Spanking Daughter

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David Adams

Art , Domestic

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10th May 2021 28th Apr 2021


1 Minute


David Adams

Art , Domestic , OTK

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5th Apr 2021 21st Feb 2021


1 Minute


David Adams

Art , Domestic , OTK

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22nd Feb 2021 1st Jan 2021


1 Minute


David Adams

Art , Domestic , OTK

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15th Feb 2021 7th Dec 2020


1 Minute


David Adams

Domestic , Story , Strap

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22nd Jan 2021 21st Jan 2021


5 Minutes


David Adams

Art , Domestic , Paddle , School , Tawse

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18th Jan 2021 25th Nov 2020


1 Minute




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When your behaviour catches up with you, the consequences can be quite painful, as this young lady, who is clearly not too old to be spanked, is finding out. She must be hoping that she won’t be losing her knickers as well.
If you cannot behave, you will be turned over a knee for an improptu spanking.
A key point of view in any spanking is that of the disciplinarian himself, where, as here, he can admire the growing rosiness of the cheeks as he brings his lady to point of contrition and obedience.
“EMMA LOUISE CARSON, GET DOWN HERE IMMEDIATELY”
Emma glanced back at her phone, where she was chatting with her friend Sarah.
“Nah. It’ll wait. So Dave said what?”
“Karen and Tom have been going to the park together, yeah, and Jane saw them snogging the other day, next to the hut thing, and …
“Maybe, but I can’t have done anything that bad.”
“Tom and Kaz? Gets about a bit, doesn’t she? And as for where he’s been …”
The door to Emma’s bedroom opened with a bang.
“I do not expect to have to call you twice, in these circumstances. You have some explaining to do, my girl. Look at this, look at this.”
Emma’s father thrust a piece of paper towards her, on which she could see a whole list of items, and the logo of her father’s bank.
“Sorry Sarah, need to go, talk to Dad. Love. Bye.”
“Bye Emma, don’t say anything silly.”
Emma looked towards her father. “The meaning of what?”
“This. £1467.65 to Holderness Gaming Co. For your silly little phone game, no doubt. Care to explain?”
“It’s not a silly little game. If we get really good, we get to go to a competition. And I needed a few things to make it better. A car, a dress, but not that much.”
“A few things. Not much. Over Fourteen hundred pounds, girl. Do you know how much that is? What we could buy with this instead?”
Emma shrugged. “I’ll pay it back. Promise. But your stopping my fun if you think this is wrong.”
“Pay it back? What with? We still need to pay your university costs as you don’t earn enough from your jobs to cover the gap between those and the loans. Yes, you will pay it back. You will manage your costs and pay it all back. But why didn’t you take care, stop at a few pounds, £20 or £30?”
She shrugged again, “Does it really matter. We can afford it, can’t we?”
“Not in one go, we can’t? Not for extra fripperies like that. Not unless we cut all other treats and tickets and events and meals. DO you get that?”
The slap across her face stung, and she looked up at him with shock, amazed at how angry he was.
“you will repay every penny of it, however long it takes. But I don’t think you get how much this hits us now. You need to be properly punished.”
He unbuckled his belt, and started to draw it out of his belt loops.
“No. No. Father., No please don’t, I don’t need that now. I get it I get it. You don’t need to …”
“Clearly I do, or you would never have spent that money. It wasn’t your money, it was mine, and I spend enough on you already. Frankly, you could argue that putting it on my Credit Card was stealing. Fair. Yes. Utterly fair. If you were truly sorry, you would have came when I called, and apologised and explained you made a mistake, or even told me beforehand. But no. New get up, drop your jeans and knickers, and get over the side of the bed.”
