastened to the two legs at the left-hand side of the chair, and a length of cord had been used to do it.
Her panties had been pulled down to her ankles, baring her behind which stuck up in the air and trembled slightly as the gaze of her father stared down on it.
Her spankings had progressed in severity.
They had started out to be hand-spankings.
Later, they were spankings with the hand, followed by spankings with the belt, or, to be more exact, with belts of various lengths, widths and weights.
Sometimes they were leather belts, and often they'd be doubled over so that they really hurt. Then there had been the hairbrush spankings, mostly with the smooth side of the brush, but sometimes with the smooth side, followed by a dose of those hard bristles.
This time, however, was the most severe of all.
Daddy had watched the confrontation between Suzanne and her mother.
He had arrived on the scene to hear them screaming, even through the closed door of the hotel room. He had clearly heard Suzanne taunt her mother about the relation between spankings and sex. He had not really heard what preceded that, when Suzanne's mother had started in on her.
He had opened the door to see his wife virtually fly through the opened window. He recalled the nightmare which Suzanne had related to him some time before and he knew that in effect, this was a re-enactment of what she had described.
Taking these facts and observations into account, he naturally held Suzanne responsible, in part, at least, for his wife's accident.
Luckily, their hotel rooms had been on the second floor, and so Suzanne's mother had not been killed. She was, however, injured, because she had not landed gracefully.
Salvatore rushed her to the nearest hospital. It was their good fortune that a room was available, and they decided that the best thing would be for her to take it and to be examined by a qualified doctor.
This meant staying in the hospital for two or three days, at least.
"Some way to spend a vacation," she moaned.
"Yes, but we have to see to it that you get the best of care," Salvatore told her. "We'll celebrate when you're feeling better," he added.
"I hope they don't notice that I'm more bruised on my bottom than anywhere else," she said, rubbing herself there.
"Did you fall flat on your ass?" Salvatore asked, unable to hold back a grin. It was rather amusing for him, a devoted ass man as he was.
"No, silly," she replied. "I'm sore there from the spankings you've given me. In fact, it won't make sense to the doctors if they find my new bruises and then find the ones on my ass, too. It will confuse them."
"They'll probably think I was the one who threw you through the window," Salvatore said laughing, although it was very possible that such an assumption would indeed be made.
"Well, I guess I can live with it. I also guess that they've seen battered asses before. After all, this is New York. I'm sure it happens all the time."
Salvatore didn't know how often it happened, but his hands were just itching to smack ass. Specifically, his hands were itching to get at the naughty ass of his young daughter. He thought that she had practically gotten away with murder.
He intended to take care of her, but good.
And so, he approached the subject with his wife, while Suzanne remained back at the hotel room. Salvatore had wanted to tie Suzanne to the bed, just to assure that she would remain there as well as to give her some time to think about what was coming to her.
But of course, there had been no time for that. They had rushed to the hospital.
"What exactly happened between you and Suzanne," he said.
Even though Salvatore had waited until he thought the moment was right to bring up this subject, it took his wife by surprise.
"Well, I can't really say," she explained in all earnestness. "I can't even remember it now. It's as if I've blocked it out. All I remember is that I couldn't help myself. Whatever I said to her came almost automatically, and one thing just led to another, and it all happened so fast."
"I know that she provoked you," Salvatore told his wife.
"Well, she is a provocative little girl. And she's growing up."
"Yes, I know, and that's why she needs stricter discipline now than she's ever needed before. She needs a heavier hand. She needs, in fact, more than a hand. She needs a real good licking and I intend to give it to her."
"Don't be too hard on her, dear. Remember, she's still a delicate girl."
"Don't worry," Salvatore said, rolling up his sleeves to expose his hairy, muscled forearms. "I'll be able to know just how much to give her."
His wife knew that the girl would not be let off easily.
She would feel the full brunt of the spanking, that much was certain.
He kissed his wife on the lips, forcing his tongue down her throat. He had a stiff boner, and he suggested that since no nurses had been around, he fuck her there in the hospital bed.
"Salvatore, no," she said, pushing him away. "I swear, you're absolutely terrible at times. I don't know what to do with you."
"Take my stiff dick down your pussy hole," he rasped, stroking the bulging boner through his pants. "It'll be exciting to do it here in the hospital room."
"Salvatore," she said, still pushing him away. "Wasn't it exciting enough to do it in the hotel room? I mean, really, enough is enough."
"No, enough is never enough if I have my way," he said, climbing into the bed anyway.
"Stop it," his wife said, as Salvatore forced his hand under her body, feeling her ass globes. Then he moved his fingers to her pussy and massaged the cuntal flesh even though she held her legs together and tried to keep him out.
But she couldn't stop him from feeling her up, or from withdrawing a hand covered with dripping cunt cream.
He placed it to his nostrils, and then he licked it off.
"You can be so damn crude," she complained. "Get out of this bed before I call the nurse. Then you'll really be in trouble, even if you are my husband."
Aroused as he was by her pussy, and her breasts, and her ass, and her position in the hospital bed, and by her dripping snatch juice which was all over his fingers, and by the sensations in his own big rod which was pulsating like crazy and making his balls tingle, he just had to have her.
Besides, his ire was up. He thought that she was being unruly, and an unruly woman, be it his wife or his daughter, was something he couldn't abide.
"You're askin' for a licking with my belt, woman," he declared.
His eyebrows were arched and his nostrils were flaring like a bull's.
She knew that he might get carried away and demand that she assume the position and take another flogging, right there in the private room.
It was then that the nurse opened the door.
"Oh, excuse me," she said, realizing that she had caught the two in a compromising position. She realized that they were husband and wife, and yet, she also realized that Salvatore had no business being in the bed of his injured wife, especially with his street shoes still on his feet, rubbing against the clean sheets.
But her polite entrance was enough. She didn't have to say more.
Shamed, a bit, by the authority she represented, Salvatore felt like a boy who's been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
Actually, he was caught with his hand in the honey pot.
The honey pot of his wife's tender pussy!
He got up out of her bed, although his prick was still busting at the front of his pants. The nurse had the decency and good sense not to look between his legs although she was no fool and knew what she might find there under the circumstances.
Besides, she was a lesbian, and had little interest in cock.
She saw enough of them in her rounds of the hospital rooms.
As for Salvatore, he realized that it was time to make his departure.
"Visiting hours were over a long time ago," the nurse added. "You were permitted to stay here since your wife was a new arrival, but now ... "
"Now you must ask me to leave," Salvatore said, filling in the words.
"Yes, I'm afraid that's correct. I must administer an enema to her now," the nurse added, and both of them looked down at the rubber enema bag in her hand.
