Acceptance

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Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

Copyright 1985-2016 by the Flogmaster. All Rights Reserved. Free distribution via electronic medium (i.e. the internet or electronic BBS) is permitted as long as the text is _not_ modified and this copyright is included, but _no_ other form of publication is allowed without written permission. This document _may_ contain explicit material of an ADULT nature. ***READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!*** Anything offensive is your own problem. This story is for **entertainment** purposes only, and it does _not_ necessarily represent the viewpoint of the author or the electronic source where this was obtained. All characters are *fictional* -- any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.

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Acceptance

(*****, M/f, Intense, father/daughter, memories, tenderness, humor)

The Flogmaster wonders if this isn't his best story ever. (Approximately 2,572 words. Originally published 1998-05.)

My father brought me up with a strict notion of right and wrong. At a very early age I learned to appreciate the value of obedience and discipline. Though I hated being punished, I understood the reasons behind it and accepted it with as much dignity as possible.

Spankings were a rare but important part of my life for as a long as I can remember. Daddy established a strict routine that never varied for any of us, no matter what the circumstances, or our age. All spankings took place in public, in the living room. When one of us was to be spanked, Daddy would wait for us downstairs. Since he believed that for punishment to be effective it had to be accepted willing, he waited until we came down and presented ourself for discipline. It didn't matter how long we took -- he waited until we had decided we deserved the punishment and came downstairs.

Several times Daddy waited nearly all night for my brother or sister. We knew instinctively that the longer we waited the more severe the spanking -- though Daddy never explicitly mentioned it -- but that didn't make going down there any less difficult. I hated the waiting. I always screwed up my courage and went down as soon as I could, usually within a few hours. I'd be up in my room, staring mournfully at myself in the mirror, regretting whatever I'd done. I'd think about the terrible pain to come, how unbearable it always was, and I'd cry softly to myself, wishing that somehow reality wasn't real. Eventually I'd bite my lower lip and carefully begin the process of removing all my clothes. Then I'd find my wooden paddle -- boldly engraved with my name across the blade -- and walk downstairs with it. That walk was always the hardest. There was no way to complete it without hesitating several times. Once, when I was about ten and in for a really serious spanking, I'd actually turned back. Then I found it was a thousand times more difficult to get up and leave my room the second time. Somehow I finally did it, but I vowed never to turn back again.

Downstairs, Daddy would be sitting on the couch reading, or watching TV. He'd see me, naked and carrying the paddle, a sorrowful expression on my face. "Come here, my dove," he'd whisper. Then he'd give me a long hug, during which I never failed to cry. I'd cry for a long time while he just held me. I don't think it was ever so clear how much he loved me as it was during those precious moments. It almost made what was to come worth it.

Finally the spanking would begin. He'd always start with his hand and go until his fingers were so swollen he could hardly make a fist. Then he'd use the paddle. If your offense was a minor one, there'd only be a few swats with the paddle. But if you'd done something awful, the paddling lasted forever. After it was over Daddy would hug and kiss me, and I'd cling to him, telling him how sorry I was, and beg for forgiveness. Daddy would whisper sweet things to me and tell me that there was nothing to forgive -- my sin had been forgotten, washed away by the pain.

Just before my sixteenth birthday, I got caught doing something incredibly stupid. Looking back, I can scarcely understand what I was thinking. I desperately wanted to hang out with a group of older girls. They tolerated my presence, but didn't accept me as one of their own. To gain their trust I went with them and helped steal candy bars from the school store. Of course I was the one caught. Someone reported me and most of the candy was found in my locker.

Principal Daley lectured me for a long time as I stood in front of his desk, aching inside. The secretary popped in and said that there was no answer at my house, and my father's work reported he was out on a sales call and couldn't be reached immediately. Principal Daley said not to worry about it, and for a second I had the wild hope he wouldn't report my crime to my parents. Instead, he picked up the phone and dialed my home, and left a detailed message on the machine, explaining that I would be suspended for three days next week. Owing to my good record, he explained to me, he wouldn't involve the police.

