"The Night My Daddy Spanked Me!" 

By Robert   

Daddy looked more sorrowful than angry. I do not think I have ever seen him looking angry. But I knew only too well what that sorrowful expression meant for me! It meant a smacked bottom! ”You remember what I told you before you went out, don’t you?” he asked. “Look at me, my dear”. I raised my eyes and met his stern gaze. ”Answer me, Samantha, you remember what I told you?” “Yes, Daddy” I whispered “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so late” Daddy looked at me sadly. “I’m sure you are sorry now Samantha, but I am afraid it’s too late for that. I made it quite clear to you before you went out that I wanted you back in the house by half past ten at the very latest. Didn’t I?” “Yes”, tremulously. “And what time as it now? A quarter past 11, isn’t it?” I hung my head. “Yes, Daddy”, I whispered and I could hear my voice wobbling nervously as I spoke. “Well, my dear, you know you must be punished, don’t you? Your mother and I have made it quite clear to you that while you stay in our house and under our roof you must abide by our rules. If you choose to break our rules then you must be punished. You do realise that, don’t you?” Once again I heard myself whispering, miserably, “Yes, Daddy”. “Very well, Samantha, go to your room and wait for me. I shall come to you shortly; while you are waiting I want you to think carefully about your behaviour. Off you go my girl, off you go now” I turned to the door knowing that there was nothing I could say or do that would change the situation in which, at the age of 16, I now found myself. As I left the room Daddy called “Sam!” I turned, was I going to be forgiven? No! I didn’t really think so. ”Sam, I want you to take those jeans off and put a skirt on before I come to you”. I trembled as I understood only too well why my dad wanted this change in my attire! “Yes, daddy” I turned to the door.

It was a long, miserable walk upstairs to my bedroom. Although nothing specific had been said I knew that I was in for a spanking and that daddy wanted my jeans off so that he could get at my bottom more easily!. I shuddered. My stomach felt like a cold leaden ball. This feeling of dreadful anticipation was not new to me and that made it even more awful. Surely I was too old, surely he was not going to smack my bottom at the age of 16? Who was I fooling? Of course he was! In a few minutes time I would hear his footsteps on the stairs and I would know that I was about to receive a painful and humiliating punishment. And I knew I deserved it. I had known perfectly well what I was doing as the clock ticked round to 10.30, it would have been easy enough for me to have come home to a cheerful, loving greeting from my father but I had chosen to stay out. I had chosen to defy him and now, I trembled, now I was going to pay for it in no uncertain manner.

My leaden steps took me to the door of my bedroom which I opened, and entering, closed behind me. Briefly I felt safe in my cosy little room, it was like a sanctuary, it was my space and nothing bad would happen to me there. That forlorn and hopeless feeling of security soon passed, however, and I remembered what I was there for. I knew that before I left this bedroom again I would be a very sorry, remorseful girl! I had to get ready. With trembling fingers I began to undo my jeans and I shivered in dread anticipation as I slipped them over my hips and let them fall to the floor. I stepped out of them. I do not know what prompted me to do it but I slipped my knickers down as well and felt the cool air on my warm, bare, bottom. I stepped out of them and picked both jeans and knickers up and put them neatly to one side. Turning to my little dressing table I opened my knickers drawer and selected a fuller style pair of fine white lace trimmed pants which I stepped into and pulled up over my bottom. I found a skirt, a full, pleated skirt, and put that on too. Daddy, I thought with a shiver, would now be able to punish me without in any way infringing my modesty. I looked at myself in the mirror. Surely he would not smack me. I looked so penitent and vulnerable and delightfully cute. Surely he would not smack his little girl? I sat on my bed and waited for him! I knew he would smack his little girl and I knew his little girl deserved to be smacked. I trembled!

You can imagine how I felt as I sat there waiting for my daddy to come to me. Over and over again I thought to myself ” If only….” But it was too late for that. I had got myself into this and there was no way out. It was my own fault, there was no one else to blame. I knew I deserved to be punished but, oh, how I wished there was some way for me to avoid what I knew was coming to me. I shivered again with apprehension as I sat there and waited for the sound of daddy’s footsteps ascending the stairs. Then, suddenly, my heart missed a beat, he was coming! I listened in dread to his steps coming slowly upstairs, onto the landing and across to my bedroom door. He knocked gently on the door and I whispered “Come in”. I stared like a frightened rabbit at the door handle, saw it turn and the door open quietly. Daddy came into my room and closed the door behind him. Unbidden I stood up! We looked at each other, the penitent child and the parent who had come to punish her!

