The Fathers' Club: ... and other spanking tales Read online

  I paused for a moment to admire the twin pink hand-shapes that now stood out vividly against the whiteness of her lush mounds. Then I resumed her punishment, smacking alternately left and right, pausing after each pair of spanks to give the sting time to sink in. I was careful to distribute the strokes evenly across the whole expanse of the target area, so that after only a dozen smacks every inch of her quivering globes was suffused with a warm rosy blush - a delectable sight, as I appreciatively informed her.

  "You know, my sweet," I said, pausing a moment and resting my hand on the tender, trembling curves, "your bottom blushes quite beautifully; it looks even more lovely, even sexier, now that it's all warm and rosy. Spanking suits you, young lady, no question of it." Raising my hand, I resumed smacking her, as hard as before if not harder.

  As if my words had liberated her tongue - or was it on account of the heat building up in her squirming rear? - Ginny now began to emit little yelps of mingled pain and excitement, tossing her long hair and kicking her legs at each spank. Yet she still made not the least effort to escape, nor even to place a protective hand over her bare, ever more roseate bottom.

  Smack!! "Owwww!"

  "Fifteen!"

  Smack!! "Ooooh!"

  "Sixteen!"

  Five spanks to go. I slowed down, wishing to prolong the intense pleasure of inflicting such voluptuous chastisement. Twenty-one strokes was nothing - I could happily have gone on smacking this sweet, soft, willing bottom for hours. But by now I felt blissfully certain that this was only the first of many loving spankings that I'd be giving her. There would be countless opportunities for administering erotic punishment to this lovely, submissive young woman - opportunities for long, lingering spankings, lasting half an hour or more - spankings given with hand or hairbrush, slipper or paddle - spankings joyfully bestowed, joyfully received - in days to come.

  And meanwhile, these last five strokes must be memorable ones. Gathering my strength, I took careful aim at my favourite spank spot - the soft, sensitive undercurve where bottom meets thigh.

  SMACK!! "Seventeen!"

  "Yee-owww! Oh please -"

  SMACK!! "Eighteen!"

  "Owwww! Oh my poor bottom!"

  SMACK!! "Nineteen!"

  "Ooooh!"

  SMACK!! "Twenty!"

  "Yee-OWWW!"

  Pausing, I gazed down at the smarting, scarlet bottom gyrating across my lap, its roseate blush contrasting so deliciously with the whiteness of the girl's back and thighs. "And one for luck," I said, aiming my final spank at the plumpest part of the target area - right across the crack, catching both cheeks at once.

  SMACK!!

  "Owww-OOOH!"

  "Twenty-one!" I exclaimed triumphantly.

  Gently I helped Ginny up off my lap, and she stood before me ruefully rubbing her blazing bottom. Her face was flushed, and she chewed her lip, but the sparkle of excitement in her eyes was unmistakable. And she seemed in no hurry to pull up her knickers.

  I reached out and stroked the nearest rosy cheek. It felt beautifully hot, and softer than ever. "Well, how did you like your birthday spanking?" I asked.

  "Mmmm," said Ginny, with an enigmatic little half-smile. "You know, Paul, I was thinking - I never got spanked on any of my other birthdays..."

  "Er - yes?"

  "Well, maybe I should have all those spankings now, as well?"

  I gasped, utterly taken aback. This sweet-faced, innocent-seeming girl was revealing depths of kinky sensuality I'd never expected. "Well, sure, Ginny, I'd love to spank you some more. But that would be" - I did a quick mental calculation - "about two hundred more smacks. That's a lot for a first time. Are you sure you can take it?"

  Ginny grinned provocatively. "Why don't you try me and see?"

  ---oOo---

  In case you're wondering, it works out to 209 spanks - that's including 'one for luck' for each of her nineteen missed birthdays.

  I offered her a safeword, of course, but she refused, saying she trusted me not to spank her harder than she could take. So I paid close attention to her body language, easing off a little whenever I thought she might be nearing her limits. Ginny yelped and squirmed as her birthday marathon proceeded, and by the time we reached her sixteenth birthday she was close to tears. But when I suggested she might have had enough she gasped, "Oh no, please - don't stop!"

