DIS-121 Spanking - Daddy's Naughty Girl


FORE­WORD

 Spank­able.

 That’s what saucy Su­z­anne Amo­relli was. She was spank­able.

 Her roun­ded ass globes were just beg­ging to be bruised and ab­used by the 
heavy hand of her strict, Italian father. He be­lieved in firm, old-fash­ioned dis­cip­line, 
de­livered reg­u­larly, and severely.

 When his hand be­came too hot from spank­ing his naughty, teen­aged daugh­ter, 
he’d switch to a doubled over leather belt to really blaze up the warmed up pos­terior.

 He’d have to hold her down, of course, be­cause after ten minutes of well-de­served
pun­ish­ment, she was kick­ing and cry­ing, and try­ing to squirm away from his 
dis­cip­lin­ing pun­ish­ment strokes.

 But he would beat her un­til she’d re­ceived the dose she’d earned.

 It was on a fam­ily va­ca­tion in New York City that the dis­cip­lin­ing really grew 
out of hand. Su­z­anne could feel her father’s bul­ging erec­tion slam­ming against her 
vir­gin pussy each and every time he brought the wooden paddle down on her up­turned ass 
globes. She was be­ing held over his knee for more than pure dis­cip­line.

 When her mother told her to kiss her Daddy good­night, she star­ted to tremble, 
and she felt the quivers in her quim, as well as on her red hot bot­tom.

 She knew that Daddy would kiss her back only after he’d kissed her ass with his 
strap. And then he’d force his tongue down her throat and pun­ish her for be­ing flirty. It 
con­fused her, and it bruised her.

 Why was Su­z­anne so damn spank­able?


CHAPTER ONE

 Su­z­anne was so ex­cited, she was look­ing for­ward to spend­ing the time in the 
Big Apple with her mother and father. Su­z­anne was fif­teen, al­though, un­like many other 
girls her age, Su­z­anne was some­thing of a home­body. She still en­joyed be­ing with her 
par­ents, and she was happy to be so close with her fam­ily.

 As pretty as she was, she could have had prac­tic­ally any boy­friend. She was not a 
stu­pid girl, by any means, and she had a lot to of­fer in other de­part­ments, too.

 More than any­thing, she was a shy girl.

 There were times that she spent her af­ter­noons walk­ing, and day­dream­ing, 
rather than walk into the classroom late – after all the other stu­dents had been there.

 She would rather suf­fer the en­tire day, than ad­mit to be­ing late.

 There were reas­ons for that, al­though they were reas­ons that only she knew. Or 
maybe, just she and one other per­son.

 But she would never tell; no, she ac­tu­ally vowed that she would never tell, the 
other reas­ons, and who had put them in her head – and how.

 When she re­turned home later in the day, about the usual hour that she would 
have ar­rived home had she at­ten­ded school’s reg­u­lar ses­sion, she just pre­ten­ded that 
she had been to school that day, and this threw her into a fur­ther ex­ten­sion of guilt, since 
she knew that she had really been play­ing hooky.

 She was afraid that her mother could look through her, and could read her.

 She was afraid that her mother could see it in her eyes, that she had not been at 
school that day, and she feared that her mother might tell her father.

 Her father ruled her with an iron hand.

 His word in the house was law. He be­lieved in cor­poral pun­ish­ment. He 
be­lieved in spank­ing.

 Dis­cip­line was very im­port­ant to Sal­vatore Amo­relli, Su­z­anne’s father.

 He be­lieved that through dis­cip­lin­ing one’s en­er­gies, any­thing could be 
ac­com­plished in life. He, after all, had worked him­self up in two gen­er­a­tions.

 His par­ents had come from Italy, where dis­cip­line was also strict, and usu­ally 
ad­min­istered by the male head of the house­hold, and now Sal­vatore had worked him­self 
up into a sub­urban home in a fair-haired neigh­bor­hood. He was mak­ing good money as a 
con­struc­tion su­per­visor in the town, and he was pleased with the way he was train­ing his 
daugh­ter – and his wife.

 Su­z­anne’s mother was quite a good wo­man, ac­cord­ing to Sal­vatore. She was a 
good cook, and a fine home-maker. She sewed, washed dishes, cleaned house, and even took 
a part time job fil­ing pa­pers in the af­ter­noons be­fore re­turn­ing home to pre­pare 
sup­per so that it would be wait­ing for her hus­band and daugh­ter.

 In private, Sal­vatore also bragged about how he had trained his wife with 
spank­ings. How he be­lieved in us­ing the hand, and just as of­ten, the belt, so that his hand 
wouldn’t hurt and burn from the hard spank­ings he laid on up­turned bot­tom globes.

 The smooth, white ass cheeks of his wife were of­ten spanked un­til they were red 
hot, or so Sal­vatore bragged to the men in the health club where he would go to re­lax in the
steam room to re­lieve his muscles after work­ing on a con­struc­tion site.

 He bragged that he knew how to use his muscles to keep his wife in line, and that 
he also pos­sessed the one muscle which she needed most, es­pe­cially after one of her 
ass-blaz­ing pun­ish­ment ses­sions.

 “I hold a ses­sion every night. I think it’s best never to go to sleep at night without 
first hav­ing had a ses­sion giv­ing us both a chance to clean away any­thing that builds up 
between us,” he would say.

 Some of the men were already in dis­agree­ment with his de­cidedly sex­ist 
man­ner of rul­ing the roost, but al­most every­body drew in close to listen to him.

 “After I’ve beaten her, us­ing my hand or my belt, or whatever it takes to teach her 
not to be late, or not to be snotty, or to be or not to be whatever it is I’m train­ing her to be 
or not to be at the time, she be­haves after a while, and I can tell by the way she cries if she’s 
ready or not. She listens to me, al­right,” he’d say.

 “When you say jump, she jumps, huh, Sal?” a guy named Ed­die would ask.

 “Yeah, she knows who wears the pants in my fam­ily.” The same tech­nique of 
phys­ical pun­ish­ment upon a dis­cip­lined be­hind ap­plied to the roun­ded rear of 
fif­teen-year-old Su­z­anne, and had been tak­ing place since her sixth birth­day.

 The only thing was, Daddy spanked her only once a week, so she had more 
pun­ish­ments to build up, and more time to re­cover from the bruis­ing her bared bot­tom 
might suf­fer over Daddy’s knee.

 Of course, if she spe­cific­ally mis­be­haved at any time at all dur­ing the week, a 
nota­tion was marked into her pun­ish­ment book – both the re­cord she kept, and the one 
her father kept from his own notes.

 And of course, if she were es­pe­cially naughty dur­ing the week, with a deed which 
re­quired im­me­di­ate at­ten­tion, she knew she could ex­pect a severe ass-warm­ing from 
her father’s stern hands any time of the week.

 In fact, he had been known to turn her against the wall, have her yank her skirt up, 
and pun­ish her at once, in the pub­lic streets. It was a rare hap­pen­ing, rather than the rule, 
and thank­fully, he had spared the ad­ded em­bar­rass­ment of pulling down her white 
cot­ton un­der­pants – when he spanked her in the street where oth­ers could see her.

 (When he spanked her at home, it al­most al­ways ended up a bare-bot­tom 
spank­ing.) This had not happened since she was four­teen years old, how­ever, and so she 
hoped that she was be­ing good enough to avoid such rituals now in her fif­teenth year.

 She cer­tainly was try­ing hard enough.

 At times, she thought that she’d do just any­thing to please her Daddy.

 She liked the way Daddy kissed her good­night.

 Usu­ally, he would kiss her on the fore­head, and she would feel the warmth of his 
lips, soft as they were on her smooth brow, and she would get all warm in the pussy.

 Her little nipples would tingle and grow firm.

 She was al­ways quite care­ful in the way she hugged her Daddy and bounced up 
and down on his knees – when Mommy was around. Her mother had grown to be a 
chal­lenge, in a way. She loved her mother very much, but some­times she had ter­rible 
dreams.

 They were more like night­mares, really, and she al­ways awoke from them in a 
sweat, and she’d be startled to real­ize that she had been dream­ing.

 Some­times, she’d still be breath­ing hard and fast, and some­times she’d be 
shak­ing and trem­bling all over.

 Some­times she could hardly be­lieve what she had dreamed, and other times she 
cried over what she had dreamed, and she’d thank whatever spirit awakened her be­fore she 
wrang her mother’s neck in her night­mare of com­pet­i­tion and jeal­ousy.

 How could she feel that? She hated her­self for those dreams. One time she told 
Daddy, in her weekly con­fes­sion, about those dreams.

 It was a warm Sunday af­ter­noon. Mother had taken the car. She was go­ing to the 
shop­ping cen­ter over in the next town where the taxes were less and where bar­gains could 
be found by the eager shop­per out for a bar­gain.

 Mother needed new sheets for the double bed in which she and Sal­vatore slept.

 Or­din­ar­ily, Su­z­anne took her weekly dis­cip­line ses­sion late on Sunday 
af­ter­noons. She al­ways knew, as the af­ter­noon drew on, that her spank­ing ses­sion was 
ap­proach­ing.

 It would give her that funny feel­ing in the pit of her stom­ach, and some­times her 
quim would quiver from deep in­side.

 She could al­most feel the way the heat of a spank­ing blistered her vul­ner­able 
and un­pro­tec­ted bot­tom dur­ing one of the more heavy pun­ish­ment ses­sions.

 She knew about the deeds she had writ­ten down in her weekly notes on 
pun­ish­ment. She had a num­ber of deeds which re­quired some spank­ing – leav­ing her 
clothes out on the chair next to her bed for the whole night would earn her about five spanks, 
she es­tim­ated. Los­ing her lib­rary card would not only mean that she’d have to pay the fine 
to the lib­rary, but that she would have to pay her fine to her father, too, over his knee.

 But she was troubled about the dreams she’d been hav­ing, and she wanted to put 
her feel­ings out in the open. She didn’t want to walk around car­ry­ing them with her. She 
wanted to let go of these feel­ings by put­ting them out­side of her.

 Just by speak­ing these dreams would put them out­side of her body.

 She was so close with her fam­ily. She did so many things with them, and she stayed
home and watched tele­vi­sion with her par­ents on nights when other girls were out on 
dates.

 She felt that it was only right to con­fide in her father about these dreams. He would
know what to do. She be­lieved that he al­ways did know what to do.

 Her bot­tom hadn’t be­gun to quiver yet. She hadn’t star­ted to feel her stom­ach 
knot up with but­ter­flies, and she hadn’t felt her nipples tauten against the front of her 
blouse, and she didn’t feel that stick­i­ness on between her pussy lips yet.

 No, she didn’t feel these signs which al­ways showed them­selves in her body 
be­fore her time ap­proached. She hadn’t star­ted to think about the day’s in­ev­it­able 
tal­ly­ing up of pun­ish­ment points.

 She knew that she had earned a de­cent spank­ing.

 She couldn’t be sure whether or not she had ac­tu­ally earned a whop­per of an 
ass-blaz­ing, as she did when there were an es­pe­cially large num­ber of in­fringe­ments, or 
when Daddy was feel­ing strict or in a bad mood, and pun­ished more severely for minor 
in­frac­tions.

 Mother had only been gone about 15 minutes when Daddy came knock­ing on 
Su­z­anne’s door. She was ly­ing on her belly, on her bed, wear­ing a t-shirt and a pair of 
shorts.

 She had been study­ing for a his­tory exam.

 “Su­z­anne, as it’s al­most time for your weekly pun­ish­ment ses­sion, and since 
your mother is out shop­ping, we shall be­gin early this Sunday. I will be wait­ing for you 
down­stairs in the base­ment play­room. You are to come down in fif­teen minutes, after 
you’ve thought it all over and ad­ded any­thing which needs to be ad­ded to your 
pun­ish­ment book.”

 “Yes, Daddy,” Su­z­anne replied re­spect­fully.

 “And you are to go into my pun­ish­ment closet and take out the belt which you 
think you de­serve to be strapped with. Re­mem­ber, I’ll de­cide how hard you de­serve to 
take it across your flanks, but you’ll pick the belt.”

 “Yes, Daddy,” she re­peated.

 As her father had told her many times, these spank­ings were for her own be­ne­fit.

 It he could help her to re­mem­ber to be aware of her lib­rary card at all times, 
maybe she wouldn’t lose it again. With a good spank­ing, her ass would sting and ache for 
nearly a week, so that for seven days, at least, she would be hard pressed to for­get about the 
lib­rary card every time she tried to sit or run or walk.

 She’d feel it on her bot­tom.

 “I’ll be wait­ing for you down­stairs in the base­ment. Re­mem­ber, fif­teen minutes.
Any later, and you’ll pay for it with pun­ish­ment strokes – one stroke per minute of 
late­ness.”

 “Yes, Daddy,” Su­z­anne replied.

 She watched her father turn and walk out the door.

 She saw the way his muscles flexed as he opened it. She watched the way his slacks 
hugged the wide muscles of his up­per legs, the curve of his but­tocks.

 The last part she saw of him as he left the room was his hand, big and strong as it 
was, and she felt that tingle in­side her pussy, know­ing the way he spanked her with it.

 She knew of the power he wiel­ded on her bot­tom.

 Yes, it would stay with her for sev­eral days after such a pun­ish­ment.

 She looked at her­self in the mir­ror. At fif­teen, her hair was the color of straw.

 It was straight, and hung down neatly be­hind, and in bangs at the front of her face.

 She tried to keep her hair neat enough to please her mother who liked it that way, 
but not too neat, be­cause Daddy liked her to look nat­ural. He even told her that she looked 
real “sexy” with her long, blonde hair, and her smooth skin, and the few tan freckles over her 
turned-up little nose.

 She felt all flustered to hear it. When the boys at school called her sexy, she turned 
them away or ig­nored them. She just never ima­gined that she would hear those words from 
her own father.

 Her breasts were bud­ding nicely now. She tweaked the tawny nipples whenever she
re­membered to, be­cause one of the girls at school had ad­vised her that the nipples would 
grow lar­ger that way. But it was im­port­ant, this girl had ad­ded, that she cup the bot­toms 
of her breast globes and push up on them with a gentle pres­sure each time she pulled at the 
nipples. This, it was said, would keep the little globes firm and up­turned, and they wouldn’t 
sag des­pite the fact that no bra was worn.

 She wondered if she should ac­tu­ally write down her night­mares in her 
pun­ish­ment book. She fi­nally de­cided that it would be bet­ter just to tell her father of the 
dreams, when the time was right dur­ing this as­signed hour of dis­cip­line.

 It was al­most ten, minutes after her father had entered the room, and she knew 
that to be on time, she had bet­ter get her­self to­gether and pick out a strap for her 
pun­ish­ment.

 She went into her father’s bed­room with the slow but steady pulse which al­ways 
was part of her at this time so close to her pun­ish­ment’s com­mence­ment.

 She opened his closet, see­ing her­self at first in the mir­ror which was fastened, full 
length, along the front of the closet door.

 Her im­age re­flec­ted in the mir­ror then moved clearly out of sight along with the 
high pitched groan of the door as she opened it. The hinges needed greas­ing.

 Her eyes widened when she took in all of the pun­ish­ment straps which were 
hanging side by side in her father’s spe­cial closet.

 She knew that each belt did its own work on a girl’s un­pro­tec­ted bot­tom.

 She saw the fa­mil­iar wide belt, the black leather one, which her father wore around
his waist when he wore his but­ton-down jeans. She had never been beaten with it, and so she
took it from the rack and tested the weight of it against her opened palm.

 She couldn’t really tell how it would ul­ti­mately feel across her bare butt if it were 
used there by her father. His swing would al­ways be harder than her swing, just be­cause of 
po­s­i­tion­ing, lever­age, and the strength of his grown man body.

 She turned her butt up and smacked her­self across the short shorts which clung to 
her but­tocks. She used the thick leather belt.

 She could feel the weight of it when she doubled it over and cracked her­self with it.
Yet, it didn’t bite into her or sting her ter­ribly, the way some of the thin­ner leather belts did.

 She placed it on the bed as a pos­sib­il­ity.

 Her trem­bling fin­gers caressed the many other strips of raw­hide hanging in the 
closet. They all seemed so life­less now. She knew that they would spring to life against a 
per­fectly roun­ded bot­tom of bare girl flesh.

 She knew from her own ex­per­i­ence that these life­less belts and straps would 
warm to the heat of her body; would warm to the ass into which they spanked their red hot 
heat.

 She found the leather strap with the- big brass buckle on the end of it. He had never
used a buckle on the busi­ness end of his spank­ings of Su­z­anne, but Su­z­anne was sure 
that her father did use the buckle on his wife, Su­z­anne’s mother.

 There had been a few words at the din­ner table, one time. The words were from 
Mrs. Amo­relli’s mouth, and Sal­vatore told her that he would teach her les­son to keep her 
from open­ing her mouth up all the time.

 He told her, “You’re really gonna get it to­night. I’m gonna give you the buckle 
to­night.” The words of threat, or prom­ise, sent chills up and down Su­z­anne’s back as she 
sat at the din­ner table and heard her father tell her mother.

 She listened care­fully for the sound of the heavy brass upon her mother’s bared 
ass, but the walls of the house were thick, and once the door to the bed­room (where he 
fre­quently ad­min­istered dis­cip­line to his wife) or to the down­stairs play­room, were 
closed, no sound could be heard ex­cept if you put your ear right up to the door.

 So she never really knew if her mother had re­ceived the buckle, but her mother 
seemed es­pe­cially mannered and well-be­haved after that in­cid­ent at the table, the 
fol­low­ing morn­ing.

 Su­z­anne found the belt which her father had worn in the army. His old army belt.

