Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

Copyright 1985-2020 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.


(****, M/f, Intense, nc padding)

A girl describes how her father paddles her. (Approximately 485 words. Originally published 2010-02.)

Daddy always spanked us nude. Oh -- giggle -- I guess I should rephrase that... it sounds like _he_ was naked!

No, it was us kids. Completely naked. I felt horribly vulnerable and naughty walking through the house naked as a baby, carrying the oak paddle Daddy made. It hung near the fireplace in the living room where everyone could see it. That meant you had to go to your room and take off all your clothes, walk naked to get the paddle, and head for the kitchen where spankings always took place.

Why the kitchen? Well, Daddy didn't like noisy spankings. I mean, the sound of a big wooden paddling bustin' ass was okay, but he didn't like screams and blubbering. I suppose it made him feel guilty about how much he was hurtin' us.

But back to the kitchen. When you got there, Daddy was waiting with a brand new bar of Ivory soap (the cost was deducted from our allowance). He'd wetted it so it was covered with foam. He'd shove it in your mouth sideways. You'd bite down. Not too hard! You didn't want to bite through it, but he wanted your teeth to sink in. It'd take days to get the taste off your teeth.

I couldn't breathe. The taste was awful, of course, but it was the breathing that really bothered me.

I'd bend over, hands on my knees, ass sticking out, and he'd begin whacking my butt with that horrible paddle. I'd moan, but I couldn't scream, no matter how much I tried. Everything came out as a moan.

Every swat would near knock me over, and after just a few I'd swear my cheeks had to be the color of a fire truck. But Daddy never stopped after just a few swats. No, he paddled hard and long. I'm sure I made a real sight, nude, bent over, drooling and weeping, a milky puddle forming on the kitchen floor beneath my face.

My younger sister always joked that I sounded like Darth Vader, wheezing for air through my nose. My ass was blister red and burning up like the Hindenburg and all I was concerned about was that I couldn't get enough oxygen! I panted through my nose. It was a most miserable experience.

When the paddling was finally over, I had to get paper towels and mop up the mess I'd made, and then put the paddle back and stand in the corner of the living room, bare spanked ass on display, soap still in my mouth. It usually took fifteen minutes for my breathing to return to normal, depending on how severe the paddling was, of course.

There was nothing sweeter than the relief of spitting out that bar of soap, Daddy giving me a hug and telling me I was forgiven, and me returning to my room, incredibly sore but strangely satisfied.

The End