Choices & Consequences

by Michael K. Smith



Deborah pulled her father�s Corolla into the dark driveway as quietly as she could. Rather than pressing the remote to open the noisy garage door, she just parked at the top of the drive. She would come out and put it away in the morning. When she got out, she closed and locked the door as softly as possible, pushing it carefully shut until it clicked. Then she walked down the side of the house, figuring she could slip in more successfully through the back door than the front.

When she tip-toed from the kitchen into the den, though, she discovered her precautions had been in vain. Her father was sitting in his favorite armchair, feet up on the hassock, a glass of iced tea and a plate of cheese and crackers ready to hand. He slipped the bookmark into the novel he had been reading, took off his glasses, and regarded his daughter with a thoughtful frown. She stood in the arch of the entryway, trapped in her guilt.

"What time is it, Deb?" He sounded interested in the answer.

She glanced unnecessarily at her watch. "Um, 1:30, almost. Dad, I---"

"And what time was it you promised you would be home?"

She sighed a little. "Midnight. I know I---"

He held up a hand. "I assume if you had car trouble, of if there was a meteor strike or something that prevented you from getting home, you would have called -- am I right?"

She nodded. "Yes, Dad."

"And so?"

She shrugged rather helplessly. She didn�t have a leg to stand on and she knew it. "Well, we got to watching old movies on TV and then someone called out for pizza, and . . . I just lost track of time. I�m sorry, Daddy."

"Well, since you�re sixteen now and you were over at Marcie�s house and not -- I assume -- off at a concert or something, I decided it wasn�t necessary to make phone calls. And I didn�t imagine Marcie�s parents would appreciate being woken up."

Deborah knew he wasn�t really accusing her of lying about where she was going and then sneaking off somewhere else. No, he was just irritated at her thoughtlessness.

"But even though I knew where you probably were, I was concerned, Deb." He gave her that look that always made her feel about four years old. "More important, you made me a promise of your own volition and then you broke it. And with no extenuating circumstances that I can think of. Correct?"

"No, Daddy. No excuses. And I said I was sorry."

"Sorry is as sorry does, Deb. There�s a lesson that needs to be learned here. Wouldn�t you agree?"

She shrugged. "I guess." So here came the punishment phase. She hoped it wouldn�t be too horrible.

"I think that, in order to enforce the lesson -- that you need to be much more responsible in your life now that you�re approaching adulthood, and that you really, really need to keep the promises you make -- I will give you a choice of consequences." He held up a forefinger. "You can be grounded for one month. No car, no dates, no shopping trips to the mall, just go to school and come home." He raised an eyebrow and awaited a reaction.

Deborah thought about her social schedule with a sinking heart. There was, indeed, a concert coming up in a week or two that Roger had already invited her to go to and that she really wanted to attend. And she was invited to a big pool party to celebrate Constance�s birthday the weekend after that. She swallowed.

"What�s my other choice?"

He raised a second finger. "Where grounding is lingering and depressing, the alternative is short and sharp. I can spank you. And then it�s all over and done with and we can go on with things."

Deborah�s jaw dropped a little. When she was little and got stubborn about something and wouldn�t obey her father�s instructions and sassed him, he never hesitated to fold her over his knee and bestow a couple of stinging slaps on her ass. She had hated the abrupt pain of it, even though it never hurt for very long. And she had remembered each of those experiences and behaved herself, at least for awhile. But he hadn�t done that for five or six years.

"Daddy, . . . I�m too big now for you to spank! I�m not six years old any longer!"

"No, you�re not six years old -- that�s the whole point. You�re supposed to be better organized and more responsible now. But if you�re going to relapse and behave like a child, I see no reason not to treat you like one." He cocked his head. "There�s always the grounding. Your choice."

Deborah stood there uncertainly, clasping and unclasping her hands in front of her, trying to decide. Submit to corporal punishment? She knew her father wouldn�t ever whip her with a belt or anything like that -- she knew he loved her a great deal, and since her mother�s death eight years before they had become even closer. But she hated being spanked, really hated it. Or the dreariness and boredom of being imprisoned at home for a month while all her friends were out doing things? After a month�s absence, they probably would have forgotten all about her. Damn.