"Well, I'll be going then," Salvatore said, backing off.
Naturally, he was frustrated. He had wanted to fuck his wife there in her hospital bed. It had been a longtime fantasy of his.
But she wouldn't cooperate.
Well, it must have all been for the best, he thought. He had to get home to administer some well-deserved discipline to the bottom of his very naughty daughter.
His cock was still half hard when he thought about Suzanne.
It was her ass that came into the pictures in his mind.
"I'll take care of you another time, real soon," Salvatore promised his wife. "For now, I'll leave you in good hands," he added, bowing slightly to the nurse.
It was rare for this macho man to make such a gesture to a woman, but the nurse's statuesque figure and self-assured manner almost invited that.
Nurse Vanessa Stevenson was a lesbian, but she did not fit the old fashioned stereotypes of what a lesbian would look like. She was a new lesbian - a woman who was certainly attractive enough to have any man she wanted, and yet, she chose to limit her sexual affairs to those with other women.
Her reasons for this were many and varied, and certainly they did not have anything to do with an inability to function sexually with men.
Now twenty-seven, in her teen years she had received many sexual invitations from both boys and from men. She had, in fact, taken a few of them up on these invites.
While she was able to enjoy the feeling of man's shaven stubble rubbing against her soft pussy lips, and was able to orgasm when a male tongue explored her clit and her inner cunt meat, and was able to writhe quite naturally when a man bit on her nipples, and was able to respond with throbbing lust when a man fucked her, she still always felt that something was missing from these experiences.
She discovered her real needs in nursing school, of all places.
She studied in New Jersey, and since she did not live there, she took up residence in the women's dormitory of the school.
Her roommate was an attractive girl also, and in fact, the two were almost mirror images of each other. Brenda was, perhaps, a bit stouter, although it certainly looked good on her with her sweet breasts and rounded thighs.
Vanessa was the more voluptuous one of the two, however, with her long, shapely legs and size forty knockers. She held herself like a princess, always walking with her head held high. She used to practice walking holding books balanced on her head. She had once wanted to be a fashion model, but her blossoming bosom made her an unlikely candidate. Not that she wasn't beautiful enough for it, but she was a bit bustier than the traditionally flat-chested beauties who filled such roles.
Anyway, she and Brenda were having a discussion about men late one night in the dorm room. Both of them had returned from dates with young doctors.
Neither of them had experienced a very good time of it.
"We were sitting there in his apartment," Brenda began, telling of her date, "and he said that he wanted to take my pulse. He opened his eyes real wide as if he didn't feel anything pulsing there at all. Well, naturally this alarmed me. I figured that he was a very mild mannered guy but this bedside manner belied it."
Vanessa, undressing for bed, told Brenda that she was listening, even though she was in the process of unsnapping her bra and allowing her big breast mounds to fall free of their silk and lace confinement.
Brenda continued.
"He said that he would have to listen for my heartbeat, which by this time was racing so fast, I could feel it against my bosom," Brenda said. "I knew that if I could feel it beating, he would surely hear it.
"He placed his ear against my chest. He said he would have to open my blouse. Naturally, I didn't think anything of that. He's a doctor. He looks at naked women dozens of times a day. They may not all be as built as I am, but still, you expect some professional treatment from a doctor, don't you?"
"Sure you do," Vanessa said, sitting beside Brenda now on the same bed as she did her nightly breast massage. Each night, she stroked her large bosoms in a circular, upward movement. She firmly believed that this would keep her heavy chest from sagging, and she expected to have upturned globes for many years.
"Well, the next thing I know, he had his ear on one of my nipples. Yes, it was actually in his ear. My nipple was inside his ear! He moved his head around in such a way that it felt as if he was fucking my nipple with the inside of his ear. I know it sounds perverted, but that's what I was thinking, and it frightened me.
"With his tongue, he started licking my other nipple and sucking it into his mouth."
"That bastard! Boy, what nerve," Vanessa said, stroking Brenda's honey blonde hair to comfort her.
"That's exactly what he was. A bastard. He was just hot for sex and he thought he'd use his clever bedside manner to lure me to him."
They agreed that he had quite a nerve, and Vanessa's story of her date that night was equally as shocking in its own way.
She told it.
"I went to this party given by several of the new interns at the hospital. It was quite a bash. They had liquor bottles hanging from the ceiling with tubes running from them as if they were specimen bottles of some kind.
"My date was very handsome, but he got drunk very quickly. He had beer on his breath even before he picked me up for the evening, and after we'd been at the party for about an hour or so, he'd consumed at least four straight drinks.
"He was drunk as a skunk."
"No kidding," Brenda said, taking her turn to undress now.
Vanessa was back to massaging her breasts now, as she did every night, as she sat on the bed with Brenda wearing only a brief pair of black panties.
Her long, bright red hair hung down her back.
Brenda bared her pussy and listened as Vanessa continued.
"He got real affectionate when he was drunk, though, and I found that rather amusing and charming, in a way. It wasn't that I really liked this guy. I had just met him at the training hospital the week before, and aside from one very straight lunch together, this was our first date."
"But I always think that an affectionate drunk is a lot nicer than a rowdy one, don't you, honey?"
If Brenda was taken aback by her roommate's affectionate use of the word "honey," she showed no sign of it. They had both been through the mill, so to speak, on their dates of that evening, and now they were baring their souls to each other, as well as baring a number of other things.
It was only natural the two attractive girls would become close.
Vanessa continued.
"Anyway, he was hugging me around and kissing my neck, and then he said that he had to go to the bathroom and that he wanted me to come with him."
"He actually wanted me to join him inside the bathroom. Well, I figured, why not? What have I got to lose? Apparently, it met something to him, and practically nothing to me."
"He unzipped himself and pulled out his cock. It was big, and he stroked the thick foreskin, pulling it back to reveal the reddish, wet dick underneath. He took my hand and placed it on his prick. 'Hold my cock while I take a piss,' he told me. You'd think he'd be adjusted to the human body, I mean him being a doctor and all. But really it's quite the contrary, he was fascinated with his own urine!"
"Furthermore, he got his kicks out of this scene. He laughed and called it water sports as he directed his stream from the bowl to my feet!"
"I really got angry then. And so then I told him that I didn't enjoy getting my feet soaked with his hot urine, he told me that he would gladly get down on his hands and knees and lick off every drop of his own stuff and swallow it!"
"Needless to say, I got out of there real fast, but not until I had wiped my wet feet dry on his trousers. He was apologizing to me as soon as he got out of the bathroom, but I was ready to get my coat and go home alone. And that's exactly what I did."