 Then she found a leather belt with her father’s first ini­tial in it, de­signed from little 
sil­ver studs. She could ima­gine what the studs would do against a na­ked ass globe. The 
belt, in her father’s hand, could hit hard enough to em­blazon that ini­tial into her flesh.

 It was grow­ing late. She could hear the alarm clock in her father’s room tick­ing the
minutes away; each minute bring­ing her closer to her spank­ing; each spank bring­ing her 
closer to her re­pent­ance.

 She reached in­stinct­ively into the closet, al­most without look­ing, and drew out a 
long, brown leather belt. It was made of a heavy leather. It was slender; about one and a half 
inches wide, and long enough to fit around her father’s thirty inch waist.

 She re­moved it from its rack and took it in her hands.

 They were trem­bling as much as her cunny was, as she walked sol­emnly through 
the bed­room and down the stairs to the liv­ing room. Then through the liv­ing room, into the
din­ing room, into the kit­chen and then down the stairs into the base­ment play­room.

 Down­stairs, in the play­room, there was the color tele­vi­sion, and the ping pong 
table, and the boxes filled with lin­ens in stor­age, and old news­pa­per, and a few gar­age 
sup­plies and wood.

 Plus, the room had been con­ver­ted into the pun­ish­ment room.

 That was what Su­z­anne knew it was when she saw her father’s face.

 He had that stern look on his face. His fea­tures, all per­fect, were still.

 A ser­i­ous ex­pres­sion was on his face. His full lips were closed. His dark eyes were 
pier­cing.

 “Bring me your pun­ish­ment book,” he told her.

 She ex­ten­ded her hands, hold­ing the book, like an obed­i­ent little girl.

 Her father took the book from her hands. He sat down on one of the pieces of 
Dan­ish mod­ern fur­niture. Su­z­anne re­mained stand­ing with her head bowed slightly.

 Look­ing down­ward, she saw the soft ex­ten­sions of her twin mounds of breast 
flesh. She saw the subtle curves of her stom­ach, and the cleft and curve of her pussy.

 She saw her feet, and fur­ther on, she saw her father’s feet.

 He was wear­ing his sweat socks and his bed­room san­dals, and his foot was 
tap­ping as he read the things which Su­z­anne had writ­ten into her pun­ish­ment book as 
be­ing in­frac­tions of rules which de­served some pun­ish­ment and some dis­cip­line.

 He made notes and com­pared her list­ings with the list­ings he had made based on
his ob­ser­va­tions of her be­ha­vior.

 “You’ve been pretty good this week,” her father said.

 That made Su­z­anne feel good. It made her feel good to know that she was 
im­prov­ing. It also made her feel all glow­ing in­side to know that she pleased her father.

 Of course, she knew that there would be a Sunday dis­cip­lin­ing ses­sion every 
week, even if there were no pun­ish­ments earned at all.

 There was no such thing as a clean slate, her father would tell her, un­til after a 
spank­ing or sim­ilar dis­cip­lin­ing ses­sion has been ad­min­istered.

 There­fore, even if there is noth­ing marked in the pun­ish­ment book, a 
dis­cip­lin­ing would be in or­der, simply on gen­eral prin­ciples.

 In­deed, Su­z­anne did ad­mit that she felt a whole lot bet­ter after a dis­cip­lin­ing 
ses­sion over Daddy’s knee. He did in­deed spank a lot of bad­ness out of her, and he felt 
bet­ter for be­ing true to what he felt were his re­spons­ib­il­it­ies, too.

 He wanted his daugh­ter to be a good girl.

 “What have you brought for me to use on you today?” her father asked.

 “I have brought this belt, father,” she replied, hand­ing it to him.

 He held it in his hands and yanked it in both dir­ec­tions, mak­ing it snap.

 “Fine. This is a fine one,” he ad­ded.

 He told Su­z­anne, “As­sume the po­s­i­tion.” She knew by now that this meant that
she would have bend over at her waist so that her breasts would hang down­ward and that 
her back was kept straight.

 The main idea was to raise the but­tocks up and out in the back so that the 
roun­ded tar­get would be well seen and well reached. She grabbed her ankles and stuck her 
ass way, way out.

 She closed her eyes and awaited her pun­ish­ment.

 But it didn’t come that quickly.

 Of course not. Her father never star­ted it when she ex­pec­ted it.

 He let her wait a while, still stew­ing, still think­ing about why she was be­ing 
pun­ished.

 She heard her father’s strict, deep, au­thor­it­arian voice cut through the si­lence of 
the down­stairs play­room.

 “You are go­ing to re­ceive twenty strokes of the belt for today’s ses­sion cov­er­ing
the deeds of in­fringe­ment of the past week. Five for leav­ing dishes in the sink after tak­ing 
a snack; five for leav­ing cloth­ing on your bed all night in­stead of de­pos­it­ing it in the 
proper draw­ers” (she knew she’d get five for that) “five for ... “ And so the last went on.

 There seemed to be so many minutes between the time she bent over and the time 
her father told her to pull down those shorts.

 “Pull ‘em down!”

 She stood up and reached into the waist­band of them. She tugged at them un­til 
they moved down the round part of her ass, down to her hips, down her thighs.

 She was na­ked, with her shorts rolled up around her ankles.

 She grabbed on to her ankles, and raised her twin globes back up again.

 They were glow­ing in the dim light of the down­stairs play­room at this hour of the
af­ter­noon. Out­side, chil­dren were play­ing on the streets at street level, but the sounds of 
their laughter as they threw foot­balls back and forth and called each other as the rode their 
bi­cycles up and down the block, was blocked out from Su­z­anne’s ears.

 She was hold­ing her ankles very tightly. She knew that if she let go of them dur­ing
the spank­ing, she would be re­war­ded with ad­di­tional pun­ish­ment. She knew that if she 
placed her hands back on her blaz­ing but­tocks to pro­tect them, she would be strapped 
right across her hands just as hard as she would have taken it across her butt.

 Her bot­tom globes were very smooth. There was no hair at all on them. The only 
hairs on her butt were con­cen­trated at the crack of her ass, and they were so fine, golden 
and downy, that they could only be seen when the light touched. Of course, only her own 
slender fin­gers caressed that in­tim­ate spot between her roun­ded legs. She felt the power 
of her father’s gaze sort of breeze through her legs as she stood there with her head bent low.
She could feel his eyes on her most private places. She knew that he was able to see the 
curves of her va­gina as she bent over and it peeked out between her legs.

 She hoped he didn’t see the trickle of cunt cream which oozed from her tender 
young pussy and ran in a rivu­let down the ex­panse of her creamy in­ner thigh.

 That al­ways happened as she waited for a spank­ing. She be­lieved that it was 
caused by the an­ti­cip­a­tion of it all. She was in the po­s­i­tion with her ass raised high, and 
bared, of course, and the wait­ing for the in­ev­it­able just made her wet. When a girl of 
fif­teen gets all wet in­side of her pussy, some of it is bound to drip.

 All of a sud­den, the belt whistled through the air.

 Crack!

 It landed squarely against both of her ass cheeks at once.

 The im­pact of it land­ing so force­fully against her startled her, and nearly knocked 
her for­ward at first. But she re­mained in po­s­i­tion, hold­ing her ankles so tightly that she 
would for­get the de­sire to stand up straight and avoid the next wal­lop.

 But she knew bet­ter than to do that, of course.

 Crack, crack, crack! The next three strokes were care­fully placed.

 Daddy knew how he was spank­ing her. He knew what he was do­ing. He gave her a
spank­ing on both cheeks at once, mak­ing sure to cover every inch of her ass be­fore 
start­ing over and strik­ing areas which had already re­ceived his an­ger.

 Of course, some spots were more sens­it­ive than oth­ers, and by the time the third 
and forth blows with the belt landed upon these areas, the cheeks were well reddened 
be­cause of it, and the sore­ness had already star­ted the bruises to swell and to ache.

 “Take your dis­cip­lin­ing, you bad girl,” Daddy said, as he spanked some sense into 
her. Over and over again, he gave her the beat­ing.

 It was left up to both of them to keep count, but it was Su­z­anne’s 
re­spons­ib­il­ity to make sure of the tally if she didn’t want to re­ceive any ex­tras.

 She had been in­struc­ted to keep track of the whip­ping and to let her father know
that she had done so by telling him when he reached the stroke of twenty.

 Some­times, the pain of the spank­ing was so much, she lost her count.

 When she sud­denly real­ized that she had been re­ceiv­ing pun­ish­ment without 
keep­ing track, it al­ways dis­con­cer­ted her. But she took it as best she could.

 She tried to fig­ure out how many she’d taken, but was al­ways cer­tain to make the
count go over, rather than un­der real­ity, if that was the choice.

 She would never at­tempt to stop it be­fore it had run its nat­ural course.

 No, she knew that she would be severely pun­ished for that.

 Her father spanked her ac­cord­ing to the book. Five strokes were given for the 
spe­cific in­frac­tion of com­ing home late from school without call­ing to tell her mother that
she would not be home at her reg­u­lar time. These five strokes were de­livered with the 
doubled-over belt, in quick suc­ces­sion.

 Su­z­anne’s bot­tom was feel­ing very red and sore after that, and she was given a 
brief rest be­fore the next series, given for an­other in­frac­tion of her father’s rules.

 As she stood there with her ass up and her hands cling­ing to her ankles, and her 
eyes shut tightly and her teeth grit­ting and her lips clenched, all in or­der to with­stand the 
pun­ish­ment, she wondered if other girls her age were still re­ceiv­ing sim­ilar forms of 
dis­cip­line at the whims of their fath­ers.

 If they weren’t, she thought that they were sadly lack­ing in the dis­cip­line they 
de­served to have. It was an honor for her to re­ceive her father’s love in this man­ner.

 She was glad he cared enough to keep her in line.

 After twenty strokes of the belt had crossed her now blaz­ing bot­tom, Su­z­anne 
told her father, “Thank you, Daddy. Thank you for spank­ing me.”

 Daddy caressed the sens­it­ive flesh of the swollen bot­tom globes.

 “You know why I had to spank you,” he would tell her.

 “Yes, Daddy, be­cause I was bad and be­cause you want to train me to be­have.”

 “Do you feel bet­ter now?” he’d ask, run­ning his hands un­der the globes and in 
between her legs where the nasty strap had snaked, and bit­ten, sev­eral times.

 “Yes, Daddy,” Su­z­anne said, al­though her voice was quiv­er­ing be­cause her 
father was now touch­ing her in­ner thighs where the cunt cream had dripped.

 He knew that she was wet, and she was afraid that he might beat her again for 
al­low­ing the ooze to flow from her in that man­ner. But it was just too much cooze fluid to 
con­tain in­side so del­ic­ate a little pussy.

 As her father mas­saged the body he had bruised, Su­z­anne de­cided that it was 
the right time to con­fide in him about the dreams she had been hav­ing.

 Mother was out shop­ping, and so she star­ted, “Daddy, there’s some­thing else 
that I have to tell you.”

 He con­tin­ued strok­ing her battered flesh with his strong, now gentle hands.

 He was listen­ing, and told her to be­gin.

 “I’ve been hav­ing these dreams, and I don’t know why. They are al­ways dif­fer­ent 
in so far as dif­fer­ent situ­ations come up in each of them, but they al­ways end the same. In 
one, I open the door of the closet and out comes my mother. She’s chas­ing me. She’s seen 
some­thing that I’ve done, al­though in my dream, and even now, I can’t re­mem­ber what it 
was that she’s seen.”

 “Any­way, she starts chas­ing me, and I duck down, and she goes fly­ing out the 
win­dow.” Su­z­anne was aware that her father had stopped his caresses. Her story about her 
dreams had caused him to stop the move­ment of his hands on her bot­tom.

 He was listen­ing in­tently as she con­tin­ued.

 “In an­other dream, Mother was teas­ing me. She was telling me that I couldn’t do a
hula dance as well as she could. We were both nude. I re­mem­ber see­ing her big breasts 
stick­ing out, and all that hair above her cunt.”

 “As for me, my pussy was hair­less in this dream, and we were both do­ing the 
strange hula dance. At first, she swayed more dra­mat­ic­ally than I did. Her hips really moved 
back and forth, and she had a way of mak­ing her belly roll up and down. It was amaz­ing.”

 “But I did what I could to keep up with her. I wanted to show her that I could wiggle 
and wriggle my body just as well as she could wiggle and wriggle her body.”

 “In fact, maybe I could do it even bet­ter than she could.”

 “Well, she liked the way I was do­ing it at first, I know. I could even see her hav­ing a
re­ac­tion to it, a phys­ical re­ac­tion, when she let her hands move from her stom­ach down 
into the hills and val­leys of her pussy!”

 “Her fin­gers found the slit and she kept stick­ing them in­side of it and bring­ing 
out these love oils which she used to slick her pussy lips.”

 “Her nipples were really ex­ten­ded now. They were firm and stand­ing out many 
inches from the rest of her breast, or so it seemed. Her au­re­oles were as large as sil­ver 
dol­lars; sil­ver dol­lars of dropped chocol­ate, that’s what they looked like on the curves of 
her huge breasts which moved back and forth across her chest with her dance.”

 “But sud­denly, she be­came angry with me. She had an en­raged look on her face, 
and it be­came a scar­let red in color. All the veins welled up on her neck. She looked as if she 
was un­der a lot of pres­sure.”

 “Sud­denly, she jumped at me, grabbing at my neck. She forced me down on the 
floor and I could feel the weight of her on top of me. I felt her breasts push­ing heav­ily 
against me, and her pussy was rub­bing up and down against my thigh.”

 “The hairs of her snatch were scratch­ing me, and the slit it­self was emit­ting a 
cream which soaked my leg as I tried to squirm away from her.”

 “Even in the dream, I saw that it was just im­possible to get her away from me. I 
couldn’t even talk to her be­cause she was squeez­ing my neck. Her fin­gers were around it 
and she was ex­ert­ing pres­sure. I couldn’t get any sound out ex­cept some silly little squeak 
which was al­most si­lent, and more frus­trat­ing than si­lence for com­mu­nic­a­tion.”

 “Fi­nally, I got all of my strength and I fought back against this strange and 
seem­ingly un­pro­voked at­tack which had be­gun so in­no­cently with a hula dance.”

 “I had no choice but to grab at her neck and to force some pres­sure onto her. I saw
her face be­come twis­ted with strain, and there was noth­ing that she could do. I felt my own
power.”

 “I must have been scream­ing, even in my sleep, be­cause sud­denly, Mother 
her­self was in my bed­room. She was shak­ing me, and I heard her soft, sweet, fa­mil­iar 
voice. She was telling me that I’d had a bad dream, and that I was call­ing out so loudly, she’d 
heard me as she went to the bath­room in the middle of the night to fetch a glass of wa­ter.”

 “I thanked God that it was all a dream, and that even in the dream, I had not been 
al­lowed to go all the way and strangle my mother. It was such a hor­rible thought and I felt 
so badly for hav­ing dreamed it. I lay there in my bed with a cold sweat broken out on my 
fore­head, as well as all over my body.”

 “I wondered if dreams were a way of act­ing out a sup­pressed de­sire, or ex­actly 
what they were try­ing to tell me. But I couldn’t face my mother with them. I was afraid that 
she would grow to fear me.”

 “So I’m telling you all of this now, Daddy. What do you think of it all?”

 “I think you de­serve a sound, old-fash­ioned spank­ing to cor­rect such thoughts, 
young lady,” her father had told her as­suredly. “But I mean a hard one to really spank that 
shit out of you and free your mind of such wicked, wicked thoughts.” He wasn’t even go­ing 
to have her as­sume the po­s­i­tion this time. He wasn’t even go­ing to take her and turn her 
over his knee the way he of­ten did when she had a hard one com­ing. At such times she 
would feel the bulge at the front of his pants as it rubbed up and down against her belly as 
she squirmed in an­ti­cip­a­tion of the beat­ing.

 He would use his left arm to hold her down, for she would kick when the spank­ing 
be­came really hot, and she would arch her sweet ass cheeks this way and that in or­der to try 
and avoid the un­avoid­able spank­ing.

 But this time he had a spe­cial spank­ing in store for her, and he took one of the 
Dan­ish mod­ern lounge chairs which was part of the base­ment play­room’s de­cor, and he 
turned it over so that the legs of it, and the bot­tom of it, were up in the air.

 “Bend over that chair. Rest your belly down, your butt way up,” he said as he moved 
be­hind a screen where he had some auto equip­ment. He found a rope, al­though it was a 
rough rope which would burn the flesh for the use he was put­ting it to.

 When his little girl had as­sumed the new pun­ish­ment po­s­i­tion over the 
bot­tom of the turned-over lounge chair, he spread her arms and legs and wrapped the ropes
around her wrists and ankles many times.

 When the wrists and ankles were covered with rope, he ex­ten­ded her hands and 
feet to­ward the wooden legs of the couch and fastened the rope around them.

 He tied her to the chair. He tied her tightly enough so that she was un­able to move.
She struggled at first, just to feel the re­straints. She soon dis­covered that she could not 
move very far. She was placed in bond­age, and was help­less.

 In a way, it al­most seemed to cruel to her. She was such a del­ic­ate little girl, and 
her father was a fully grown, lum­ber­ing hulk of a man.

 Yet, he took off the belt which he had been wear­ing around his waist, and 
com­bined it with the thin leather strap which he had just used to beat her twenty times.

 He swung them both at once, the way a ball­player will warm up swinging two 
heavy base­ball bats in­stead of just one. But this was no warm up. It was the real thing.

 It heated up her bared ass, pretty well though.

 And she struggled vainly, un­able to move ex­cept to feel the scrap­ing of her wrists
and her ankles where they were bound with the ropes and fastened to the bot­tom of the 
chair.

