11 Year Old Girl Pregnant After Rape Forced to Carry Baby to Term

  No Daddy, No!

a collection of father spanks girl stories

by

Perry Symon Fowler

All rights reserved

Copyright © September 2016 by Perry Symon Fowler

Published by LSF Publications

http://www.lsfpublications.com/

Encompass design past Nathaniel Scott.

This volume may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in function by whatever means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction which depicts not-consensual spanking. Any resemblance to actual persons, places or events is purely coincidental.

Strict daddies, stern step-fathers and misbehaving teenage daughters ... the perfect combination for a naughty girl going over her daddy's knee for a bare lesser spanking. In this drove of stories, the fathers stand for no nonsense, and various teen girls go their bottoms soundly spanked with hand, paddle or hairbrush. Though they may plead and wail and promise to be good, they are all properly punished. Many have to confess their delinquency before the spanking starts, and many are disciplined close to an open up window and then that their embarrassed wails and yelps tin can be heard past neighbours; information technology all adds to the humiliation of the disgraced teenage girl... who inevitably ends up over the paternal lap fourth dimension and time again every bit she submits to her daddy's discipline.

This collection features the following stories: Mental attitude; The Mitchell Protocol; The Walk of Shame; The Persuader; Breakfast at Suzie's; and The Triple Play.

Contents

Mental attitude

The Mitchell Protocol

The Walk of Shame

The Persuader

Breakfast at Suzie's

The Triple Play

Also from LSF Publications...

Attitude

Equally shortly equally they arrived home, Dan Carrothers sent Vanessa direct to her room. There had been a disagreement earlier that evening, and he'd promised her an extremely painful lesson on the ride in from town. This left no room for doubt on Nessa's part; she knew from prior experience precisely what he had in store for her. Dan's philosophy was simple: the easiest manner to settle a dispute was to take his daughter straight over his knee and give her a spanking. Not just a few precipitous whacks on the derriere, either: Dan specialized in long, hard and extremely thorough strappings... the kind which invariably left her weeping and incoherent, unable to sit down down for days afterwards.

Standing in the living room, Vanessa tearfully begged her father to let her off - or at least reduce her penalization to some less severe alternative. The argument hadn't been very serious, and she was sorry now; it would never happen once again. She was as well former for a spanking, she wasn't a child, she was eighteen years quondam! None of her friends had to endure parental spankings, information technology just wasn't correct.

"Please, Daddy, not a spanking," she wailed, desperate to overturn the final verdict, "It's not fair, I'thou too big for that. You tin can't spank me similar a piffling daughter, you can't!"

Unfortunately for Vanessa, Dan was totally unimpressed by his girl'southward rhetoric. He was her father, and as far every bit he was concerned, she'd never exist as well old to go over his articulatio genus. Information technology made no difference to him that her friends never received spankings. Tonight, she'd be going to bed with a hot, throbbing bottom, and that was the end of it.

"Now - upwardly to your room, young lady," Dan told her, gesturing towards the stairway. "I'll be along to deal with you in a moment."

So Vanessa ran weeping upward to her room, already feeling her father's hot, stinging palm-print on her soft, curvaceous tushie. Throwing herself on the bed, she cried piteously, knowing she had no i to blame but herself. She knew her father well enough to realize that disagreements merely led to a well-smacked lesser. She listened apprehensively for his inevitable arroyo, imagining how much it was going to hurt.

Why did she ever debate with him? All she had to practice was keep her rima oris shut and pay him the respect he deserved. She'd been over his knee likewise many times to claim ignorance of the law: he'd been spanking her for years now, and she was well aware he had footling tolerance for dissent.

After what seemed similar an eternity, she heard his footsteps coming up the stairs. She fleck her lip against the oncoming alluvion of fresh tears, and sat up on the bed, prepare to start pleading for clemency the moment he walked into the room. She knew there was little promise of a last infinitesimal reprieve, simply there was nada else she could practice. She absolutely dreaded being stretched beyond her Daddy's lap - and with good reason.

Dan stepped through the doorway, a alpine, wiry man with wide shoulders and lean, muscular arms. He carried a short, blackness razor-strap in his right hand.