"I don't blame you," Brenda said, drawing Vanessa close to her. "You went through hell tonight. Poor baby," she added, stroking Vanessa's long, red hair.
They held each other like that for a while, and then they felt each other's nipples.
Brenda's mouth was down on Vanessa's soft, warm, long and smooth neck.
It was only a minute later that she was kissing it gently, with a series of wet little kisses.
"Oh that feels so good," she moaned. "Do it more. Do it all over me."
Vanessa was on her back. Her large, naked breasts were exposed like ripe melons.
Then she covered each round globe with hundreds of wet kisses.
She didn't miss a spot, including the nipples and the circles around them.
She rubbed her own pussy against Vanessa's pussy as she straddled her on the bed and made love to her roommate's beautiful breasts with her hands and with her mouth.
That was how it happened. It seemed perfectly natural for them.
After Vanessa had writhed below the moistening slit of her girlfriend, she started to try the more aggressive role. She turned Brenda over, and started to kiss her. But instead of working on the girl's breasts, she moved down between them, kissing the cleavage, and then moved down further, kissing the smooth belly, and then found the belly button, and then found the pussy.
She knew how it felt to have a mouth down there, since she had been sucked and eaten by many men. But she knew how to do it to another woman so much better than the men had done it to her. Why? Because she had the same physical equipment down there. She knew how it felt to have a tongue muscle swirling around her clit.
And so she worked Brenda into a frenzy, building her up each time with her sweet tongue. Working in and out and around like a little prick.
When she had Brenda practically climbing the walls, she would stop.
She would allow the girl to compose herself a bit, and then she would start again.
When she felt Brenda's legs wrapped tightly around her body, when she felt Brenda's fingernails digging into her back, she knew that she had her going.
But most of all, she could tell by the way the girl's little snatch closed upon her tongue when she was approaching climax. After all, Vanessa's own pussy had done that many times, on her own fingers, and on men's pricks.
So it was only natural for her to understand what it meant when the walls of a hot, tight, juicy pussy closed and snapped around her own tongue.
She had brought Brenda to near climax six or seven times. This time, it would have been cruel to hold out any longer. She started to thrust her tongue in and out so fast that it became a blur. She was working with a frenzy to bring Brenda to orgasm.
She felt the quivers deep inside the convulsing pussy.
She felt them with her tongue.
That was when Brenda started to scream, forcing Vanessa's face deep into her cuntal pudding as it gushed gobs of sweet nectar into her sucking mouth.
After that night, their lesbian encounters continued through to graduation.
They parted tearfully upon graduation, with Brenda going off to her hometown of Atlanta, Georgia to practice her profession. She had been a real sweet Georgia peach. And a juicy one, too.
Strangely enough, Vanessa, who started working in New York, received a letter from Brenda some months later. Brenda was marrying a male doctor.
It was something of a jolt to Vanessa, who had believed that Brenda had realized her full potential as a lesbian. But one can never be certain of such things. Sexuality is ever-changing.
And now, here was Nurse Vanessa Stevenson with an enema bag in her hand.
And was Mrs. Salvatore Amorelli, being told to raise her naked bottom for the long, rubber hose which Vanessa was greasing with Vaseline.
And back at the hotel, the horny Salvatore had just entered the room where his naughty daughter was waiting. Angrily, he grabbed her and tied her to the chair, exposing her ass for his punishment straps.
It was to be a more severe spanking than usual, for he was sure she deserved it, what with the way she had behaved toward her mother.
But the telephone was ringing, and Salvatore wondered who might be calling Suzanne's room at this time of night. He looked at the girl, bound to the chair, with her naked buns high in the air, awaiting a spanking.
She was helpless and vulnerable now, and even the special powers which she was certain she possessed would not help her now.
As hard as she concentrated, there was no getting over the fact that she knew who was calling though. It could only be Mike, the New York boy who had spanked her and fucked her. She tried to close her dripping, newly screwed and deviriginized pussy, but the way her father had tied her legs to the chair made that impossible.
Her cunny was quivering.
"Say hello," Salvatore said as he picked up the telephone.
Weakly, Suzanne uttered a faint hello into the mouthpiece.
Then Salvatore took the phone back and placed it to his ear.
Sure enough, it was Mike, and he was horny.
"Hi, baby. It's me. I was thinking of that sweet little pussy I fucked today, and I just had to call you and jerk off over the phone. Talk to me about the way you like your hot little buns spanked before you get fucked and I'll drop a big load of cum."
Suzanne's Daddy slammed down the phone.
He reached between the legs of his bound daughter.
The cunt was dripping as he forced his fingers slowly into the hole. He was fingering her cunt, anxious to feel that tightly stretched membrane which defined her virginity.
There would be hell to pay if it were missing.
And it was missing.
CHAPTER EIGHT
"No, Daddy, no," Suzanne pleaded.
But her father would have none of her begging.
She had earned the disciplining of her life, and he was certain that he would be remiss if he did not deliver every bit of it to her.
The fact that she had lost her virginity on this trip to New York infuriated him beyond belief. He was completely irrational now. This discovery, and the manner in which it had been discovered, made him a madman of discipline.
"You cunty bitch," he cursed at his little girl. "You fucking slut. You whore. You're a fucking whore, aren't you. Answer me, bitch!" he snarled, slapping her globes so hard that the sound bounced off the walls.
"No, Daddy, no," she cried.
Already, the tears were streaming down her face.
It was a good thing for Salvatore, although probably not so good for Suzanne, that the room was at the very end of the hallway. On one side of it was the empty room which was taken by Salvatore and his wife. On the other side was the brick wall of the outside of the hotel building.
Therefore, the sounds of the slaps, which echoed down the hallway, none the less, were muffled at least, in terms of being overheard directly through a wall.
Not that Salvatore was thinking of such considerations now.
No, he was spanking away with a feverish venom, anxious to punish Suzanne until she was a very sorry girl.
This time his punishment of her was not confined to spanking her with the hand, the belt, or with the ropes which he used like a whip on her.
They were the same ropes which he had used to tie her to the chair, and they really delivered a sting when slapped hard enough across her naked, upturned bottom.
She could not get away, no matter how much she squirmed.
He slapped her again and again, with all of his might.
Her ass was bright red. In fact, the white cheeks had never become so red before. They were glowing, literally glowing with heat.
When her Daddy placed his sweaty palms on the globes, steam seemed to rise from the soft flesh.
But then he did something which he had never done before.
He moved around to his daughter's head. He unzipped his prick.
She reeled, for a moment, startled by this action, and startled, as well by the scent of musty maleness which rose from his crotch.