“No. You can’t. I’m too old. You haven’t done this in ages. I don’t need it.”
“You clearly do. If you understood what have done, you would be dropping and laying by now.”
He had doubled the belt up, and now folded it shorter in his hand. Grabbing her by the arm, he dragged Emma off the bed, and then sitting down, over his left thigh, swinging his right leg to pin her down.
The shortened, doubled length of leather belt cracked down on the now upturned curves of her bottom. Once, Twice. Six times. Ten times. He felt her struggle against the impact, and twist and turn to try to evade the strokes, but he had her gripped fast.
“OK. OK. I’ll do it. Let me up and I’ll do it.”
He let her up, and then stood, turning for a moment to move her pillows to the edge of the bed.
She unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, sliding them down, as he stepped to one side. He could already see, from beneath the patterned edge of her pink knickers, the red marks where the belt had penetrated even the thickness of the jeans.
Emma glanced at her father, and then looked at the pillows, and back at her father.
She pet her hands at the waist of her knickers, and then, head down, glanced to the side and asked “Do I have to … ? Really have to … ?”
“Yes, you. Get them down, and get over the bed.”
She peeled down the knickers, exposing the full extent so far of the belt strokes she had already received, and then dropped forward over the pillows stacked on the edge of the bed.
Her father crossed the room and closed the door. There was no need for anyone else to hear this more than was necessary.
He took his stance beside her, looking down at the upturned bottom, lifted higher by the pillows, her legs hanging down the side of the bed, and her body bending back down towards it. He looked at the red marks already present. He thought for a moment, before deciding that unless she had been very cooperative in the first place, she was indeed likely to still be facing his belt. Any other marks would be the consequences of her intransigence in the first place.
He raised the belt, and brought it swinging down onto her bottom. He heard the yelp, and watched as a new red patch spread across it where the belt had bit in.
And again, swinging down hard, watching the bottom jiggle under the impact, redden where he had landed. And again a further yelp.
A third swing, and a fourth. He started to pick up the pace, the belt smacking and smacking its way down. He watched as the legs kicked over and over again, the bottom reddening across a wide and wide area, and where impacts overlapped, the reddening deepening, until very quickly the marks from the first belting were completely covered over.
He started to slow down the pace again. Twelve more, perhaps. Deliberately given. He swung them down. Firm. Hard. Smack. Smack. Smack. A glance at the set of his daughter’s face showed how she was now fighting to control her reaction, even as the yelps and ouches had died down.
And so they were. Three stinging smacks landing firmly the centre of her exposed bottom.
Then he stood there a moment, belt hanging from his hand.
“Get up, Emma. Come on love, it’s over”.
She slowly pushed herself up, tears visible in her eyes.
“Come on love, it’s done. You needed to be punished, but we will sort something out. We can dig out the money from savings, and then you can repay it, £50 or £100 a month. Come here.”
Emma fell into his arms, and felt the security of a safe place, even as her still exposed bottom burned and stung, and the belt was still clasped in his hand.
“Th Th Thank you, dad. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spend that much. And it does matter. I should actually care more.”
“That’s OK love. I’ll leave you now, but come down when you are ready, and we’ll talk about how to repay it. It’s nearly time for tea”
He threaded the belt back into his trousers, and opened the door and left.
Emma slowly pulled her knickers, and then tried her jeans. Perhaps today was a day for pyjamas instead, she thought.
Whatever some people may think, in this household, attention from the “Board of Education” at School will lead to a dose of the belt on the bare bottom at home.



