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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The Photo Album
(****, M/fm, Intense, childhood discipline)
A young couple discover each other's most personal secrets. (Approximately 4,972 words. Originally published 1995-12.)
"Hi, Princess!" whispered the tall, gray-haired man in the fine Italian suit as he bent down to kiss the young lady on the cheek. He stood and presented her with a small package. "It's another late wedding present."
"Oh, Daddy!" said the girl in a reproachful tone, but the eager smile on her face told the story of her real feelings. "You've given us so much already! Now this has got to stop, okay? Don and I are on are own now."
"I know dear. But this isn't exactly that kind of present. I suppose you'd call it memorabilia."
"Oh?" The girl quickly tore off the elegant silver wrapping paper and let out a startled cry. "Oh! D-daddy! I, uh, don't know what to say."
"I had them converted from Betamax," the man said with a broad wink, taping the collection of three VHS cassette tapes. "I've still got the originals, of course, but I thought you might like to have a copy of these. They represent a lot of memories, I'm sure."
"S-sure," said the girl, her face reddening slightly as she looked away from her father. "Do--Would you like some more coffee?" She leapt to her feet and went to the kitchen and nervously grabbed the pot, eager for something to do.
"Uh, no thanks, dear. I really need to be going. I really just stopped by to drop off those tapes."
"Oh. Well, thanks Daddy." She set down the pot and came and kissed her father, throwing her arms around him.
"Sure, dear. Look, Princess, I know it's still kind of hard for you to look at that kind of stuff with an objective eye--you're still young and the memories are fresh--but trust me. Someday those tapes will be very precious to you."
"I--I know, Daddy. I was just a little surprised, that's all."
The old man nodded and opened the door and stepped onto the porch. "And Kim?"
"Yes?" The girl turned back from her path to the kitchen.
"You might want to _watch_ those tapes occasionally. You may find they help keep you out of trouble even today."
Fortunately for the young lady she was standing in the shadows and the old man couldn't see the crimson blush that stained her cheeks as she answered. "Er, right, Dad. Thanks again!" Inside she was seething. "I'm twenty years old and married! How dare he suggest that I still might need--" She broke off the thought and took the tapes and went to the storage closet and found an old box of dusty books and buried the tapes at the very bottom, well-hidden from casual observance.
"There," she said. "Out of sight, out of mind."
"Don't _touch_ that!"
The cry was loud and insistent, almost rude in its brusqueness. The girl stared up at her husband in alarm, her hands reaching for the large binder frozen as though it was about to electrocute her.
"But honey, it looks like a photo album. I was just going to--" She bent over as though she was going to open it and her husband went ballistic. Leaping to his feet he pulled back his palm and delivered a loud swat to her well-presented bottom. With a cry of surprise the girl stood upright clutching and rubbing her stinging rump and glared at Don as he darted away, holding the book tightly in his hands.
"Well, Donald Anthony Leeburg! There's no cause for violence! You could have just _told_ me you didn't want me to see it."
The young man suddenly looked chastised and his eyes dropped nervously to the ground. "I--I'm sorry, Kim. I didn't mean to hurt you. I--well, it's just that this book is rather personal."
"Can't you show _me_, your wife?"
"Uh, I'd rather not. It's rather embarrassing."
"So? I'm your wife! We've been married for almost six months now. We shouldn't have any secrets."
The young man shook his head slowly. He seemed very nervous. He was a nice-looking man of about twenty-five or twenty-six. His short dark hair was longer in front with a curl dangling across his forehead that gave him a kind of Johnny Depp-like rebel appearance, though his clothes were of a more preppy style. His eyes were a deep navy blue, almost black, and as he looked away from his wife now, rocking back on his heels with his arms folded around the album clutched to his chest, the smile on his thin lips was at an angle, almost a smirk.
His wife stood and looked at him, hands on her pert little hips, the slim jeans flattering to her petite figure. Her long blonde hair that he loved so much was now in a bun on her head to keep it out of her way as they packed for the move, and he had a sudden sharp, almost painful desire to see it unbound and the long graceful hair draped down her side all the way to her hips. He loved her so much, and the hurt scowl on her ruby lips as she turned away from him and continued loading boxes, never saying another word, almost broke his heart.
They worked in silence for a long while, speaking only when necessary. It wasn't until late that afternoon when the young man was sorting through some old books that he saw the woman staring at him almost in terror, nervously playing with her hands and watching him intently.
"Let me go through those, honey," she said intensely.
"But they're my books," he said. "You don't know what I want to keep."
"Let's just keep them all. Just pack up the whole box just like it is."