Nessa'due south eyes widened in alarm. She quailed at the sight of the strap. Nooo!

It was the strop: a ten-inch length of hardened leather, particularly adjusted to fit Dan's wide hand. Different others of its kind, this one was stiff and rigid, more like a paddle than a chugalug. Now she knew precisely how painful this spanking was going to exist. His option of instrument meant that he was going to pay particular attention to her upper thighs. Vanessa immediately lapsed into loud sobs of fear and supplication:

"No, Daddy, no, please non the strop, it hurts too much! Delight Daddy, don't use the strop!"

Dan sat downwards on a nearby chair, completely ignoring her frantic pleas, and took off his jacket. He so flexed the leather against his left hand, checking its weight and swing. It was perfect as always, the one implement he could trust to render his daughter'due south bottom a hot, glowing crimson.

Vanessa covered her face and sobbed bitterly: she could tell by the expression on his face up that she'd be over his human knee for a good ten minutes at the very least.

Dan opted for a good, stiff talking-to earlier he got downwards to concern. Scolding was, in Dan's opinion, one of the most important components of the disciplinary process, allowing Vanessa aplenty opportunity to regret her misbehavior and drive dwelling house the bespeak that she was getting exactly what she deserved. Being spoken to like a naughty little girl likewise added to the embarrassment she was already feeling.

When he finally finished the scolding, Dan called her over to his chair and instructed her to take downwards her shorts and underpants. This was the function which Vanessa hated the virtually. She remembered the many times over the years when she'd been required to perform this ritual, helplessly undoing her jeans and presenting her naked bottom for parental discipline.

Taking downward her panties was utter humiliation - despite the frequent spankings she'd received from her begetter, she'd never quite gotten used to baring her bottom to him. She lowered her shorts to the flooring, then begged him to allow her at least the dignity of a panty spanking.

"No, Daddy, please don't make me bare my bottom, let me keep my panties up, you don't know how bad information technology is-"

"You become those panties downwards now young lady," Dan growled, his voice rising in paternal fury.

The explicit threat in his phonation overrode all desire to preserve her modesty. Sobbing in abject misery, Vanessa slipped her underpants down to her upper-thighs, hoping to get away with merely a partial baring. But Dan wouldn't correspond information technology. He was going to paddle her scarlet all the way from her tender young lesser-cheeks to her smooth alabaster thighs. Tears flowing freely, Vanessa aptitude over to peel her lacy pink panties all the mode down to her ankles. She was absolutely burning with shame now; her begetter had a completely unobstructed view of her bottom.

When she straightened up, Dan reached out, took her past the wrist, and led her over his genu. She was crying steadily now, whimpering little pleas for mercy while he shifted her over his lap to allow for maximum consequence. Once he'd placed her botto

m into the most vulnerable position he could find, he paused to survey the job ahead. Her lush, stake bottom cheeks were staring at the ceiling, clenching and unclenching with apprehension.

Dan Carrothers was something of an skilful, a human being who took pride in his work. His spankings were unusually long, generally lasting for at to the lowest degree 10 minutes, and often stretching out to fifteen. Today he might try for a new record. He e'er started with some initial hand work, working slowly upward to a throbbing carmine. When his mitt got tired, he would only switch to an instrument. Today, of class, he'd be attending to Vanessa's bottom with the leather hand-strop.

Vanessa continued her whimpered pleadings. "Don't ... please Daddy ... no don't, noooo."

Dan ignored her, raising his mitt high over his head. Vanessa clutched her bottom cheeks against the expected blow, bursting into new tears - her time had come. She lay passively over his human knee, sobbing piteously. How could this be happening to her? She was 18 years old, a senior in high school. None of her friends had to endure paternal spankings, their parents treated them like adults. Even so here she was, draped over her begetter'due south human knee, panties down, bottom up, most to take a skillful, difficult spanking like a six-year-quondam girl!