"You'll learn to behave for your Daddy," he warned her. "You'll learn not to run around in New York like a bitch in heat. You'll learn with your Daddy's big dick down your fucking whore throat. Suck it, cunt. And if you bite, I'll slap your fucking head off."
This was discipline gone too far!
Suzanne knew that she deserved a punishment, and therefore she could only cry about being fastened to this chair, and about receiving the spanking, the belt-whipping, and the flogging with ropes.
But this was something very different.
This was the punishment of incest!
She knew that it must be very, very wrong.
But he gave her no choice.
She felt the hot head of his bulbous dick pressing against her lips.
Suzanne kept her lips tightly clenched so that the dick could not enter her.
But her father gave her naked ass cheeks a volley of very hard slaps. All he had to do was bend forward while his boner was at her lips, and he could spank her already blazing and abused ass globes until she was forced to cry out.
She kept her lips clenched for as long as she could. When she couldn't stand it any longer, when her tears were flowing like rain, she had to open up her mouth and let out a cry.
Naturally, or unnaturally, according to one's view of such things, that was when her Daddy rammed his big, fat, fuck pole into her tender young mouth!
"Whore!" he continued to yell at her as he fucked her face.
She wanted to tell him that she was sorry, but her mouth was stuffed.
She wanted to tell him that she would not let it happen again, but then, a girl can only lose her virginity once. That much had already taken place.
She felt her father's balls slapping against her face.
He felt his daughter's throat as it swallowed up his dick flesh.
"I should fuck a baby into you, you whore. You should be made to have your father's child," he told her, saying anything to embarrass her.
This was a discipline session she would never forget.
He spanked her so hard, his hand started to ache.
If he had stopped spanking her when his arm got tired, he ordinarily would have stopped himself long before this. But something was egging him on.
He couldn't even tell what it was that was making him think with every spank, that he needed to give her another one.
He needed to spank her just one more time.
Just one more time.
He would look down on those ass globes stretched out for his pleasure. He had tied her so tightly this time that her ass itself wasn't permitted to move at all. Not barely a muscle.
The flesh, as supple as it was, became stretched with the rounded shape of the bottom held firmly in one position. This caused the ordinarily flawless white cheeks to become like smooth, white stones. Like marble, really, because not only were the globes translucent, shining there in all their glory, but they were like alabaster.
The cheeks were white, but lightly traced with just the most barely perceivable lines which were the veins of her youthful body.
That is, until she started working on her.
After the first stroke which set his hand on fire, her ass was certainly on fire, too. He told her that her first stroke would be a very special one.
"I'm going to pack the strength of ten strokes into this one," he told her before he began. His voice was deep, and there was just a trace of a quiver to it. Nobody else upon hearing it bellow would have noticed that quiver, but to Suzanne's perceptive ears, it meant that her father was in a very rare state of mind at the moment.
He was in complete control of himself and of his emotions, but he was ready to give way at any moment arid flail.
His even temper was a sign of his tremendous belief in restraint.
Why, he was spanking Suzanne because he wanted her to restrain herself.
If she met somebody who was nice, who was sweet and handsome, who liked her and treated her well, and who fulfilled her sexual fantasies, then Daddy would insist that she restrain herself from giving in.
Maybe it was because this made no particular sense to Suzanne, she had to, for the very first time in her life, go against her father's wishes.
Knowing the tremendous importance her father placed upon restraint and disciplining punishment, she had never come out and really done something terribly wrong. The reason was simple. Her father wouldn't allow it.
That is, he would allow it, but he would punish her to the degree that he deemed equal to what she should take. His assessments were always a bit on the severe side, for he was of the personal belief that when in doubt, always be more strict, more severe. If the ass is so red that it looks as if the next stroke may break the skin and cause a sliver-thin cut from the switch or the twig, then give it that one more stroke.
Go the limit.
That was his belief, and that was why he would always give it that extra crack with a twist in it. That was why he would punish her with fifteen strokes when she might have been punished enough with twelve.
That was why he would rather give a full count of sixteen, rather than cut it short at fourteen when the account to be settled from her weekly discipline book was fifteen.
But that may have been exactly why he caused Suzanne to break away from her good behavior. She knew that he would always punish her, and so she never went so far as to misbehave to the extent of really getting terribly punished.
She knew her father, in his belief that she would be better for it, would stick her into a tub of boiling hot water and force her naked pussy down into it.
But Suzanne, as she took her beating this time, believed it was sick. As she took the spanking under restraint, (for she was restrained in the chair,) she started to think. A thought virtually burned and beamed in her mind, and this helped her forget about the pain for a while.
It was amazing. This thought was so powerful, it was making her forget about the pain. She could hardly understand it. Was she so numb already that she didn't feel it?
She smiled.
As she smiled, she felt the tears drip down her face and dry to her cheeks.
The smile also made her feel good inside. It made her feel lighter, and she took a deep breath. The spanking hand of her father continued, but she didn't even feel it. She was consumed now with her discovery. Nothing else mattered.
She was being punished too much. What had she done so wrong? She was glad that she wasn't a virgin any longer. She felt free to fuck!
And fucking felt good.
Even now, as she looked calmly at Daddy who continued to spank her with his hand for the first one which was to have the weight of ten, she watched the way his bone of a penis pressed heavily against his loose trousers with every lunge of his punishing body.
The first stroke was actually ten strokes. They came hard and fast, and when ten had been given in very quick succession, like the rapid fire of a machine gun, he stopped. That ten-count was equal one. Each of ten strokes would pack that kind of ten-fold wallop. It was like taking one penny and making it ten pennies.
It was like taking a thousand dollars and making it ten-thousand.
But to her it felt like a million dollars being spanked onto her ass a million times. That is, until she started to make those realizations.
Until she saw herself as the one with power!
Why, she always had that power!
It was just that she didn't realize it.
When Daddy spanked her for doing something wrong, it was because she had only gone that far, and no farther. She was in control of that
She realized that she was in even control when she wrote the punishments down in her book - the ones she felt that she deserved.
She didn't really have to report every detail of how bad she had been.
But she always believed she was writing them down because she didn't want to lie to her father. She would never dare lie to her father. It would be wrong.
Those were the things she thought, but now she knew that it had all been bullshit.
She wanted those spankings!
She made sure she was just bad enough each week to earn as much as she wanted.
She knew her father and she knew how much he would give her for each and every offense. She had always seen to it that he gave her as much as she chose, as much as she desired to satisfy some very hard-to-satisfy lust.
And then, of course, she'd let him go that extra step farther.
Maybe it was a trait, a manner of habit, which she had picked up from him.
She always allowed him to take her just that one extra step. Just that one step which would turn mere discomfort into pain, mere pain into torment. Spank me, Daddy! Spank me, Daddy, Goodnight!
