The headmaster has to punish his own daughter
The afternoon of Friday 20th December 1985 was the last day of the Autumn term at Lady Upshott’s School for Young Ladies. School having broken up and the pupils having been collected by their parents, the headmaster, Ernest Eastern-Roberts, his fiancée, Sylvie Masters, and Ernest’s 21-year-old daughter, Aurora, were sitting in the headmaster’s house in front of a roaring fire.
The subject of snowballs re-emerged when Aurora was told by her future step-mother about the unfortunate incident involving young Sarah Watkins. The six-year-old sister of Marcia, a girl in the third form, had been accidentally struck on the head by an ice-filled snowball thrown by Head Girl Louise Kingston. Although Sarah had, fortunately, been more frightened than hurt, Louise had immediately found herself in Ernest’s study for punishment. Sylvie explained that Louise, together with all those that had thrown snowballs and who subsequently owned up, would be punished on the first day of the new term for bringing the school into disrepute.
Ernest had then pondered out-loud whether the person who threw the snowball that hit him would escape punishment, describing how Louise, who had witnessed the incident, had insisted the culprit in this case was not a pupil but a guest. Having turned around and gently wagged a finger in the general direction from which the missile had come, he now recalled seeing Aurora. He wondered if that ‘guest’ might have been his own daughter, and he looked directly at her.
Aurora, who would never lie, blushed furiously and, as her father raised his eyebrows, admitted that it had been her. She then reminded him of what she had said when, five years before, he had first become deputy headmaster whilst she was a pupil, insisting on being treated just like the rest of the girls when it came to punishment.
Aurora then asked how the girls who owned up were to be punished. She was told that the sixth formers were to be given six strokes of the slipper, administered in front of the class by their form teacher, followed by an additional three with the cane from him in his study if they were prefects. Louise, having already been given 12 with the slipper that afternoon, was also to face a further six strokes of the cane on the first day of term.
Ernest could see that his daughter was worried, as she took a deep breath and then spoke quietly.
“I see. Then, shouldn’t I receive the same? Can you punish me now, please daddy, so that we can enjoy the rest of the holidays? I know twelve with the slipper plus six strokes of the cane will be a challenge, but I will live. Where do you want me?”
“Aurora, darling, you have got this all wrong. Firstly, you were not there when I warned the girls this morning, and only those who threw snowballs after my warning are to be punished. Secondly, like some of the others, and unlike Louise, you only threw a single softly-powdered snowball which was unlikely to do any damage, and you only threw it at your own father as a joke. Finally, you never were Head Girl, although you deserved it. I did not make that appointment as some might have considered it nepotism and it could have made your life more difficult. You were only promoted to prefect and head of house.”
“But daddy, if all those girls, even the first years, who threw snowballs are to be punished, it would be wrong if I got away with it.”
“Ok, young lady, if you insist. I told Louise that her actions were like those of a silly little girl and, for what she did today, she deserved a spanking over my knee. It is because she was eighteen and is not my daughter that this was administered with a plimsole and not my hand. You can be punished in just the same way, but as you are my daughter I will spank you with my hand; a proper spanking over my knee on the seat of your panties.”
“But Daddy, you can’t!”
“Do you remember the last time I had to spank you?”
“Of course, daddy. Spankings happened so rarely I remember each one, but I suppose that is the point. It was years ago. I remember that I had lied to you about breaking your favourite mug, the one with your old ship’s badge on it, and hiding the pieces in the bin. You sat me down and calmly explained that you would not have been cross with me for breaking the mug, as it was just an accident. You would only ever punish me for something that you were certain was really my fault.
“You then said that, because I lied to you, you would not be able to trust me again unless you gave me such a spanking that I would never consider lying to you or to anyone else ever again. I was upset, both because I was going to be spanked, but more so at the tone of disappointment in your voice. You were so calm and gentle. You put me over your knee and told me that you were only spanking me because you loved me, and that you didn’t want to do it but would be a poor father if you did not.
“You rubbed my back until I calmed down, but then gave me a really long and hard spanking over my skirt until I was crying and slumped over your knee.
“When I apologised for lying and promised not to do it again, I meant it, and you could tell. You took me in your arms, told me you loved me and would always do so and that all was forgiven.”
“And do you remember the last time I saw your bare bottom?”
“Yes daddy, it was almost exactly eight years ago, five months after mummy died. I was thirteen years old. It was the day we both left the grammar school for the last time and the day that changed our lives. That horrid headmaster, Mr Hartliss, had Mrs Brandon hold me down and then caned me twelve times on my bare bottom for something I had not done, just so he could placate another parent.
