Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 DISCIPLINE by Karnal 2006

   Edward is forced to teach his daughter a lesson.  (Mg, inc, cp)

   I had to discipline Jessica again this evening.  This was the third time
in four weeks, a worrying trend.  Since she turned twelve Jessica has
become very wilful, everything she does seems to be a challenge to my
authority.  It's even more important now for me to maintain discipline; if
I let up on her now I will lose her, just as I lost her mother.

   Jessica had been extremely well behaved during our evening meal; she had
not uttered a word while we were eating, an offence for which I have had to
punish her several times before.  After the meal she had followed our
routine to the letter, taking the dirty plates and cutlery to the kitchen
without being reminded.  Perhaps her good behaviour was intended to soften
me up, for when she had finished her chores she asked if she could spend
the evening at her friend's house.  I saw no reason to refuse her request,
but I reminded her of our routine; to be in bed by 8.30pm, she would have
to be home by 8pm at the latest.

   "Yes, daddy," she replied.  She was standing directly in front of me,
looking straight ahead as she addressed me.  I admit, I was off my guard at
that moment, Jessica looked so much like her mother; straight brown hair
almost to her waist, bright blue eyes and a slightly crooked smile.  Of
course, Jessica's mother had been several years older when I first met her,
but our daughter was growing up quickly.

   Ten minutes later I was sitting at my desk in the study when there was a
faint knock at the door.

   "Come in," I said.  The door opened a fraction and Jessica's head
appeared in the gap.

   "I'm ready to leave now, daddy," she said.  I always insist that she
tells me when she is about to leave, and that she reports in when she
returns home.  I was suspicious.  "Come in, Jessica," I said, in a firm
tone of voice.

   Jessica hesitated, my suspicions became stronger.  I stood up quickly
and went to the door, opening it wide to reveal what my daughter had hoped
to conceal from me.  I looked down at her.  Jessica's long, slim legs were
bare, yet she knows she is required to wear white knee-socks or regulation
school tights; her skirt, if it could be called that, stopped several
inches above the knee, more a belt than a skirt; but worst of all, her top,
a tube of flimsy material, supported by two narrow straps that were more
like shoelaces.  Although Jessica's breasts have yet to develop, I could
clearly see her nipples poking through the skimpy material.

   An image entered my mind; my little girl, dressed like a whore, sitting
in a public house, her long legs crossed, revealing too much thigh;
surrounded by rough types, men with shaven heads and stubble, leering at my
daughter as they imagined what they could do to her ripe body.  I had to
save her from that.

   Jessica lowered her gaze to the floor.  "Look at me!" I commanded, and
she obeyed.  She knew better than to say anything now, she knew her
punishment was coming and there was nothing she could do to avoid it.  "Go
to your room," I said.  My anger was apparent to her, even though I spoke
quietly.  I detected a faint tremble in her slender body.

   As she climbed the stairs dejectedly, I realised that her skirt was so
short I could see her panties; they were pink, and trimmed with lace,
instead of the plain white cotton ones she should have been wearing.  I
sighed, and for a moment I doubted myself.  What was the point?  Jessica
took every opportunity to disobey me, could I ever keep her on the right
path?  Yes, I told myself.  I could, if I was resolute.

   I went to my room and prepared myself; first I showered, because it is
important to start such an undertaking in a state of cleanliness, it gives
one a certain sense of superiority.  Then I dressed in a pair of loose grey
jogging bottoms and a t-shirt, for I knew I would be exerting myself. 
Finally I went to the cupboard and selected the equipment I would be using.
Something told me the usual punishment would not be sufficient this time.

   As I entered Jessica's room I realised I had been far too lax with her;
the subdued lighting made the room look more like a brothel than a little
girl's bedroom.  The walls were covered with posters depicting young men,
presumably pop singers of some kind.  At the time it had seemed like a good
idea, but now I regretted allowing this; Jessica had obviously become
over-stimulated by these pictures.

   I was pleased to see that my daughter could do at least one thing
correctly; she had taken up the position I have taught her, kneeling on the
floor with the top half of her body across the bed, her arms stretched out
in front and her face pressed against the bedclothes.  She lifted her head
slightly as I entered the room, and gave a loud gasp as she saw the cane I
held in front of me.  I had never had occasion to use the cane before, but
I had often shown it to Jessica and her brother as a warning.

   "Jessica," I began.  "I have always taught you the correct way to
behave, haven't I?  How to conduct yourself in public, to be polite and
respectful to your elders?  Haven't I, Jessica?" I waited.  "Jessica?  I
asked you a question; you may speak."

   "Yes," she said, in a faint, trembling voice.

   "And haven't I taught you how to dress appropriately?"

   "Yes," she said again, more quietly.  "I beg your pardon?" I said. 
"Please speak more clearly, so that I can hear you."

   "Yes," Jessica said, louder this time but still with a tremor in her
voice.

   "How have I taught you to dress, Jessica?"

   "Respectable," she muttered.

   Sometimes I despair of my daughter.  "Respectably," I corrected her. 
"Why should you dress respectably?"

   "So that others know I am a young lady, and treat me with respect," she
replied.

   "Very good Jessica, clearly the lesson has penetrated your brain and
lodged in your memory.  Please explain, therefore, why you have chosen to
dress like a prostitute?"

   Jessica said nothing.  "I'm waiting," I reminded her.

