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: all characters and events represented herein are completely fictional. Copyright © Perry Fowler, 2000, 2004. All rights reserved.
THE TRIPLE PLAY
PART ONE: CHARISE
1.
The rules were quite simple.
Her mother had explained the situation to all three of them less than a week ago, calmly laying out the details so there could be no room for misunderstanding. Conrad was now their father, and he would be taking full responsibility for their welfare and discipline. From this point on, they would be courteous, respectful and well-behaved at all times. There was no room for negotiation on this issue; if they did anything even the slightest bit naughty, they would have go over Conrad's knee.
And just to add a little incentive to the Greenheart Behavioral Modification Plan, it was decided that if one girl needed a spanking, all three would be required to bare their bottoms. No special treatment, no favoritism; all for one and one for all. Couldn't be any fairer that that now, could we?
Charise hadn't believed it at the time, of course; none of them had. Conrad wasn't her real father; he had no practical authority in her life. Yes, he was married to her mother, but that didn't mean he was automatically King of the Castle. Charise Greenheart didn't have to answer to anybody, except maybe her mother, and even that was debatable as far as she was concerned.
Yet here she was, standing in her parent's bedroom, feeling the first tears blurring her eyes while Conrad prepared to take her across his lap for the good, hard spanking her mother had promised her earlier that morning. She still couldn't believe this was happening to her. She was going to be spanked like a naughty little girl, her ripe young bottom-cheeks paddled until they were glowing like an Autumn sunrise.
“No, no, you CAN'T spank me,” she sobbed, raising her hands as if to ward off an attack. She cast wet, frightened glances around the room, desperately wishing her mother was here to protect her. No hope of reprieve from that quarter, of course: Mummy had been in total agreement that Charise was in dire need of a hot, smarting bottie.
“You get that dress off, young lady,” Conrad growled in his sternest tone, 'you're going over my knee and that's the end of it'. He was a big, classically featured man in his early thirties, with a granite jawline and striking black eyes. Leaning forward on his chair with one hand on his knee, he looked more than capable of carrying out his threat.
“NOOOO,” Charise moaned in girlish distress. She'd been exceedingly naughty this morning, there was no use denying the fact, but she didn't deserve a spanking. She felt small and weak and helpless; reduced to a wailing six year-old before his sharp, angry gaze. An image of herself doubled over his lap with her flimsy white panties around her ankles floated before her mind's eye. He couldn't do this to her: she was too old for a spanking!!
Conrad's expression darkened.
“Don't you ‘no’ me, Charise,” he told her, his voice menacingly low, “if I have to come over there and undress you myself, I'll make things a whole lot worse for you.”
Charise gaped in rising panic. Her heart seemed to have paused in mid-beat. The thought of Conrad stripping her down to her underpants was unspeakable. Charise could imagine nothing more embarrassing than to have her clothes removed by her step-father, particularly under the present circumstances. Groaning in complete humiliation, she reached around to unzip her short, black cotton frock.
Two huge tears moistened her cheeks as she dropped the dress to the floor and stood revealed in her bra and panties. Like both her sisters, Charise was as supple as a willow. Crossing her hands over her white nylon panties, she found herself as shy as a five year-old girl. She felt delirious with embarrassment, knowing that she was almost naked before Conrad's businesslike gaze. This was a disgrace beyond anything she’d ever known. How would she ever live this down?
Conrad gestured impatiently in the girl's direction, his face a mask of grim deliberation as he started rolling back his sleeves.
“All right, little girl – over here please.”
“Noooooooo,” Charise cried plaintively, but tottered forward on tiny, unwilling feet. There was no sense in resisting Conrad's brusque instruction; she knew precisely what came next. Mummy had told her that she would be required to take down her panties whenever Conrad deemed a spanking necessary. She paused before her step-father, sobbing in fear of the inevitable.
Having concluded his sleeve-rolling preparations, Conrad opted for a good, stiff scolding to drive the point home. Leaning forward on his chair, he lectured Charise on her behaviour, warning her what to expect in future. So long as he was the head of this particular household, she would obey the rules he set. She wasn’t an adult, wasn’t even a woman, as far as he was concerned. She was a girl, his daughter, by God. And she would never be too old to go across his lap for a damned good spanking.
Charise listened with her eyes downcast, choking back her tears like a lost child. She stood weeping in the lazy morning sunlight, a slim, blond girl clothed in nothing but sheer, cotton underpants. Bare foot and bare thighed, she shivered in growing terror as Conrad’s rumbling diatribe reached its conclusion.
“... there are going to be a few changes from here on in,” Conrad was saying, “you and your sisters are going to turn over a new leaf whether you like it or not. No more backchat, no more late nights, no more arguments. Your mother and I have made our decision, and you’re going to have to live with it.
“Now – time to get started. Come here, bend over, and get those panties down to your ankles'.