  So I didn't. She got full value for all those birthdays, and when I'd finished she lay gasping across my lap while I stroked her hot, fiery bottom-cheeks. As her spanking progressed her wriggles and squirmings had become increasingly sensual, and now as I let my fingers stray down between her legs she gasped, "Oh yes - yes!" Barely had I feathered my finger-tips across her labia before the orgasm flowed through her, and she writhed and moaned as her pleasure hit its peak.

  When at last her climax was spent I lifted her up off my lap and hugged her. Her face was flushed and there were tears in her eyes, but she kissed me deeply and murmured, "Oh thank you - thank you!"

  I lifted her in my arms and carried her to the bedroom, and there we made sweet passionate love till we were both sated. And afterwards, as we lay side by side, I gently caressed her tender bottom-cheeks, still roseate-hued and warm to the touch. "Did you enjoy your spanking?" I asked.

  "Couldn't you tell?"

  "Yes. But I'd like to hear you say it."

  She kissed me, a long, lingering kiss, and smiled happily at me. "I loved it. I've been dreaming about someone doing that for so long - since as long as I can remember."

  "You've never been spanked before?"

  "No - never."

  "Your parents didn't believe in spanking?"

  "They didn't believe in spanking me." She grinned at my raised eyebrow. "Oh, they were into spanking all right - but not for punishing their kids. I only found out when I came home early from school one day. There'd been a power failure or something and they let us all go home just after lunch. I came into the house and I was just about to call out when I heard these slapping noises and yelps from upstairs. So I crept up quietly. The bedroom door was open - and there was my mum stark naked across my dad's knee, getting spanked. Really hard, too - her bottom was bright red!"

  I laughed. "Were you shocked?"

  "No, I wasn't. I think perhaps I subconsciously knew. I'd sometimes woken up and heard noises in the night and I think sort of half-guessed what they were. So no, I wasn't shocked. But you know what surprised me? I realized I was jealous. I was like, 'I'm his daughter - I'm the one he should be spanking!'"

  "So what happened?"

  "Nothing really. Luckily they didn't see me - so I crept back out, then came in again making a bit more noise so they'd know I was there. After that I tried to provoke Dad into spanking me a few times - but he never would."

  "And no one else would either - boyfriends or whatever?"

  "Well, I suppose they might have done if I'd asked them to - but I never dared. I was afraid people might think I was perverted, or sick or something."

  "Oh, don't worry, you're not sick," I said, slapping her bottom lightly. "A bit kinky, perhaps - but there's nothing wrong with kinky. Lots of girls love having their bottoms spanked."

  "I'm not surprised. It's fantastic - and so sexy!"

  "So your first spanking lived up to expectations?"

  "Oh yes! It was wonderful - even better than I imagined! My bottom's all hot and glowing - it feels great!" She smiled blissfully, then whispered, "Paul - will you want to spank me again?"

  "Oh no - shouldn't think so. Why would I?"

  Ginny looked dismayed for a moment, then laughed when she saw I was teasing. "Oh - fell for that, didn't I? But you will, won't you?"

  "Try to stop me!"

  "Oh good. I'd hate to have to wait for my next birthday."

  I rolled her over and delivered a volley of crisp swats that had her wriggling and yipping with delight. "From now on, my sweet spankable girl - it's your birthday every day!"

  Like Daughter, Like Mother

  Ashley
sat on her bed and stared at the wall. The wall stared back. It wasn't exactly a meaningful encounter. Still, the unresponsiveness of the wallpaper was hardly uppermost in Ashley's mind at that precise moment. Far more significant was the question of just what was going to happen when her Uncle Jack came upstairs. Whatever it was, she had a strong suspicion that she wasn't going to like it. This really wasn't quite how the pretty blonde teenager had imagined her first trip to London...

  "London? Wow!" Ashley had enthused when her mom told her what was planned. "How cool is that!" If this is what I get for being a bad girl, she thought to herself, I'd better carry right on being bad!

  Not that she'd really been that bad, of course. Boys, drink, soft drugs now and then - pretty much what you'd expect from any cute New York teenager. Nothing truly terrible. But Debbie, her mom, reckoned she was getting seriously out of hand, and this was her solution.

  "You're getting to be more than I can handle, girl," Debbie told her. "So I've arranged you should go stay with your Uncle Jack in London for a couple of months. Maybe some of that old-fashioned British discipline will help straighten you out."