   "Sorry, daddy," she whimpered.

   I sighed.  "I didn't ask for an apology.  I asked you a question.  Would
you like me to repeat it?"

   "No, daddy," was all she said.

   I waited.  "Jessica.  You really are trying my patience.  Please tell
me, why do you wish people to think you are a prostitute?"

   "I don't," she replied.

   "THEN WHY DO YOU DRESS LIKE ONE?" I shouted, my whole body trembling
with fury.

   "I'm sorry, daddy." Jessica was almost incoherent now, barely capable of
speaking through her sobs.

   "Enough." I paused for a while to allow myself to calm down.

   I stood behind Jessica and reached down to pull her skirt up.  Although
the skirt was short it was extremely tight, and I could only pull it up a
short way.  "Stand up," I told her.  Jessica did as I ordered, and began to
turn towards me.  "No," I commanded her, "don't turn around."



   We stood there for some time, in complete silence.  I lowered the cane
until the tip rested on Jessica's bare shoulder.  "Take off your skirt."



   Jessica reached behind her, and began to unfasten her skirt.  It was so
tight she had some difficulty with the buttons.  Impatiently, I slapped her
hands away and did it for her.  "Now take it off," I said.



   She hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her skirt and pushed it down
over her thighs.  For the second time I saw her panties; the kind a whore
would wear.



   "You might as well take off that top.  You're practically naked anyway,"
I told her, a note of disgust entering my voice.  She did as she was told.
She was facing away from me, but in my mind I could see her sharp-nippled
little buds.



   "Now resume the position," I told her.  As she knelt over the bed once
more, I found myself looking at her buttocks, barely concealed by the
flimsy material of her panties.  I felt a tightness in my groin and I
realised I was becoming aroused.  This made me even more determined to
teach the little slut a lesson; if she could have this effect on me, what
would she do to weaker men?

   "Now pull your panties down, please," I said.  She did so, leaving them
just below her buttocks.  I bent down and pushed the panties further down
her thighs.  I allowed my hand to rest on Jessica's bare bottom.  Her skin
was warm and soft, just like her mother's.



   The first smack made her cry out; good, she hadn't been expecting it
yet. I smacked her again, my hand making a sharp slapping sound on her bare
flesh.  I gave her four more smacks, of moderate severity.  She began to
whimper.  "Be quiet please, Jessica," I asked softly.  I stroked her
bottom, her skin felt quite hot to the touch.

   I was feeling some significant discomfort now, so I was obliged to lower
my pants.  My penis sprang up in front of me, very hard now, almost
throbbing.  It occurred to me that I would need some freedom of movement,
so I removed my pants completely.  I didn't want Jessica to see me in a
state of arousal, goodness knows what effect that would have on her, but as
long as she maintained the prescribed position she wouldn't be able to see
anything.



   I positioned myself carefully and drew my arm back.  "Jessica," I said.
"I want you to understand that I do this because I love you, that you have
done wrong and must be punished.  Do you understand?"



   I waited.  Jessica said nothing.  "Do you understand?" I asked again. 
"Yes," came the barely audible reply.



   Whack!  The cane made a satisfyingly loud noise as it struck Jessica's
bottom.  She began to wail, most plaintively.



   Whack!  I made the second stroke harder, leaving a distinct red mark
across her buttocks.



   Whack!  I had to pause then.  I had become incredibly aroused, and I was
concerned that I might ejaculate.  After a minute or two I had regained my
composure and was able to continue.



   Whack!  Jessica was sobbing quietly now.



   Whack!  There were several bright red marks across Jessica's bottom now,
but she was hardly making a sound.



   Whack!  I made sure that the sixth and final stroke was the hardest of
all.  Jessica gave a loud grunt which subsided into a series of deep sobs.



   I had to stop and recover my breath; I could feel droplets of sweat on
my forehead.  I had exerted myself to a greater degree than I had
anticipated.

   Then Jessica began to lever herself off the bed, obviously thinking the
matter to have been concluded.  "Stay where you are," I commanded her,
firmly.  She lowered herself back onto the bed, stretching her arms out and
pressing her face into the bedclothes.

   My penis was now almost painfully erect, my testicles were swollen with
semen.  The sight of my daughter's pert young bottom was too much, I knew I
would have to do something to relieve myself.  I lowered myself to my knees
behind my daughter.  She tried to look round to see what I was doing, but I
gave her a sharp slap with my free hand and ordered her to resume the
prescribed position.

   I took myself in hand, and began to slowly move my foreskin back and
forth over the head of my penis.  I wanted to prolong this, but I knew I
was now so aroused I wouldn't be able to last very long.  I began to
masturbate more quickly, my hand becoming a blur.  I felt my scrotum
tighten, and I gave a deep moan as thick strings of semen spurted from my
penis all over Jessica's bottom.  I watched, fascinated, as the sticky
substance oozed between her buttocks.  I leaned down for a closer look, and
to my surprise I saw tiny droplets of moisture nestling between her labia;
this was not my semen, but my daughter's own juices!  The little slut had
become aroused by her punishment.  I realised then that I would have to
raise my game, this dirty little whore needed more severe treatment to
teach her the lessons she so badly needed to learn.

   I stood up, looking down at my daughter's naked body stretched across
the bed.  My flaccid penis began to twitch again, so I hurriedly left the
room before my desire got the better of me.  "Clean yourself, girl," I
commanded as I left.