 Welt after scar­let welt flared up on her na­ked bot­tom as time after time she was 
beaten by her Daddy’s dis­cip­lin­ing double-straps.

 She cried out at the top of her lungs. She could not hold back her tears.

 The en­tire lounge chair was mov­ing with the move­ments of her body, but she 
was un­able to avoid what was com­ing to her.

 The tears were stream­ing down her face as he gave her more than fifty hard and 
fast strokes on the na­ked bot­tom which had pre­vi­ously been burned with twenty lashes.

 At the end of the spank­ing, he kissed away her tears and she thanked him for 
spank­ing away the guilt and evil thoughts as­so­ci­ated with the dreams which had been 
plaguing her about her re­la­tion­ship with her mother.

 Daddy placed the belts which had spanked her close to her face. She could smell the
scent of hot leather. She could feel the heat ra­di­at­ing off the leather, and she knew that the
heat had been gen­er­ated by her roun­ded ass globes.

 She could feel the pain which burned in­side the newly formed aches as she kissed 
the belt which had beaten her and thanked her Daddy again.





CHAPTER TWO


They were all so ex­cited to ar­rive in New York.

 They came from Pennsylvania where they had taken up res­id­ence, and Daddy had 
de­cided that it would be easier not to take the car, but in­stead, to take the bus and “leave 
the driv­ing to them.”

 It had been a pleas­ant, two and a half hour trip into the city.

 Mom and Dad were sit­ting to­gether with Su­z­anne in the seat be­hind as the bus
pulled into the sta­tion at Port Au­thor­ity.

 It was a warm, sum­mer day, and they stepped down the steps of the bus and out 
onto the pave­ment. They felt at once to be part of the city.

 This was Su­z­anne’s first visit to New York. Her mother had been in the city once 
be­fore, and her father had vis­ited New York many times. In fact, he’d been raised in Little 
Italy, fur­ther down­town from the point they were at upon this ar­rival.

 Port Au­thor­ity was loc­ated at Eighth Av­enue, a stone’s throw away from 
forty-second street. They star­ted to walk up this street of wet dreams.

 Many people were out on the streets, most of them buy­ing or selling.

 Maybe it was sex; maybe- it was drugs; whatever, it was avail­able here.

 The pros­ti­tutes made that known, as they raised their skirts and offered 
se­duct­ive come-ons to every­one and any­one. The black dudes pro­claimed that they had 
“coke, acid, loose joints, ups and downs.”

 Of course, Su­z­anne and her fam­ily tried to ig­nore all of these things. Per­haps it 
was a little bit much for Su­z­anne’s young and tender mind to be ex­posed to so much at this
time. She hung on tightly to her father’s hand, feel­ing the strength of it, yet for­get­ting, at 
this mo­ment, that it was his pun­ish­ing hand.

 Her hand felt so little and so slender in his mighty grasp.

 But the sight of a huge cock clearly out­lined in the tight white slacks of a street 
hust­ler, or the harsh­ness of the street mu­sic which per­vaded these streets, was not enough
to do more than scare Su­z­anne, just a little bit.

 How­ever, there was some­thing else about this street which em­bar­rassed her 
ter­ribly, and she could feel the sham­ing ef­fects of it in her­self.

 All over, there were sex books and magazines. They were dis­played in store 
win­dows. Large posters which served as movie ads for the re­lent­less theat­ers which lined 
this street also made Su­z­anne squeam­ish – for one very good reason.

 You see, there was a heavy em­phasis on spank­ing, dom­in­ance and sub­mis­sion 
in these posters and on the cov­ers of these magazines. There was the per­vas­ive air that it 
was al­right to feel arousal over sex, but that there would be a pun­ish­ment to pay for it.

 The street hust­lers pro­claimed it in their own way; that they were selling it, not 
giv­ing it away, for who’ll buy it if you of­fer it for free.

 And these posters and pic­tures were giv­ing Su­z­anne strange vi­bra­tions in her 
pussy. She was very turned on by the sight of a lovely wo­man in skin­tight black leather 
be­ing turned over the knee of an angry col­lege pro­fessor who’s about to welt her up a bit 
with his switch.

 She had to look away from the pic­ture of a pretty little school­girl, with a short skirt
and pig­tails, turned over the school­mas­ter’s desk to re­ceive a beat­ing with a cane.

 It was too arous­ing for her. She didn’t want her father to catch her look­ing at such
things. She didn’t want her mother to see it, either. And she cer­tainly didn’t want her father 
to see it. Some­how, she was afraid that the sight of an­other’s bot­tom obed­i­ently placed 
in a po­s­i­tion for pun­ish­ment, might en­cour­age his hard-on to seek other bot­toms for 
dis­cip­line.

 Along this street, there were even live sex shows of a bizarre nature.

 “Black and Blue” one of the sex show mar­quees pro­claimed in bold let­ters.

 From in­side, you could hear the sounds of a paddle crack­ing against a silk-covered
bot­tom.

 “She’s a bad girl and she’s got a big ass,” the theater’s hawker stood out­side 
an­noun­cing. “Go in­side and see for your­self how her big, hot ass takes the pun­ish­ment it
de­serves. Watch it get all red. Watch the way she begs for more, then begs him to stop. And 
you’ll even be given a chance to par­ti­cip­ate. Just take a paddle and show that bitch what 
her flirty butt de­serves. Beat her till she comes!”

 Well, little Su­z­anne just thought that she would pass out.

 “What’s the mat­ter, Su­z­anne?” her mother asked, quite nervously. “You’ve gone 
pale as a ghost.”

 “I, um, I don’t really know. Maybe I just need a glass of wa­ter and some rest.”

 “It’s been a long trip,” her mother agreed. “And it is very hot out here on these 
streets. Sal, let’s go to the hotel and let Su­z­anne lie down.”

 “Al­right,” Sal replied, head­ing them to­ward the hotel in which he had made 
re­ser­va­tions sev­eral weeks in ad­vance.

 He was a little bit dis­ap­poin­ted at the hotel when they ar­rived there. The ad in 
the Yel­low Pages prom­ised some­thing a bit more el­eg­ant. But for the money, it was not 
really bad, and so they moved in that af­ter­noon.

 They had ad­join­ing rooms. Sal and his wife were set up in room 231, while 
Su­z­anne was given room 232 which was sep­ar­ated from the room next door only by a 
bath­room which both rooms shared.

 There was not much that Su­z­anne could do un­til her par­ents were ready to go 
out with her. She didn’t think that she wanted to be alone on the streets of New York.

 She turned on the tele­vi­sion which the room provided, but the re­cep­tion was 
not good, and be­sides, there was really noth­ing that she wanted to watch.

 She stretched out on the bed and stared at the ceil­ing, deep in thought.

 Then, she heard what she had not heard within the thick walls of her par­ent’s 
home. She heard the sounds of them, her hand­some father and sexy mother – mak­ing 
pas­sion­ate, un­bridled, an­im­al­istic love!

 It was com­ing clearly from the ad­join­ing room. Newly ar­rived in New York, it was
like a hon­ey­moon for them, and they were fuck­ing just as soon as they could.

 But it wasn’t gentle, lov­ing sex. It was rough, wild, un­in­hib­ited and an­im­al­istic 
sex. There were cries from her mother, stifled only by a tongue, or per­haps a cock, which 
gagged her down the throat.

 There were grunts and groans from Sal, her father, pos­sibly for the en­ergy 
ex­pen­ded in get­ting his huge dick hard, or for the feel­ing of her warm and wet mouth 
upon the full length of his shaft.

 There were growl­ing sounds com­ing from the room, too. It soun­ded as if she 
were run­ning her fin­ger­nails into his strong back, or per­haps he was growl­ing like a 
vam­pire as he bit at her neck.

 There was no way to peep at them, but Su­z­anne just had to take the 
op­por­tun­ity to get closer to the sounds. She was very care­ful not to make a noise as she 
entered the white tiled bath­room which sep­ar­ated the two hotel rooms.

 In the bath­room, she could hear the sounds they made.

 “Stick it up,” Sal told his wife. “Stick up that ass and take it.” Su­z­anne’s fin­gers fell 
to the area between her legs. She star­ted to caress the tender cun­tal flesh and her fin­gers 
found their way into the slit.

 She stroked at her clitty, which was very hot, as she listened to the sounds which for 
some strange reason caused her breath­ing to get faster and harder.

 Her breasts were rising and fall­ing.

 She placed her ear against the door which sep­ar­ated one room from the other.

 She felt the hot cun­tal juices ooz­ing down her in­ner thighs and she shuddered.

 “You know what you’re gonna get, don’t ya?” she heard her father say.

 “No, please, not the hair­brush,” her mother replied with a cry in her voice.

 “Turn over, I told you,” her father in­sisted, with much strength in his voice.

 There was a period of si­lence which seemed to last for a long time. Su­z­anne knew
from her own ex­per­i­ences that a na­ked ass was stick­ing way up, trem­bling be­low the 
raised arm of a strong man who en­joyed pro­long­ing the pun­ish­ment as long as he could.

 All of a sud­den, there was a hail of blows in quick suc­ces­sion.

 There were screams and cries. Mommy was get­ting her ass well-spanked.

 “You need a good beat­ing, bitch,” Sal­vatore told her. “Take it.” Su­z­anne listened 
hard, strok­ing madly at her pussy. She wondered if her mother were get­ting the smooth side
of the brush or if it was the bristles that were hit­ting against her na­ked butt. There was no 
way to tell from the sound of the smacks or from the cries which fol­lowed.

 For some strange reason, Su­z­anne felt her own ass cheeks quiver.

 The sound of the beat­ing was enough to make her real­ize all over again what a 
good, hard, old-fash­ioned spank­ing at the hands of her dom­in­at­ing father felt like.

 It didn’t take long be­fore Su­z­anne’s cunt was quiv­er­ing from deep in­side.

 She leaned her beau­ti­ful young body against one tile wall as her in­ner cunt 
con­vulsed, send­ing shivers through­out her body, es­pe­cially at her most sens­it­ive points,
like her tit nipples, her cunt, and even up her as­shole.

 The juices were really drip­ping down her legs now.

 She found that she was trem­bling all over. She had dif­fi­culty catch­ing her breath.
It felt as if a mil­lion tiny needles were caress­ing her in­ner pussy.

 She was sure that her mother was feel­ing some­thing much harder on her na­ked 
but­tocks. She was sure that by now the bared bot­tom would be blood red.

 Again and again, the hair­brush con­tin­ued to raise red marks on the up­turned 
bot­tom which was now squirm­ing in vain, try­ing to avoid the in­ev­it­able.

 Daddy wasn’t go­ing to fin­ish un­til he was sure she’d had enough to learn her 
les­son, and after Su­z­anne had fin­ished com­ing, she wished that she could go next door 
and save her mother from more pain.

 But she didn’t dare. She knew by now that this was part of the fam­ily pat­tern. She 
wouldn’t de­prive her mother of the much-needed spank­ings any more than she wished to 
have the same de­prived of her.

 Daddy was a strict, dom­in­at­ing man, and that was all there was to it.

 His wife and little girl were glad that he cared enough to beat them.

 Later, they all met in the hotel lobby for an out­ing.

 Su­z­anne re­ceived the tele­phone call in her room, and she got ready to meet her 
par­ents down in the lobby. She brushed her hair, tak­ing a few mo­ments to stand up on the 
sink of the hotel bath­room to ad­mire her own na­ked rear in the mir­ror.

 She ran the hair­brush over her na­ked buns, feel­ing the weight of it and 
ima­gin­ing all sorts of things. There were only bare traces of former pun­ish­ments on her 
nearly-flaw­less ass globes. They were round and full and beau­ti­ful.

 Spank­able.

 It was get­ting late. Su­z­anne had spent too long ad­mir­ing her na­ked rear.

 She rushed to make it down to the hotel lobby on time, as she knew that her father 
was a stick­ler for punc­tu­al­ity. Cer­tainly, New York City provided enough op­por­tun­it­ies 
to earn pun­ish­ment points without late­ness be­ing one of them.

 She rushed down­stairs and found that her par­ents were wait­ing for her already.

 Daddy was stand­ing near the cen­ter of the lobby. Mommy was stand­ing also. It 
was ap­par­ent that sit­ting would still be un­com­fort­able for her.

 But Daddy made no men­tion of late­ness. He was happy to have Su­z­anne join 
them. As for Mommy, she was smil­ing con­ten­tedly. There was no ref­er­ence made to the 
spank­ing which Su­z­anne knew full well had just taken place.

 If any­thing, Mommy was al­ways in a bet­ter frame of mind after these 
dis­cip­lin­ing ses­sions. It was al­most as if a tre­mend­ous bur­den had been lif­ted.

 The three­some headed off to take in some of the sights.

 They went to the Citicorp Plaza in New York. It was a cen­ter of con­crete and steel, 
very mod­ern. The lines of the ar­chi­tec­ture played with the rest of the mag­ni­fi­cent New 
York sky­line.

 There was a church on one level of the cen­ter, and they went in­side and 
med­it­ated there. There was an air of re­lax­a­tion and peace there.

 They ad­mired the mod­ern sculp­ture which re­placed the tra­di­tional stained 
glass win­dows in this church.

 Up­stairs, there was a mag­ni­fi­cent shop­ping plaza filled with food stores, 
res­taur­ants and fine good stores. Su­z­anne es­pe­cially en­joyed sampling the chocol­ate covered straw­ber­ries. They left a real sweet taste in her mouth.

 Su­z­anne and her mother were stand­ing out­side one of the homemade cookie 
stores, wait­ing for father Sal­vatore to pick out some spe­cial good­ies.

 There was a free con­cert go­ing on in the cen­ter of the plaza. The acous­tics were 
ex­traordin­ary.

 As they were stand­ing there, Su­z­anne and her mother both caught sight of a well
built young man. Su­z­anne could not re­call ever be­ing at­trac­ted to a man as much as she 
was to this one. She could never re­call feel­ing that damp­ness at her pussy ex­cept when 
listen­ing, or par­ti­cip­at­ing in, a spank­ing from Daddy.

 This young man re­minded her of her father in that he was massively built in 
com­par­ison to her slender, fem­in­ine charms.

 As the young man walked past her, she watched the way his legs were po­si­tioned 
like the legs of a cow­boy who had just got­ten off his horse after a ride.

 She no­ticed that his body was really well-built, and that his face was rather 
hand­some, too. He was wear­ing glasses.

 Su­z­anne wanted to say some­thing to her mother about how much she liked the 
looks of this boy, but she didn’t. She really wasn’t all that close with her mother.

 True, she shared her mother’s secret know­ledge of her father’s hand, and per­haps 
that alone should have been a bond for them, but it really wasn’t.

 And then there had been those night­mares.

 Su­z­anne could not for­get them.

 For a few mo­ments, she for­got about the well-built young man, too, but then, 
sud­denly, there he was again, com­ing in the other dir­ec­tion.

 He was def­in­itely head­ing to­ward them, and he was look­ing their way.

 Daddy was leav­ing the cookie shop at about the same time.

 He was head­ing to­ward his wife and daugh­ter, too.

 Little did any of them know what was go­ing to hap­pen, as the com­plic­a­tions 
would be more than any of them had an­ti­cip­ated.





CHAPTER THREE


At first, Daddy didn’t real­ize that this young man was look­ing at Su­z­anne as he 
walked bey­ond them in the other dir­ec­tion. He didn’t see the way their eyes met, nor did he
see the shy smiles on both of their faces.

 As for Su­z­anne, as ex­cited as her little cunny was over him, she wasn’t really sure 
if he was look­ing at her or her mother.

 Mother was a very at­tract­ive wo­man, and it was pos­sible that the boy liked older
wo­men.

 It didn’t take too long for Sal­vatore to sense that some­thing was up.

 He saw the guy stand­ing around, shuff­ling his feet, look­ing at both wo­men with 
a sort of moon­ing look on his hand­some young face.

 “It looks like that guy over there is in­ter­ested in one of you,” he said.

 The guy was so hand­some, Su­z­anne thought, that she had to seize this 
op­por­tun­ity.

 Here she was in New York City for the first time, and she had a hand­some young 
nat­ive in­ter­ested in her. She really wanted to ex­per­i­ence him.

 After all, she was a young teen­ager, and al­though her ex­per­i­ence with boys was
lim­ited, that was by her choos­ing. Maybe she just hadn’t found the right fel­lows back home
in Pennsylvania. Here she was in big New York, and she wanted to find out.

 She had never done any­thing like this be­fore, since she al­ways felt rather 
in­hib­ited in the com­pany of her par­ents, with whom she went out most of­ten.

 But this time, she just couldn’t res­ist. There was no doubt that he was her ideal 
dream man, phys­ic­ally, at least. There was some­thing in his smile which sug­ges­ted to her 
that there was a spir­itual qual­ity which was even more im­port­ant, per­haps, but that 
burn­ing feel­ing between her legs was what made her know without ques­tion that she had 
to have her chance with him.

 Stand­ing there, think­ing about tak­ing the op­por­tun­ity, she real­ized that he 
was a bit on the shy side, even though he had made his in­terest ap­par­ent.

 She also real­ized it would be easier for her to leave her par­ents and walk up to 
him than for him to ap­proach her in the pres­ence of her par­ents.

 After all, they would have more pri­vacy if she went to him, and be­sides, it was a bit
in­tim­id­at­ing to have two adults there as well as she her­self.

 Also, this girl who had been so long un­der the dom­in­a­tion of her strict father 
en­joyed tak­ing the lead in this in­stance.

 “Ex­cuse me,” she said. “I’m go­ing to find out what that boy wants,” she told her 
par­ents.

