The following story depicts non-consensual physical discipline between adult and teenaged participants. Those offended by graphic descriptions of corporal punishment should read no further. This is entirely a work of fantasy, and does not advocate the abuse of minors in any way, shape or form. All characters and events represented herein are completely fictional.
JUST DESSERTS
PART ONE: THE PLANK
1.
“All right! That's it, young lady!!”
Ralph Mitchell was sick of Mary's backchat. He'd had one of the worst days in recorded history and the last thing he needed right now was a mouthful of his daughter's sneering contempt. Arriving home from work, he'd anticipated a little consideration from his family, maybe even some quiet recognition of his paternal status. He was the one who brought home the bacon, put the food on the table and payed off the mortgage, for chrissake!!
All he wanted was to be treated with the respect he deserved. Forty hours a week in the Office From Hell, and all he could look forward to was Maria's snide remarks. She'd started in with the catty sideswipes the moment he'd stepped through the door, sulking and pouting like the spoilt brat she was. Well, he'd had enough about as much as he was going to take.
The lady in question stood before him in growing trepidation. Maria had been expecting one of his endless tirades when he'd called her into the living room five minutes before: he told her off at least once a week these days. She usually ignored his periodic rages with cold, adolescent disdain (he was an adult, what would he know anyway?). On this occasion, however, she'd recognised the thunder in his voice and realized she was in serious trouble.
Worse still, she knew she was completely in the wrong. Ralph had issued endless reprimands over the past week or so; she couldn't plead ignorance or ask for a second chance. Truth be told, she'd been deliberately baiting her father for days now, wilfully pushing the envelope to see how much she could get away with. Well, it seemed she was about to find out.
“I've had it up to here with your insolence and disrespect, Maria!!” Ralph was storming, “there're going to be some big changes around here, and we may as well start with your little attitude problem!!”
Mary listened in mounting apprehension, hoping it wouldn't end with the verdict she dreaded so much. Biting her lip against approaching tears, she prayed that he'd let her off with a warning. Unfortunately, they were long past the point of no return. Once Ralph Mitchell made up his mind, nothing short of an act of God could alter his decision.
“Up to your room, young lady,” he told her, gesturing towards the staircase, “I'll be along in five minutes. It's time for a nice, long spanking over my knee.”
Mary's eyes widened in sudden terror.
“No, Daddy, no! I don't want a SPANKING, noooooo!!”
She began pleading for mercy, her huge brown eyes glistening with approaching tears. She put her hands to her lips, stammering out childish apologies: “I'm sorry Daddy, PLEASE don't be angry, I didn't mean it, really I didn't, I'll NEVER do it again, PLEASE don't SPANK me, please Daddy, don't-”
Unfortunately, Ralph was singularly unimpressed by his daughter's twelth-hour repentance. As far as he was concerned, there was only one way to deal with his daughter's misconduct, one which involved a stern hand and an extremely sore bottom. Maria was going to get precisely what she needed - and a little more for good measure. Placing his palms firmly on his hips, Ralph leaned in close to the girl, eyes smouldering with slow-burning rage.
“Get up to your room this instant,” he growled in tones that brooked no debate. Mary's blood nearly froze in her veins. There would be no escaping the final judgement on this occasion. In a few minutes she'd be standing before her Daddy in her vest and panties, begging him not to spank her naughty young bottom.
Moaning in panic, Mary ran upstairs with her hair streaming out behind her. She knew how much it was going to hurt. Parental discipline was a regular event in the Mitchell household; hardly a month went by without a swift, sharp sojourn over her step-father's knee. Her last spanking had taken place only six weeks before, after Ralph discovered she'd been cutting classes at school. It was a night she'd remember for as long as she lived…
2.
Mary had been going AWOL since the beginning of the term, and her grades had suffered a major downturn. Ralph had been nothing short of furious when he found out, and warned her he wouldn't tolerate any further lapses. Mary had naturally chosen to ignore him. He wasn't her real father, he couldn't speak to her like that. What right did he have to threaten her with a spanking? It was her life, she could cut as many lessons as she chose. No one could tell Mary Mitchell what to do, she didn't have to answer to anybody.
How wrong she'd been about that!
She’d been called to the living room for a good paddling over the sofa less than a week later. The festivities had begun with a bald-faced scolding on the carpet. Waving his finger in front of her face, Ralph had systematically reduced Mary to a frightened child, lower lip quivering in despair. She could tell by the steely glint in his eye that she was in for a good ten minutes at the very least. Outright disobedience required a great deal more than two week's grounding and a few extra chores. Burning justice was top of her father's agenda. Mary's heart had literally skipped a beat when Ralph announced his decision, instructing her to remove her shorts and take down her underpants.