That was what she had created for herself. All week long she waited for punishment day. She waited for that special part of Sunday.
She felt freer after a Sunday's spanking than she felt after a Sunday's mass.
She felt really cleansed.
But this time he was spanking too hard!!!
This time she had gone farther than she'd really expected. Somehow, when she saw the legs of her muscled, young gymnast, spread slowly apart over his head to form a pair of wings, she wanted to stuff her face into the center.
But she didn't really reckon on him wanting to spread her legs.
Now she was a new girl, however. She had done the very thing she had always feared most. She could hardly think of anything he would punish her more for than losing her cherry to a stranger in New York. Except, maybe, throwing her mother out the window.
This girl really had it tough.
But she felt a power tingle in her cunny lips as he set her ass on fire with handstrokes which left the feeling of a thousand needles tingling on her ass cheeks.
She realized how powerful she had been all these years.
She had gotten her father to give her just the right amount of punishment strokes - each and every time!
It was nothing which could be explained. It just happened.
It was her power. It was the power which had made her concentrate hard enough to make things happen.
She gazed across the room. There was an object on the floor. She stared at it a moment. She concentrated on it. Her gaze made the object move!
It moved across the floor. Not noticeably, at first, except to the most careful observer.
But gradually it started to move, more and more, faster and faster.
And Suzanne was sure that she was responsible.
If she were used to using her powers so specifically, she would be able to virtually snap the ropes which were binding her ankles and wrists to the chair for this punishment.
She would have stopped her father's hand in mid-air!
At the moment, as vulnerable as her body was, she could hardly believe that she was supernatural enough to do something like that!
She had kicked her legs as much as her bondage allowed, but still, the ropes which criss-crossed her upper thighs, and around her waist, made her ass globes like marble globes, so firm did they stay even as he spanked.
But there was something else that was coming into her head.
Again, she went with her imagination, and she found that she knew all the answers. She was listening to that little voice inside of her.
She was listening to that something inside the pit of her stomach. And that conscience knew everything. It didn't get mixed up in the ego, or tangled in her wanting of Daddy's approval.
Of course not!
She didn't think that if she acted without restraint, her father would punish her. She didn't need him to control her any longer.
All the time, she had really been controlling him.
Realizing this, she realized, too, that she could control herself.
"More? You think you need more, you slutty little bitch?" Daddy demanded.
His voice was deep, but the veins were popping out at his temples and the words were coming through clenched teeth.
"Answer me, you fucking little cunt!" he snarled, flailing her ass with a flurry of angry strokes. Unwilling to actually lose his temper on his daughter's ass, he stopped himself. He restrained himself. Again, he was in control.
In control of himself. Yes, but of his daughter, too?
"I think I've taken enough, Daddy," she said, "but if you think I deserve more, I'll take it from you," she said sweetly.
Tied up as she was, she didn't dare to say anything which might rile him.
There would better times to be so foolish.
Naturally, he took it as a "fresh remark" as he called it, anyway.
"You disrespectful bitch," he yelled. "I bring you to New York on vacation, spending my hard-earned dollars to show you a good time, and you go ahead and in one day manage to give your virginity to some boy you meet in a shopping center, and to push your mother out the hotel window!"
"Daddy," she started.
But he wouldn't listen. He continued to rant and rave as he stalked away from the chair into which she was turned with her ass sticking way up.
"I'm going to get a bar of soap so I can stuff it in your mouth while I beat your ass," he said. "That will teach you to speak with some respect to your father. After all I've done for you! Taking you on this trip, raising you and ... "
"Enough, Daddy," Suzanne said with a new adultness in her tone.
It was a serious enough statement from a serious enough young woman to make him stop dead in his tracks. His jaw dropped slightly, but he didn't speak.
Suzanne filled the silence with her side of the story.
"First of all, I did not push mother out the window. She came leaping at me. She was going to throw me to the floor, or worse. I know that if I hadn't moved away from in front of the window, she wouldn't have hurled two stories to the pavement. But really! It was only self-defense, or offense, really."
She continued before her father had a chance to speak.
"Besides, I appreciate everything you've ever done for me, including this trip to New York. Maybe even, especially this trip to New York - but not for the reasons you had in mind."
"Oh, do you appreciate this trip to New York because it gave you a chance to become a whore? To lose your cherry like a common slut? How much did he pay you, pig-whore?"
"Father!" she exclaimed, stopping him short.
And then, they both gasped. He went pale.
Suzanne realized that she had called him father for the very first time. Up until now, it had always been Daddy. Suzanne felt suddenly sad, and the room seemed to darken.
Daddy looked at his girl, stretched with her arms and legs tied with rope to the underside of an overturned chair. He saw the redness which was glowing with heat on the curves of her beautiful bottom. He saw her cunny peaking through, and it was wet and glistening.
Yes, the lips had been violated.
She had lost her virginity on a trip to New York City.
"But father," she repeated, liking this authority, "I'm not sorry that Mike fucked me. It felt, well, it felt like nothing ever before. I didn't like it at first. It hurt. He was big. I was tight. There was some blood."
"But he was forceful. The way you'd be, father. Oh, don't try to say you wouldn't give a hard fuck, Father. I've heard you and Mother doing it." Salvatore felt his prick getting harder."
"After a while, it felt so good. I was screaming with joy. I was begging him to fuck me deeper and harder. I pleaded with him not to stop. I loved it. The only time it felt bad was when I thought about how you'd punish me for it later. But then, I looked at Mike, and instead of seeing Mike, I imagined you! I saw you there fucking me, Father. Daddy."
He couldn't quite accept this tremendous compliment for what it was.
He still believed, as she had, that incest was the truest taboo.
He believed that he would surely be punished by God for doing it with Suzanne.
Sometimes, even that didn't matter.
Suzanne started talking to him again.
"But I wouldn't be sorry even if I hadn't imagined that he was you. I loved the way his cock felt inside of me. It filled my pussy, Daddy. You're a man. You know how it feels to stick you big dick inside the warm, wet channel of a young pussy. You know how it feels to have a tight pussy working its muscles on your stiff dick."
Salvatore swallowed hard. He felt sweat break out all over his forehead, and the crack of his was wet. The black hairs of the crack were curling with dew.
She had him.
She had him in her possession.
"But you can't even imagine what it would be like to have a pussy. I know what it's like, and I know how it feels to have a piece of a man's body, his most personal, private part, deep inside.
"Why, just feeling it in my hand was a thrill, all hot and pulsating: But when I felt it inside of my pussy, it had a special power to it. And I concentrated all my energy on his prick, and even when he left it deep inside without moving it barely at all, we were both howling like wild animals, or moaning and panting together, real, real hard."