 As walked to­ward him in a dir­ect line. She really had no idea as to what she would 
say to him. But she knew that he would be re­spons­ive from the smile he offered her.

 “Hi,” he said.

 “Hi,” she said.

 “What are you up to?” he said.

 “Oh, just sight­see­ing. I’m in from out of town with my par­ents,” she said, 
point­ing to them. Mother was sampling a cookie. Daddy’s eye­brows were arched sternly.

 “Oh, that’s great. Where are you from?”

 “I’m from Pennsylvania,” she replied.

 “How long have you been here?”

 “Oh, we’ve only been in New York a few hours. This is our first sight, really.”

 “Wow, that’s great. It’s a first for me, too,” he said.

 “Oh, do you live out of town?” she asked him sweetly.

 “No, I’m a New Yorker. As a mat­ter of fact, I’m one of those rare nat­ive New 
York­ers. I was born here. I’ve gone other places, but I al­ways re­turn. I love it.”

 “But I thought you said that this was new for you?”

 “Oh, it is,” he told Su­z­anne. “I’ve been liv­ing in a great apart­ment on the west 
side for two years. I don’t get over to the east side of town very of­ten. Gee, I’d love to play 
pi­ano in this con­cert hall. The sound is ter­rific.”

 “I bet every­body would ap­plaud you,” she told him, smil­ing.

 “Oh, don’t say that un­til you’ve heard me play. I’m afraid the guards might try and 
take me away if I star­ted to give a free con­cert here.”

 “I should think they’d give you a con­tract,” Su­z­anne laughed, look­ing at his 
muscled chest through the fish­net t-shirt which clung to his wide frame which tapered down 
into a nar­row waist, and then into a snug pair of jeans which re­vealed a con­sid­er­able 
bulge of flesh go­ing down his left leg.

 “That would be nice,” he laughed, tak­ing his chance to watch the way one long hair
curled from her head, into her mouth where it be­came slicked with her saliva. He saw the way
her nipples were press­ing in­sist­ently against the front of her blouse, and the way she kept 
mov­ing her weight from one leg to the next in an ap­par­ent ef­fort to cope with the 
in­tense stim­u­la­tion which was grow­ing between her legs.

 “Well,” she said, after a short pause, “I’m here with my par­ents. I guess that it would
be al­right if you wanted to join us. Maybe you could give us a little tour of the city.”

 “Oh, that sounds nice. I just went to a movie, by my­self. It was ter­rible. The movie, I
mean. It was a French film. It felt good to see how much of the French I un­der­stood, 
though.”

 She was im­pressed.

 He walked back with her to where her par­ents were stand­ing.

 She knew that Daddy had to be the first per­son she in­tro­duced him to. 
Un­for­tu­nately, Daddy was star­ing off into the dis­tance. It was ob­vi­ous that he really was 
not in­ter­ested in be­ing in­tro­duced to this stranger.

 There had not been many oc­ca­sions for Su­z­anne to see the way her father 
re­acted in the pres­ence of a po­ten­tial boy­friend. It had just never come up.

 But right from the be­gin­ning this time, Su­z­anne was aware that her father was 
not be­ing hos­pit­able. Not at all.

 Mother was very pleas­ant about the whole thing though.

 “Oh, yes, the boy, who in­tro­duced him­self to Su­z­anne as “Mike,” had told 
Su­z­anne that he’d been star­ing at her, think­ing, “Good things come in small pack­ages.”

 How happy that made her! It meant that he had in­deed been in­ter­ested in 
Su­z­anne and not in her mother, who was much taller and much bustier.

 Now Mike was mak­ing con­ver­sa­tion, telling them all that he was a gym­nast.

 Nat­ur­ally, Su­z­anne and her mother were in­ter­ested in that fact, as it ex­plained
the dis­cip­line which he ex­er­ted in his own dir­ec­tion in or­der to de­velop so per­fect a 
phys­ical form. His body was in­deed mag­ni­fi­cent, and now it be­came ap­par­ent that he 
ex­er­cised all the time. He was telling about the dis­cip­line of it.

 Su­z­anne tried to get her father in­volved in the con­ver­sa­tion as she had of­ten 
seen his friendly side at times like this. But he was de­cidedly cool at this point and did not 
take up any of the cues which in­vited him into the con­ver­sa­tion.

 Mother, too, was be­com­ing aware that Sal­vatore was not en­joy­ing him­self.

 Some­thing was bug­ging him. He was ob­vi­ously un­com­fort­able, al­though 
Mike was a very nice young man and Su­z­anne knew that it was Daddy who was mak­ing 
him­self feel un­com­fort­able.

 “Is it time for us to go?” Su­z­anne’s mother asked Sal­vatore.

 Sal­vatore grim­aced.

 “It is,” he said curtly.

 Mike looked at Su­z­anne with a look which said, “What now?” He was horny as hell 
for her, and she was horny as hell for him.

 Again, Su­z­anne simply had to take the ini­ti­at­ive. She knew that if she let him go
now, he would van­ish forever into the vast tapestry which was New York.

 She just had to see him. His man­ner con­firmed that, as did his body, close up.

 She had a mad de­sire to touch him. His strong stom­ach muscles rippled through 
the fish­net t-shirt. His massive bi­ceps were bul­ging, too.

 She stepped aside, away from her par­ents by a few feet.

 She looked into Mike’s eyes, and she glanced down at the bulge in the front of his 
jeans. It seemed to be big­ger now than it had been be­fore.

 And there seemed to be a wet spot at the place where the head would be.

 She wanted to kneel down then and there and look straight at it to make cer­tain. 
She wanted to stick out her tongue and lick it right through the ma­ter­ial of his blue jeans.

 But she had to get back with her par­ents. She could tell that Daddy was really 
pissed off, and she knew that she’d be earn­ing a more severe spank­ing with each second 
she delayed.

 But this only made her look at the strong arms of Mike.

 Golly, he was so damn strong, she found her­self won­der­ing what it would be like 
to suf­fer a beat­ing at his in­sist­ence. She wondered if he had a tem­per.

 “Listen,” she fi­nally blur­ted. “I’m at the Gorham Hotel.” She gave him the room 
num­ber and told to make sure that he didn’t ask for her par­ents’ room in­stead. That would 
be a mis­take! He handed her a small piece of pa­per on which he’d quickly writ­ten his name 
and num­ber, and she was glad that he did, be­cause she really wanted to get to­gether with 
him be­fore the end of this va­ca­tion, and she told him so.

 He smiled at her, then turned and said good­bye to her mother and father. She 
no­ticed that he gave her father an ex­tra-nice smile, which was not re­turned.

 It had been ob­vi­ous to him as well as to her that her father was the one who was 
put­ting a damper on his join­ing them. She was up­set about that, but that’s what was so, 
and now that it had happened, she couldn’t change it.

 All she could do was deal with it.

 She watched as his muscled hulk of a body moved slowly up a stair­way.

 “You can go with him if you want to,” her father said ab­ruptly upon her re­turn.

 She didn’t know quite what to say. He had been so hos­tile, and now ...

 “No, really, you can go,” he re­peated. “I know you want to be with him, don’t you?” 
Su­z­anne wasn’t sure if this was some kind of a trick be­ing played on her by her father. 
Maybe it would earn her an ex­tra hard spank­ing.

 Sure, she was cer­tain that Mike was a safe per­son to go with, even though she 
didn’t know him. He was just a stranger in New York City.

 That was why it was hard for her to be­lieve that her father was will­ing to al­low her
to go off with him. He could have been a killer or a rap­ist, or any­thing.

 But she knew, in her own heart, that he was good – and hot.

 “Well,” she fi­nally said, as Mike dis­ap­peared from view, “I would like to get to 
know him. He’s very nice.”

 “Go, then,” her father said.

 But he still had a mean look on his face and Su­z­anne was con­cerned that he was 
angry with her. She asked him about it. She asked if any­thing was wrong.

 “You take care of your­self and I’ll take care of my­self,” he told her.

 She knew that he would also “take care of her” when she re­turned after the date. 
He would take care of her with the back of his hand, and the front, too.

 Over and over again.

 Harder and harder.

 Faster and ...

 “Al­right,” she said. “I have the key to my room and I’m sure I’ll be al­right. I’ll see 
you later,” she said to her par­ents.

 She felt good about fol­low­ing her feel­ings. It was true that at this mo­ment she 
didn’t want to be with her par­ents. She thought she wanted to be with Mike.

 Su­z­anne raced up the stairs. It was an es­cal­ator, but it wasn’t run­ning at the 
mo­ment. She was the one who was run­ning. When she reached the top of the stair­way, she 
saw that there were at least four dir­ec­tions to choose from.

 Which way did Mike go?

 “Shit,” she cursed to her­self.

 She turned to her left and walked into the up­per level of the plaza.

 But she came quickly to a dead end. He wasn’t there.

 “Fuck,” she cursed again. “Where is he?” She tried the door which she passed up 
be­fore. It lead to the out­side.

 Hope­fully, she looked down the block for him. She was cer­tain she would 
re­cog­nize the huge, bulky frame which she so des­per­ately wanted to feel against her, on 
top of her. But the street was dark, and he was nowhere to be seen in the col­lec­tion of 
people who roamed it or milled about.

 She tried to ima­gine where he would go and she fol­lowed her in­stincts, des­pite 
the fact that she knew so little about New York, and really wasn’t cer­tain where she was 
go­ing.

 After about fif­teen minutes, she real­ized that it was fu­tile.

 She had lost him.

 She held the scrap of pa­per on which he had writ­ten his name and num­ber, 
tightly in the palm of her hand. The sweat of her palm had caused the let­ters of his name to 
run to­gether.

 She fi­nally de­cided that per­haps he had headed home. She thought that it would 
all work out for the best after all, and so she star­ted back to­ward the hotel.

 Su­z­anne de­cided that she would tele­phone his num­ber from the hotel, and 
then she would be able to take a cab and join him at his place.

 Yes, that was what she would do. It was a per­fect solu­tion.

 She had made men­tal notes of vari­ous places she and her fam­ily had walked by 
to get to the Citicorp Plaza, and us­ing these sign­posts, she found her way back to the hotel.

 She went up to her room, and the first thing she did was call him.

 To her sur­prise, the tele­phone rang two times and then there was a voice.

 “Hello, I’m not at home right now,” said a re­cor­ded voice. She re­cog­nized the 
voice as Mike’s. Again, a feel­ing of wet­ness came to her pussy.

 She placed her hand between her legs.

 “Wait un­til you hear the beep,” the re­cor­ded voice said. “Then leave your name, 
num­ber, and mes­sage. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

 B-e-e-e-e-p ...

 They didn’t do this so of­ten in Mt. Bethel, Pennsylvania.

 Su­z­anne had to think fast.

 “Hi, Mike. This is Su­z­anne,” she said, aware of the tremor in her voice.

 “You just met in the Citicorp Plaza,” she ad­ded, to make cer­tain that he would 
re­mem­ber her. “I de­cided to come back to my hotel, and I’d like to get to­gether with you. 
Please call me. Bye.”

 She hung up.

 She waited for him to call.

 She went into the bath­room. She wanted to wash her hair so that it would be real 
soft, and shiny, and silky for his mouth, his nose, his flesh.

 But she didn’t want to risk miss­ing his call by be­ing in the shower when it came. 
She might not hear it with the wa­ter run­ning, she real­ized.

 And so, she went out into the other room and watched some tele­vi­sion.

 She thought about what she would wear to see him again, and de­cided that she 
would stick to the blouse and jeans which she’d been wear­ing when they met.

 After all, why change her ap­pear­ance when he had ex­pressed in­terest in her just 
the way she was then?

 After about an hour and a half, the tele­phone rang.

 “Hello, Su­z­anne?”

 “Hi!” she ex­claimed.

 “Uh, this is Mike,” he ad­ded. (That wasn’t ne­ces­sary. She knew it was him even 
be­fore he’d said a word. His voice had only con­firmed it.)

 “You left a mes­sage for me on my ma­chine,” he said.

 “Yes, I came right back to the hotel. I was hop­ing we could get to­gether.”

 “Gee, I wish that you had thought of that an hour and half be­fore. I mean, I 
wouldn’t have gone down­town.” It soun­ded as if he’d found some­body else in­stead, and 
was no longer hot.

 “As a mat­ter of fact, I did change my mind back at the Citicorp Plaza. I ran after 
you. But by the time I got up the stairs, you were gone.”

 “I was walk­ing real slow,” he told her. “I’d hoped you’d change your mind.”

 “Well, I did. Can I come over?”

 “It’s a bit late now,” he said. “I have to be up to­mor­row morn­ing.” Back at the 
Citicorp Plaza he’d been so hot for her, he’d let her know that he would make room for her in 
his busy sched­ule. Now he didn’t seem so sure.

 “Call me to­mor­row between three and four,” he said. “If I’m not here, leave a 
mes­sage for me and I’ll get back to you.”

 Well, at least there was hope. And Su­z­anne con­soled her­self with the fact that he
called her as soon as he’d got­ten home, and that he had kept her num­ber at the hotel (as 
she hadn’t left it on the an­swer­ing ma­chine, and still, he’d called her.)

 She breathed a sexy good­bye into the re­ceiver, and just in time, too.

 Daddy and Mommy were back.

 She heard them enter their room, and a mo­ment later, Daddy came through the 
di­vider which sep­ar­ated the rooms by the bath­room in between.

 He’d been drink­ing. She could smell the li­quor on his breath.

 “Where’s Mommy?” she asked, hav­ing as­sumed that her mother would be there, 
al­though now it cer­tainly seemed that her father was alone.

 “She’s wait­ing down­stairs in the lobby. I told her to give me a while up here alone 
with you. There’s some­thing we have to get straight,” he told her.

 He was speak­ing real ser­i­ously. His voice was deep and com­mand­ing.

 “Y-y-yes, Daddy,” she stammered sweetly. “What is it? Are you go­ing to spank me?”

 “You know I am,” he said in all ser­i­ous­ness. “And I’m go­ing to do more than that.
I’m go­ing to teach you some man­ners and some les­sons that you’ll never for­get,” he said.

 In­stead of reach­ing for his belt, he reached for his cock! He grabbed it through the
ma­ter­ial of his slacks and held it around at the base so that the length of it was clearly 
out­lined for Su­z­anne’s ter­ri­fied eyes.

 “Oh, no, Daddy!” she gasped.

 He was on top of her in an in­stant, for­cing her to the bed with his mas­ter­ful 
body. He over­powered her with ease. She tried to scream, but he grabbed a pair of 
stock­ings which she had left on the chair, and he stuffed her mouth with them.

 He pressed his body into her body. She squirmed, try­ing vainly to get away from 
him. He was simply too strong. She couldn’t stop him from thrust­ing his pel­vis into her 
pel­vis. She couldn’t es­cape feel­ing his fleshy pole grow stiff against her vir­gin pussy.

 He stuck his big, pink tongue out, like an an­imal, and lapped at her neck.

 One long stroke of his tongue muscle covered most of her del­ic­ate neck with his 
hot saliva.

 His mouth found its way to her ear. He bit into her ear lobe.

 She felt her own stock­ings in­side of her mouth gag­ging her.

 She felt his stiff prick stabbing her pussy realm, again and again.

 She could smell his breath in her face, and she could feel his muscles on top of her. 
Strangely, it star­ted her pussy to juicing, but she knew that it was very, very wrong. She knew 
that it was a sin for a father to fuck his little girl.

 No, she didn’t want it. She wanted him to train her, and to make her be­have.

 But these tac­tics of dis­cip­line were simply too much to take.

 It was un­nat­ural!

 Daddy quickly turned her around over his knee.

 He was sit­ting on the side of the bed now, and his cock, still hard, was pump­ing 
her cunny. It made her ass rise up to meet his strok­ing palm.

 He hadn’t raped her. He hadn’t per­formed an act of sexual in­cest.

 Had it just been Su­z­anne’s ima­gin­a­tion that his dis­cip­lin­ing ses­sion had 
got­ten out of hand?

 She couldn’t be sure.

 Was this spank­ing like all the oth­ers had been? Was she per­ceiv­ing more about 
the pat­tern which had already been es­tab­lished by her con­stant spank­ings, or was she 
simply see­ing that some­thing more had been ad­ded? She was fairly cer­tain that Mike had 
some­thing to do with all of this.

 Jeal­ousy, ap­par­ently, was a fam­ily trait. She had been jeal­ous of the 
re­la­tion­ship between her father and her mother. Now her father was jeal­ous of the 
re­la­tion­ship between her and Mike.

 It was silly, really. Mike posed no threat to her Daddy.

 Her Daddy had loved her and had taken care of her all these years.

 Her Daddy was the one who spanked her when she needed it. Reg­u­larly! Mike was
just a hand­some young stud who ap­pealed to her. Be­ing in New York for so short a time, 
she wanted to take ad­vant­age of get­ting to know him.

 She wanted to broaden her ho­ri­zons; ex­pand her ex­per­i­ences.

 Cer­tainly Daddy wouldn’t be jeal­ous about that, would he? Her blaz­ing bot­tom 
told the an­swer.

 He used his hand on her to warm her bot­tom up. When he had covered every 
por­tion of her twin globes and the backs of her up­per thighs with the palm of his very hot 
hand, he took over with a thin, leather strap.

 She thought she felt some­thing pulsat­ing between his legs as he strapped her.

 But she was too con­cerned with the blaz­ing spank­ings which burned her poor ass
to be fully aware of any­thing at her pussy, des­pite its huge size.

 He left her on her bed, face down, red ass up.

 He left her to cry all night long.

 His hands were still hot when he placed them on his wife’s breasts.

 They made pas­sion­ate love in the room next door while Su­z­anne cried her­self 
to sleep.