"But some of these books are really old. I probably don't want half of them. There's no point in dragging junk clear across the country."
"It's okay. We can keep them."
This was very unlike her, he thought. All week she had been after him to throw away half his junk and he had been fighting to keep it. Now she wanted him to keep these books from his childhood that he'd probably never read again. But he didn't want to upset her any more today, so he shrugged and found the lid and bound the box with string. He watched her out of the corner of his eye. Kim appeared to be greatly relieved.
"Well, honey, how do you like your new home?" The young man kissed the girl sitting next to him on the couch and she laughed quietly and rested her head on his shoulders. The lights were mostly off in house and the mountains of unopened and opened boxes surrounding them was almost eerie in the twilight.
"I think we need to find a new pizza joint," she said with a giggle. "That pepperoni was a bit stale."
"Don't even mention that horrible crust!"
They laughed and sipped the wine. "At least the wine is fine," said Don.
The girl snuggled against his chest and sighed deeply. "Isn't it great. Here we are in a strange, new state, exhausted and with only two days to get completely settled before your new job starts on Monday, we've just paid $15 for stale, lukewarm pizza, and yet I've never been happier in my entire life!"
Don ran his fingers through his wife's lovely long hair and kissed her forehead with a loud smack. "I know exactly what you mean. Everything could have gone completely wrong--the movers could have wrecked all our stuff, the house could have been a leaky mess, the pizza could have been even worse"--they both laughed at this--"and yet somehow it wouldn't matter at all to me. You have made me the happiest man in America, Kim. I love you completely and without reservation."
They snuggled for a bit. "I think we need to give this house the Bed Test," whispered the girl as she ran her hands across Don's chest, unbuttoning his shirt.
"The Bed Test, eh?"
"Well, we must know how well this house is built. I mean, can it withstand an _earthquake_?" With that the naughty nymph leapt to her feet and dragged her exhausted but willing husband off to perform his sacred marital duty.
The move had gone well, Kim thought to herself as she dumped ground beef into the frying pan. She added some salsa and began to stir the sizzling meat. It had taken almost two weeks to really feel settled, but now things were down to a routine. Don would be home in--she looked at the clock--about fifteen minutes and shortly after that the tacos would be ready. She began chopping tomatoes as the meat browned.
Suddenly the front door opened and in came Don with a loud whoop and a cheer. He found his startled wife in the kitchen, paring knife in her hand, alarmed look on her face. "You're early!" she cried, almost a tad disappointed, he thought.
"I'm here to celebrate! I just completely my first real sale and it was a _huge_ one: an order for 150,000 software manuals for a new client based in Nebraska. Mr. Parker was so excited he gave me Friday off and he's going to give me a thousand dollar bonus!"
"Wow, that's great, Don!" Kim set down the knife and threw her arms around her husband and for a few seconds neither could breathe as their lips sucked at each other.
"Okay, okay, Kim, let me breathe!" panted Don finally, pulling himself away. "How about we go away for the weekend? Sort of a second honeymoon? There's supposed to be a nice lake up in the mountains around here. We could rent a cabin, relax, and do a little fishing..."
"Fishing my ass," said Kim with a wide smirk. "If you _dare_ even think you could leave your beautiful wife's honeymoon bed for thirty seconds to go play with smelly fish you've got another think coming!"
It was Thursday evening and young couple were packing their things for the getaway. "We're leaving promptly at six a.m.," said Don firmly, and Kim groaned. She _hated_ getting up early. But of course it was for _fun_, right? She'd manage it somehow.
"Say, Don? Do they have a television set up there?"
"TV? You want to watch TV this weekend? You won't let me go fishing but you want to watch TV?"
"Not TV, but I was thinking we could take the VCR and watch some movies, if you are interested."
"Oh. Well, actually I think there's a VCR and TV there. In fact, I'm sure of it. Let me get the brochure. Go ahead and pack some movies, dear. And don't forget to include something _I'd_ like. Some of those James Bond flicks would be cool."
The cabin was gorgeous, nestled within a grove of pine trees and only about fifty yards from the lake. It was a quarter mile from any other cabin and Kim relished the privacy. The furnishings were delightfully quaint, an odd mix of ancient and modern. The only heat was the fireplace but there was plenty of cut wood by the front door. At least there was indoor plumbing and hot and cold running water. The view was spectacular, and Don was very pleased. He hadn't told Kim that he'd been required to pay an extra $200 because he hadn't made reservations three weeks in advance. The money really didn't matter, not considering the bonus he had coming, but it was still good to know the money hadn't been wasted. This was definitely going to be a weekend to celebrate.