  So two weeks later Ashley, bubbling with excitement, found herself on a plane to London. This is going to be great, she thought, as the green coast of Ireland swam into view far below. It was a few years since she'd met Uncle Jack - and in any case he wasn't really her uncle, but her mom's cousin, which made him her second cousin or something. Anyway, from what she remembered of him, he shouldn't be any obstacle to her having one hell of a time in London. This was going to be a fun trip, she just knew it.

  And there he was, waiting to meet her at Heathrow - a broad-shouldered bearded guy with a friendly grin. "Uncle Jack!" shrieked Ashley, abandoning her luggage trolley which trundled on its way, nearly decimating a startled Japanese family, and flung herself into his arms.

  Jack hugged her back, then set her momentarily aside while he retrieved the trolley, with polite apologies, from among the slightly battered Japanese. "Good lord, girl," he grinned as he rejoined her, "barely one minute in the country and already you've all but committed manslaughter! Come on, I'd better get you home before you create any more mayhem."

  A fast train took them into London, and pretty soon Ashley was inspecting her very own room at the top of Jack's house in Camden Town. She showered, changed, then headed downstairs where Jack was waiting to celebrate her arrival with a glass of wine.

  "You're 18, right?" he said, handing her the glass. "Well, in this country that means you're old enough to drink. But don't go overdoing it, young lady," he added with a hint of sternness. "I've heard from your mother that you've been kicking over the traces. We'll have none of that while you're here, ok?"

  "Yes, Uncle Jack," replied Ashley demurely.

  "'Yes, Uncle Jack' is right. And while we're on the subject, remember this is a big bad city, with big bad wolves in wait for pretty American teenagers. So - no staying out late without special permission and letting me know exactly where you are. Otherwise - by all means get out and enjoy yourself, but I expect you home every night by 10.30 at the latest. Understood?"

  "Yes, Uncle Jack," said Ashley, even more demure.

  Jack regarded her sceptically. "Hmmm. I mean it, my girl. Any misbehaviour - and there'll be consequences!"

  "What consequences?" asked Ashley curiously.

  "You'd better hope you don't find out, young lady."

  So for the first few days she was good as gold. But teenage girls being what they are, it couldn't last. One evening she met some cute guys in Leicester Square, they invited her to a party - and by the time Ashley got home it was well past 1.00.

  Jack was waiting up for her, and he didn't look at all pleased. Seeing she was way too drunk to be worth talking to he sent her off to bed, promising a serious talk tomorrow.

  The next morning Ashley got up late, feeling considerably the worse for wear. On the table was a note from Jack. Had to go out. Back around 5.00. BE SURE YOU'RE HERE.

  Five long hours to wait. Ashley moped aimlessly about the house, unable to settle to anything. She tried watching television, restlessly flipping between channels, but nothing held her interest. Her mind kept reverting to Jack. He was a lovely guy, funny and great company - but somehow she suspected that flagrantly disobeying him might not be such a good idea. Finally she decided to phone her mom, hoping for a little sympathy.

  Sympathy wasn't forthcoming. "So you're up to your old tricks, girl?" said Debbie with - Ashley seemed to detect - a hint of amusement in her voice. "Well, maybe you thought you could get away with that sort of behaviour with me - but I think you'll find Jack's a tougher proposition. You've been sorely in need of a firm male hand ever since your dad moved out, honey - and now I rather think that's just what you're gonna get."

  "But Mom," wailed Ashley, "can't you talk to him? I won't do it again - I promise!"

  "Try telling him that," said her mom. "And see just how far it gets you!"

  Jack got home just after 5.00 and looked at Ashley sternly. "You disappoint me, Ashley. Seems I can't trust you. Well, I said there'd be consequences, didn't I? And now there will be."

  "I'm sorry, Uncle Jack..." she began.

  "Oh, you will be, young lady. You will be. Now go to your room and wait for me."

  So here was Ashley, sitting on her bed gazing at the wallpaper. It was a long wait. But finally she heard Jack coming upstairs. And as he came in her stomach dropped. He was carrying a wooden-backed hairbrush - black and formidable looking.

  "Stand up, Ashley," he said. He sat down on the bed and she stood in front of him, shifting nervously from foot to foot. "What did I tell you when you first arrived here?" His voice was quiet, but there was a note of steely anger in it that made her shiver.