Suzanne's incredible powers had transferred themselves, during her intercourse with Mike, directly to the very wet and sloshing connection between his dick and her innermost femaleness.
"Daddy, you can never imagine the feeling of having that tightly stretched membrane rip with the steady force of a throbbing cock head!"
"I mean, it's the flesh of another body, a body so unlike my girlish one. Where I am soft and rounded, he was muscled and firmed. Where my wet pussy was deep, his hot prick was long. I thought we would fly away in that intertwined position. When I wrapped my legs around him ... "
"Enough dirty talk, Suzanne!" her father insisted. "You have made me so ashamed of my own daughter, I don't even feel like spanking you now. Can you imagine what our father-daughter relationship has turned to, Suzanne? I won't even fulfill my father duty and give you the spanking you deserve. I don't even care that much about you."
"And I don't want you to," Suzanne said, but it was intended with malice. "If you care about me, that means you care what I do. And frankly, Father, I'm a big girl now. I'm fifteen years old and my body belongs to me. You can just learn to keep your traditions off my pussy."
"But you'll make mistakes without me there to guide you and punish you."
"If I make mistakes, I'll make them and I'll learn from them. I'll just have to learn to take care of myself. I'll have to do it from inside. I don't need your spankings any longer."
"And I don't feel like giving them to you," her father told her, but it was not with understanding that he spoke, although he certainly followed her wishes, as always, it seems.
He untied her as he told her that he was disgusted with her.
"I love you, of course. You are my daughter. I planted the seed of you inside your mother, and I raised you. I'll never stop loving you because of that. But I don't care about you any longer. You'll have to take care of yourself. I don't care about you. I love you, but I don't care about you anymore."
She didn't respond in words, but she did smile to herself.
Suzanne was getting what she wanted. This time she was sure of it. She realized it. Her head was filled with other times when she had gotten others to do exactly as she wished. The boys who called her on the telephone just as she wished them to started popping into her head, but she had to clear such thoughts from her brain at the moment. There were more important things to do.
When she was released, her father took her wrists and rubbed them with his strong hands. He rubbed gently though. He was bringing the circulation back which the tight ropes had stopped. He was soothing her aches.
Her own hands reached back to the ass globes. Ouch. They were sore.
She could feel the heat burning off of them, and she knew that they were red hot and probably not so pretty to look at, all criss-crossed with the signs of a good, old fashioned spanking.
Salvatore, however, had a total hard-on looking at that ass.
It had been his pleasure to part the tender, well-spanked globes many times, and to see the lack of hair in the crack of his daughter's young ass, and to see the quivering little tan spot which opened into her asshole.
He had spanked it.
"I think I have to get back to the hospital," Salvatore told Suzanne, who rubbed some ice on the aching cheeks of her ass.
"Aren't visiting hours over?" Suzanne said, knowing it was late, and changing the subject from the one of spanking as her father so obviously, wished to do.
Why, he had even turned the punishment chair back into an upright position without even commenting on it.
"I have some unfinished business to complete there," her father said firmly. "I must go back and take care of it."
It was clear that he didn't want to speak about this sudden change in a pattern which had remained steady for many years.
The cycle of the weekly spankings and the insistent punishment for the breaking of the slightest infraction was now destroyed. It had ended when her father stopped a spanking before its previously assigned conclusion.
But it also seemed that something supernatural was pressing him back to the hospital. His sudden desire to get back there was highly unusual for him.
He had been totally involved in a job which he considered to be one of his most important, if not the most important: The disciplining of Suzanne.
He had virtually let the paddle drop. He had to get out of there.
It was like a starving person, smelling the scent of freshly baking bread.
He was compelled to follow that trail, and he knew even now that it led to the hospital where his wife was bedded.
Suzanne did not stop him. She didn't quite know why, but she knew that it was best for him to go back there. She didn't really know what was happening there, but she had a feeling.
No sooner than her father left the door did the telephone ring.
It was Mike again.
"Are you alright? That call was so strange. You hung up, or ... "
"I'm alright, now. A little sore on the bottom, but otherwise, I'm okay."
She could tell that Mike was smiling when he boasted about the way he had walloped her. He was thinking that she was telling him that his spanking had had its long-lasting effect on her. Actually, she was referring to still another one which had happened on top of that one!
But she didn't let on. She allowed him to have his pride.
She knew how to handle him!
"I'm horny," he told her. "Can I come over and fuck you up the ass this time?"
"My asshole is quivering," she said. "But it's best that you don't come here. Start playing with yourself. Get a hard-on. And by the time the cum starts oozing out that slit, I'll be there to sit my cunt on it."
CHAPTER NINE
Back at the hospital, all was not well.
It was not that Suzanne's mother wasn't feeling well. Quite the contrary, with her attractive young nurse playing with her clit, she was feeling quite well indeed.
This had been going on for some time now. Many orgasms had been experienced between them.
Suzanne's mother was now being called the little nickname the nurse had made up for her. Sweet Clitty.
As for the nurse, she had told Sweet Clitty that she had plenty of time. She had been assigned to this room and this room alone. Salvatore had seen to it that his wife was not left unattended for any moment at all.
The night belonged to them now. The door had been locked, but there would be no visitors, anyway. Or so they thought.
Sweet Clitty was calling her woman Nurse Honey, because she was a nurse, and because the slit of her pussy was lined with such sweet nectar.
The nurse had the enema hose up Sweet Clitty's asshole.
At least eight inches of the rubber were being pressed all around by the walls of Sweet Clitty's asshole. They were so sensitive, they could feel the water rushing up into the hose from the overstuffed bag of water.
It felt warm. When it rushed out into her ass, filling her up, it was hot.
She felt her belly being bloated. She felt as if she were pregnant.
But all the time that the water filled her ass, the nurse distracted her by playing with her clitoris. She had her fingers pinching the love button.
Her juices were dripping all over the nurse's fingers.
Still, the nurse squeezed the clit, and flicked her finger over it.
Never was she unaware of the amount of hot water she was pumping with steady pressure into the bloating ass and belly of her nude captive.
She pressed her hand into Sweet Clitty's belly and massaged it until Sweet Clitty moaned. It was causing a lot of pressure on her cunt.
She was also afraid that the hot water would rush out of her ass.
It was becoming more and more difficult to hold that water inside.
But the nurse kissed her, shoving her tongue muscle deeply down her throat.
When she turned off the catch which was allowing the water to flow into the woman, she told her to keep all of that water in.
"Don't let a drop out."
Then she climbed on top of her, breasts to breasts.
