How to Get My Baby Daddy Back When He Has a Wife

  No Daddy, No!

a collection of father spanks daughter stories

by

Perry Symon Fowler

All rights reserved

Copyright © September 2016 by Perry Symon Fowler

Published by LSF Publications

http://www.lsfpublications.com/

Comprehend design past Nathaniel Scott.

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

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

Strict daddies, stern pace-fathers and misbehaving teenage daughters ... the perfect combination for a naughty girl going over her daddy's knee for a blank lesser spanking. In this collection of stories, the fathers represent no nonsense, and various teen girls get their bottoms soundly spanked with paw, paddle or hairbrush. Though they may plead and wail and hope to be good, they are all properly punished. Many have to confess their delinquency earlier the spanking starts, and many are disciplined close to an open window and so that their embarrassed wails and yelps tin exist heard past neighbours; it all adds to the humiliation of the disgraced teenage girl... who inevitably ends up over the paternal lap time and fourth dimension over again as she submits to her daddy's bailiwick.

This drove features the post-obit stories: Mental attitude; The Mitchell Protocol; The Walk of Shame; The Persuader; Breakfast at Suzie'south; and The Triple Play.

Contents

Mental attitude

The Mitchell Protocol

The Walk of Shame

The Persuader

Breakfast at Suzie's

The Triple Play

Too from LSF Publications...

Attitude

As shortly every bit they arrived habitation, Dan Carrothers sent Vanessa straight to her room. There had been a disagreement earlier that evening, and he'd promised her an extremely painful lesson on the ride in from boondocks. This left no room for doubt on Nessa's part; she knew from prior experience precisely what he had in store for her. Dan's philosophy was uncomplicated: the easiest way to settle a dispute was to take his daughter straight over his knee and give her a spanking. Non just a few abrupt whacks on the derriere, either: Dan specialized in long, hard and extremely thorough strappings... the kind which invariably left her weeping and breathless, unable to sit down for days subsequently.

Standing in the living room, Vanessa tearfully begged her male parent to let her off - or at least reduce her penalisation to some less severe alternative. The statement hadn't been very serious, and she was sorry now; it would never happen once more. She was likewise one-time for a spanking, she wasn't a child, she was eighteen years old! None of her friends had to endure parental spankings, it just wasn't right.

"Please, Daddy, not a spanking," she wailed, desperate to overturn the last verdict, "It's non fair, I'm too large for that. You can't spank me like a little girl, y'all can't!"

Unfortunately for Vanessa, Dan was totally unimpressed by his daughter'south rhetoric. He was her male parent, and equally far as he was concerned, she'd never be as well erstwhile to get over his human knee. It fabricated no deviation to him that her friends never received spankings. Tonight, she'd be going to bed with a hot, throbbing lesser, and that was the end of it.

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

And then Vanessa ran weeping up to her room, already feeling her male parent'due south hot, stinging palm-print on her soft, curvaceous tushie. Throwing herself on the bed, she cried piteously, knowing she had no ane to blame but herself. She knew her male parent well enough to realize that disagreements only led to a well-smacked bottom. She listened apprehensively for his inevitable arroyo, imagining how much it was going to hurt.

Why did she ever argue with him? All she had to exercise was keep her mouth shut and pay him the respect he deserved. She'd been over his knee joint too many times to claim ignorance of the law: he'd been spanking her for years at present, and she was well aware he had lilliputian tolerance for dissent.

After what seemed similar an eternity, she heard his footsteps coming up the stairs. She bit her lip confronting the oncoming flood of fresh tears, and saturday upwardly on the bed, ready to start pleading for clemency the moment he walked into the room. She knew there was piddling promise of a last minute reprieve, just there was nothing else she could practice. She admittedly dreaded existence stretched beyond her Daddy's lap - and with good reason.

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

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

It was the strop: a ten-inch length of hardened leather, specially adapted to fit Dan's broad hand. Unlike others of its kind, this one was strong and rigid, more like a paddle than a chugalug. Now she knew precisely how painful this spanking was going to be. His selection of instrument meant that he was going to pay item attention to her upper thighs. Vanessa immediately lapsed into loud sobs of fearfulness and supplication:

"No, Daddy, no, delight not the hone, it hurts too much! Please Daddy, don't apply the hone!"

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

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

Dan opted for a skillful, stiff talking-to before he got down to business. Scolding was, in Dan'south stance, one of the most important components of the disciplinary procedure, allowing Vanessa ample opportunity to regret her misbehavior and drive home the point that she was getting exactly what she deserved. Being spoken to like a naughty piddling girl also added to the embarrassment she was already feeling.

When he finally finished the scolding, Dan called her over to his chair and instructed her to take down her shorts and underpants. This was the part which Vanessa hated the nigh. She remembered the many times over the years when she'd been required to perform this ritual, helplessly undoing her jeans and presenting her naked bottom for parental discipline.