David Adams

Art , OTK

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31st Oct 2020 5th Nov 2020


1 Minute


David Adams

Uncategorized

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26th Oct 2020 21st Oct 2020


9 Minutes


David Adams

Caning , School

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22nd Oct 2020 5th Nov 2020


1 Minute


David Adams

Caning , Uniform

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17th Oct 2020 14th Oct 2020


6 Minutes


David Adams

Uncategorized

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13th Oct 2020 3rd Oct 2020


1 Minute


David Adams

School , Slipper

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9th Oct 2020 3rd Oct 2020


2 Minutes




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By Midnight moon the Witches meet. And scandalous behaviour brings consequences to one witch’s seat.
Sitting in the Drawing of Hamley Hall, Sir Edgar Watkins was relaxing over afternoon tea, ably presided over by his sister, Mrs Agatha Howard, visiting for a few weeks over the summer with her children. Somewhat older than his sister, and never having married, it was good, he felt to have some of the feminine touches of a great house which were lacking at times when he was in residence alone.
He had a had a good meeting with the Estate Manager, reviewing the state of the land, and a proposal to mechanise some of the farming – the purchase of a tractor and plough had been on the agenda for the meeting. There were practical problems to be resolved, the Parkers, for example, were looking to expand their pig-sties, and needed approval for the proposal, which was currently tight against the cottage occupied by Miss Smith, who was unlikely to welcome the intrusion; a growing surfeit of broken windows in the greenhouses, the outdoor staff were ordered to keep a watch, and as yet had not caught the young oik that seemed to be responsible; the County Council were proposing works to a road through the village, which might impact on the field boundaries.
He became aware that Jenkins, the butler, had returned.
“Excuse me, Sir Edgar. Mr Owens says he has caught the lad who was seen throwing stones at the greenhouses. What would you have us do with him?”
“Hard to say. Tall, but still high pitched like a younger boy. Struggling hard, as well”
“Hmm. Not sure. Constable Evans would come and take him off your hands, but sounds like someone who should not yet be getting mixed up with the Criminal type. Take him to the Study, and prepare him for a good thrashing.”
A few minutes later, the sounds of a scuffle could be heard as the gardener, under-gardener, and what would later turn out to be James and Thomas, the footmen, dragged the captured lad to the Study to receive his fate.
“No. You Brutes. Wait until my uncle hears …” Silence. Thought was following. “My Mother will …”
There seemed to be a problem with “my Uncle”, or “my Mother” hearing about this.
“Sir Edgar has ordered this, boy” replied Jenkins. “But if you would prefer to try your luck with Constable Evans, who doubtless will find out who your Uncle and Mother are, and tell them what you have been doing, then you’re welcome to try your luck. Now get in there!”
The Study door closed. Shortly, Jenkins would return to say that everything was ready. The lad would be held over a table, trousers dropped, a stout belt would be presented by one of the footmen, and Sir Edgar would administer a good hiding.
“All ready, Jenkins?” asked Sir Edgar.
“Er. Not quite, Sir Edgar. A bit of an issue. Perhaps you should come and … find out.”
“Oh really, Jenkins. If you all can’t restrain a growing lad with a high pitched voice, then I don’t know who you can deal with.”
“I nearly said ‘come and see’, Sir Edgar, which is how we found out, but … I’m not sure it would be quite appropriate for what you might see.”
Sir Edgar and Jenkins made their way to the Study.
“What is all this fuss? Why is that lad still standing? And Take his cap off – is there no respect?”
“Well, Sir Edgar, it’s all a bit … complicated”
The boy was twisting away, trying not to look at Sir Edgar. He strode over and yanked the cap from the boy’s head. A tress of over shoulder-length red hair fell out.
“What?” uttered Sir Edgar. “How. Who?”
“Yes, Sir Edgar. We noticed a, erm, lack, if you see what we mean, when we bared him”.
“I see. Look at me, Girl!” commanded Sir Edgar.
“Cordelia!” His eldest niece. “Uncle”, she replied.
“I’ll send for your Mother. You should be ashamed of”
“Please Uncle, don’t tell Mother. At least not yet.”
He looked at her. Now you knew, the hair had been will hidden under the cap. The shirt which had been somehow contriving to conceal the curve of waist and bosom now somehow showed them instead, the curve of the upper chest becoming clear as she heaved her sighing plea. The trousers were still dropped down, as were the, on close inspection, rather feminine underpants she wore, revealing the smooth curves of her buttocks.