 Hot as her father’s hands were, they were cool com­pared to her poor ass.





CHAPTER FOUR


The next day, everything was fine between Su­z­anne and her father, al­though at 
one point, he did ask her about her date with Mike.

 “I came dir­ectly back to the hotel,” she told her father. “When I left you, it was too 
late to find him. So I went back to the hotel.”

 “Why didn’t you come back to us?” her father asked of her.

 She knew the reason. Not only was it a mat­ter of look­ing for Mike. More than that,
her en­ergy had changed. She didn’t want to be with her father at that time.

 “Oh, it doesn’t mat­ter,” he said ab­ruptly, get­ting her off the hook since she was 
not forced to an­swer him on this ques­tion. “You’re back with us now.”

 It was as if he were de­mand­ing a very close, and closed re­la­tion­ship.

 Had he really spanked her be­cause she’d shown in­terest in some­body other than 
her fam­ily mem­bers?

 She couldn’t be sure, and she didn’t want to bring it up.

 The fam­ily went out for an early lunch. They went to a res­taur­ant which looked 
out over Cent­ral Park. It was quite beau­ti­ful in the park at this time of year, and the view 
was quite lovely.

 The meal was very good, too, al­though Su­z­anne was not sure of which fork to use
for what, and whether or not to leave her fork on her empty plate after fin­ish­ing or to place 
it on the table. The place was very fancy, and she was con­cerned.

 The time went quickly, and pleas­antly, des­pite sev­eral ref­er­ences to spank­ing 
which made both Su­z­anne and her mother less than com­fort­able as they squirmed from 
ass cheek to ass cheek on their hard-bot­tomed, straight-backed chairs.

 After lunch, they all took a walk into the park. Su­z­anne had heard stor­ies about 
mug­gers and ma­ni­acs who roamed the park, but there was no sign of any of them.

 There were, how­ever, a num­ber of young His­panic youths hanging out in the 
park. One of them whistled at Su­z­anne, who ig­nored it, of course.

 Ac­tu­ally, she was flattered, and would have looked back.

 But there was no reason to risk that in the pres­ence of her father. Not after the 
spank­ing which fol­lowed her flir­ta­tion with Mike the night be­fore.

 Fur­ther on into the park, a group of young black men called out to them. They 
sang out a song about buy­ing co­caine, hash, grass and pills.

 Su­z­anne was afraid. She clung close on her father’s arm. Her mother did the same.

 Sal­vatore just sucked in his stom­ach and heaved out his chest.

 He was sure that nobody would press a point with the likes of him. He could 
de­fend him­self just in case they tried it, but nobody did.

 They came to a lake and watched the few people in boats on it. For a lark, they 
ren­ted one of the row boats, and as it be­came warmer in the sun, Sal­vatore took off his 
shirt and rowed them along. Su­z­anne watched the way his muscles flexed as he pulled the 
oars through the wa­ter. A trickle of sweat dripped down from his armpits.

 She sighed and breathed in the scent of him.

 But she was think­ing about Mike.

 After about an hour on the wa­ter, they walked to the ca­rou­sel, but they didn’t 
take a ride. Daddy was in­ter­ested in tak­ing in a Broad­way show, and he and Mommy 
de­cided to go to the place off Duffy Square where half price tick­ets were be­ing sold. They 
were tick­ets which went on sale that af­ter­noon for the shows of that even­ing, and there 
was a line of people wait­ing to get these good­ies.

 As for Su­z­anne, who knew that it was fast ap­proach­ing the hour she was to 
phone Mike, she ex­cused her­self, say­ing that she was tired and that she was go­ing back to 
the hotel to rest. She said that already she knew her way around so that her par­ents would 
not be wor­ried about leav­ing her alone.

 She wanted to make sure that she had some time without them while in the city.

 She walked quickly back to the hotel. When she reached her room at about three 
thirty, the tele­phone was ringing!

 She reached for it, know­ing that not too many people could be call­ing her. She 
cer­tainly hoped that it was Mike, and in­deed, it cer­tainly was!

 She was happy to hear from him. They stayed on the tele­phone for a while as he 
was en­thused about a tape he had re­cor­ded earlier that day. He placed the re­ceiver next 
to his tape speak­ers and let her hear his ori­ginal com­pos­i­tion.

 Over the tele­phone, she couldn’t really hear it too well, but what she heard 
soun­ded very nice. She knew that she was no longer in Pennsylvania.

 The boys just didn’t do things like this in Pennsylvania.

 After some more con­ver­sa­tion, he told her where he lived and how to get there. 
It was only a walk from where she was stay­ing, down on forty-third street in a build­ing which
was filled with artists and mu­si­cians.

 She told him that she would be there within forty-five minutes. She left a note on 
her bed for her par­ents, and a du­plic­ate note which she slipped un­der their door. She 
wrote that she was go­ing out ex­plor­ing, or maybe to take in a movie. She ad­ded that she 
wouldn’t be go­ing far and that she would be very care­ful.

 She knew that New York had a repu­ta­tion for be­ing a dan­ger­ous town, and she 
didn’t want to give her par­ents any cause for worry.

 She vir­tu­ally ran to the apart­ment build­ing on West forty-third Street.

 As she ap­proached it, she saw Mike. He was on roller skates! He was quite a 
col­or­ful char­ac­ter. She had to laugh; she just couldn’t hold back her smile, when she 
no­ticed the way every­body in the neigh­bor­hood smiled at him. He was very friendly and 
every­body liked him.

 He skated to the corner to mail a let­ter, im­press­ing her with some fancy 
form­a­tions which zig­zagged him back and forth and all around at the corner.

 She was so damn hot for him, she just could hardly wait to get up into his 
apart­ment. She had never ex­per­i­enced this with a boy be­fore.

 Maybe it was be­cause of the close re­la­tion­ship she shared with her father.

 Maybe it was be­cause she was still a young teen­ager and she had never really met 
a boy who sent tingles up into her cunny be­fore.

 What did it mat­ter? It really didn’t mat­ter at all.

 When he sug­ges­ted that they go back to his place, she was de­lighted.

 She stood close to him in the small el­ev­ator. He was as muscled as he had been 
the night be­fore when they’d met. She was as aroused as she’d been then.

 Her pussy was juicing and there was much damp­ness at her crotch.

 She wondered if he could smell it, that close to her as he was in the el­ev­ator.

 Once in­side his apart­ment, she ad­mired the view from the win­dows, as he 
ad­mired the view of her long and lovely legs. He was es­pe­cially at­trac­ted to her roun­ded 
ass. He was an ass man.

 “Would you like to smoke?” he asked her.

 “Oh, I don’t smoke,” she replied in­no­cently.

 “You don’t smoke grass?” he asked.

 “Oh,” she said.

 She hadn’t real­ized quite what he meant.

 “I’ve never tried it,” she said, know­ing that her father would beat the shit out of her 
if he ever even sus­pec­ted that she’d taken a puff of dope.

 But Mike didn’t seem to be a per­vert, or a drug ad­dict.

 She sat op­pos­ite at the round din­ing room table as he placed some grass into a 
pipe. She watched his fea­tures as he lit it and puffed the smoke in.

 He held it in his mouth and forced it gently down into his lungs.

 He closed his eyes and when he’d had enough, he let out the sound of “ah­hhh.” 
Su­z­anne smiled a tent­at­ive, but none the less se­duct­ive smile, and took the pipe when 
he handed it to her. Her soft fin­gers caressed his own as she did so.

 Su­z­anne then placed the tip of the pipe between her perky lips. She sucked the 
smoke in as she’d seen him do.

 “Hold it in,” he told her, and the au­thor­it­arian tone of his voice was enough for 
her to fol­low the dir­ect­ive, des­pite the urge to cough it out.

 Mike re­minded her of her father in that re­spect.

 He didn’t have to yell to get his point across. His manly voice con­veyed it all.

 “That’s it,” he smiled as she sucked the smoke into her­self.

 When she handed the pipe back to him, the tip of it was wet with her saliva.

 She watched it wet his own lips as he took it.

 She found that she was very much aware of the folds of her young pussy as she sat 
there. And she real­ized that she was very curi­ous about his cock. She had seen the bulge of 
it through the front of his pants, but was curi­ous to feel it, to see it na­ked, and even to suck 
it.

 “Your father and mother seemed nice enough,” Mike said as he handed the pipe 
back to Su­z­anne. “Your father seemed to be run­ning the show, though.”

 “He is the boss,” she told Mike.

 “He looks like the type who comes home and beats up on his wife,” Mike joked.

 It was not a joke as far as Su­z­anne was con­cerned. She couldn’t help but feel that 
cer­tain “funny” feel­ing in the pit of her belly to hear these words from Mike. She was 
be­gin­ning to real­ize that she had de­veloped some­thing of a fet­ish for spank­ing after 
be­ing so severely and so reg­u­larly, and so ritu­al­ist­ic­ally spanked.

 “I think some dis­cip­line is good for a girl,” Su­z­anne said.

 “Oh, so do I. Some men say that a girl is like a car­pet. She should be taken out­side 
and beaten reg­u­larly. That will keep her clean.”

 Su­z­anne felt tingles at the in­ner­most part of her quiv­er­ing quim.

 She was afraid that she would spasm into or­gasm, right then and there in the chair,
without even be­ing touched. Her mind was very power­ful. It could turn her on with this kind 
of men­tal pro­voca­tion.

 Of course, Mike didn’t even real­ize that his simple con­ver­sa­tion was a sexual one
for Su­z­anne. The over­tones of mean­ing were arous­ing her drip­ping snatch.

 “How do you like the grass?” Mike asked after a while.

 “Oh, it’s fine, I guess, but I don’t feel any­thing from it.” He grinned.

 “What are you smil­ing at?” she asked.

 “I think you’re really stoned,” he told her. “If you weren’t stoned, would you have 
your legs spread apart like that?”

 She looked down. To her amazement, she had un­con­sciously par­ted her legs and 
had be­gun strok­ing her in­ner thighs. She had star­ted un­du­lat­ing her pussy flesh, 
tick­ling the outer meat with her fin­ger­nails as she sat there.

 “Oh, my good­ness!” she snapped, clos­ing her legs fast.

 “No, I like it like that,” he said, and he took his hand and placed it on her in­ner 
thigh. With a gentle, steady pres­sure, he par­ted her thighs again.

 He stroked her in her most sens­it­ive places un­til she was writh­ing in her chair.

 “If we weren’t stoned, do you think we’d be do­ing this?” he asked her.

 “I don’t know,” she replied. “But I like it a lot.” She watched as he stood be­fore her 
and placed his crotch against the side of her face. She watched also as he un­zipped his fly, 
opened the top of his jeans, and al­lowed his cock and balls to flop out. He was not wear­ing 
un­der­wear.

 He stroked his veiny prick un­til he man­aged to evoke a clear drop of pre-cum 
which oozed from the piss slit of his purplish, bulbous cock head.

 Su­z­anne moaned as she stuck her tongue way out. The warm, wet tongue muscle 
found the droplet of cum at the tip of his cock. With the gentle move­ment of her tongue, she
man­aged to make the dew drop be­come a thin string.

 It con­nec­ted his prick head with her mouth.

 He reached down and felt her soft, blonde hair in his hand. He ex­er­ted a gentle 
pres­sure on her head, dir­ect­ing it fur­ther to the cock.

 She breathed him in. The grass she’d smoked for the first time made her very aware 
of every sen­sa­tion. She could smell the sweat of his pu­bic patch.

 This was not only the first time that she’d smoked, but it was also the first time that 
she’d been so close to a na­ked cock. Her ex­per­i­ences with her father never had in­cluded 
the bar­ing of his gen­it­als.

 She moved one trem­bling hand to the heavy sac which hung down from the root 
of his cock. She felt the hairy sac of balls and played with them as she licked his cock shaft, 
and flicked her tongue around the flared head un­til he moaned.

 When she had him moan­ing with pleas­ure simply by do­ing what came most 
nat­ur­ally to her, based upon her fe­male de­sires, he reached down to her par­ted legs and 
un­zipped her. He began touch­ing her pussy flesh like nobody had ever touched her.

 She had played with her snatch many times, and had learned how to give her­self 
tre­mend­ous pleas­ure with her own fe­male fin­gers.

 She knew just how to tease her clit­oris to evoke cries of de­sire.

 She knew just how to run her fin­gers along the tightly stretched mem­brane which 
defined her as a vir­gin. She knew, of course, not to press too hard into that del­ic­ate area, 
for she knew that if it broke, her vir­gin­ity would be gone along with it.

 She knew that it felt won­der­ful to caress the in­ner folds of her moisten­ing cunt 
lips, but she wondered also how it would feel to have a cock in­side the deeper cav­erns of 
her cunt.

 “Ah­h­h­hhh,” she sighed, as Mike made her ooze pro­fusely.

 “Suck my big dick,” he told her, mov­ing his hand back to her head as he forced her 
onto his stiff penis. “Suck it,” he re­peated as her mouth opened up.

 Tak­ing the big prick head into her mouth was like tak­ing a lol­li­pop.

 She star­ted suck­ing gently on the warm, soft flesh of it. It tasted like a mush­room 
to her as she sucked on it. Saliva dripped from her lips.

 He pulsated his shaft by work­ing his sphinc­ter muscle in­side his as­shole.

 This caused the pecker to move back and forth with a life of its own in­side of her 
suck­ing oral cav­ity. But it was mov­ing so much, she was afraid that it would slip from her 
mouth. She didn’t want to lose it.

 So she went down fur­ther on it, tak­ing some of the thick shaft into her mouth, too.
Each time she took more of his fleshy or­gan into the warm, wet chan­nel of her mouth, and 
on­ward down into her throat, he groaned, and so did she.

 Soon, he had all of it in her. Eight inches deep into her throat, his cock found the 
shape of her in­ner oral cav­ity and made her ad­just it to ac­com­mod­ate his rod. The prick 
was hard as iron now, and her soft pal­ate, way down where her mouth be­came her throat, 
took every bit of it.

 “Yeah, suck that big dick, baby,” he groaned in near-ec­stasy as he star­ted to pump
her face. She could feel the curly wires of his sweaty pu­bic patch against her lips and nose as 
he grin­ded every last inch into her mouth and made her swal­low it.

 When she star­ted to gag on it, he wriggled it out, al­though not all the way.

 He was just giv­ing her a breather be­fore shov­ing it back down into her.

 It was like a sword of flesh, and she was de­term­ined to suck it off.

 When she felt his balls boun­cing against her chin, she bit down slightly into the 
very base of his big boner so that he would know how far she had taken it.

 But this only turned him on more, and he star­ted to bump his body into her with a 
re­lent­less mo­tion. He face-fucked her for ten minutes.

 Sev­eral times he felt the scum bub­bling up in his balls. It felt as if he were go­ing 
to shoot it, and she could feel the pulsat­ing pres­sure build­ing in the veiny shaft of the 
throb­bing mem­ber.

 But he would al­ways stop just be­fore ejac­u­lat­ing.

 This pro­longed the suck­ing.

 After a while, her jaw was tired. It was time to change po­s­i­tions.

 He pulled his cock out of her suc­tion­ing lips. It es­caped her lips with a wet, 
pop­ping noise.

 Still stiff and stand­ing up with a wicked curve in it, it bounced up and down as his 
strong arms lif­ted her from the chair. With deft fin­gers, he began to un­dress her.

 Never hav­ing had been un­dressed by a man be­fore, she was breath­ing very 
hard.

 Droplets of sweat traced a wet path down from her un­der­arms, and droplets of 
hon­eyed nec­tar flowed down her in­ner thighs, form­ing a sizz­ling pool at her feet.

 He un­buttoned her blouse, run­ning his hands over her smooth shoulders.

 The blouse opened up, re­veal­ing a lacy, girl’s bra.

 She helped him un­fasten it, as girls are usu­ally more ad­ept at that than men.

 It fell off grace­fully, ex­pos­ing her milk white breasts. The flesh was the color of 
ala­baster, but the globes them­selves were soft and warm, and the tawny young nipples 
re­spon­ded to Mike’s touch.

 He placed his face down on the breasts. Up close, he could see the del­ic­ate veins 
which ran through the bud­ding young breasts of this gor­geous girl.

 She un­did the catch at the waist­band of her jeans, but it was Mike who pulled 
them down over the mounds of ass flesh which he craved so very much.

 He placed his palms on the full, fleshy globes, and squeezed.

 “Ouch,” she had to tell him. “Not so hard, please.” The ef­fects of the spank­ing 
which her father had laid on her were still very much with her now. Al­though she was a 
strong girl, and very used to pain in her but­tocks, it would be fool­ish to as­sume that she 
could for­get about the night be­fore.

 After all, she had re­ceived her spank­ing for be­ing with the man she was now 
ready to go to bed with.

 He pulled his jeans off of his feet, and his cock jumped up as the pants came all the 
way down. He pulled off his shirt, re­veal­ing those well worked muscles.

 She ran her hands over the bul­ging bi­ceps and she ran her fin­gers down into his 
armpits. When her hands were full of his sweat, she placed her fin­gers to her nos­trils and 
breathed it in. Then she sucked on her fin­gers, drink­ing his sweat.

 He liked that. It turned him on. He had other juices for her to drink.

 “You’re such a man,” she moaned, run­ning her tongue over the muscles of his 
chest. She felt the little nipples stand­ing at at­ten­tion, just as her own were firm and ready 
for battle against his body.

 She ran her tongue muscle over his muscles, tra­cing a path of wet­ness down over 
the ripples of his wash­board muscles at his stom­ach.

 “I do a lot of setups,” he told her. “I’d like to do a lot of pushups, too, with your 
na­ked body un­der­neath me.”