They unpacked and ate the delicious fried chicken and potato salad picnic Kim had brought and afterwards went skinny dipping in the freezing lake--fifteen minutes was as long as they could "bare" it--and then retired to the cabin with several keen ideas on how to warm themselves up.
Saturday was spent in luxurious sleeping in, a huge breakfast of grilled eggs, sausage, and bacon, and various indoor activities. They hiked a little during the afternoon and were caught kissing in the bushes by an elderly couple who winked at them as they passed. Later, they took in another quick swim, though this time they wore bathing suits, as there were people about, the lake being more populated on a Saturday, but to dry off they relied on the same old-fashioned body-warming techniques they had practiced the day before.
It was late that evening as they sat before a roaring fire and cuddled, both stuffed to the brim with grilled steak and lobster and huge roasted sweet potatoes and fresh corn on the cob. Kim liberally poured herself a fourth glass of wine, giggling at Don's cautioning hand.
"Why be careful, dear? Let's celebrate!" she cried loudly, waving her glass and splashing wine on the rug.
"Kim, honey, I think you have already had your fill."
"Nonsense! Let's be wild and crazy!"
So they drank and kissed and finally just lay together, feeling the warmth of the fire. It was so comfortable neither wanted to move. Finally the fire died down and Don reluctantly got up and fetched more wood. When he sat back down he stared in horror at his wife.
She was sitting upright with her legs crossed in front of her, a bright smirk on her face. In her lap lay Donald's photo album, the one he had not wanted her to see. For a second the young man felt a surge of fury pass through him and he actually lifted his hand as though to strike his wife, but the innocent, slightly dazed look on her face made him stop, and with a deep sigh he collapsed beside her.
She smiled saucily at him. "I have been a v-vury n-n-naughty girl," she slurred at him. "I peeked in your book."
Don's lips set into a tight line. "I thought as much. And what did you think?"
"I thought it was wonderful," she said simply, looking at him a little oddly, as though surprised he had not attacked her. "Are you not mad at me?"
"Mad? I'm livid. But I don't want to ruin this weekend. Besides, I would have shown you eventually, I suppose."
"You are ashamed of it?"
"Well, yeah. It's not everybody who's Dad puts together a book like that, is it?"
"No. But he must love you very much to have done so."
"Love me? Oh, well, I guess so. I never thought of it that way. It's a freaken painful reminder if you ask me."
The girl nodded. "Can you tell me about it?" She opened the book on her lap and he leaned over close to her. The first page was blank except for Don's name written in large letters with a fading blue ballpoint. The first spread in the book, however, was filled with photographs.
The first set of photographs was labeled "June 17, 1976. Age: 6. Crime: disobeying Mother regarding putting away toys. Penalty: 15 swats with the hand from Daddy." The picture on the left was a closeup of the bare bottom of a little boy. The picture on the right was almost identical, except this time the boy's bottom bore several bright red blotches on it. Obviously the boy had been soundly spanked for his disobedience. The whole book was filled with similar pictures.
"What's this book for?" Kim asked.
"It's a record of every spanking I got. Dad thought it would help me remember them. Any time I had a spanking coming to me I'd be forced to sit down and look through this book until Dad came upstairs to punish me. It was horrible, sitting there, waiting for that inevitable spanking, and staring at pictures of your own bare blistered bottom from the past and knowing it was going to happen again shortly."
"I can imagine," said the girl in a whisper. She flipped through the pages and they looked at the many pictures of Don's poor spanked bottom. As the boy grew older the "crimes" grew more serious and so did the punishments. "Bad report card--ten swats with the paddle." "Lying about breaking lamp--twenty with the paddle and ten with the belt."
Don told her the stories behind some of the spankings. "Oh, that one! Boy, did that hurt! That was when my brother and I tried to booby trap my Dad's birdhouse. We climbed up into this tree and put a rat trap in there and sure enough, about a week later Dad found a large blue jay caught in there with his neck broken. He was so mad! I'd never seen him so mad. He must have lectured us for twenty minutes, and all we wanted was for him to stop yelling and get that whipping over with, though ten minutes later when that belt was coming down we sure would have rather heard him lecturing!"
"You were a teenager for this one."
"Yeah, that was my first 'adult' whipping. I was thirteen and thought I ruled the world. Dad sure set me straight on that score. He must have given me about thirty strokes from that belt and I was blubbering like a six-year-old when he was finished. I sure didn't feel like a man."
"And this one?"