  She dropped her gaze, unable to meet his eyes. "Look at me, Ashley," he said, quietly but firmly. Reluctantly she looked at him. "Well?"

  "I - I have to be in by 10.30."

  "That's right. And when did you get in last night?"

  "I'm - like - not sure."

  "Nearly 1.30. Three hours late. And not letting me know where you were, or who you were with. And then when you finally got in, you were hopelessly drunk and smelling of dope. In fact, just the kind of behaviour your mother's been telling me about."

  "I warned you there'd be trouble if you misbehaved while you were staying with me. Well, now trouble's here, my girl." He picked up the hairbrush and smacked it against his palm. Ashley felt a spasm of alarm quiver her bottom. Her dad had always spanked her with his hand - but that hairbrush looked evil!

  Jack read the apprehension in her eyes. "Yes, that's right Ashley. I'm going to turn you over my knee and spank you. Long and hard - on your bare bottom."

  The pretty young blonde looked horrified. "But - you can't! I mean - I'm 18! I'm way too old to be spanked!"

  Jack grinned. "Oh really? Strange - your mum seems to think differently. According to her, no girl is ever too old to be spanked - and certainly not a naughty teenager like you, young lady. In fact, do you know what the last thing was she said to me, when she phoned the other day? She said, 'She's a sweet girl, Jack - but you know what teenagers are. So if she gives you any trouble, just do exactly what her dad used to do - put her across your knee and spank her good and hard until you're sure she's got the message. And don't let her give you any of that 'I'm too old to be spanked' stuff, either. Because she certainly isn't.'

  "So here's what's going to happen to you, Ashley. First off, I'm going to turn you over my knee, take down your panties and give you a good thorough hand-spanking by way of warm-up. Then, when your bottom's all hot and tender, it'll be good and ready for a sound paddling with the back of this hairbrush. After which, I hope you'll have learnt your lesson. But if it turns out you haven't, and we get a repeat of last night's little escapade - then, my girl, you won't get away with just a single spanking. You'll be grounded for a week - and spanked every single night! Understood?"

  "Yes, Uncle Jack," Ashley m
urmured reluctantly.

  "Good. Right - now drop your jeans."

  Ashley started to protest, but a stern glance from Jack's eyes made the words die on her lips. Blushing, she wriggled out of her skin-tight denims and let them sag to her knees.

  "Good," said Jack. "Now - over my knee with you, young lady." Taking her by the wrist, he drew her down till she lay in classic spanking position across his lap, her upper torso resting on the bed, her curvy bottom perfectly placed for his hand.

  Ashley was tall and slim, but her bottom - most of it left bare by her brief pink panties - was cutely rounded and very spankable. Jack stroked the ripe young curves - they felt cool and deliciously smooth and soft.

  "You have a very pretty bottom, Ashley," he told her, "just made to be spanked. But you know, I don't think it's been spanked anywhere near enough just recently. So we're going to make up for that right now. And to begin with," he added as he began to lower her panties, "we'll have these down. Not that they'd be much protection - but I promised you a bare-bottom spanking, young lady, and that's just what you're going to get."

  "Oh nooo," wailed Ashley as she felt her most intimate garment being stripped away, leaving her soft young bottom-cheeks utterly defenceless. "Oh please, Jack - it's so embarrassing!"

  "Embarrassment, my girl," responded Jack as he raised his hand, "will soon be the very least of your worries."

  SMACK!

  "Owww!" yelped Ashley as his hand connected stingingly with the curve of her right bottom-cheek.

  SMACK!

  "Owww!" she yelped as a matching swat landed on the left cheek.

  Jack paused to admire the matching pink handprints that blossomed on the pale skin, then settled down to spanking the pretty teenager hard and steadily, taking care to cover the whole of her shapely rear, and paying particular attention to the sensitive undercurves where bottom meets thigh. Every so often he paused to stroke and rub the increasingly warm mounds, relishing the rich rosy blush suffusing every inch of the tender target area and deepening with each smack.

  As he'd guessed she might be, Ashley was a sweet delight to spank: her bottom, soft and cutely rounded, quivered and bounced appealingly beneath his punishing palm, and her yelps and gasps showed that his efforts were having a vivid effect on the naughty girl. And as he spanked her talked to her quietly and calmly, telling her how much she deserved this spanking, how pretty her bottom was looking as it blushed, and how much hotter and redder it was going to be before they were through.