“Daddy, No!!” she'd cried, her hands flying protectively to her rear, “not a SPANKING Daddy, PLEASE, it's not fair!!” Removing her shorts was merely the prelude to the main event. She wavered from foot to foot, haunted by the vision of her naked buttocks raised in trembling expectation. She was too old for a spanking, there had to some other way!!
“Please Daddy, you CAN'T spank me, I'm too old for that, you can't, you just CAN'T!!”
“You heard me right the first time, young lady,” Ralph growled in low, dangerous tones, his expression hardening with anger, “Now get those pants down and bend over the sofa!”
Mary gasped in shock.
Her pulse slammed into overdrive.
Bare bottomed over the sofa: it could only mean one thing.
“No, Daddy, no, nooooooo!!”
'That's right, little girl,” Ralph replied, folding his arms across his wide chest, “I think you're ready for a dose of the Plank!” He inclined his head towards the long wooden implement hanging over the mantlepiece: four feet of smooth, dark cedar, its surface gleaming beneath the den's harsh fluorescents. Mary's lips quivered in fear
“Daddy, no, PLEASE not the PADDLE-”
“Yes, I think ten minutes under the Plank will do you a world of good,” Ralph told her in wholly unambiguous terms, “Now get those shorts off before I really lose my temper!!”
Sobbing in open shame now, Mary started to unclip the fly of her blue denim shorts (they were those trendy, cut-away Levis everyone was wearing that summer; cost her nearly fifty dollars at Jay-Jays). She slid them down to her knees, pausing momentarily before dropping them to the floor. A single thought dominated her mind, glaring its message in huge neon letters:
He’s going to SPANK me!!!
Mary stood up in her lacy nylon panties, her cheeks blushing with embarrassment. She wasn't a child anymore; she was long past that stage where she could parade obliviously around the house in her underwear. She was a senior in high school! What eighteen year-old girl wants to strip down to her lingerie in front of her father?! She crossed her hands over the soft pink triangle of her panties, gaspingly aware of how sheer the fabric was.
Ralph's voice cut through her tense reveries, making her jump.
“Good,” he commented dryly, taking the Plank off the wall, “now get your fanny over that sofa, little girl.”
Mary looked back at her father one last time, eyes brimming.
“Please Daddy, don't s-spank me, I p-promise I'll b-be good, truly I will, please don't p-paddle my bottom Daddy, p-please-”
“Right now!” Ralph snapped, his meagre supply of patience exhausted.
Mary hurried over to the lounge; a long, brown-leather Oxford situated near the middle of the study. She was almost collapsing with anxiety: her spanking was imminent. In a matter of seconds, she'd feel the first stunning kiss of the woodgrain. Biting back on a mouthful of whimpers, Mary leaned as far as possible over the upholstered backrest, thrusting her lush, ripe posterior into the air. Her round, pantied cheeks literally bulged out towards her father.
“All right,” Ralph grunted in nodding approval, “get those panties down, young lady.”
“Nooooooooo,” Mary groaned in misery. This was the part she hated the most, the moment at which her fragile ego was stripped of all feminine dignity. She could imagine nothing worse than offering up her naked buttocks for punishment. He couldn't do this to her, couldn't humiliate her like this. It just wasn't right!
Of course, the thought of refusal never so much as crossed Mary's mind. She'd been unpardonably naughty, testing her father's patience once too often. She was in dire need of a well smacked bottom, and she knew it.
Reaching back with both hands, Mary peeled her tight, clinging briefs down to her knees. She couldn't help herself; she had to obey. Immediately. The consequences of even a moment's hesitation were unthinkable. Tears slipped from her cheeks, she started blubbering under her breath. Her tummy was a mass of knots; she felt utterly degraded. Here she was, doubled over the lounge with her undies fluttering at half-mast, sobbing like some spoilt little girl ready for her first spanking.
“You can quit that whining too, young lady,” Ralph warned her grimly, “you've had this coming for a long time. Now hold still and keep your legs straight. It's time to whack those buns!!”
Mary clenched her cheeks against the expected blow, fusing her eyes shut in childish denial of the inevitable.
Gripping the handle with both fists, Ralph hefted the two-foot cedar paddle high over his right shoulder, tacitly ignoring Mary's whispered entreaties (no Daddy no please don’t I'm sorry). He'd started out with twenty furious smacks to her lush, ripe derriere, systematically working her plumps up to a merry, glowing pink. Maria had screamed as each blazing stroke decended, frantically begging Ralph to stop:
“NO!! OWWW!! DADDY!!! STOP!! AAAOOOWW!! PLEASE!!!!”
Her pleas had been premature to say the least. She knew from bitter experience that a reduced sentence was most unlikely given the severity of the crime. The Plank whipped across her tender young shanks, scalding the flesh beet-red. The pain had been unspeakable. By the end of first volley she'd reached the outer limits of her endurance. Ralph paused at the five minute mark, resting his arms and allowing the gasping, panting girl to catch her breath.
And then her spanking had really begun.
TO BE CONTINUED