“But why are you doing this?” He asked.
He noticed that the gardener and under-gardener had now released their grip, and were trying to look away, but she was no longer struggling to escape.
“I want to know what it’s like being a boy. Doing boy things. Taking risks. And now I’ve been caught. Didn’t mean to, but, I was too slow getting away.”
“So what do we do? I should leave this with your mother to deal with.”
“No, Uncle. It’s been a while, but I am sure she could still deal out a good dose with the hairbrush. Or, you could deal with the “young oik from the village” which Meadows and Davies have so capably captured. In the end it makes no difference to me. Same result either way.”
Sir Edgar considered this. “So long as your mother doesn’t find out. But. Is it really right to thrash a girl? My own niece, even.”
“Uncle. I’m sure Mother would lay about her with the hairbrush if she had the chance. And Miss Baxter at School was a terror for the Cane. I’ve had my share of six-of-the-bests from her. I’m willing to take the chance on it.”
“Oh very well. Meadows, Davies, I think you would like to leave?”
“Thank you, Sir Edgar,” replied Meadows, as he and the under-gardener took their leave.
“Didn’t know where to look, poor chaps. Now let’s get set up. James, Thomas, hold her in place. Jenkins, the Strap. Well, Cordelia. It seems as though we are on. Shall we begin?”
“No, not Uncle. Not for an oik. On the other hand, you are my niece.”
“Yes Uncle. Will it be the same as the time you thrashed the boy three weeks ago?”
“I heard. I heard the yelling. I stood outside the door and listened.”
“And you still went a got caught! Silly girl.”
He turned and took a position to one side, strap still grasped in his hand. It was quite a sight. Two liveried footmen firmly holding down young Cordelia, who was dressed as village boy, with her trousers and, yes, lets describe them as knickers, drawn down, showing a smooth, firm rounded bottom which would be the subject of his attention.
With that, Sir Edgar drew back his arm, and then struck down, hard.
With a resounding Whap! the stap landed hard across Cordelia’s bottom. He heard the gasp and saw the wriggle as she struggled in the footmen’s grip.
Even from this first stroke, a bright red mark began to suffuse across the pale skin.
Again he swung. The weight of the strap pressed in on the curves of the bottom, causing the flesh to bounce. And Again. And again. Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap!
Cordelia gasped at the impacts, wriggling again and again under their effect. Her body and arms were held firm and immobile, but her buttocks were jiggling, and her legs starting to convulse each time.
Sir Edgar swung again. Whap! it landed. The entire bottom was turning bright red now. And still she struggled. The movement of the lower back, and hips, and legs as she tried to pass through the pain would catch any eyes present, even those dutifully turned away by James and Thomas. And of course, Jenkins, keeping count for his master.
There was no mistaking the gasps now for anything but out and out yelps. This was coursing through Cordelia, accessing places of agony rarely touched by other means.
“I will teach you” Whap! “to throw stones” Whap! “at” Whap! “my” Whap! “Greenhouses, Girl.” Whap! “Have you” Whap! “any” Whap! “idea” Whap! “what” Whap! “it” Whap! “costs” Whap! “to” Whap! “repair?” Whap! Whap! “The nuisance” Whap! “it causes” Whap! “Meadows?” Whap!
“I should” Whap! “make” Whap! “your Father” Whap! “pay,” Whap! “but how” Whap! “will” Whap! “you” Whap! “learn?” Whap! Whap! Whap!
As he delivered the lecture, he could hear the struggle in Cordelia’s voice, punctuated by the cries and yelps as she responded to the landing strokes. “I … I … Uncle, please … I … I’m Sorry … truly sorry”
Sir Edgar saw Jenkins hold up two fingers, and nodded.
He paused, waited, and then swung even harder than before.
Another pause, and again, another hard swing
The bottom was now a deep shade of red, with paler reds around the edges, and a few dark blotches. He saw that his niece was no longer struggling, had stopped during that lecture. Despite having put the cap back on, it had come loose during the strapping, and the girl’s long hair was again flowing freely.
He returned the Strap to Jenkins, who took it back to the cupboard where it hung when not being used. He waited for Cordelia’s breathing to become easier, steadier.
“Let her up” he commanded the Footmen. “You may go”.
“Thank you, Sir Edgar. Miss Cordelia” and bowing to each, the Footmen left.
“Good shooting, I think Jenkins” mused Sir Edgar as he examined the bottom, gently running a hand over it, and feeling Cordelia wince as he touched some tender spot.
“A delightful change from actual oiks from the village.”
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