“Well, Samantha” he said. “What I’m going to do gives me no satisfaction at all. I do want you to understand that. I feel in a way that I have let you down by not making sure that you understood that I meant what I said. But that is no excuse. You disobeyed me, Samantha, you blatantly disobeyed and you must now take the consequences of your behaviour. You do understand that, don’t you?” I began to cry. Daddy walked over and took a seat on my bed just where I was standing. I was well placed to go across his knee and I knew that was where I was about to go! He put his right hand round my waist and took my left wrist with his other hand. It was as if everything was happening in slow motion. “Come along” said daddy and eased me forward so that, losing my balance, I fell with a despairing cry across his lap. My head and shoulders were on my bed to his left. My toes just touched the carpet to his right. I was in the classic over the knee position with my bottom raised and very, very vulnerable. I hung there crying softly more in remorse than in dread of what I knew was about to happen. I felt his hands take hold of the hem of my skirt and I whimpered as he lifted it clear of my bottom and dropped it onto my back. The fabric of my white knickers, stretched as they were across the tight mounds of my bottom, would provide no protection but down they came! I heard myself begging “No, daddie, please, not that!” Small girls were spanked on their bare bottoms but surely I was too old. Daddy, understanding my protest, said, “If you behave like a silly little girl you must expect to have your bare bottom smacked like a little girl. Now keep still.” I gave up!

“Is there anything you want to say to me, Samantha, before I smack your bottom?” I shook my head and through my tears mumbled, ”No, daddy, except I am so very sorry”

 The waiting was unbearable as daddy made the final adjustments to my positioning and then placed his left arm across my back to hold me down in case I struggled when he smacked me. I felt totally vulnerable with my knickers down and my poor bare bottom raised and ready. I knew it was now and my courage gave way. I heard myself whimper, “Please, daddy, don’t smack me. Please”. “You know I must. Now be a sensible girl and lie still.” SMACK! Oh, the shock of that first smack! The sensation was indescribable as daddy’s hand slapped across the lower curves of both cheeks of my bottom. I yelped ”Aaaah!” SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! He laid each smack on the same place as the one before and the discomfort in my bottom soon became more painful than I could bear. I screamed “No, daddy, no, please! It hurts so!” and struggled to get my bottom out of the firing line. Daddy held me firmly in place and smacked and smacked and smacked at my twitching, flinching bottom until I collapsed and slumped, unresisting, across his lap as his smacks merged together into one mass of smarting, stinging bottom. As daddy continued my smacking I felt at last the catharsis of a well deserved punishment. I lay there weeping bitterly and wailing “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” There is nothing, absolutely nothing which has quite the effect of a well smacked bare bottom!

When it was over, and it seemed to go on forever, daddy left me lying across his knee sobbing bitterly until I came to terms with my punishment. As my sobs diminished I felt him lift my skirt and gently place it back over my bruised and battered behind. “Get up, Samantha, it’s all over” he said gently and he helped me, stiffly, off his lap and onto my feet. Daddy opened his arms and I went to him for a warm, forgiving hug. “Let us now say no more about this unfortunate business” said daddy. “I expect you’ll want to go to bed and I will see you in the morning”. He gave me one final tender hug and kissed my tearstained cheek before quietly leaving my room.

The pain in my bottom gradually eased and, drying my eyes, I turned to my dressing table mirror and lifted my skirt. The sight that met my eyes was, to say the least, impressive! Both cheeks of my bottom were flaming red and there were signs of stray smacks on the top of my thighs too. I had been very, very soundly spanked and I swore to myself that I would never, ever let that happen again. I undressed and put my nightie on. Without washing or even cleaning my teeth, I crept into bed, curled up. Gently stroking my bottom I cried myself to sleep. I was a sadder but a wiser girl.


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