“You took me away from the school, resigned as a teacher there, and then got Mr Hartliss fired. The nice old Colonel, who was the chairman of the governors, then apologised to me and wished me luck. When we got home you made me show you my bottom. The bruises were all gone by Christmas morning and we had a lovely Christmas with Grandma and Grandpa.”
“And when was the very last time you were physically punished?”
“That was a Monday in April, just before Easter three years ago. I was eighteen and Mrs Brunswick, the deputy headmistress, gave me three with the slipper over my knickers for not paying attention after having been warned twice. I knew it was deserved and accepted it, even though I had been distracted. It was the day you had to cane four girls accused of stealing from a shop, which might have included me had you not worked throughout the weekend to prove to the shop manager that I had not stolen anything. She gave it to me in front of the whole class.”
“So, my darling, that means that you will now be soundly spanked, and you know how I am going to spank you.”
Sitting in the centre of the sofa, Ernest patted his knee and with a gentle smile quietly remarked, “Shall we get this over with? Unless, of course, you want to wait until young Rupert arrives so you can be spanked in front of him?”
The lovely young lady blushed scarlet at the thought of being spanked in front of her boyfriend, a fellow university student who was destined for a career in the Navy.
“Daddy, please no! And please don’t tell him. I would be so ashamed if he knew I had been spanked.”
“Why? Because you had some fun and threw a snowball at your dad? Or because you then had the character to own up and to ask for punishment when you heard that others who did the same thing were to be punished? Sorry darling, only teasing, come here!”
Ernest looked up into the lovely deep blue eyes of his daughter, her pretty face framed by honey-blonde, shoulder length, hair. The 21-year-old’s upper curves were decorated by a figure-hugging cable-knit pullover in emerald green, with those below the waist enhanced by stretch-cotton black trousers with fine ribbing, which emphasised her bottom and tapered into tan ankle-boots.
Aurora walked forward and laid herself over his knees with her legs straight behind her and her chests on the spare seat on the sofa to Edward’s left. She folded her arms and, briefly turning her head towards her father, whispered, “I’m sorry, daddy,” before turning her head away and resting it on her forearms. She crossed her ankles and waited.
Her father rested his left hand on the small of Aurora’s back and gently eased the hem of her pullover clear of her bottom. The fabric of her trousers clung invitingly to her nether curves and he could see no sign of where the panties underneath ended. He rested his right hand on the ribbed fabric covering the centre of her right buttock, and gave his daughter one final chance to back out.
“I know you are, darling, and we really do not have to do this, you know. I would far rather have you sitting on my knee, each of us with a glass of mulled wine in our hands, than like this. Are you sure? Final chance.”
“I need this, daddy, please!”
Ernest sighed, keeping the curve of his hand as it was when it cupped her buttock. He then raised his hand to shoulder height and brought it down hard. The sound resounded around the high-ceilinged room, smack!
Her father slowly counted to ten and then repeated the process, landing the next spank on her left buttock before continuing to alternate in a steady rhythm, shifting the point of impact slightly each time to cover the whole of her generous curves. Aurora’s bottom wriggled under the impact and, after about a dozen spanks, she started to make little quiet ouches and squeals. After two dozen spanks, Ernest paused and his right hand once more rested on his daughter’s right buttock.
“I think we’ll have these down.”
He patted Aurora’s bottom and moved his hands to the elasticated waistband of her trousers. Obediently, she lifted her hips and he slipped her trousers down to mid-thigh, revealing thin cream-coloured knickers moulding her bottom like a second skin. The chastising palm briefly rested once more on the smooth roundness before Aurora’s spanking resumed, with Ernest reducing the interval between spanks to five seconds. With only the thin layer of silky fabric as protection, Aurora was soon aware of the difference. Her vocal responses increased in volume and her breathing quickened in response. Unseen by her father, the lovely blue eyes filled with tears and her pretty features grimaced. She resolutely kept her legs still and her ankles locked, as her bottom pancaked under Ernest’s hard hand, whilst a further two dozen meaty spanks visited the soft hemispheres.
“Please daddy, just keep spanking me until you feel I have suffered enough.”
“OK, last two dozen spanks coming up. Repeat after me, ‘As the headmaster’s daughter, I must strive at all times to set a good example.’”
While Aurora repeated the words, Ernest slowly spanked her.
