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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(****, M/f, Severe, nc severe schoolgirl paddling)
A "good" girl is caught in mid-scam and must face the music. (Approximately 2,391 words. Originally published 2003-12.)
On Saturday evening, the three children faced the inquisition. It was expected, of course, that the oldest, and known trouble-maker, Mike, was the culprit. The "trial" was nothing but a formality.
Dad stood behind his desk, with Mom beside him, and glared at the three. "All right," he began grimly, "whoever used my credit card to order these movies has sixty seconds to own up."
There was a long silence while all eyes turned to Mike. His mouth fell open and he shook his head. "Why's everyone looking at me?"
"Cause you're guilty," sneered Carol.
"I am not! I didn't do it."
"Come on, you're _always_ guilty." She grabbed her little brother Ben and hugged him. "When was the last time Ben or I got in trouble?"
Mike's eyes shifted and he shook his head. "It's not fair," he mumbled. "I know I'm usually guilty, but not this time. This time I didn't do it!"
Dad eyed the desk. His voice dripped sarcasm. "You didn't order _The Sexth Sense_? Or 'Nurse Butty,' 'Unboinkable,' or 'A Butt's Life'?"
"I suppose you want me to believe Carol did. Or little Ben."
"Hey, I'm not little!" piped up little Ben.
"Dad, I didn't do it!" cried Mike. "You must believe me."
"Mike," interjected Mom, "denying it isn't helping your cause. You're about to get the whipping of your life and if you keep lying you're going to get whipped every night for a month!"
Mike went pale, then red. "It's not fair!" he shouted. "I didn't DO ANYTHING!"
Suddenly, in the middle of all this, was a voice. It was the tiny voice of an eight-year-old, but what he said caught everyone's ear.
"I did it."
"WHAT?" cried four voices at once.
Ben looked at his parents. "Mike didn't do it, _I_ did it. I ordered the videos. I saw Dad forgot to log off the Internet the other night and I went and ordered the videos. He left the credit card there on the desk."
"Ben, why in the world would you do that?" asked Mom, completely stunned by this fantastic turnaround.
Ben shrugged. "I was curious. The site said 'No one under 18' so I wanted to check it out."
"But why did you order the videos?" asked Dad.
"Well, they didn't show much on the site: they said you had to order the videos to really see stuff."
Dad looked solemn. "Ben, to your room. Now. I'll be up in a few minutes. Carol, you and Mike go to bed."
"But Dad, it's only eight--" began Mike, but he shut his trap when he saw the look on his father's face. The three kids quickly left while the parents sat down for a conference.
* * * * *
Carol changed into her favorite pink pajamas. Then she went and knocked on the door to Ben's room. The "come in" that responded was apprehensive and filled with fear.
"Hey, it's just me."
Ben looked relieved. "I thought you were Dad." He looked nervously at Carol. "You think he'll... I mean, you think I'll get a..."
Ben gulped and nodded, afraid to say the horrible word. He'd only been spanked a few times and held the activity in great respect. Mike was the one who got it on a weekly basis and took it nonchalantly (at least publicly).
Carol sat down beside her brother and gave him a hug. "I'm afraid so, Ben. Dad's pretty upset. Besides, you've got to admit you really screwed up."
"What were you thinking? Didn't you realize you'd get caught?"
"I don't know. It just seemed okay at the time."
"But Dad would get the package--" Carol started, then stopped. She saw Ben didn't need logic and gave him another hug. "It'll be okay," she whispered. "It only hurts for a little bit."
"You... you've been s-sp-spank-ed?" sputtered Ben.
"Of course. Many times. Oh, it's been year or so since the last time, but I remember it well."
"What did you do?"
"Uh, well, that's not important," Carol said quickly, her face matching the color of her pajamas. "The point is I deserved it."
"Did it hurt?"
"Oh yeah! Daddy used my hairbrush, you know, the big black one? God that thing hurt -- I thought he was murdering me." She glanced at her brother and saw he was turning pale and tears gleamed in his eyes.