She started to hump her with her female body. Her breasts were bouncing against her breasts, and their cunts were writhing together, with the nurse pressing downward and making cuntal rotations which started Sweet Clitty's pussy juice to froth.
Salvatore was pressing his body against the wind which had howled up outside.
He had caught a cab to the hospital because he didn't even want to waste time parking. He grabbed the front door and almost knocked over an elderly patient on crutches.
He was anxious to get up to his wife's room.
He moved so fast and so surely that nobody stopped him.
The guard, who should have told him that there were to be no more visitors until tomorrow at eleven, went to assist the poor man on crutches who barely knew what had happened.
"I just felt this breeze come brushing by me and ... "
The nurse on duty in the lobby should have asked anyone who'd gotten beyond that point to sign in, but by the time she turned her head, he was in the elevator.
The nurse on the floor where his wife was supposedly sleeping did, however, stop him and ask for his identification.
"I don't have time for that now. I have to see my wife."
"I'm sorry, Sir, but that will be impossible, I'm afraid."
"Yeah, well I'm afraid it's possible, bitch," he snapped as he headed down the hall.
Offended and alarmed, the nurse called the guards over the intercom at her desk. In no time at all, they had leaped onto the floor from the stairwells leading both above and below it. They were right behind Salvatore as he tried the door. They were right behind him as he turned to the side and heaved his full weight against it, ramming it open!
They all gasped along with him at the sight of his luscious wife with her legs spread wide. The ass of a beautiful, red-headed nurse was sticking up.
The nurse's head was down between Sweet Clitty's legs, now, and there was a slurping noise emanating from that area.
It stopped Salvatore in his tracks, but not for long.
Furious over this and all that had happened on this day of incident after incident, after incident, after incident, he ran toward the scene.
Grabbing the nurse by her breasts, he hurled her off the bed savagely.
She went reeling nakedly, backwards into the arms of the guards who now filled the room.
"Keep away from you, all of you!" Salvatore bellowed. He was like King Kong, jumping onto the hospital bed until the springs creaked.
His wife was trembling with fear. And she still had that hose up her ass.
He pulled it out with one harsh stroke, ripping her asshole which had been clutching the invading rubber at that moment of ultimate fear and confusion.
The water started rushing out of his wife's asshole, filled as it was with ass-juices. Everybody stood back from that, except for Salvatore, who intended to give his naughty wife the punishment he felt she deserved.
He turned her over and started spanking her ass right then and there.
He didn't care that the water was rushing out. He just kept spanking.
The sound of his hard hand on her wet, upturned globes was echoing.
The poor nurse, hateful of Salvatore, but unable to do anything, was told by her male supervisor that she would have to have a special meeting with him to discuss this incident of her being caught in an uncompromising position in the room of a female patient.
"I understand," she said sadly. "I'll get my clothes."
"No, don't bother," her supervisor told her. "I want to talk with you about this shameful incident in the supply closet. You don't need clothes."
"Why, you male chauvinist pig," the lesbian nurse cursed.
"Remember, your job depends on this," he told her calmly.
* * *
Back on West forty-third street, Suzanne played with her nipples as Mike fucked her. There was that sinfully sexy smile on her face.
She didn't know where her father was, but she knew that her power had caused him to go there.
She knew that she had caused herself to get caught with her hand in the cookie jar, so to speak, too many times. That part of her life was over.
As Mike's dick forced its way inside of her cuntal pudding again and again, she wondered if she should use her powers of concentration to coax him into giving her another spanking.
She'd been spanked so much. Could she take any more this night?
She thought about it. For now, just the fucking felt good enough.
At the moment, it really didn't matter.
She knew now that whatever happened, she would always get her way.
* * *
Back at the hospital, Salvatore was having his way!
He stripped his clothes off. He was snarling like an animal. He was a madman.
He had gone completely nuts, and he caused the other observers to go running from the room.
He grabbed his cock at the base and squeezed it tightly.
The veins in it swelled up. The head of his dick was bulbous, purple, and oozing pre-cum. His big balls were hanging down.
The lesbian nurse was awed by his spectacular display.
She had never been into men since those early experiences, but the way he took command of this situation was just too much for her to resist. She started to swoon.
She couldn't help herself. She had to touch his cock.
Her hand was trembling as she reached for it. Her fingers grasped the shaft of it. It was hot. She held it. She stroked it. She placed her fingertips on the slit of the opening at the cockhead, and smoothed the juices over the soft prick head.
Salvatore's wife looked on in a state of utter humiliation.
Not only had she been caught with the lesbian nurse, but now that nurse was feeling the cock of her husband!
She had no choice but to stand back and watch.
Salvatore took this woman and forced her down on her knees before him.
He pressed down on her back, forcing her to the ground. Her mouth was opened. She was ready to taste that special taste of cock once again, after all these years, but Salvatore wasn't going to give it to her that easily.
He forced her mouth down on his balls. She felt that the sac was made of thick flesh, and she sucked on, swirling the sac in her mouth, feeling its warmth.
"Suck on my balls, you bitch," he said. "Stealing my wife's pussy, huh? I'll give you something so you won't have to go stealing pussy."
He rotated her head around and around in the ball sac.
She was moaning and groaning. When he finally gave her a chance to come up for air, she told him that she had something for them both. She virtually ignored Mrs. Amorelli.
She went to the supply cabinet. It was locked, but she had a key.
Opening it, she quickly found what she was looking for. She brought out several square cardboard boxes, small ones. They were colored a bright yellow.
"What's that?" Salvatore asked her.
"It's something we use for heart patients to open up their arteries and everything. It pumps blood through the system and gives a real rush. It's called poppers because the chemical inside this little capsule rushes out when popped."
With that, she removed one of the little white capsules and placed it between her fingers. She squeezed it until it snapped, popped and started its fumes rushing out.
She held it to her nostrils and inhaled.
While it was designed for patients with heart problems, it really did a number on the regular people who used it. After the nurse sniffed it, her head started reeling, and she lost all of her inhibitions.
She started groveling at Salvatore's feet, licking him on his dirty shoes.
"Yeah, bitch, I like that," he told her. "It shows me what a slave you are."
She raised her arm, extending the popper to him. Even though the heaviest fumes had already been consumed by the nurse, there was more power to be inhaled.
Salvatore didn't want to get hooked on drugs. He'd heard that once you try your first thing like that, it's hard to stop.
But the nurse had done it, so it was under the care of a medical person. At least, that was Salvatore's rationalization as he inhaled deeply.
Almost immediately, he felt his face flush. He broke out in a cold sweat.
But he loved it. He was still grabbing his dick tightly around the root.
"I wanna fuck you," he rasped. "Up the ass!"