God, I'd never felt so small going home that day. I walked home. Mom had told me at breakfast that she planned to pick me up. She wanted to take me shopping. Normally I'd have been delighted, but the events of the afternoon had changed everything. Now I just wanted to be alone. The walk home, which seemed ten thousand miles longer than usual, was dreadful. Everything was beautiful outside. The sky was blue with big puffy white clouds, the air sweet and clean. Kids played soccer in the park, motorists waved at me as they passed. Everything was peaceful and idyllic, but all I could think about was the terrible spanking I knew I had coming. Monday I'd be sixteen years old -- nearly an adult -- but tonight I'd be howling and kicking across my father's lap, my bare ass blistered and red. What a way to begin the weekend, and my journey to adulthood.

There was no one at home when I arrived. I sat in my room and stared at myself in the mirror. I think it was then I truly realized how stupid I'd been. Not only had I done something criminal, but I'd done it for nothing more noble than to gain the attention of people who weren't my friends anyway. For a long while I hated myself.

I heard the van drive up and Mom get out. She sounded upset, murmuring something to my sister. I didn't move. A few minutes later my doorknob rattled.

"Kelly? Are you in there?"

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you wait for me at school? I told you I'd pick you up!"

Obviously she hadn't listened to the answering machine yet. "I... I felt like walking."

"Are you okay, dear? Open the door."

"I'm fine, Mom." I crossed to the stereo and turned up Def Leopard full blast. I knew it would further annoy her, but I just couldn't deal with her motherly concern right now. It felt traitorous of me to accept her love. I didn't deserve it.

I threw myself on the bed and sobbed for a long time. Mother went away, eventually, I suppose. I didn't care. I didn't want to talk to anybody, or anything.

During a pause between tracks I was surprised to hear Daddy drive up. I ran to the window. It was barely four o'clock. What was he doing home? Then I knew the answer. Mom had called him. He had come home early to paddle his oldest daughter. I ran back to my bed and cried some more.

Strangely, no one bothered me. I had felt certain that Daddy would have immediately come up to tell me to prepare myself and come downstairs when I was ready, but I was left alone. I heard people moving around downstairs, getting supper ready, no doubt. The thought of food made me want to puke. There was no way I could eat. Probably they knew that, and so the rest of the family would eat, and then Daddy would come upstairs.

I turned the music down so I could think. I thought of the disappoint on my father's face and I longed for this to be gone, wiped away, forgotten as though it never happened. I wished Daddy would come up and get me, order me downstairs in such a stern voice that I could not dare to disobey. It would make things so much easier. I knew he wouldn't do that, though. He never did that. He was always calm and reasonable. It was up to me to force myself downstairs.

A gentle knock interrupted my thoughts. Panic gripped my heart as I heard my father's voice. I turned off the stereo.

"Kelly, dear? Would you like to come downstairs for supper?"

I guessed they didn't know me as well as I thought. Did they really expect me to be interested in food at a time like this?

"No," I said firmly.

"Kelly, please. Come on down. We're waiting for you."

There was something unfamiliar in his voice. A hesitation, as though he wasn't sure what to say. I sensed the love and compassion in his tone, however, and it made me even more miserable. Despite everything I'd done, Daddy was still being nice to me. He still loved me.

Suddenly I knew what I had to do. Though I couldn't change the past, I knew how to change the future. I knew how to wipe away my crime, to put it behind me, to make it go away forever.

"I'll be down in a minute, Dad," I said. I heard him drift away.

Quickly I stripped naked. Looking at myself in the mirror I saw that I was indeed becoming older, more of a woman. My determination hardened my face and made me look more mature. But when I got the paddle from the closet I felt like a small child. I couldn't believe how humiliating this was. I knew the whole family would be downstairs, eating dinner. Usually spankings took place late at night, when most of the family was in bed. I'd never gone downstairs in the daylight before. But somehow today it seemed appropriate. I knew I deserved serious punishment. It already felt like I'd been waiting a year. I couldn't put this off any longer or I'd never be able to do it. Perhaps Daddy would have a little mercy on me, to make up for the extra humiliation of being spanked in front of the family.