"Oh, but it wasn't that bad," she quickly inserted. "I mean, I _thought_ he was killing me, but after the first minute or so, I realized it wasn't that bad. Seriously. It hurt, yes, and I didn't like it, but you know what? In a strange way it felt good. I mean, I knew I'd been bad, and I knew I deserved the spanking, and though I didn't want it, I _did_ want it, if that makes any sense. You know what I mean?"
"I guess so."
"I was glad it hurt, and I hoped it would teach me a good lesson so I'd be good in the future."
"Yeah," but Ben still looked nervous.
Carol nestled close to him. "I'll tell you a secret."
"Well, there are some things you can do to mitigate your punishment."
Carol smiled. "That means 'lessen,' as in to make it less painful."
"Oh. That sounds good."
"First, apologize to Daddy and tell him you're really sorry. Tell him you deserve to be spanked and you'll try to take it like a big boy."
"But I don't want to be spanked!"
"Shhh. You can't avoid it, but at least this way it won't be as bad. If Daddy thinks you've already learned your lesson, he won't spank you hard at all. Trust me, I've done it a million times."
"Next, you've got to act like the spanking really hurts. Put on a real show acting like it hurts something awful, but here's the key: don't go all sobbing and screaming and stuff. That never fools anybody and it just makes parents mad and they spank harder. The trick is to grit your teeth and pretend like you want to scream but you're stopping yourself, moan a lot, and occasionally say something like, 'Ohhh that hurts!' but whisper it, don't shout it. And never beg for it to stop, never plead. That will just make Dad angry."
"You think it will work?"
"Oh, it'll work. I've had Daddy eating out my hand for years. To tell you the truth, none of my spankings have ever hurt that much, but Daddy sure thought they did. He always stopped right about the time it was really starting to hurt."
"Oh really?" said a deep voice from outside the room, and Carol froze. She looked up to see her father entering.
"Yes, dear, and I think you should be heading to your bedroom about now."
"And I think I'll be visiting you before you go to bed, young lady. It seems you and I have a lot of catching up to do."
Carol went pale and bit her lower lip. "Oh Daddy, I'm really sorry," she began, but he cut her off with a "Can it!" She raced from the room.
Now it was the fourteen-year-old Carol who paced her room nervously, whirling at every sound, wondering if her father had meant what she thought he meant. She listened for the sounds of her little brother being spanked, but they were a long time in coming. Her father must be lecturing him something awful: a spanking was probably a better punishment!
Suddenly her door opened and there he was, tall and handsome as ever, yet grimly serious. Carol gulped and wished she'd gone right to bed earlier.
"Daddy?" she asked tentatively. She gave him her cutest look, from below, with her eyes rolled upward, puppy-dog fashion.
It didn't work.
"None of your spankings hurt, eh?"
Carol gulped. "No, I mean, yes, they did. They hurt very badly."
"They did! I was just saying that. For Ben. To comfort him."
"Daddy! Please, you must believe me."
"And your little 'tips' about how Ben should cry?"
Carol blushed and stared at the carpet.
"I always thought you were such a spunky girl, bravely taking your punishment. Now I found out it was all just a scam."
"Not really, Daddy, I--"
"Be quiet, Carol." His voice rang out with authority and Carol sputtered into reluctant silence. "You realize that I can't believe anything you say?"
The teenager slowly nodded. "I'm sorry, Daddy, I really am."
"I can't even believe that."
There was a long silence, then her father said, "Bring me your hairbrush."
Carol looked ready to cry, but she didn't: instead she went to her dresser and came back with the ebony brush. She handed it to him without speaking.
He sat on the side of her bed and motioned for her to get over his lap. Reluctantly, she obeyed.
The paddling that followed was more than memorable: it was historic. Carol's butt was battered four shades of crimson. In the past few years she'd developed a rather full bottom, and truth be told, her last few spankings hadn't done it justice. This spanking, however, more than made up for lost time.