“Daddy, nooooo,” she cried, unleashing a torrent of fresh tears, “don't make me BARE my BOTTOM, please don't make me PULL THEM DOWN, SPANK me on my PANTS; I'm almost NAKED now, PLEASE DON'T-”
Despite her near-hysteria, Charise was already stepping forward and looping her thumbs through the waistband of her underwear. She couldn't help herself, she was utterly incapable of refusing that brusque, lowering command. Weeping in abject misery, she half-turned away and peeled her briefs down her thighs. Pausing at the dimpled bumps of her knees, she shifted her centre of balance, then dropped her pants to the floor.
Conrad was already reaching forward; as Charise straightened up, he took her arm just above the elbow. Exerting only a little pressure, he drew the blubbering girl forward and guided her carefully across his lap, shifting her carefully into position. Her magnificently contoured bottom seemed to stare up at Conrad in blunt shock, shivering in the cool morning air. Sweet and soft and mirror smooth, it began to twitch erratically as he patted her pale right cheek experimentally.
Hanging submissively over her step-father's squared knees, Charise closed her eyes and sobbed quietly to herself. Warm, liquid shame filled her belly; a faint, raspberry blush crept through her features. How could this be happening? Conrad was about to spank her pert, naked bottom-cheeks - and she would have to endure everything she received, no matter how much it hurt. Feeling Conrad raise his arm, she moaned in utter humiliation, clenching her cheeks against the first, stunning blow. No, Daddy, don't, please, I'm sorry, don't Daddy, please...
2.
Standing in the hallway directly outside the bedroom, Tessa and Zenya listened in mounting apprehension as Conrad prepared to paddle their sister's bottom. They'd heard the frightened child-like pleas as Charise frantically tried to avert her punishment. She’d sounded roughly six years old as she'd tearfully removed her clothing and lowered her panties. An ominous silence had fallen over the house. The twins exchanged flickering glances, Tessa biting on her lower lip. Their sister was now over Conrad's lap.
It’s actually going to happen, Tess thought in rising dismay: any second now, they'd hear the sharp, insistent crack of palm on bottom. Conrad was going to spank her, just as Mummy had said he would, following the argument at the breakfast table just over an hour ago. He was going to punish all of them, calling them into the bedroom one after the other to strip down to their undies and bare their impertinent bottoms.
Tessa stole a quick look at the bedroom door, her eyes wild and startled. She was a petite, leggy girl with strawberry blond hair rippling down to her waist. In common with both her sisters, she had a fondness for mini-dresses and bright red pumps. With her huge, cobalt eyes and tiny rosebud mouth, she looked like some small, delicate china doll.
Tess had thought it was all nothing more an empty threat; a last ditch effort by her Mother to extend her waning influence over her nestlings. Certainly, Tess had never imagined that she would be subject to a good, hard spanking at her age. All of them were too big to have their bottoms smacked; they weren't children, despite what Mummy had said at the family meeting last Friday. They were maturing young women, with the same rights and privileges as other girls their age.
Unfortunately, Tess was unable to pursue her proto-feminist discourse any further. Just at that second, a loud, resounding THWACK issued from the bedroom; closely followed by Charise's piercing scream. Tessa's mouth dropped in open alarm: the spanking had begun; they could hear the steady SLAP-SLAP-SLAP of Conrad's hand dancing over Charise's bottom. Their younger sister was shrieking at the top of her lungs, leaving no doubt as to how painful the experience was.
“It's not fair,” she said to Zenya, her voice a terse, frightened whisper, “it was all Charise's fault; she's the one who was smarting off at the table - we shouldn't be spanked for what she said!”
“We all joined in the argument,” Zenya replied in a tiny, fretful stammer, “we've only getting what we deserve.” Physically identical to her sister, Zenya shared a number of impulsive character traits with her twin. At the moment, however, she looked meek, fearful and suitably chastened. A fine, high colour had risen to her cheeks; she was blushing to her eyebrows. She fell silent, listening to the sunny-bottomed duet being performed next door, her moody blue eyes large and glistening.
WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!!!
OOOW!! DADDY!! NOO!! AOOOOWWW!!!
Zenya's blush deepened as the spanking continued. The knowledge of her own impending discipline filled her belly. She could already see herself undressing in front of her New Daddy, slipping out of her mini and lowering her panties for a spanking. How long before she was summoned into the bedroom for a dose of swift justice? She began casting long, apprehensive glances at the darkened doorway. Her heart was literally pounding like a hailstorm in her chest: those loud, reverberating smacks sounded amazingly hard. She was virtually collapsing with trepidation - and excitement.
And that was the strangest part: she was almost looking forward to going over Conrad's knee. In spite of the terrible anxiety she felt, Zenya was actually shivering with anticipation. She'd been due for a good long spanking for quite a while now, and she would finally be getting exactly what she needed.
THWACK!!!
THWACK!!!
THWACK!!!
OOWW!!
OOOOWWWW!!!
AAAAOOOOWWWW!!!
“This is going to hurt SO MUCH!!” Tessa whispered, teetering on the verge of tears. Zenya nodded in breathless assent, listening to her little sister's despairing cries.
It sure was.
TO BE CONTINUED