A father deals with an errant daughter

By Jo Green

It was Friday afternoon. Jo, an upper sixth pupil at the local college, was handed her coursework story back and it was covered in red ink. She knew her dad would be less than impressed. He had urged her to check her work and let him also check through it, but seeing herself as a ‘free spirit’ or, as dad called her, cocky, she had submitted the piece without checking it properly herself. As a result, she achieved a C- instead of a B+ or A, her teacher had told her rather abruptly. Fortunately, the course allowed two pieces of work to be discounted from the overall marks. This would be the second, after a disastrous piece before Christmas.

Jo walked home in a mood as she knew her dad would ask about the work, having been told she had submitted it on Monday. She had been warned, if it wasn’t up to scratch, especially if there were stupid, obvious mistakes, she would get a spanking. Her dad had been responsible for Jo’s punishments since she was 5 years old. Now she was 18, they were few and far between, but she knew the threat was real. She got home a little after 4.00 pm and she knew her dad would be home by half past four. She had two options; get changed, go out and leave the work on the dining table for him to see and hopefully simmer down by the time she got home. Or, keep her uniform on, leave the paper on the table and get it over with. She desperately wanted to run with the first option, but the latter, she knew, was the best thing to do. After a moment’s contemplation, she left the work on the table.

Next, and she amazed herself by doing it, she turned one of the chairs out away from the table, the way her dad did when he spanked her. She then went to the cupboard and retrieved ‘old faithful’, a size 8 white topped plimsoll with a crepe rubber sole, one of a pair he had bought at a car boot sale when she was 11 and which had visited her bottom on many occasions since. She placed it in the centre of the cushion on the chair.

Seconds later, she heard the key in the lock and dad was home. He took off his coat and shoes and called Jo.

“Hi Jo, are you home?”

“Yes, dad, I’m in here,” Jo replied with obvious reluctance.

“Hi love, good day at school?” His voice trailed off in incredulity when he saw the scene that Jo had set up. “What is going on?”

“I got the paper back. It is on the table for you. You were right, I really mucked up. I’ll use it as the second throw-out work,” she said chastened. “I’ll listen next time, dad. I am sorry,” she said with a croak in her voice, fearing what was to come.

“Well Jo, you can’t say that you didn’t get a warning,” her dad said as he picked up the piece of work and read through it, occasionally tutting and shaking his head in disbelief. “Did you even read this once when you finished it?” he asked earnestly.

“Of course I did, just not very well, it would seem!” The cockiness in her voice angered her father.

“Don’t take that tone with me, young lady. You are in enough trouble as it is. Don’t go making it worse for yourself!” her dad said, not best pleased. “I see you have already realised what your punishment will be, which counts in your favour. I take no pleasure in punishing you, but it has to be done in the hope it sinks in! You only get one chance at your A levels, and your coursework counts for 50%. If you don’t get at least 3 Bs then you won’t get to go to your first choice university and you really don’t want that, do you?”

“No, dad. I am so sorry. I will try harder, really I will,” a dejected Jo said. “Please, can we just get this over with, dad?” she almost pleaded, dreading what was to come, but wanting it out of the way as well. “I know I have a deserved spanking coming my way.”

“Very well, love,” her dad said, picking up ‘old faithful’ and sitting on the pre-prepared chair. “Ok Jo, come around here and bend over my knee, please,” he said calmly and kindly.

Without hesitation, Jo dutifully did as she was asked, walking around to his right hand side and laying herself across his lap. Her pleated tartan print school skirt stretched across the seat of her bottom and she gently lowered herself into place. Having long limbs, she had no difficulty placing both hands and feet on the floor to support herself. Her dad needed to do a small adjustment as her hips were digging into his leg, then they were both comfortable, although obviously dad was liable to be more comfortable than she was!

“OK, Jo, hold still. You know this is going to hurt, but it will be done and dusted in a couple of minutes or so.”

As her dad spoke, Jo felt the hem of her skirt being tugged firmly yet gently as her skirt was drawn up her thighs and over her white panties which were tight across her generously sized but firm, well-shaped bum. A firm hand pinned the skirt into the small of Jo’s back and held her in place for the spanking to come. Her dad took a firm hold of the back of the plimsoll and tapped it several times on her panty-covered backside. Each time it lifted, Jo expected it to be crashing into her the next time she felt it’s touch. Her dad lifted the plimsoll and, after a brief hold for effect, he brought it smashing into her right buttock.

“Ouch! Oooooo!” she explained as the slipper made its presence known. Her head rocked forward with the impact and her hair followed suit.

The slipper lifted and smacked with equal force into the waiting left buttock. Again, her head and hair gave indication of the strength of the smacks. Ouches accompanied the next 4 strokes of ‘old faithful’, and it was clear the spanking was starting to take its toll on her bottom. Her dad could see it was already bright red and big blotches sneaking out of the sides of her panties gave testament to the cumulative effect of the blows. Tears were already streaming down Jo’s face and onto the wooden floor below.

“I’ll give you a few seconds. We are halfway through,” her dad said, resting the sole of the plimsoll on her burning bottom. Jo settled a little after a minute or so. “Are you OK to finish this now, Jo?”

“Yes, OK dad,” she said, crying ever so gently.

The expression on her dad’s face would have told her, if she could see him, that he wished it hadn’t had to come to this.

‘But here we are,’ he thought. ‘Let’s get this done.’

With that, he rubbed her bottom with the plimsoll and then raised it, only to bring it whopping down on to Jo’s upturned bottom just as hard as the previous 6 spanks. The tears started again within a few seconds. Alternating left and right cheeks, the rest of the spanking took roughly another 90 seconds, her dad leaving 10 seconds or so between the spanks to allow the full effect to be realised.

The 12th and final spank thudded into her bottom and rested there for a good minute. This gave Jo time to start to pull herself together as the heat of the spanking spread across her body like wildfire, before her dad released his grip with his left hand and he popped the plimsoll under the seat with his right.

“Alright Jo, it’s all over. You can get go and sort yourself out when you are ready. I am sorry I had to do that but you cannot say you were not warned!” he added firmly yet kindly.

After a few more seconds, Jo pushed herself up with her hands and regained her feet. Her skirt fell smoothly to cover her glowing bottom and she was so pleased she hadn’t gotten changed as she would now be wearing jeans. She couldn’t help but rub her bottom, which had little or no positive effect on the pain she was feeling right now. Wiping away the rest of her tears with her hanky, she hugged her father warmly.

“I am sorry, dad. I will really try harder and I won’t ignore your offers of help in the future,” she said, almost, but not quite, managing a smile.

Her dad planted a gentle, fatherly kiss on her forehead and said, “I know, Jo. Pop upstairs and get yourself sorted. I’ll get dinner on and give you a call when it is ready.”

Moments later, Jo was examining her bottom in the mirror. She had dropped her skirt and panties to reveal a very red and blotched pair of buttocks, the impact points of the plimsoll clearly visible. She pulled on a pair of very loose-fitting French-style knickers and a loose skirt, and laid on her tummy for a while before being called down for dinner. By now, her bottom was burning but nowhere near as painful as when her spanking had just finished.

“You OK, love?” her dad enquired.

“I’ll live, dad, I’ll live,” she smiled back at him, carefully sitting on the thankfully slightly cushioned dining table chairs, and delighting in the cool chill of the material as she sat down.

The End

© Jo Green 2022