She took a deep breath and shrugged. "Spanking, I guess."

Her father nodded and stood up, laying his book aside, and sat down again on the hassock. "Jeans down, then," he said, beckoning her forward.

She stepped closer, hesitated, and then unfastened her belt, unsnapped her trim jeans, and slowly pushed them down to her knees. She tugged her panties up smooth and took another step, waiting to assume the position. But her father shook his head slightly.

"Spankings are always performed on the bare bottom. That�s the rule."

She stood there a few seconds and thought about it. Could she take off her panties in front of her father? It wasn�t like he had never seen her naked before. When she was eleven and had her broken arm and collarbone in a shoulder cast for all those weeks, and had felt so awkward and ungainly, he had even helped her in and out of the tub, scrubbed her, and dried her off afterward. And he had been so matter-of-fact about it, it had only embarrassed her a little, and only at first.

But she was sixteen, now, more developed and everything. Did that really matter? And she didn�t want to be grounded.

She took another breath and bent to push her pale blue bikini briefs down with her jeans. Then she stood up straight, perversely facing directly toward her father so that her patch of fine chestnut pubic hair was only a couple of inches in front of his face. He didn�t bat an eye.

He motioned for her to bend over his lap and she shoved her tee-shirt up a bit and laid herself out, bottom up. Deborah wasn�t very tall, and her father was, so only her toes and fingertips reached the floor. He placed his left hand on the small of her back to steady her.

"How many?" she asked in a small voice.

"Just like when you were younger: Two for each birthday. The older you are, the more you should know better."

Christ -- thirty-two. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited tensely for the first blow, but when it came a moment later with a gunshot sound, she jerked, her eyes popped open, and she let out a squawk.

"Daddy. . . !"

"Change your mind?"

She gulped. "N-no, I guess not." She clenched her hands, unwilling to cry, then found herself gripping his ankles with both hands when the second blow landed.

Her father didn�t rush through the ordeal but paced the blows a few seconds apart. He was spanking her hard but at least he was using only his hand, not a ruler or anything. Still, by the time she had counted ten of them, Deborah was sobbing and trembling. And it went on and on.

When he reach thirty blows, her father paused. "Do you think you�ve learned that necessary lesson now?"

His daughter snuffled and gulped. "Y-yes, Daddy. I promise I�ll remember what I promise to do. I really will." She swallowed again. "But aren�t there two more?"

"In theory, yes. Are you saying I should spank you twice more?"

"Yes, Daddy. I deserve it." She didn�t know why she was insisting. Maybe it was a point of honor, that he had decided on her punishment and said it would all be over with when he was finished, forgiven and forgotten, and she didn�t want anything less.

To her surprise, instead of walloping her again, her merely patted each of her burning ass cheeks in turn, ending with a cupping caress.

She lay there, half-naked across her father�s lap, catching her breath and considering the vibrating repercussions in her ass muscles. It all felt kind of strange. She found herself wondering idly what her Daddy thought when he looked down at her bare bottom. When she showed him her crotch. Did he think she was sexy? What would he think if she were to take off her shirt and bra? Would he like her breasts? They weren�t terribly large but she thought they had a nice shape, and her nipples nearly always stuck out, even when she wasn�t feeling aroused.

That thought struck her mind like a small lightning bolt. Was she sexually aroused now? Was her Daddy spanking her bare bottom making her hot? His cock was right there under her belly somewhere but she couldn�t feel it, so he apparently didn�t have an erection. She tried for a moment to imagine standing in front of him, completely naked, her hands on her hips, while his warm, smiling gaze moved up and down her body. The picture in her mind gave her a delicious shiver.

How would he react if she were to do that? Would he be horrified? Angry? Would he reach out and touch her? Did she really want him to? God -- maybe she did.