He then added, ‘That does not include the throwing of snowballs’.
As the final spank, the hardest of all, accompanied the word ‘snowballs’, her distress was clear.
“Oww! Snowballs! No more, please daddy. I’m sorry!” She turned her face towards him, her eyes streaming and adding their own pleas.
Releasing her legs, Ernest allowed his daughter to rise and pull up her trousers, after which a red-faced young lady clamped both hands to her burning bottom. As her father also stood, his arms enfolding her, Aurora snuggled her face into his chest, and continued to sniffle. They stood there, motionless, for more than two minutes as Aurora recovered her composure and Ernest whispered endearments, telling her it was all over and how much he loved her.
As they finally separated, Aurora stood on tiptoe and kissed her father’s cheek.
“Thank you, daddy. I love you too, more than ever, even though you spank really hard! You probably don’t understand, but I was feeling guilty and I needed that if I was to enjoy our Christmas. If you don’t mind, I think I will go and have a bath and change into a very loose skirt for the rest of the day. See you soon.”
Smiling, Ernest kissed her forehead. He then watched her swaying bottom as she climbed the stairs.
Meanwhile, Sylvie, having quietly left to make a pot of tea during the ten minutes that Aurora and her father had been having their ‘discussion’, now returned and sat down beside him. Having bent at the waist to place the tray on the low coffee table, her skirt tightened across her bottom as she did so. Noticing his slightly worried expression she squeezed his hand.
“Ernest, you have done a wonderful job bringing up Aurora since Hazel died and you were left to do so without her guidance. You have always given her exactly what she needed at the right time, and have done so again today, even though you had misgivings. Hazel would be so proud of her and of you, and so am I. I am engaged to a remarkable man and am so lucky.”
Ernest smiled and kissed her gently. “Thank you, dearest. I had a lot of help from Hazel’s parents and my own mother. Aurora was always a charming little girl, but I agree that she is now a fine young lady and I am very proud of her. Parenting does not get any easier when they get older. I am the lucky one to have two remarkable ladies in my life, and am so grateful that you and Aurora get on.”
Five minutes later, as they finished their first cup of tea, Sylvie noticed the sky turning red and the sun lowering to the horizon across the still snow-covered fields. She suggested they watch the sunset from the terrace and, without bothering with their coats, rose and opened the French doors. Standing together with their arms around each other’s waists and Sylvie’s head resting on his shoulder the world seemed perfect.
Aurora was at that very moment turning off the taps and lowering her very red bottom into the foaming and scented water in the large Victorian style bath. She thought about how much she loved her father, and how lucky she was that her parents had both always loved and cherished her. She really liked Sylvie, knew the feeling was mutual, and was genuinely glad that her father had again found love.
Thirty minutes later, Ernest and Sylvia were sitting hand in hand on the sofa when Aurora descended the stairs dressed in a flowing long pleated silk skirt, with her loosest silk French knickers underneath. As the two ladies then adjourned to the kitchen to make dinner, Ernest poured himself a large Armagnac and pondered on a most surprising but fulfilling day.
At the same time, two other families were having somewhat different experiences. Young Matthew Watkins was lying face down on his bed in his grandparents’ house, tears streaming down his face. He was already in his pyjamas and his exposed bottom bore six vivid red tramlines from the caning administered by his grandfather, a retired headmaster, at his parents’ request. By contrast, his two sisters were basking in parental and grand-parental approval. Marcia’s parents could not wait to show the grandparents her exemplary report; and a doting grandfather had immediately reached into his wallet and handed the delighted girl a twenty-pound note. Little Sarah was tucking into ice-cream with chocolate sauce, as a treat after her parents had explained how shocked she had been by what had happened.
Louise and her parents had also arrived home. There they had opened a bottle of champagne and toasted their daughter’s superb report. Louise had told them that Mr Eastern-Roberts had pointed out, just before her spanking, that her 93% in her mock Law exam was the highest by any student in the last five years. She then, however, conceded that her disciplinary record was not as good now as it had been at the time the report was written, and would take a further hiding at the beginning of the next term. She was at once reassured by both her parents that any damage, both to her bottom and her reputation, would be temporary as they topped up her glass.
All three households then passed a very enjoyable Christmas break. Aurora unfortunately managed to let slip, to a very amused Rupert, the fact that she had been spanked for throwing snowballs, eliciting a response that he was more than willing to substitute for her father in future, should the need arise.
© Capstan 2021