Dan'southward difficult, wide manus finally came down, meeting Vanessa's soft, quivering bottom with a high, sharp cracking sound that could have been heard halfway down the street. Vanessa screamed in hurting, kicking her feet helplessly as each blow descended. Dan gave her bottom his total attention, alternating between each cheek, watching as the stupor-waves resonated all the way downwards her thighs. Dan fell into a long, rolling rhythm, smacking away with all the strength of his strong right arm. Vanessa'due south bottom swiftly warmed to a brilliant, glowing scarlet. The flush began to spread inevitably down her legs.

As mentioned before, Dan was an extremely thorough spanker, working his fashion systematically over every available inch of bottom mankind, covering both cheeks equally, and devoting plenty of fourth dimension to repetitious spanking. He always made sure to spank the same spot over and over again: there was no indicate in punishing the girl unless it was really going to hurt her.

He was likewise very careful to apply his paw to the upper thighs, just below the curve of her cheeks. In Dan'south experience, this was the most painful portion of a spanking, peculiarly after he'd switched to the paddle. He often devoted the last vi or seven minutes of a spanking solely to Vanessa'south upper thighs, during which time she would shriek and squirm on his lap in a virtually frenzy. He usually had to hold her downward on his lap to prevent her landing on the floor.

By the time Dan had completed the 'easily-on' phase of the spanking, Vanessa'south bottom was covered with a pulsing strawberry-cherry blush which reached from the top of her cheeks half-way down to her knees. Shining and tender, you could well-nigh see the heat rising from information technology.

Vanessa lay doubled over her Dan'due south lap, sobbing out exhausted lilliputian pleas for leniency.

"No more than, Daddy, please don't spank me whatsoever more, I've learned my lesson, I'll never practice it once again."

Even the well-nigh determined of fathers would have been satisfied past this point; the chore was washed, the culprit punished, and parental justice was served.

Just Dan Carrothers was something of a perfectionist; domestic correction should never be hampered past false sorrow or remorseful tears. He was definitely not the kind of human to let his naughty fiddling girl off with a paltry eight infinitesimal mitt-spanking.

It was time for the strop.

---oOo---

"No Daddy no! Please, non the strop!"

Vanessa'southward lush, shine bottom-cheeks were already hot, blood-red and throbbing. The thought of her father'south heavy leather hand-paddle beingness applied to them reduced her to a fresh spasm of helpless, sobbing pleas. Hither she was, limply stretched over Dan'due south lap, bottom turned up to the ceiling for her latest well earned spanking, crying like a lost kid. Tears of warm shame streamed down her cheeks while Dan picked up the strop in his sure, firm grip. Smile grimly, Dan nodded approval at its hard, sharp weight, taking a practise stroke through the air. Vanessa shrieked equally the leather whistled directly above her tender, unprotected derriere.

"At present, nosotros're going to deal with your footling mental attitude trouble once and for all," Dan told her, "I've had enough of your sulking and petulance, and it's loftier time you lot learnt a bit of respect for the man of the firm." He settled her back into position, ignoring her frantic struggling, and raised the hone over his caput.

"No, Daddy, nooooo!" the girl cried, trying to embrace her bottom with her hand. "Please don't, information technology'll injure actually bad!"

"You take that hand out of the way, or I'll make this a lot worse, young lady," Dan warned. "Yous're long overdue for a good, difficult spanking, and I'm going to make certain you lot get everything yous have coming to you. Now stop that squirming and hold your bottom up."

Vanessa removed her paw, sobbing miserably.

This had to be the worst spanking of her life (fifty-fifty worse than the time Dan aptitude her over the armchair and thrashed her with the plume duster. That had lasted a practiced twelve minutes, and her round, naked lesser had been absolutely criss-crossed with glowing pink stripes that took days to fade). Dan continued to scold her in his stern, paternal tone; lecturing on her responsibilities every bit a daughter, and reminding her that she could blame no-one but herself. Vanessa wept pitifully, alternately flinching and clenching against the inevitable caress of the leather.

Finally, the hone flashed down across her bottom.

The leather met her mankind where the cheeks overlap the upper thighs. Hurting erupting similar an exploding star halfway down her legs, Vanessa screamed at the meridian of her lungs. Dan drew back and the strop slashed down in a red hot arc. The daughter kicked and bucked on his lap, her long blonde pilus flight. Dan favored her upper thighs, laying on smack later on agonizing smack onto her tortured little fanny.