But in the end it didn't really matter -- I just wanted my Daddy back. I wanted to be able to hug him, to be able look him in the eyes and not feel ashamed. I wanted him to be proud of his little girl again. I wanted to feel grown up.

I unlocked my bedroom door and nervously stepped outside. There was a scurrying down the hall and I heard light footsteps going down the stairs. It must have been Peter, my little brother. The kid was a scamp, probably spying on me.

The walk downstairs is always long and difficult, but this time it was worse than usual. At every step I was filled with doubts, hesitations, and terror. Twice I nearly turned back. It was only my previous experience that told me not to do that. I had to get this over with. I _had_ to!

Slowly I inched down the stairs. My palms were sweaty and a half dozen times I paused to wipe them on the carpet. It wasn't far now. I couldn't hear the family eating, but I couldn't really hear anything. My mind was buzzing with static, a terror I hadn't felt in a long time. It had been over a year since my last spanking. At the time I had hoped that one was to be my last one, but obviously that was not the case.

I padded down the short hallway that emerges into the living room. This was it. Two more steps and there'd be no turning back. My naked body felt chilly and vulnerable. The paddle was so heavy my arm ached. I was weak with tears and exhaustion. I didn't see how I could go forward.

Then I thought of my Daddy's face, his warm body as he embraced me. The cool touch of his lips on my forehead. I saw his eyes, wet with tears as he stared at me so fondly, disappointment and sadness mixed with pride. I began to cry. Sniffling, I wiped the tears from my face and boldly marched straight forward. I did not stop until I was halfway into the room.

The screams and cries deafened me, confused me. I dropped the paddle and nearly fell to the floor, stunned, terrified. The faces were everywhere. Friends from school, Aunt Ruth and Uncle Ted, my cousins, several neighbors, my brother and sister, Mom and Dad. They were all around me, faces of joy and excitement becoming faces of shock and horror and embarrassed amusement. On the kitchen table was a huge pink and white cake, balloons hanging from the ceiling, and colorful birthday gifts stacked behind the cake. I shuddered, trembling violently.

"My God! Kelly!" exclaimed my Mom. I heard her and turned, my face hot with shame. My hands were clutching my naked body. I ran to her mindlessly, too mortified to think. "What's gotten into you!" I heard her saying. Dimly I heard Daddy apologizing to the others.

"Dad, look," cried Peter, and I vaguely saw him holding my paddle up. Daddy took it from him, a tender expression on his face. Without a word he came to me, gathered me in his arms, and carried me upstairs to my room.

Alone, he laid me on the bed. I was sobbing, apologizing, and begging him to forgive me. He didn't say anything, but covered me up with my blankets and sat beside me. His big hand caressed my hair and finally he kissed my forehead.

"I'm proud of you, Kelly."

I moaned and shook my head, confused.

"It took great courage for you to come downstairs like that. I don't know what you did, but I'm still proud of you for being willing to accept your punishment."

The light began to dawn. "You... you don't know?" He shook his head. "You didn't listen to the message?"

"The message?" His expression was puzzled. "The answering machine! Ah, I understand. You got in trouble at school."

I nodded.

"No, we didn't listen to the messages. We've been too busy trying to put together the surprise party." He paused, gently touching my cheek with his hand. "You not showing up for your mother after school really panicked us, you know. If your friend Carrie hadn't seen you walking home we wouldn't have known where you were."

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"You didn't know." He smiled. "Your mother was supposed to take you shopping while we prepared everything. We thought it was all ruined, but with you locked up in your room, we quietly went ahead with the plans." He laughed, a slight bitterness to his voice. "Foolish of us. I should have known something was wrong. We were so focused on the party... still, you were surprised, right?"

That was the understatement of the millennium.

Daddy never spanked me again, for that or for anything else. In a way I was disappointed. There was something special about those events that I can never recapture. But with that came the realization that I was truly an adult, ready to leave childish things behind. I can't honestly say I never deserved another spanking, but I can say I didn't _need_ one.

The End

*** Author's Note ***
Believe it or not, this started out as an SSC story. Five hundred words... yeah, right. I couldn't bear to trim it down.

Frank
***

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