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

"No, Daddy, please don't make me blank my lesser, permit me keep my panties up, you don't know how bad it is-"

"You become those panties downward now young lady," Dan growled, his vocalisation rising in paternal fury.

The explicit threat in his voice overrode all desire to preserve her modesty. Sobbing in abject misery, Vanessa slipped her underpants down to her upper-thighs, hoping to get away with only a fractional baring. Just Dan wouldn't stand for it. He was going to paddle her red all the style from her tender immature bottom-cheeks to her smooth alabaster thighs. Tears flowing freely, Vanessa bent over to peel her lacy pink panties all the way down to her ankles. She was absolutely burning with shame now; her father had a completely unobstructed view of her lesser.

When she straightened up, Dan reached out, took her by the wrist, and led her over his articulatio genus. She was crying steadily now, whimpering niggling pleas for mercy while he shifted her over his lap to allow for maximum effect. In one case he'd placed her botto

m into the most vulnerable position he could observe, he paused to survey the job ahead. Her lush, stake lesser cheeks were staring at the ceiling, clenching and unclenching with anticipation.

Dan Carrothers was something of an expert, a man who took pride in his piece of work. His spankings were unusually long, generally lasting for at least ten minutes, and oft stretching out to fifteen. Today he might try for a new record. He always started with some initial mitt work, working slowly up to a throbbing crimson. When his hand got tired, he would but switch to an instrument. Today, of class, he'd be attending to Vanessa'due south lesser with the leather hand-strop.

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

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

Dan's hard, wide hand finally came down, meeting Vanessa'due south soft, quivering lesser with a loftier, sharp swell audio that could have been heard halfway downward the street. Vanessa screamed in hurting, kick her anxiety helplessly every bit each blow descended. Dan gave her lesser his full attention, alternating betwixt each cheek, watching every bit the stupor-waves resonated all the fashion down her thighs. Dan fell into a long, rolling rhythm, smacking abroad with all the forcefulness of his strong right arm. Vanessa's bottom swiftly warmed to a bright, glowing red. The flush began to spread inevitably down her legs.

As mentioned before, Dan was an extremely thorough spanker, working his way systematically over every bachelor inch of lesser mankind, covering both cheeks every bit, and devoting enough of time to repetitious spanking. He always made certain to spank the same spot over and over once again: there was no point in punishing the girl unless it was really going to hurt her.

He was also very conscientious to utilize his manus to the upper thighs, just below the curve of her cheeks. In Dan's experience, this was the virtually painful portion of a spanking, especially later he'd switched to the paddle. He ofttimes devoted the last six or seven minutes of a spanking solely to Vanessa'south upper thighs, during which time she would shriek and squirm on his lap in a well-nigh frenzy. He usually had to concord her down on his lap to prevent her landing on the floor.

By the time Dan had completed the 'hands-on' phase of the spanking, Vanessa'southward bottom was covered with a pulsing strawberry-red blush which reached from the superlative of her cheeks one-half-mode down to her knees. Shining and tender, you could almost run into the heat ascent from information technology.

Vanessa lay doubled over her Dan's lap, sobbing out exhausted picayune pleas for leniency.

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

Even the virtually determined of fathers would have been satisfied by this bespeak; the chore was done, the culprit punished, and parental justice was served.

Simply Dan Carrothers was something of a perfectionist; domestic correction should never be hampered by false sorrow or remorseful tears. He was definitely not the kind of man to allow his naughty petty girl off with a paltry eight minute hand-spanking.

It was time for the strop.

---oOo---

"No Daddy no! Delight, not the strop!"

Vanessa'southward lush, smooth bottom-cheeks were already hot, cerise and throbbing. The thought of her father's heavy leather mitt-paddle existence applied to them reduced her to a fresh spasm of helpless, sobbing pleas. Here she was, limply stretched over Dan's lap, lesser turned up to the ceiling for her latest well earned spanking, crying similar a lost kid. Tears of warm shame streamed downwards her cheeks while Dan picked up the strop in his sure, firm grip. Grin grimly, Dan nodded blessing at its hard, abrupt weight, taking a practise stroke through the air. Vanessa shrieked every bit the leather whistled directly above her tender, unprotected derriere.

"Now, we're going to bargain with your little mental attitude trouble once and for all," Dan told her, "I've had enough of your sulking and petulance, and it's loftier time you learnt a flake of respect for the man of the house." He settled her back into position, ignoring her frantic struggling, and raised the strop over his caput.

"No, Daddy, nooooo!" the daughter cried, trying to cover her lesser with her hand. "Delight don't, information technology'll hurt really bad!"