 “I’d part my legs and open up for you,” she moaned hotly. “I’d take you in­side of 
me and feel you strok­ing in­side of my pussy with your prick.”

 He stood back to ad­mire her. She was per­fec­tion.

 Then he showed her how he had learned to stand on his hands in a gym­nastics 
class. He placed his palms down on the floor with enough space between them to give him 
sup­port. Then he put his weight on his hands, and all the muscles of his arms and chest 
flexed up.

 He kicked him­self up and slowly brought his legs up be­hind him un­til they were 
straight up in the air. His big dick and low-hanging balls were now flop­ping down in the 
dir­ec­tion of his head.

 With his head down at her feet, he could look up and see her pussy. The golden 
hairs above the slit were glisten­ing in the af­ter­noon light which came in through the 
win­dow.

 She moaned as he did still an­other trick while bal­anced on his hands. Slowly, he 
par­ted his raised legs, spread­ing them apart.

 His as­shole was fully ex­posed now, and Su­z­anne couldn’t hold her­self back.

 Maybe it was the grass she had smoked which freed her of her in­hib­i­tions.

 Maybe it was the fact that she was in New York on a va­ca­tion.

 Maybe it was the sight of his mus­cu­lar legs, part­ing to ex­pose the puckered flesh
of his manly young as­shole.

 Maybe it was just her an­imal in­stincts. She was a hot little girl who had never been
with a man. Her father had ruled her – some­times with a ruler!

 Now, she touched him between his legs and brought her mouth down to­ward his 
as­shole. She was stand­ing so her na­ked pussy rubbed against his body, squeez­ing its 
juices out onto him.

 Her mouth found the quiv­er­ing flesh of his butt. She was scared at first, and 
moved her lips quite gingerly over the soft folds of private flesh.

 Gradu­ally, the sight and smell of him in that private place spurred her on un­til she 
was rub­bing her face between his legs and over his ass.

 Her face would smell of his sweat.

 He was strain­ing to re­main bal­anced on his hands with his legs in the air like that.
Blood was rush­ing to his head. His arms were trem­bling from the weight they were 
sup­port­ing.

 But when her warm, wet tongue muscles probed the crack and licked the hairs 
around his anus into her mouth like so much spa­ghetti, he made every ef­fort to re­main in 
that po­s­i­tion to sa­vor the full sen­sa­tion of her hungry young girl-mouth.

 She was de­lib­er­ately drip­ping saliva from her mouth onto his as­shole, and then 
suck­ing it up. He al­lowed her to have her way with his ass, and when she fi­nally in­ser­ted 
the tip of her del­ic­ate fe­male tongue into his musty hole, he groaned.

 It was just too much, and he had to come down. She moved right along with him. 
Both of their finely shaped, na­ked young bod­ies moved as in a bal­let.

 They moved to­gether, con­nec­ted to one an­other at his ass.

 Her tongue was now deep in­side, and he closed the walls of the chan­nel around it.

 She bit gently at the out­side of his as­shole.

 He was ready for her ass now. He was starved for it.

 He grabbed her cheeks and dir­ec­ted her body onto his bed. He flopped her down 
on it so that her butt was stick­ing up and her golden-haired pussy was peek­ing out from 
between the globes of her ass.

 Mike looked at her ass and gasped.

 “You’ve been spanked!” he said.





CHAPTER FIVE


Su­z­anne was em­bar­rassed.

 She had no idea that there were signs that she’d been spanked.

 “What makes you say that?” she asked.

 “Well, there are hand prints on your ass cheeks. Why, the hand is lar­ger than mine. 
Some­body with a big hand smacked you so hard, it left a print.”

 “Are you sure?”

 “Don’t you know whether or not you were spanked?” he replied. “Who did this?”

 “Oh, I was at­tacked in Cent­ral Park,” she lied. She couldn’t bring her­self to tell him
the truth – that she’d been spanked by her father and that spank­ings were a reg­u­lar part of 
her dis­cip­line routine.

 “You mean, some­body grabbed you and spanked you?”

 “Yes, I was shocked. He pulled down my pants, pulled down my panties, and hit me 
as hard as he could.”

 “Did he rape you?” Mike asked.

 “No, no. I’m still a vir­gin. He was only in­ter­ested in spank­ing me.”

 “How odd,” Mike mused. “A spanker is on the loose. Well, did you re­port it to the 
po­lice?”

 “Oh, no. I’d be too em­bar­rassed to do any­thing like that. I’d have to pull down 
my pants and panties and show them the evid­ence. Be­sides, this guy in the park was only 
do­ing it for fun. He really didn’t hurt me.”

 “Didn’t hurt you? Why, you’ll have a black and blue mark there.”

 “I really had no idea there was any bruise there at all.”

 “Well, there cer­tainly is,” he said em­phat­ic­ally.

 “Does it turn you on?” she rasped, a se­duct­ive smile com­ing to her lips as she 
licked them. “Does it make you want to spank over those bruises and make new ones on my 
na­ked flesh so that I’ll wear your tat­toos on my hot little ass?”

 “Of course not,” Mike said. “I’m not into that kind of treat­ment at all. I’m a lover, 
not a fighter.”

 Su­z­anne sud­denly felt strangely let down. Mike was so nice. He was too nice.

 She real­ized that she had be­come trained to her father’s dis­cip­line.

 It had al­ways seemed that it was offered as pun­ish­ment – well-de­served 
pun­ish­ment which would train her to be­have the way she should.

 But now that she thought back on her ex­per­i­ences, she real­ized other 
im­plic­a­tions.

 She real­ized that the bul­ging bump of man-flesh which poked at her cunny when 
she was placed over her Daddy’s knees was not just ac­ci­dental.

 It had aroused her, and she had longed for it in dreams.

 She real­ized now that the night­mares she’d ex­per­i­enced about her mother were
not just silly fantas­ies, either. There were reas­ons for them, and the reas­ons were rooted in 
a jeal­ousy she ex­per­i­enced. Her mother re­ceived spank­ings al­most every night! She 
re­ceived spank­ings only once a week.

 “You’re not into spank­ings as part of sex, are you?” Mike asked.

 Up un­til today, she would have never thought so. Up un­til these new 
real­iz­a­tions, she would have never even con­sidered spank­ing as part of a sexual scene.

 But today she re­sen­ted the way he phrased his ques­tion - “You’re not into 
spank­ings, are you?” - as if she’d be per­ver­ted to an­swer in the af­firm­at­ive.

 “I never really thought about it un­til today,” she told him.

 “I could see how get­ting an un­ex­pec­ted beat­ing in the park could ... “ “But I can 
see where it might be in­ter­est­ing,” she in­ter­rup­ted. “I mean, it does provide a sen­sa­tion
on a tender part of a girl’s ana­tomy,” she con­tin­ued, sort of think­ing her situ­ation out 
aloud, as if she were speak­ing to a psy­chi­at­rist.

 She con­tin­ued.

 “You know, the roun­ded globes of a firm young but­tocks are very in­vit­ing to 
many men.”

 “I know,” the ass lover said. “I know that very well.”

 “So nat­ur­ally, a pair of cheeks like mine just in­vite spank­ing. I mean, look at the 
way they curve up be­hind me. They’re like ripe mel­ons. I’ve of­ten been pinched just 
walk­ing through a crowded store, even back home in Pennsylvania. The way my denim jeans 
cling to the curves of my ass just makes cer­tain men hard. They feel their pricks pulsat­ing up 
against their un­der­pants. They want to sink their teeth into the girl­ish young flesh of my 
ass, and work their way around to my vir­gin pussy.”

 “But not un­til they’ve spanked me red hot,” Su­z­anne con­tin­ued. She was try­ing
to turn Mike on to her fet­ish, and she played with his cock and balls as she spoke. She 
caressed the or­gans gently, run­ning her fin­ger­tips around in con­cent­ric cent­rals over 
the wrinkles of his ball sac; run­ning her fin­ger­tip into the piss slit and mak­ing the juices 
ooze out onto her fin­ger, then rub­bing the slick goo over the sur­face of the en­tire head, 
mak­ing him tremble and shud­der, and feel the re­ac­tion right up his own shit chute. And 
then she’d lick the ex­cess jism off her fin­ger.

 “When I got spanked by that stranger in the park, it was an un­usual ex­per­i­ence,” 
she told him softly, as she went with her fantas­ies, ex­pos­ing them for the very first time – 
sur­pris­ing him, as well as sur­pris­ing and arous­ing her­self.

 “Be­ing new and on va­ca­tion in New York, I didn’t real­ize that it was dan­ger­ous 
to walk through Cent­ral Park alone. I was walk­ing through a des­ol­ate area of the park. I 
was walk­ing through a little stone tun­nel when a man grabbed me from be­hind.”

 “At first I thought it was some kind of a joke. But of course, I knew nobody in the 
city. He wouldn’t let me see his face. All I got to see were his hands, which cupped my mouth 
as he whispered in my ear that I’d bet­ter stay quiet and do what he told me, or else I’d really 
be in trouble, and I’d re­gret it.”

 “So I fol­lowed his com­mands. His fin­gers were slender, and en­cased in tight, 
black leather gloves. It was as if they fit him like a second skin. They ac­tu­ally re­minded me 
on the hands of a gor­illa. King Kong, at­tack­ing the in­no­cent girl in New York. What a 
va­ca­tion! Huh?”

 “Well, he snaked his hands down my throat, on to my breasts, which he cupped and 
squeezed. I was trem­bling all over. I was afraid. I couldn’t see this stranger, and I didn’t know 
how old he was, what color he was, noth­ing.”

 “But when he yanked down my pants, and vir­tu­ally ripped my white cot­ton 
panties to shreds in an ef­fort to bear my ass, and fast, I knew that he was dan­ger­ous. He 
would go to any ex­tremes to get what he wanted.”

 “I didn’t dare scream. Nobody was around any­way, and there was no telling what 
he might do to me if I didn’t co­oper­ate. I was his slave girl.”

 “I was ter­ribly afraid that he would rape me. I mean, that’s the first thought that 
comes up for a fif­teen-year-old girl who has been good this long and is still a vir­gin des­pite
many of­fers from guys who thought her pretty enough for fuck­ing.”

 “The cool air was breez­ing across my pussy, mak­ing me shiver as it caressed the 
moist­ness which was be­com­ing greater at my cunt, out of nervous­ness, I guess.”

 “I think you were get­ting wet be­cause you were hot,” Mike told her. “You were 
be­gin­ning to like be­ing dom­in­ated by a black-gloved stranger, weren’t you?”

 Su­z­anne con­tin­ued to stroke his cock, and dur­ing this brief pause, she bent 
down and licked the head and the shaft of it, down to the nuts.

 Then she blew gently on it with her sweet, girl­ish breath.

 Her voice was a rasp when she con­tin­ued.

 “Yes. I was get­ting hot. I knew, of course, that I de­served to be soundly spanked. 
What teen­aged girl doesn’t? Some­times it’s easier to bend over and take what’s com­ing to 
you than to carry all that guilt around with you all the time.”

 “But I don’t really know what was caus­ing my vir­gin pussy to drip like a faucet. I 
couldn’t turn it off. I was mak­ing a puddle of cunt cream in the dry earth which formed the 
floor of this little, se­cluded tun­nel in the middle of Cent­ral Park.”

 “There wasn’t much time to think about any­thing. He was a phantom, in search of 
quick cap­tives, and he forced me down to the ground on my knees. He placed one booted 
foot on the back of my neck, press­ing my head into the dirt.”

 “I begged him not to hurt me, but he told me to shut the fuck up. He forced his 
leather-gloved hand into my mouth and ex­plored my oral cav­ity with it the way a slave 
trader ex­plores the mouth of a slave on the auc­tion block.”

 “When his black gloved hand was wet with my saliva (he’d shoved it down my throat
as if it were a black dick, for­cing the fin­gers back un­til I spit up on it), he re­turned the 
soaked leather to my bared bot­tom, and caressed the na­ked cheeks with his hands, leav­ing 
my own spit all over me.”

 “He told me that he’d whip the spit into steam. It was then that he star­ted to spank 
me in a steady rhythm. Some­times he’d hit the same spot over and over again. Each time, I 
figured that it was the last time he’d smack me on that spot, but he showed how cruel he 
could be by keep­ing it up, do­ing ex­actly what pleased him.”

 She was think­ing of her father now.

 That was the way Daddy handled her.

 “That must be why the im­print of his hand is still on your buns,” Mike said. “He beat
you in the same ex­act spot with the same hand, over and over again.”

 “Yes,” Su­z­anne replied, still strok­ing his now fully erect cock.

 She went on.

 “You know, the ass cheeks are loc­ated very close to the va­gina. Look, I’ll show 
you,” she ad­ded, stand­ing up to show him some of her own gym­nastics.

 She bent over in the po­s­i­tion which her father made her as­sume when she was 
to bend at the waist and hold her own ankles.

 “Can you see how close the ass globes are to the cunt. When I spread my legs like 
this, you can see both the ass and the pussy, too, can’t you?”

 “Yeah,” Mike rasped. “The cunt is glisten­ing wet.”

 “That’s be­cause I’m think­ing about the way I got spanked. Each time I was 
dis­cip­lined across the cheeks, either one cheek at a time or right across the crack, hit­ting 
both at once, I would feel the fire in my pussy.”

 “The ass and the cunt are so close that it was im­possible not to. Each stroke on my 
ass was a stroke to my vir­gin pussy and I was forced to ... “ It was too much for Mike.

 He couldn’t hold back.

 His hard-on was ra­ging.

 He grabbed her at the waist and held on very tightly.

 “Hey, wait a minute!” she screamed. “What the fuck do you think you’re ... “ He took 
his stiff rod and placed the bulbous head of it at her pussy.

 “I’ll scream,” she threatened.

 “Nobody will hear you.”

 He knew that if she hadn’t re­por­ted the spanker to the po­lice, there was a good 
chance that she would be con­vinced not to go over­board this time, either.

 She had cock teased him to the ul­ti­mate.

 Any young girl who plays with a man’s big dick un­til it oozes, while telling him how 
she was forced to the floor in a park, in a tun­nel where the sounds of a leather-clad hand 
spank­ing an up­turned bare ass just echoed like crazy, well, any girl who would bend over 
and ask a na­ked stud to see the re­la­tion­ship between her roun­ded ass globes and her 
juicy pussy, well, any girl like that de­served to be fucked! Raped! Screwed from be­hind – 
dog­gie style!!!

 She felt the hot cock head between her sweaty ass cheeks, mov­ing to­ward her 
pussy. He used his fin­gers to part the moistened lips, while his other hand held her at her 
belly, for­cing her back onto his stiff shaft.

 She was strug­gling to es­cape him, but the mus­cu­lar gym­nast had her where he 
wanted her. And he had his thick dick where he wanted it, too.

 He bit on her neck as the head of his cock slipped into her.

 She moaned when she felt it press­ing against her pre­cious hy­men.

 “So you liked to be spanked, huh?” he said.

 She didn’t an­swer.

 “You need to get it across your ass, don’t you?” Again, she re­mained si­lent.

 He placed his palm against the place on the side of her body where her ass met her 
thigh. He raised his hand back, and then he slapped it down so hard against her that she 
screamed.

 He smacked her so hard, she felt only that ter­rible spank, and she didn’t even 
real­ize that the first five inches of his thick prick had entered her, shat­ter­ing her mem­brane
of vir­gin­ity in one quick plunge.

 She felt her in­ner pussy juices, mixed with vir­gin blood, drip­ping down the 
in­sides of her legs. It was only then that she real­ized what had happened.

 By that time, it was too late to turn back.

 You can’t make a wa­ter­fall run back­wards.

 You can’t make a vir­gin out of a girl who has been broken.

 It was only then that Mike forced the full weight of his body on top of her, press­ing
her to the floor. It was only then that he forced the full eight inches of his prick into her wet 
snatch, and star­ted to plow it with all his might.

 He worked his cock up and down and all around in­side her drip­ping cunt.

 Mike fucked her bad and he fucked her good.

 He slapped her ass real hard all through­out the fuck­ing, to give her what she 
needed and to be sure that she be­haved while he took what he de­man­ded.

 It hurt ter­ribly at first. He gave her no time to get used to the feel­ing of a big dick 
up her cunt for the very first time.

 But after a while, she couldn’t help but en­joy it. She felt all that manly power in­side
of her. Not only did she feel it on her ass, as she al­ways had dur­ing her spank­ings, but she 
felt it deep in­side of her, too.

 She star­ted to wriggle back­wards on to the bone of his dick, beg­ging him to 
screw her good and long and deep and hard, the way she needed it.

 “You’re a hot bitch for a first time fuck,” he told her.

 “You’ve got a newly devir­gin­ized pussy on your dick,” she told him.

 “And you know how to take care of a man’s prick,” he replied between strokes. 
“Yeah, snap that twat around this dong of mine. Wrap your cunt around my boner and show 
this man that you know how to make a dick feel real good.”

 She re­spon­ded by work­ing her cunt muscles on his dick un­til her cunt juices 
were vir­tu­ally froth­ing.

 Many times, he felt as if he’d have to shoot his heavy load into her pussy.

 But then, he stroked the in­side of her pussy real, real deep, and it must have 
triggered some­thing deep in­side of her. She star­ted buck­ing her beau­ti­ful body around 
like a bitch in heat.

 “Spank me, Daddy,” she cried out to Mike. “Spank me, Daddy!” He could tell from 
the way she was moan­ing, beg­ging and writh­ing, that she meant it. He didn’t feel funny 
be­cause she had called him “Daddy.” He gave her what she needed and he gave it with full 
fer­vor.

 She cried out as he spanked her real hard, mak­ing her ass as red hot as her pussy.