"You okay, babe?" She felt his hand stroke the back of her thigh, causing a twitch in the vicinity of her clit. God, she really was perverted. She had to get up and get dressed, right now.

"Yeah, I�m okay. It really hurt but it�s, you know, okay." She levered herself up off his knee and got her feet flat on the floor. Facing her father again, she slowly straightened out her tee-shirt before letting it drop -- giving him plenty of time to look at her if he wanted to. And, she admitted, to let him see that she wanted him to. Then she bent and pulled up her panties. Then her jeans, but they were cut very snug and when she tried to pull them up over her butt, the pain made her wince.

"I think I�ll have to leave them off," she murmured, pushing her sandals off and working the pants legs down over her calves. Her father stood up and steadied her while she stood on each leg in turn. She shook them out and draped them over her arm, then turned and looked up at him.

"Daddy, . . . I really am sorry I broke my promise to you. I love you, and I do try to do all the things I�m supposed to."

He put a hand to her cheek and let it curl around behind her head, his favorite caress. "I love you, too, babe -- more than anything in this world." He smiled. "Sometimes, you know, it�s not easy being the stern father to such a great daughter. Sometimes, having to teach you discipline, . . . well, I have to be strict with myself. I don�t think I would be doing you any favors if I gave you no guidance and didn�t try to be sure you learned the necessary life-lessons." His smile widened. "I won�t be so foolish as to say it hurt me than it hurt you. But I hope the point I was making will last much longer than the pain. I�m pretty sure it will."

She gave him a long look, listening again to what he had just said, then wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and held on hard. He put his arms around her and stroked her back, and carefully refrained from patting her on the butt.

A few minutes later in her bedroom, Deborah took off her shirt and stepped into her bathroom. She tried to crouch just above the toilet seat in order to pee, but it wasn�t easy. Then she reached up to the hook behind her bathroom door and took down the old dress shirt of her father�s that she ordinarily wore to sleep in. She considered it for a moment, then hung it back up and stripped off her panties instead. This would be a good night to sleep naked, which she did once or twice a month when she had certain kinds of things on her mind. Before she got into bed, though, she smeared a thin layer of aloe vera lotion all over her red bottom. And then she lay on her front, for obvious reasons.

Though it was after two o�clock now, sleep didn�t come easily. She kept having thoughts about that spanking. Alternate pictures, sort of. She tried to imagine what her father would look like naked. She had seen him undressed when she was little, just as he had seen her, back when it didn�t really mean very much, but she couldn�t really recall any details. For that matter, being a careful sort of girl, she had never seen a boy her own age naked, either -- though she had seen and handled two penises in the back seats of cars.

Her mind drew a picture of her father, completely naked, sitting down on the hassock with his cock sticking up at an angle. She was naked, too, and when she lay across his lap she could feel that hardness pressing up against her pubic bone. And every time he slapped her ass, she could feel it twitch against her.

In her bed, Deborah shivered again. Her hand crept down beneath her body and her forefinger glided along her clit and curled up into her cunt. Her stomach muscles tightened as her hand moved slowly up and down and her fingertip began making little circles. She pictured herself doing this same thing while lying over her father�s knees, which made sparks erupt behind where her fingers were.

She imagined lying on her back on the hassock, her widespread legs up on the arms of the chair, while her father sat in the chair and gazed down at her pussy and pumped his long, stiff cock. Then he came and his cum splattered hotly all across her abdomen -- and in the real world, Deborah trembled and spasmed, and gritted her teeth as her own orgasm clanged through her.

Afterward, as she caught her breath and just before she drifted off to sleep, she wondered if maybe she would have the nerve to go down to Sunday breakfast in the morning in just her panties and that sleeping-shirt of her father�s. Just to see what his reaction would be. She could leave the two buttons undone. Maybe three buttons. Maybe just the shirt and no panties. Maybe he would think she deserved another spanking, right then and there. She smiled and waited for the dreams to come.

--- END ---

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Copyright 2011 by Michael K. Smith. Copies may be made and posted elsewhere for personal enjoyment, but all commercial rights are reserved.