"Ouch! You sure pick the worst ones, don't you? That I got for skipping school when I was in ninth grade. I thought I was king then, too, far too old for spanking. I found out my mistake when I showed up at home that evening. Dad was waiting, a scowl on his face. I knew at a glance that he knew what I'd done. He didn't say a word but took me out to the garage and made me take off my pants so he could take this picture, and then he paddled me for a good five or ten minutes, I'd say--notice it doesn't say how many strokes--and _then_ I got the belt. I tell you I didn't sit still for a week after that."
"Your bottom looks blistered."
"Yeah, I'm sure it was."
They continued browsing and talking and Don told her many stories of his childish escapades and their dire consequences.
"From this book it sure looks like you were a naughty boy," said Kim finally. "How many spankings are recorded in here? Is this all of them?"
"Well, I think there's a few missing, like when we were on vacation or he had run out of film, and of course Dad didn't start recording these until I was six. I haven't counted but the book's almost full with six spankings per page and maybe 60 pages or so, I'd guess around 360. Is that a lot? I mean, that's in my whole life."
"Sounds like a lot. I never got that many."
"Oh? Your Daddy spank you?"
The girl blushed, but it was difficult for Don to see this in the firelight. "All the time. I--I'd guesstimate I probably got around 200 in my whole life."
"Wow! I wouldn't have figured you'd have been so naughty," said Don with a grin. "Were they all when you were little or did your Dad still do it when you were older?"
Kim blushed profusely at this question, but again Don couldn't really tell. He probably thought it was the firelight making her cheeks glow. "Oh, no, Daddy believes in spanking no matter how old you are. I got a few during high school, even. I dare say if I talked back to him today he wouldn't hesitate taking me across his knee."
"Now? At your age? Even though you're married and moved away?"
"Well, knowing my father that wouldn't make much difference. He'd probably ask you to do it, you being my husband and all. But if you wouldn't or you weren't around, I don't doubt he would do it himself."
"Wow! And I thought _my_ Dad was strict!"
The girl laughed. "You don't know my Dad."
Don's face suddenly grew grim, though in better light the girl would have seen the smile playing at the corners of his lips. "What would your Daddy say about you snooping and peeking at my personal photo album I specifically told you _not_ to touch?"
Kim paled a little, but she set her lips in a firm line. "Yeah, he'd probably consider that a spanking offense."
"Well, maybe that's what I should do."
"Uh, Don--you don't have to."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I have a worse punishment in mind."
"Worse than me spanking you? What could be worse than that?"
"This." Kim held up a videotape. Don took it from her. The label read: "Kimberly Ann Chambers. Spankings 1980-84." He took the other two tapes she was holding. "Spankings 1984-89" and "Spankings 1989-92."
"That last tape isn't full," she said. "As I got older the spankings got much longer, so there aren't as many per tape. My Dad converted most of these from Betamax and gave me a set."
Don sat there in stunned silence. It was a while before he could speak. "You father videotaped your spankings? Every single one?"
Kim nodded, blushing and looking at the ground. "I told you it was worse than you spanking me."
"Wow," said Don in an awed voice. "This is even better than my photo album. Let's play some."
Kim looked reluctant but shrugged. "I figured you'd want to. That's why I wanted to make sure they had a VCR out here. I thought this weekend would be a good time to reveal my secret to you--you'd be less likely to be mad at me."
Don smiled. "Honey, if these tapes are as good as I suspect, I'll never be mad at you again. Any time I am upset with you I'll just pop in one of these tapes and we'll take a little trip down memory lane. That ought to soften you up real nicely." Kim blushed and looked away.
He pushed the first tape into the VCR. After a moment of blackness the screen lit up. It was in a small room, a little girl's room, all pink and frilly. The figure of man blocked most of the scene for a second and then Don recognized Kim's father, much younger and leaner, sitting on the bed. The figure waved his arm and a little girl in a peach-colored dress came forward. She was crying and begging Daddy not to "pank" her. He didn't listen but sat her on his lap and asked her if she knew why she was getting spanked.
"Cause I threw my milk at Mommy?" asked the little girl. The man nodded. "You are not to treat your Mommy or Daddy that way." Then he turned the girl across his lap and lifting the dress to reveal tiny white panties he pulled them down, baring her petite bottom, and soundly spanked her with his hand five times. The girl howled and cried and when the man was finished he sat the girl back on his lap and kissed her and told her he loved her. She hugged him tightly and told him she would never be naughty again, her tears already forgotten.
The screen went black and almost immediately there was another scene, very similar, except this time the little girl got only three smacks for making the family late to church that morning. She was still dressed in a beautiful pink frilly dress with a rose bow at the waist and tiny black shoes and white socks. Don thought it delightful.