If Vanessa thought her father'southward hand-spankings had been painful, they were aught compared to this treadmill of agony. Holding her firmly in place with his left hand, Dan watched in growing satisfaction as her bottom gradually changed from red to a abrupt, angry and tormented shade of crimson. He swept down mercilessly, increasing his speed and force with each blow. Nessa sobbed and gasped and shrilled, hiding her face in her hands, shut to the flooring.

"Daddy no!" she wailed. "Not like that, don't hit me in the same spot, it hurts too much. Don't, noooo!"

Leather connected to rain down on the girl'due south lower bottom and upper thighs. If there was one thing Dan Carrothers had learnt in all his years of disciplining his daughter, it was that repetitious spanking got the message through, come what may. It would be a long time before she questioned his will again, by god. Dan redoubled his efforts, the paddle flying with blistering velocity.

"Owww! Daddy, not my thighs! Cease information technology – it hurts! Owwww, it hurts!"

Vanessa'due south mind was spinning: she was minor and naughty and helpless; and her bottom was so sore. The spanking went on and on like it would never stop, and all she could do was beg and whimper and cry. Her father was so much bigger and stronger than she was. He could take her over his knee like a 6-yr-old girl, and there was absolutely zilch she could do about it. His spankings were long and embarrassing and they injure so much. How could she ever face her friends at school later this? What if they somehow plant out? She was the only girl in her course who had to bare her bottom; they'd never let her alive information technology downwardly. In an other year, she'd exist the just girl at University to take regular spankings from her male parent - she'd never live that down, either.

How long had she been over his knee? Fifteen minutes? Xx? Xx-5? It felt like forever. Each stroke of the strop seared her bottom similar blue fire. Vanessa's litany of child-similar pleadings had no effect on Dan Carrothers; he was determined to teach his fiddling girl the lesson of her life tonight. He alternated swiftly between soft, vulnerable cheeks, periodically switching over to lavish his attention on her slender, quivering thighs.

"Ow! Aaaooww! Ow-aaooww!!"

Afterward what seemed like two years, Dan put the strop downwardly and stood Vanessa upward beside the chair. She stood trembling on uneasy anxiety, rubbing her o

utraged lilliputian bottom with conscientious easily. Her tushie glowed a brilliant tone of crimson red. Dan closely inspected the radiant blush which covered her derriere all the way down to her mid-thighs. A skillful dark's work, truthful enough, he decided, but non quite consummate. Not nonetheless, anyhow.

"Now - time to cease upward, little girl," Dan told her. "Feet together, legs directly; bend over and put your hands on the back of the chair."

Vanessa's optics widened in fearfulness and shock, a new flood of tears cascaded down her face up. It yet wasn't over!

"No, Daddy, no more, it'due south too much. I can't take any more, please Daddy, I can't stand it!" She swiped at her wet optics with the dorsum of her small hand, crying openly.

"You'll take as much equally I dish out," Dan told her sternly. "At present bend over and take your medicine, or yous'll exist going back over my knee for another ten minutes."

Vanessa wailed, merely complied with her father's command, grasping the chair-back with both hands and bending over to form an inverted correct bending with her body. The action acquired her to thrust her lesser out, ready for the strop'southward final administration.

Dan raised the leather once more.

---oOo---

Placing his gratis hand on the small of her back to steady himself, Dan paused for a moment, considering which spot should feel the get-go cut swipe. His eyes wandered over the splendid rose tinge of Vanessa's beautiful, heart-shaped bottom. A magnificent piece of work of art, information technology needed only a few finishing touches to complete the composition.

Nessa braced herself for the impact, squeezing another pair of enormous tears out of her tightly closed eyes. Standing like this with her pastel pink undies gathered around her ankles (and her pretty little tushie glowing in the absurd evening air), she felt humiliated beyond all measure. She'd been scolded similar a naughty schoolhouse girl and reduced to whimpering tears of remorse. She'd been forced to bear her bottom like a ill-behaved child, enduring both her father'due south house right hand and the irresistible stroke of his leather mitt-hone.

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