 All the time he spanked her, he rammed his stiff dick into her cunt, all the way down.
The thick shaft rubbed her clit raw as it rammed her deep.

 Her juices were flow­ing and she star­ted to con­vulse in­side her pussy in mul­tiple 
or­gasms.

 “Ah­hhh, I’m com­ing!!!” she shouted.

 Mike groaned like a mad an­imal. Her or­gas­ming cunt was trig­ger­ing his cli­max,
too, as the walls of her snatch snapped on his prick, drain­ing it of its pent up jism.

 They were scream­ing to­gether at the tops of their lungs.

 Ropes of li­quid en­ergy spewed forth from his cock, flood­ing her newly broken 
pussy with blaz­ing hot, white se­men.

 She could feel the sticky stuff burn­ing into her ab­used young pussy.

 He could feel the syr­ups of her pussy gush­ing out of her, mix­ing with his thick 
scum.

 Their mu­tual cli­max went on for nearly five breath­less minutes.

 Then it was over, and only their heavy breath­ing re­mained.

 The world came into fo­cus again. Su­z­anne real­ized that she was in an 
apart­ment in New York City. Out­side his win­dow, she could see the Hud­son River.

 “I really have to go now,” she said, while his soften­ing prick was still in­side of her. 
“My Daddy will beat me silly if ... “

 “Hey, Su­z­anne,” Mike asked ser­i­ously. “How much of that was real? Were you 
really spanked in the park? Do you really need to be spanked by your Daddy in or­der to 
come?”

 “I really have to be go­ing,” Su­z­anne in­sisted.

 There were cer­tain things which she could never re­veal.

 Mike was a nice guy, and he may have been the first to have her in that spe­cial way.
But already she felt guilty that she had not given her father the first taste of her deeper pussy.

 She didn’t feel clean, hav­ing just been fucked so sav­agely and everything, and yet, 
she didn’t want to take the time to shower at Mike’s place.

 Some­thing was telling her that she had to get back to the hotel as soon as she 
pos­sibly could. Per­haps it was some sixth sense which called to her.

 She really knew that she had to go, in fact, if she had known what had happened in 
her ab­sence, she might never have left her father’s side at all.

 What awaited her back at the hotel was more than most teen­aged girls could 
pos­sibly handle.

 It was some­thing more ter­ri­fy­ing than she would have even ima­gined in one of 
her night­mares.





CHAPTER SIX


Su­z­anne still felt her reddened ass cheeks and sore up­per thighs with every step 
she took on her way back to the hotel. She was go­ing as quickly as she could.

 She sensed some­thing telling her that she had bet­ter get back there quickly.

 Maybe it was just that she wanted to get to the hotel be­fore the ar­rival of her 
par­ents so that she wouldn’t have to ex­plain where she’d been.

 Maybe it was ... well, she had a funny feel­ing in the pit of her stom­ach.

 She had come to real­ize some of her spe­cial tal­ents. She con­sidered them to be 
quite ex­traordin­ary. Spe­cific­ally, she had learned to re­cog­nize her abil­it­ies in the world 
of the oc­cult. That is to say, she could sense things and could pre­dict things. In fact, she 
could even cre­ate things hap­pen­ing to her­self and around her­self.

 This time, she wasn’t quite cer­tain what awaited her, but she could tell that there 
was some­thing out of the usual realm of ex­per­i­ences and that it would be ready for her 
ex­plor­a­tion once she re­turned to the hotel.

 Per­haps that was why she de­cided to walk back, rather than take a bus.

 Walk­ing could be faster in New York than sit­ting on a bus or in a cab in heav­ily 
snarled traffic jams. She had learned that simply by ob­serving the city.

 As for tak­ing a sub­way, she was un­fa­mil­iar with that form of pub­lic 
trans­port­a­tion, and be­sides, as it happened, there was no read­ily avail­able sub­way route
which would have taken her from Mike’s place back to the hotel where she was stay­ing with 
her par­ents.

 Of course, her thoughts con­tin­ued to drift back to Mike, and this star­ted her 
cun­tal juices flow­ing, and it made her tit nipples firm against the front of her.

 She hoped that she would not earn an­other spank­ing from her father within the 
next day or two, if only be­cause she didn’t want him to see the bruises left on her 
once-flaw­less bot­tom by the sexual wrath of Mike.

 Not that Su­z­anne hadn’t egged Mike on.

 In­deed, it was an­other ex­ample of her power, that spe­cial sixth sense of a power 
which got people to do what she wanted. Of course, her in­cred­ible young beauty also 
played a part in that as­pect of her power.

 It could work won­ders.

 Of course, if her father made any com­ment about the marks on her twin but­tocks, 
she was pre­pared to tell him that he had placed them there him­self.

 In­deed, his con­stant work­ing of dis­cip­line on her butt had pro­duced such 
res­ults many times, if not, in real­ity, this time.

 Still, she was pre­pared with that ex­plan­a­tion, should the need arise, be­cause she
felt that it would be bet­ter than ad­mit­ting the truth.

 If her father knew that she had en­gaged in sex with a vir­tual stranger on her very 
first days in New York, there was no telling what he would do to her.

 She had seen his re­ac­tion – and felt it, too – at the very first meet­ing of her­self 
and Mike. It had caused her father’s tem­per to flare, and it had res­ul­ted in a very sore 
back­side for her.

 That was ex­cit­ing, now that the sting of it had left her, and she could not deny that
she was look­ing to re­cre­ate that ex­per­i­ence with Mike.

 When she begged him to pun­ish her, and when she called him “Daddy,” she was 
liv­ing out the fantasy which was also a real­ity for her.

 Al­though she had her doubts about whether or not this was ac­tu­ally good for 
her, she had to go through with it. She needed this ex­per­i­ence. Her ass needed it.

 She felt that it made her a bet­ter girl, and it was with this be­lief that she was able 
to go on.

 She ser­i­ously be­lieved that if she were not mon­itored in this way by her father, 
she would get her­self in a lot of trouble. But still, she took her chances and ex­per­i­mented 
with Mike without telling her father about it, and she begged Mike to spank her be­cause she 
had learned to re­quire that kind of stim­u­la­tion to reach her own point of or­gasm.

 She hoped, too, that her father would not have a chance to dis­cover that her 
vir­gin­ity was now a thing of the past. She knew that she was re­spons­ible for that loss, too. 
She had en­cour­aged it.

 But she did not re­gret it, and even on her way home, back to the hotel, she 
thought of the ex­per­i­ence as a gain, and not as a loss.

 It was busy on the New York streets at this hour. People were rush­ing about, and 
Su­z­anne felt like a real New Yorker as she rushed about right with them.

 Sev­eral times she bumped into people on the crowded streets.

 It seemed that everything was like an old-time Charlie Chap­lin movie.

 Yes, everything was mov­ing at a speed which was just a bit faster than it should 
have been.

 But Su­z­anne en­joyed all of it, know­ing, of course, that she would only be 
spend­ing a short time in this city be­fore re­turn­ing with her par­ents to Pennsylvania.

 Maybe that had also been a factor in her se­duc­tion of Mike. She knew that they 
could only be to­gether for a brief time, and she wanted to ex­per­i­ence him in New York, 
where all those people made it safe and an­onym­ous.

 Back home she could not have re­ceived a spank­ing from a boy­friend without the 
word get­ting around, and she wanted to be cer­tain that such in­form­a­tion only got 
around to those who un­der­stood and ap­pre­ci­ated it for what it was worth.

 Even as she hur­ried to­ward the hotel, she thought of that, and fan­tas­ized about 
how it would be if every­body in her home town knew of her spe­cial in­terest.

 It would be em­bar­rass­ing, of course, in real­ity. But in her fantasy she was able to 
dream of an­other side of it, and this too, made her pussy wet.

 She thought of how it would be if every­body in her school knew that she liked to 
be spanked. Cer­tainly, many of the stu­dents would be turned off by this.

 Many of them, as Su­z­anne well knew, were prudish to the ex­tent that their 
know­ledge of sex and their ex­per­i­ence in it was lim­ited.

 That could not un­der­stand how any­body would find any­thing pleas­ur­able 
about pain. Su­z­anne, of course knew, that sen­su­ally ap­plied pain could stim­u­late an 
in­ner pussy.

 She had been dis­cip­lined by her father be­cause she needed it, and in­deed, most 
of her spank­ings had been for pun­ish­ment value only.

 But she had come to in­cor­por­ate her pun­ish­ments into her sex life.

 She did not know why this was so, but since it was so, she didn’t waste her time 
try­ing to fig­ure it out. She merely in­dulged in it with Mike, and ima­gined that she would 
ex­per­i­ence the sexu­al­ity of it the next time she was spanked by her Daddy.

 Of course, if every­body at school knew of her spe­cial in­terest and the fact that it 
aroused her sexu­ally to re­ceived a well-ap­plied spank­ing across her bare butt, more than a
few would re­spond with their own de­sires, whether pre­vi­ously sup­pressed or not.

 Some of them, she sup­posed, would be eager and will­ing to spank her, merely for 
a chance to get at her bare buns. They were cer­tainly at­tract­ive as seen through her dresses
and slacks, and the way they swayed back and forth as she walked was just an open 
in­vit­a­tion to pinch, tweak, kiss, and cer­tainly to spank.

 Once her secret de­sire were made known, the boys at school would be lust­ing 
after that ass of hers, and they would use any avail­able ex­cuse to turn her over their knees 
and give her a spank­ing she would not soon for­get.

 She could just see her­self be­ing held over in class with that boy with the sandy 
blond hair who sat up front near the teacher’s desk in her Eng­lish class.

 He seemed much more ma­ture than the oth­ers in her class, and al­though she had
al­ways been too shy to get to know him, she had cer­tainly no­ticed him.

 Now, in her fantasy, as she walked to the hotel, she real­ized how much she had 
no­ticed him. She re­called the way his voice was deeper than the less ma­ture boys in her 
class. She re­called the way his neck was thick and had an Adam’s apple clearly vis­ible.

 She re­called the tan color of his skin, and the hand­some fea­tures of his face 
be­hind a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. She liked that.

 She re­called the muscles which showed through even his bag­gi­est of shirts. He 
was sexy to her without even try­ing, and she re­called how she had been at­trac­ted to his 
bulky body.

 She had even no­ticed the bulge at the front of the cord jeans which he usu­ally 
wore. The bulge had ac­tu­ally rubbed a spot in the pants.

 It was easy to see it, even from a dis­tance.

 That meant he had a fat cock, and she longed to be held down between his legs 
after class one day in an oth­er­wise empty classroom.

 It was her fantasy that she would be spanked by him, pos­sibly with the long, hard 
ruler, which res­ted men­acingly on the ledge be­low the classroom’s black­board.

 She could al­most hear the cracks of the ruler across her vul­ner­able, up­turned 
rear.

 Al­though she was of­ten, if not usu­ally, spanked across her bared globes, in her 
fantasy with this high school boy, she ima­gined that she was wear­ing white, cot­ton panties 
which clung to her cheeks like a second skin.

 Still, the boy would spank her squirm­ing butt so hard, she would feel it dir­ectly 
through the ma­ter­ial, and he would make her cry, and beg him to stop.

 But, (and she could al­most hear his deep, sexy voice) he would tell her that she had
to take the full ex­tent of the spank­ing she de­served for be­ing such a flirty little cock­tease. 
She had showed him her tit nipples press­ing firmly against a tight and re­veal­ing blouse, 
and now she had to pay the con­sequences.

 He would take it out fully – on her ass.

 She ima­gined the way her cunt juices would flow into the white, cot­ton panties, 
soak­ing them at the front and mak­ing the ma­ter­ial cling like a second skin not only to her 
ass globes but to the curve and the cleft of her pussy as well.

 She knew that her little, frothy girl-juices flowed abund­antly. They al­ways had. And
now that she was no longer a vir­gin, she as­sumed that the cream would ooze even more 
than usual, simply be­cause there was more room for it, and. Less of a mem­brane to block its 
re­lease.

 She, in fact, felt the juices ooz­ing from her pussy at that very mo­ment, and she 
al­most for­got to look both ways be­fore cross­ing a crowded city street.

 It was only her spe­cial sixth sense which caused her to look sud­denly to her right 
as she stepped out into the street against the traffic light.

 To her shock, a taxi cab was com­ing straight to­ward her.

 Her eyes opened wide and her jaw dropped, but she was frozen to the spot.

 Per­haps there was no time to think. She had been so deeply in­volved in her 
fantas­ies. Now sud­denly, the cab was al­most on top of her.

 Fear froze her.

 Her feet would not move.

 The cab came to a screech­ing halt just steps from her.

 An­other few inches, and it would have knocked her down, run her over, or bucked 
her beau­ti­ful body up in the air with its im­pact.

 “What the fuck’s the mat­ter with you, bitch?” the driver yelled.

 He screamed it loud enough for every­body to hear.

 If any­body who was there had not turned around to see what was mak­ing that 
ter­rible screech of rub­ber burn­ing against the pave­ment, they turned around when this 
ci­gar-chop­ping New York cab­bie star­ted yelling at her harshly.

 She was too em­bar­rassed to say any­thing to him.

 The fact that she was just a pretty girl from an­other, quieter state, only made it 
more dif­fi­cult for her. She was not used to this kind of treat­ment, even though it took place
all the time in New York, even to the pret­ti­est of girls.

 She stepped back onto the side­walk.

 After a mo­ment or two, the cab­bie stopped curs­ing her and star­ted on his way. 
As he star­ted off, she felt her­self wish a si­lent wish which wasn’t very nice.

 It was a nat­ural re­ac­tion to what had just happened, per­haps, and it seemed so 
in­stinct­ive that she didn’t even have a chance to re­gret wish­ing it.

 But then, a few mo­ments later, there was a ter­rible crash.

 The taxi cab rammed into an­other cab from be­hind.

 There was a loud noise as the im­pact was made, and then the cab which had nearly
run Su­z­anne over so shortly be­fore, ex­ploded in a cloud of black smoke.

 Some­thing had happened to the oil in the front part of the car, ap­par­ently.

 Su­z­anne gasped. She knew what she had si­lently wished.

 The po­lice were there in an in­stant, and they tried to pry the cab­bie from the 
wreck­age, but it was no use.

 Su­z­anne took a deep breath and con­tin­ued on her way.

 She was sweat­ing now, and breath­ing hard.

 She went right up to her room upon her ar­rival at the hotel.

 She was soaked with sweat, more from fright than from the quick pace of her 
walk­ing. She was re­cog­niz­ing more and more the power she pos­sessed.

 That was what frightened her.

 She wanted to be in con­trol of this power.

 She was afraid that the power was in con­trol of her.

 The tele­phone rang.

 Who could it be?

 Her par­ents were the first ones to come into her mind. The only other per­son it 
might be was Mike. But why would he be call­ing so soon?

 Still shak­ing after the in­cid­ent with the cab­bie, she picked up the phone.

 In­deed, it was Mike.

 “Hi, it’s me,” he said this time, and she knew his voice already.

 “Oh, Mike. Hello.”

 “You sure got back quickly,” he told her.

 “I’m glad I got back at all. New York’s a fast city.”

 “It sure is. Every­body here is either rush­ing about, speed­ing, or has learned to 
take a deep breath and en­joy life, for what it is,” Mike told her.

 “Oh, I’m glad you told me that,” she said.

 “I feel bet­ter already.”

 It was good to hear his voice. She didn’t tell him that, how­ever.

 “Well, I really don’t have any­thing to say to you,” he told her. “It was just that I 
wanted to thank you again for com­ing over. And I wanted to make cer­tain that you ar­rived 
home safely.”

 “Yes, I did. And thank you. I’ll talk with you again soon.”

 “Oh, yes. I def­in­itely want to see you again be­fore you leave New York. It can be 
for fun, or sex, or a spank­ing or ... “ “How about all of those?” she smiled into the re­ceiver.

 “Oh, yeah. That sounds good,” he told her.

 “Well,” she said, “so long.”

 “Bye.”

 And she hung up the phone.

 No sooner than she dropped the re­ceiver onto the cradle did she want to talk with 
Mike again. She wanted to tell him what had happened to her on her way home and she 
wanted to let him know how much he really meant to her.

 It was not that they were ser­i­ous about each other after only meet­ing, but she did
want to tell him that she liked him a lot and she felt that he would ap­pre­ci­ate know­ing the 
fact that she really didn’t do this sort of thing all that of­ten.

 Of course, her broken vir­gin­ity should have told him that much.

 She had only taken three steps away from the tele­phone when it rang once again.

 She picked it up quickly, for the sharp ring of it had startled her.

 “Hello,” she said.

 “Hi, this is Mike again.”

 “Oh,” she smiled. Had her wishes ac­tu­ally cre­ated his call­ing her? He told her 
that he had for­got­ten to ex­press in all real­ity how much he really did ap­pre­ci­ate her 
com­pany, sexual and oth­er­wise.

 “You really turned me on to some­thing which I never really would have thought of 
be­fore,” he said to her. “I have to thank you for broad­en­ing my ho­ri­zons, and that was 
really the reason I called you back. In fact, that was the reason I called you a few minutes ago 
in the first place.”

 She could hardly be­lieve her good for­tune in cre­at­ing this call. She began to 
take re­spons­ib­il­ity for such phe­nomenon. She real­ized, now, that such things had 
happened be­fore. Maybe she had thought about some­body she had not seen or heard from
in many years. The next thing she knew, that per­son ap­peared out of the blue.

 Things like that.

 She took her op­por­tun­ity to tell him the things she needed to tell him.

 She did ex­plain that she was al­most run down on the street, and that the cab­bie 
had cursed her and yelled at her.

 But she didn’t tell him about the cab­bie’s ac­ci­dent a few mo­ments later.