A typical spanking for Carol was two dozen or so swats on each cheek; this time she lost track of the count when it reached triple digits. Had Daddy given her twenty-five to the left cheek four times or was it five? Surely this was the fifth set for her right buttock -- how many more could there be?
But as bad as that was, it was only the first part of her spanking. She was flabbergasted when her father finally stopped paddling her and ordered her to rise... and drop her pants. She tried to tell herself the thin pajama bottoms protected nothing, but taking them down was one of the most difficult things she'd ever had to do.
Carol bit her tongue to keep from protesting. She closed her eyes and obeyed.
So she stood bare-assed naked before her father, with her hands desperately covering her crotch, her butt glowing like a barbecue grill on Memorial Day, and waited to see what happened next. She longed to rub her bottom, but she didn't dare: she didn't want to give her father the slightest encouragement to spank her harder.
He certainly didn't need any encouragement. He promptly took her back across his lap and began spanking with his palm. This time the spanks were hard and furiously fast. The stinging was incredible: Carol could only groan and pray for the torment to end before the next millennium. She couldn't believe how badly her butt hurt. Her father's hand wasn't as heavy as the hairbrush, but it stung like a leather belt.
A moment later, she regretted that thought, for her father stood her up and ordered her over the end of the bed. She went pale as she saw he was unfastening his belt.
"Oh Daddy please," she begged. Her knees went weak as she fell over the end of the bed with her ass hanging out over the end.
A second later she yelped in genuine pain as the thin belt wrapped across her bare buttocks. Again and again the leather strap licked at her naked flesh, searing her skin and leaving thick juicy crimson welts that pulsed and throbbed with agony.
With that, Carol began to sob. Not cry, sob. Something just broke inside her and she wept like she'd never wept before. She wailed and moaned and the tears just flooded onto the bed. She writhed in agony and wiggled her tush at every searing lash.
Suddenly it was over, and her father was sitting beside her, stroking her hair out of her eyes and whispering comforting words. She embraced him fully, unable to stop sobbing, but realizing on a subconscious level that she wasn't crying because of the pain, and that she needed this cry, and had needed it for a long time.
For a quarter of an hour she lay there, weeping and allowing her father to comfort her. He didn't say a word but was simply there, exactly what she needed. Finally, as her thoughts began to gather into rationality again, she realized something. She sat up, wincing as her weight shifted to her bottom, and hugged her father.
"Thank you, Daddy," she said.
He smiled and hugged her tightly, and when they released she saw tears in his eyes. "You might have thought you were fooling me all these years," he said gently, "but you were really fooling yourself."
Carol nodded. "I know that now, and I'm sorry."
"I've forgiven you. Have you forgiven yourself?"
"Yes, sir. It feels good to be free. I never realized how much guilt I had inside. I thought I was being so clever, and everyone thought I was such a good girl, but deep down I knew I was worse than Mike."
Daddy laughed. "Now I wouldn't go that far!"
Carol smiled. "Yeah, I guess you're right. But I _felt_ like I was. I felt like a hypocrite every time someone praised me for being good."
"I guess you learned your lesson then."
Daddy got up to leave. "Now remember, Carol. Any misbehavior in the future will earn you another dose of what you just got!"
The teen gulped and smiled at her father. "I know. I deserved it. But it will be a long time before you have to remind me again!"
"I hope so, I sure hope so."
As her father started to close the door behind him, Carol said, "Oh, Daddy... did you... did you, uh, spank... little Ben?"
Daddy smiled. "No, I did not. Oh, he's going to be punished, you can be sure of that, but he didn't realize exactly what he was doing. He and I had a long talk about sex, and he's going to be doing yard work for the next six months to pay back the money he stole, but I decided a spanking was a bit much for someone his age. He is on probation, though. Any more screwups and he gets his tush warmed good."
Carol smiled. "I love you, Daddy!"