"No," the nurse whimpered.
But Salvatore pushed her down, forcing her ass up.
They were on the cold floor. It was quite a sight. The nurse moaned and begged Salvatore's wife to help her, but of course, the woman did not assist at all.
She merely stood there with her arms crossed in front of her, watching.
"Come on," Salvatore said, taking his fat cock and directing toward her bunghole.
She tried to squirm her butt hole away, but Salvatore gave her cheeks one of those hard spanks he was famous for.
She positioned her ass up for him and took another hit of the poppers.
He tried to work his stiff dick into her ass. It wouldn't go in at first.
But then, all of a sudden, he lunged it forward.
"Ohhhhhhhh," she moaned. And she tried to get away.
He held her back on his dick, but she managed to make the big cock slip out as she rammed her fingers furiously into her vagina.
She started to come.
The juices just poured out of her cunny.
She was moaning.
Salvatore, aroused to see her reach orgasm at the very feel of his pole up her ass, moved around and jerked on his dick, stroking it furiously.
She saw that he was about to ejaculate, and so she grabbed his big balls and started to pull on them as he came closer and closer and then came like never before.
"Ahhhhhhh!"
His semen was like thick glue. It gushed out and landed on the nurse's body.
She was groaning along with him as his thick fluid came.
Salvatore's wife, in total humiliation, watched on.
It had been quite a weekend in New York City.
So much had happened so fast.
It was a bit much to handle, but they would have to do just that. It was a case of live and learn. If you don't learn, you don't live.
Back at Mike's place, Suzanne was under his thumb.
He had removed his black leather belt. It was doubled over in his hand.
He had her stretched out on the bed. Her ass was sticking up.
He stroked the belt across her ass cheeks. He didn't hit too hard, but he hit hard enough, and always when she didn't expect it.
As he whipped her with the belt, she played with his cock.
She was able to watch his cock swinging back and forth as he beat her with the belt. She played with it, stroking it and running her finger around the flared dick head.
She moved her mouth to it, and started to suck it, even though she had to keep wincing with each smack across her bottom.
"Don't you dare bite on it, Suzanne, or I'll really lay this belt on you," her man told her.
"Yes, Daddy," she sighed, taking her mouth off the shaft long enough to get those words out.
He liked that. He liked the way she called him "Daddy" even though her real father was in the same city, too.
He was her Daddy, now. He was the authority figure she would crawl to; the one she beg to spank her goodnight.
"Let's live together," he suggested. "You don't have to go back to Pennsylvania to live with your folks, now that you've got me. Stay with me. I'll be good to you. I'll spank you every night. You won't be able to fall asleep without a spanking from me."
"And will you tie me to your bed each night?" she asked, panting.
"That's where you belong, tied, but not to the bed. I'll tie you on the floor like a dog. You can sleep at my feet until you learn to behave the way I expect."
"I'll earn the right to sleep in your bed," she rasped, tweaking her nipples.
"That's the only way."
"And if I'm real good, what will I get as a reward? An extra smack across the face?"
"Yeah, a real good smack. You'll get to be tied between my legs so that you can keep your head down on my pecker all night long. That's right. I want your mouth on the full length of my boner all night long."
"And I'll crawl under the table so that I can eat the crumbs which fall onto your lap," she moaned, seductively.
"Yeah," he grinned.
* * *
But it never happened.
The weekend in New York soon was over.
Mrs. Amorelli was given a clean bill of goods and was discharged from the hospital.
She did not say goodbye to the nurse who had "taken care of her."
Neither did Salvatore. Once he had shot his wad, it was all over. It meant nothing more than that to him.
Suzanne returned with her parents to Pennsylvania. She returned as a much wiser young girl. For now she was aware of her special powers, and she was determined to use them for her own ends.
She didn't need Mike, or New York, although she would think of both often, and she would write Mike from time to time.
But she had her Daddy, as she'd always had.
And her weekly disciplining sessions continued.
"Spank me, Daddy," she would moan, as she lay over her father's knees.
And her father would spank her, the way he felt he should.
She needed that to be a better girl, and he knew that he had to do his duty and give her everything she needed.
Everything she needed, square across those twin rounded globes.
Oh, how they burned red hot, turned from flawless white to crimson.
Her ass was always sore now that she had discovered her powers.
She never stopped needing these spankings, and it seemed that she was able to command many men to beat her.
There was the cop who caught her smoking grass in a parked car with a boyfriend late one night. He was going to take her in, which she knew, would result in a spanking for her.
"Please, officer," she said. "Isn't there anything I can do to earn my punishment without having to go to the police station? I don't want my parents to find out. It would hurt their feelings. And I'd get spanked."
"Well, a girl like you needs a good, old fashioned spanking," the policeman told her. "I could see to it that your bottom gets a good red one. That would be punishment enough."
And so, in the presence of this boyfriend, she received an over the knee spanking with her skirts pulled up and her panties pulled down.
After he had warmed up her bottom with ten minutes of hand spanking, he switched to his heavy policeman's utility belt, whipping her until she cried.
Then she kissed the belt which had whipped her, and thanked the policeman.
In school, the same thing happened. A young, male art teacher was rather annoyed with her. She had traced a drawing from a book and passed it off as an original.
Her reward was a spanking.
Why it had come to that, she couldn't be certain.
But that's exactly what it was.
He told her to place her hands on his desk. She did that, sticking her ass out.
She received a dozen hard wallops with his yard stick.
The sound of that hard stick smacking her upturned bottom globes rang throughout the school.
After that, everybody knew that Mr. Hausser had spanked Suzanne's ass after class.
That was to become her reputation.
That was what the boys thought of when they saw her.
And now she realized that she wanted it that way.
Everybody knew she had a hot ass.
She had become the hottest little ass in town.
EPILOGUE
It was not until months later, however, that Suzanne met the man that would truly punish her little, ripe ass.
She met him without introduction, and she never did know his name, but he changed everything in her life for her, for he was the man that broke the pathological belief she had that she could control men's actions.
She was coming home from school one day and he was waiting in the bushes. He grabbed her and threw her to the floor, ripping her little skirt and panties off.
Suzanne smiled as he pushed her on her stomach, for she began to concentrate on a good spanking, but instead, to her shock and dismay, she got a big, hard cock up her ass.
The rapist ripped into Suzanne's little shit chute until it was all sore and bleeding, and then he came, zipped up and was gone.
The pain in her ass took weeks to cease, but the wound to her ridiculous belief that she was the one making her spank her could never heal.
She was finally forced to admit to herself that her ass was simply at the disposal of the men in her life, whether she wanted it to be or not. They were the ones in control, not her.