"You take that hand out of the fashion, or I'll make this a lot worse, immature lady," Dan warned. "You're long overdue for a good, hard spanking, and I'yard going to make sure you become everything you have coming to you. Now stop that squirming and hold your lesser upward."

Vanessa removed her mitt, sobbing miserably.

This had to be the worst spanking of her life (even worse than the fourth dimension Dan aptitude her over the armchair and thrashed her with the feather squeegee. That had lasted a expert twelve minutes, and her round, naked lesser had been absolutely criss-crossed with glowing pink stripes that took days to fade). Dan continued to scold her in his stern, paternal tone; lecturing on her responsibilities equally a daughter, and reminding her that she could blame no-one but herself. Vanessa wept pitifully, alternately flinching and clenching against the inevitable cuddle of the leather.

Finally, the strop flashed down beyond her bottom.

The leather met her flesh where the cheeks overlap the upper thighs. Pain erupting like an exploding star halfway down her legs, Vanessa screamed at the top of her lungs. Dan drew dorsum and the strop slashed down in a cherry hot arc. The daughter kicked and bucked on his lap, her long blonde hair flying. Dan favored her upper thighs, laying on smack after disturbing smack onto her tortured little fanny.

If Vanessa thought her father's hand-spankings had been painful, they were nada compared to this treadmill of agony. Holding her firmly in place with his left hand, Dan watched in growing satisfaction as her bottom gradually changed from red to a precipitous, angry and tormented shade of crimson. He swept down mercilessly, increasing his speed and force with each accident. Nessa sobbed and gasped and shrilled, hiding her face in her hands, close to the flooring.

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

Leather continued to rain down on the girl'southward lower bottom and upper thighs. If at that place was one thing Dan Carrothers had learnt in all his years of disciplining his daughter, it was that repetitious spanking got the message through, come what may. Information technology would be a long fourth dimension before she questioned his will again, by god. Dan redoubled his efforts, the paddle flying with baking velocity.

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

Vanessa's mind was spinning: she was small and naughty and helpless; and her bottom was so sore. The spanking went on and on like it would never stop, and all she could exercise was beg and whimper and cry. Her father was so much bigger and stronger than she was. He could accept her over his human knee like a half-dozen-twelvemonth-old daughter, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. His spankings were long and embarrassing and they hurt so much. How could she always face her friends at school after this? What if they somehow found out? She was the simply girl in her course who had to bare her bottom; they'd never let her live it down. In an other year, she'd exist the merely girl at University to take regular spankings from her father - she'd never alive that down, either.

How long had she been over his human knee? Fifteen minutes? Twenty? Twenty-five? It felt like forever. Each stroke of the strop seared her bottom like bluish fire. Vanessa'southward litany of child-like pleadings had no effect on Dan Carrothers; he was determined to teach his piffling girl the lesson of her life tonight. He alternated swiftly between soft, vulnerable cheeks, periodically switching over to lavish his attention on her slender, quivering thighs.

"Ow! Aaaooww! Ow-aaooww!!"

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

utraged little bottom with conscientious hands. Her tushie glowed a brilliant tone of cherry scarlet. Dan closely inspected the radiant blush which covered her derriere all the way down to her mid-thighs. A good night's piece of work, true enough, he decided, but non quite complete. Not yet, anyway.

"Now - fourth dimension to finish upward, piddling girl," Dan told her. "Feet together, legs direct; bend over and put your hands on the back of the chair."

Vanessa's eyes widened in fear and shock, a new flood of tears cascaded downward her face. Information technology notwithstanding wasn't over!

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

"Y'all'll accept as much as I dish out," Dan told her sternly. "At present bend over and take your medicine, or yous'll be going dorsum over my knee for another 10 minutes."

Vanessa wailed, just complied with her begetter's control, grasping the chair-back with both hands and angle over to form an inverted right angle with her body. The activeness acquired her to thrust her lesser out, set for the hone's final assistants.

Dan raised the leather once more.

---oOo---

Placing his gratis hand on the small of her back to steady himself, Dan paused for a moment, considering which spot should feel the first cutting swipe. His eyes wandered over the excellent rose tinge of Vanessa's beautiful, heart-shaped bottom. A magnificent piece of work of art, it needed only a few finishing touches to complete the limerick.

Nessa braced herself for the affect, squeezing another pair of enormous tears out of her tightly closed eyes. Standing like this with her pastel pink undies gathered around her ankles (and her pretty little tushie glowing in the absurd evening air), she felt humiliated across all measure. She'd been scolded similar a naughty school girl and reduced to whimpering tears of remorse. She'd been forced to bear her lesser similar a disobedient child, enduring both her father'due south house correct hand and the irresistible stroke of his leather mitt-strop.

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Source: https://graycity.net/perry-symon-fowler/411094-no_daddy_no_a_collection_of_father_spanks_daughter_stories.html

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