He pressed stop and ejected the tape and put in the middle one. This brought up a scene in a different room, obviously a different house, though the room still belonged to a young girl. The girl was already sitting on the bed, her face distorted into a scowl. She appeared to be about nine years old. Her Daddy came in and Don saw with delight he was holding a large wooden hairbrush. There was the ritual of making the girl explain her crime (eating dinner at her friend's house without permission and not calling home to let her parents know where she was) and then she was stretched across the broad lap and her skirt lifted and bottom bared. The hand spanking was brief--about fifteen-twenty swats, but the hairbrushing was much more thorough and Don was astonished to watch the little bottom go from creamy white to dusky pink.
He watched several more from this period, delighting both at the scenes of the child crying and pleading and always ending up with her bottom bare and spanked, and the sight of his wife, biting her lower lip and blushing and looking very nervous. These videos obviously brought up rather awkward memories for her.
Don stopped the tape and put in the last one. "We'll save most of these for later," he said with a grin. "I just want to get a taste of how naughty you were."
The last tape made Kim really blush. She even tried to distract Don from it, suggest they go to bed, but he was having none of that. "1989," he said with a grin, "you would have been, what, fourteen?"
Kim looked away but the tape soon proved Don's math to be accurate, as it was definitely a maturing teenager who stood before her father. He looked older now, gray starting to show in his hair. "What have you to say for yourself?" he growled, and Kim looked at the ground. She glanced at the camera and looked away. "Please, Daddy, not on tape. You can't record this. I-I know I was wrong, and, okay, I'll even let you spank me, but not on tape. Please, I'm getting too old!"
"What did you do wrong?"
"I-I broke curfew. I'm sorry, Daddy. I lost track of time."
"And what did I tell you would be your punishment the next time you broke curfew?"
The girl looked frightened. She was definitely Kim, thought Don with his heart thumping wildly. A very young Kim, her face just starting to show the sharp maturity her face bore today. "A face right in between 'cute' and 'beautiful,'" thought Don with a sigh. Her body was that of girl, yet that of a woman, too. Her breasts were almost full-size, as were her hips.
"You--you said you'd spank me if I broke curfew again," finished the girl in a lame, self-pitying voice.
"And what do we do with all spankings in this house?"
"We record them on tape, so I can remember them better," said the girl dully.
"Good," said the man. "Now bare your bottom and get in position."
With agonizing reluctance the girl slowly knelt beside the bed and lifted her skirt, revealing a generous bottom covered with a pair of thick cotton panties. Even slower these came down, revealing two firm cheeks that bore a striking resemblance to two that Don knew well.
Soon the bottom was bared and the girl leaned herself across the side of the bed and waited. WHAM! The smack from the paddle startled even Don, who was watching the delicious sight of the girl's bare bottom so intently that he had failed to notice the father pick up the instrument of chastisement. WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! It came down again and again and the girl cried out, wiggled frantically, and pleaded with her father for mercy.
But the paddling was long and hard and there was no mercy. Kim's buttocks were scarlet when Mr. Chambers had finished, and Don's face was slightly pale as he watched the miniature clone of his darling weeping and clutching at her burning cheeks.
"Wow, that was some paddling," Don exclaimed, hitting the pause button to freeze the little girl in mid-squeeze, her eyes dripping tears. He glanced at his wife and she too was pale, her eyes watery and frightened, and when Don hugged her to his chest he could feel her heart pounding wildly.
"Was your father always so strict?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. "I deserved it though. I'd had two warnings about my curfew before but I just thought he was bluffing about spanking me. It had been almost a year since my previous one and I didn't actually think he'd do it."
"You do look very cute, though," said Don, pointing at the little nymph on the screen. "You certainly have a spankable bottom." His hands reached around her waist and clutched at her nether cheeks.
"Why, Donald! Are you getting turned on by watching me get spanked!"
Don blushed a little. "Yeah. I can't help it. You look so cute and your bottom, I don't know why, but it looks even more beautiful with that pink blush from the paddle on it!"
Kim giggled. "Well, you know, I suppose I still deserve a _little_ spanking for peeking at your book."
"One little spanking coming up!" said Don without the slightest hesitation, turning the TV off and gathering his wife up in his arms. In a few minutes they were naked in bed, Kim whimpering slightly and desperately trying to rub away the redness off her fanny.
"That was more than a _little_ spanking," she said grumpily.
"Well, now, beggars can't be choosers, can they? Now come over here, I think you deserve some punishment of a different sort. Tonight I have a feeling I can go _all_ night."
Kim gasped in astonishment but cooperated, removing her hands from her heated bottom and placing them onto her husband's, and soon the giggling couple were warm _all_ over.