 He told her that he would be avail­able in case she needed some com­fort, 
al­though he as­sured her that these sorts of things happened in New York City all the time.

 Again, they thanked each other and said their good­byes.

 Su­z­anne, ex­hausted from all she’d been through, flopped down onto the bed to 
re­lax. It was very quiet in the next room, and she as­sumed that her par­ents had not 
re­turned to the hotel, which was all for the good, of course.

 She de­cided that if she went to sleep, it would serve her well.

 She was very tired, and she knew for cer­tain that she was not in the mood to take 
in any more sight­see­ing with her par­ents, or without, this night.

 It was already dark, and she knew that her par­ents would be look­ing in on her 
be­fore they went to sleep, and so she took her clothes off.

 She looked at her na­ked body in the mir­ror.

 Su­z­anne saw her­self turn­ing into a wo­man. She no­ticed the way her hips were 
filling out. No longer was she a skinny little kid.

 She was blos­som­ing into a wo­man.

 She saw the moist­ness which re­mained at the slit of her cun­tal mound.

 She rubbed her cunt meat softly, know­ing what she had ex­per­i­enced that day.

 It made her moan, and in­vited her to tweak her tawny tit nipples with her other 
hand as she mas­saged the ab­used cunt.

 But she didn’t give in to mas­turb­a­tion.

 After all the sex she had been through that af­ter­noon with Mike, she was ready for
a rest, to say the very least.

 The last part of her­self that she looked at be­fore go­ing to sleep was her 
well-roun­ded, and well-spanked bot­tom.

 She moved her hands gently over the flesh.

 She could feel raised sur­faces which had wel­ted up.

 She knew from past ex­per­i­ences that it would take three days, at least,. for these 
to heal to the point of dis­ap­pear­ance.

 It was strange to her that even now, just look­ing at the reddened ass cheeks made 
her pussy tingle deep in­side. She could ac­tu­ally feel her clitty without even touch­ing it. It 
seemed to glow in­side of her when she caressed her na­ked bot­tom.

 After a short while, she slipped into her night gown, a soft, cot­ton nightie which 
tied into a bow at the high neck, and came down to her ankles with a ruffled hem at the 
bot­tom. It was pale, baby blue, with a deep blue sash.

 She fastened the sash tightly around her waist – tight enough, in fact, to se­cure her
waist at a trim nine­teen inches.

 Her vo­lup­tu­ously in­vit­ing ass mounds swelled out from there.

 Su­z­anne turned out the light by the side of her bed, but left the dimly lit 
emer­gency light, or night light, burn­ing, so that when her par­ents re­turned to look in on 
her, they would eas­ily see her there in her bed, sound asleep, and they would rest easy, 
know­ing that she had re­turned to the hotel without in­cid­ent in this big city.

 Without in­cid­ent, in­deed!

 It was only a short time later that the door di­vid­ing the room of her par­ents’ and 
her own room, was opened. A crack of light filtered through.

 The shaft of light re­flec­ted on Su­z­anne’s face.

 She had fallen right to sleep, but now she was wakened by the shaft of light.

 She opened her eyes and saw her mother stand­ing there.

 “Where were you?” her mother rasped.

 “W-w-what do you mean? What are you talk­ing about?” Su­z­anne stammered as 
she wiped the sleep from her heav­ily-lid­ded eyes.

 “You know what I mean,” her mother seethed omin­ously. “I came back to the hotel 
a few hours ago to fetch you. You were gone. I called the room sev­eral times in the nervous 
panic which en­sued. You weren’t here. Then I couldn’t find your father either. He had 
van­ished.”

 “Well, I’m sorry, I was out for a walk,” Su­z­anne said in ex­plan­a­tion.

 “Liar!” her mother bel­lowed ir­ra­tion­ally.

 Su­z­anne was stunned. Her mother had never be­haved like this – ex­cept, of 
course, in one of her night­mar­ish dreams!

 “You frus­trated old bitch,” Su­z­anne yelled, al­most un­able to help her­self.

 It was al­most as if she had yelled these words be­fore, some other time, some other
place, in some sort of sim­ilar cir­cum­stance.

 A dream, per­haps?

 “You’re just pissed off be­cause you lost Daddy when you came look­ing for me. 
Don’t blame your mar­ital mix-up on me! I’m not re­spons­ible if Daddy was off spank­ing the
pants off of some little New York chip­pie in­stead of spank­ing you!”

 “So, you know about the spank­ings!” her mother de­clared.

 “Of course I do. I’d have to be deaf, dumb and blind not to know. But I’ve got­ten 
plenty of spank­ings from Daddy, too, and I’ve dis­covered the secret mean­ing of them. It’s 
sex!”

 “You brazen little hussy,” her mother said, lunging at Su­z­anne and pulling her from
the bed.

 Su­z­anne was stand­ing by the win­dow now, and her mother swung at her.

 Su­z­anne ducked, and her mother missed.

 It was then that the front door to this hotel room opened, and stand­ing in the 
door­way was Daddy.

 He watched as his wife lunged again at his daugh­ter.

 Su­z­anne ducked.

 Her mother leaped for­ward, fly­ing through the opened win­dow be­hind 
Su­z­anne.

 “Oh, my God!” Su­z­anne screamed.

 It was one of her hor­rible dreams, now a real­ity.

 She knew it, and her Daddy knew it.

 Was she re­spons­ible for cre­at­ing this?

 If she was, she knew she would get a good, hard beat­ing.

 Even if she wasn’t, she knew that Daddy would spank the shit out of her, any­way.





CHAPTER SEVEN


Su­z­anne found her­self stretched over a straight-backed chair.

 Her wrists had been tied to the two legs which were now on the right-hand side of 
the chair. Her ankles were fastened to the two legs at the left-hand side of the chair, and a 
length of cord had been used to do it.

 Her panties had been pulled down to her ankles, bar­ing her be­hind which stuck 
up in the air and trembled slightly as the gaze of her father stared down on it.

 Her spank­ings had pro­gressed in sever­ity.

 They had star­ted out to be hand-spank­ings.

 Later, they were spank­ings with the hand, fol­lowed by spank­ings with the belt, or,
to be more ex­act, with belts of vari­ous lengths, widths and weights.

 Some­times they were leather belts, and of­ten they’d be doubled over so that they 
really hurt. Then there had been the hair­brush spank­ings, mostly with the smooth side of the
brush, but some­times with the smooth side, fol­lowed by a dose of those hard bristles.

 This time, how­ever, was the most severe of all.

 Daddy had watched the con­front­a­tion between Su­z­anne and her mother.

 He had ar­rived on the scene to hear them scream­ing, even through the closed 
door of the hotel room. He had clearly heard Su­z­anne taunt her mother about the re­la­tion
between spank­ings and sex. He had not really heard what pre­ceded that, when Su­z­anne’s 
mother had star­ted in on her.

 He had opened the door to see his wife vir­tu­ally fly through the opened win­dow. 
He re­called the night­mare which Su­z­anne had re­lated to him some time be­fore and he 
knew that in ef­fect, this was a re-en­act­ment of what she had de­scribed.

 Tak­ing these facts and ob­ser­va­tions into ac­count, he nat­ur­ally held Su­z­anne 
re­spons­ible, in part, at least, for his wife’s ac­ci­dent.

 Luck­ily, their hotel rooms had been on the second floor, and so Su­z­anne’s 
mother had not been killed. She was, how­ever, in­jured, be­cause she had not landed 
grace­fully.

 Sal­vatore rushed her to the nearest hos­pital. It was their good for­tune that a 
room was avail­able, and they de­cided that the best thing would be for her to take it and to 
be ex­amined by a qual­i­fied doc­tor.

 This meant stay­ing in the hos­pital for two or three days, at least.

 “Some way to spend a va­ca­tion,” she moaned.

 “Yes, but we have to see to it that you get the best of care,” Sal­vatore told her. 
“We’ll cel­eb­rate when you’re feel­ing bet­ter,” he ad­ded.

 “I hope they don’t no­tice that I’m more bruised on my bot­tom than any­where 
else,” she said, rub­bing her­self there.

 “Did you fall flat on your ass?” Sal­vatore asked, un­able to hold back a grin. It was 
rather amus­ing for him, a de­voted ass man as he was.

 “No, silly,” she replied. “I’m sore there from the spank­ings you’ve given me. In fact, 
it won’t make sense to the doc­tors if they find my new bruises and then find the ones on my 
ass, too. It will con­fuse them.”

 “They’ll prob­ably think I was the one who threw you through the win­dow,” 
Sal­vatore said laugh­ing, al­though it was very pos­sible that such an as­sump­tion would 
in­deed be made.

 “Well, I guess I can live with it. I also guess that they’ve seen battered asses be­fore. 
After all, this is New York. I’m sure it hap­pens all the time.”

 Sal­vatore didn’t know how of­ten it happened, but his hands were just itch­ing to 
smack ass. Spe­cific­ally, his hands were itch­ing to get at the naughty ass of his young 
daugh­ter. He thought that she had prac­tic­ally got­ten away with murder.

 He in­ten­ded to take care of her, but good.

 And so, he ap­proached the sub­ject with his wife, while Su­z­anne re­mained back 
at the hotel room. Sal­vatore had wanted to tie Su­z­anne to the bed, just to as­sure that she 
would re­main there as well as to give her some time to think about what was com­ing to her.

 But of course, there had been no time for that. They had rushed to the hos­pital.

 “What ex­actly happened between you and Su­z­anne,” he said.

 Even though Sal­vatore had waited un­til he thought the mo­ment was right to 
bring up this sub­ject, it took his wife by sur­prise.

 “Well, I can’t really say,” she ex­plained in all earn­est­ness. “I can’t even re­mem­ber
it now. It’s as if I’ve blocked it out. All I re­mem­ber is that I couldn’t help my­self. Whatever I 
said to her came al­most auto­mat­ic­ally, and one thing just led to an­other, and it all 
happened so fast.”

 “I know that she pro­voked you,” Sal­vatore told his wife.

 “Well, she is a pro­voc­at­ive little girl. And she’s grow­ing up.”

 “Yes, I know, and that’s why she needs stricter dis­cip­line now than she’s ever 
needed be­fore. She needs a heav­ier hand. She needs, in fact, more than a hand. She needs a
real good lick­ing and I in­tend to give it to her.”

 “Don’t be too hard on her, dear. Re­mem­ber, she’s still a del­ic­ate girl.”

 “Don’t worry,” Sal­vatore said, rolling up his sleeves to ex­pose his hairy, muscled 
fore­arms. “I’ll be able to know just how much to give her.” His wife knew that the girl would 
not be let off eas­ily.

 She would feel the full brunt of the spank­ing, that much was cer­tain.

 He kissed his wife on the lips, for­cing his tongue down her throat. He had a stiff 
boner, and he sug­ges­ted that since no nurses had been around, he fuck her there in the 
hos­pital bed.

 “Sal­vatore, no,” she said, push­ing him away. “I swear, you’re ab­so­lutely ter­rible 
at times. I don’t know what to do with you.”

 “Take my stiff dick down your pussy hole,” he rasped, strok­ing the bul­ging boner 
through his pants. “It’ll be ex­cit­ing to do it here in the hos­pital room.”

 “Sal­vatore,” she said, still push­ing him away. “Wasn’t it ex­cit­ing enough to do it 
in the hotel room? I mean, really, enough is enough.”

 “No, enough is never enough if I have my way,” he said, climb­ing into the bed 
any­way.

 “Stop it,” his wife said, as Sal­vatore forced his hand un­der her body, feel­ing her 
ass globes. Then he moved his fin­gers to her pussy and mas­saged the cun­tal flesh even 
though she held her legs to­gether and tried to keep him out.

 But she couldn’t stop him from feel­ing her up, or from with­draw­ing a hand 
covered with drip­ping cunt cream.

 He placed it to his nos­trils, and then he licked it off.

 “You can be so damn crude,” she com­plained. “Get out of this bed be­fore I call the
nurse. Then you’ll really be in trouble, even if you are my hus­band.”

 Aroused as he was by her pussy, and her breasts, and her ass, and her po­s­i­tion in 
the hos­pital bed, and by her drip­ping snatch juice which was all over his fin­gers, and by the 
sen­sa­tions in his own big rod which was pulsat­ing like crazy and mak­ing his balls tingle, he
just had to have her.

 Be­sides, his ire was up. He thought that she was be­ing un­ruly, and an un­ruly 
wo­man, be it his wife or his daugh­ter, was some­thing he couldn’t abide.

 “You’re askin’ for a lick­ing with my belt, wo­man,” he de­clared.

 His eye­brows were arched and his nos­trils were flar­ing like a bull’s.

 She knew that he might get car­ried away and de­mand that she as­sume the 
po­s­i­tion and take an­other flog­ging, right there in the private room.

 It was then that the nurse opened the door.

 “Oh, ex­cuse me,” she said, real­iz­ing that she had caught the two in a 
com­prom­ising po­s­i­tion. She real­ized that they were hus­band and wife, and yet, she also 
real­ized that Sal­vatore had no busi­ness be­ing in the bed of his in­jured wife, es­pe­cially 
with his street shoes still on his feet, rub­bing against the clean sheets.

 But her po­lite en­trance was enough. She didn’t have to say more.

 Shamed, a bit, by the au­thor­ity she rep­res­en­ted, Sal­vatore felt like a boy who’s 
been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

 Ac­tu­ally, he was caught with his hand in the honey pot.

 The honey pot of his wife’s tender pussy! He got up out of her bed, al­though his 
prick was still bust­ing at the front of his pants. The nurse had the de­cency and good sense 
not to look between his legs al­though she was no fool and knew what she might find there 
un­der the cir­cum­stances.

 Be­sides, she was a les­bian, and had little in­terest in cock.

 She saw enough of them in her rounds of the hos­pital rooms.

 As for Sal­vatore, he real­ized that it was time to make his de­par­ture.

 “Vis­it­ing hours were over a long time ago,” the nurse ad­ded. “You were 
per­mit­ted to stay here since your wife was a new ar­rival, but now ... “

 “Now you must ask me to leave,” Sal­vatore said, filling in the words.

 “Yes, I’m afraid that’s cor­rect. I must ad­min­is­ter an en­ema to her now,” the 
nurse ad­ded, and both of them looked down at the rub­ber en­ema bag in her hand.

 “Well, I’ll be go­ing then,” Sal­vatore said, back­ing off.

 Nat­ur­ally, he was frus­trated. He had wanted to fuck his wife there in her hos­pital 
bed. It had been a long­time fantasy of his.

 But she wouldn’t co­oper­ate.

 Well, it must have all been for the best, he thought. He had to get home to 
ad­min­is­ter some well-de­served dis­cip­line to the bot­tom of his very naughty daugh­ter.

 His cock was still half hard when he thought about Su­z­anne.

 It was her ass that came into the pic­tures in his mind.

 “I’ll take care of you an­other time, real soon,” Sal­vatore prom­ised his wife. “For 
now, I’ll leave you in good hands,” he ad­ded, bow­ing slightly to the nurse.

 It was rare for this macho man to make such a ges­ture to a wo­man, but the 
nurse’s statuesque fig­ure and self-as­sured man­ner al­most in­vited that.

 Nurse Vanessa Steven­son was a les­bian, but she did not fit the old fash­ioned 
ste­reo­types of what a les­bian would look like. She was a new les­bian – a wo­man who was 
cer­tainly at­tract­ive enough to have any man she wanted, and yet, she chose to limit her 
sexual af­fairs to those with other wo­men.

 Her reas­ons for this were many and var­ied, and cer­tainly they did not have 
any­thing to do with an in­ab­il­ity to func­tion sexu­ally with men.

 Now twenty-seven, in her teen years she had re­ceived many sexual in­vit­a­tions 
from both boys and from men. She had, in fact, taken a few of them up on these in­vites.

 While she was able to en­joy the feel­ing of man’s shaven stubble rub­bing against 
her soft pussy lips, and was able to or­gasm when a male tongue ex­plored her clit and her 
in­ner cunt meat, and was able to writhe quite nat­ur­ally when a man bit on her nipples, and 
was able to re­spond with throb­bing lust when a man fucked her, she still al­ways felt that 
some­thing was miss­ing from these ex­per­i­ences.

 She dis­covered her real needs in nurs­ing school, of all places.

 She stud­ied in New Jer­sey, and since she did not live there, she took up 
res­id­ence in the wo­men’s dorm­it­ory of the school.

 Her room­mate was an at­tract­ive girl also, and in fact, the two were al­most 
mir­ror im­ages of each other. Brenda was, per­haps, a bit stouter, al­though it cer­tainly 
looked good on her with her sweet breasts and roun­ded thighs.

 Vanessa was the more vo­lup­tu­ous one of the two, how­ever, with her long, 
shapely legs and size forty knock­ers. She held her­self like a prin­cess, al­ways walk­ing with 
her head held high. She used to prac­tice walk­ing hold­ing books bal­anced on her head. 
She had once wanted to be a fash­ion model, but her blos­som­ing bosom made her an 
un­likely can­did­ate. Not that she wasn’t beau­ti­ful enough for it, but she was a bit bustier 
than the tra­di­tion­ally flat-ches­ted beau­ties who filled such roles.

 Any­way, she and Brenda were hav­ing a dis­cus­sion about men late one night in 
the dorm room. Both of them had re­turned from dates with young doc­tors.

 Neither of them had ex­per­i­enced a very good time of it.

 “We were sit­ting there in his apart­ment,” Brenda began, telling of her date, “and 
he said that he wanted to take my pulse. He opened his eyes real wide as if he didn’t feel 
any­thing pulsing there at all. Well, nat­ur­ally this alarmed me. I figured that he was a very 
mild mannered guy but this bed­side man­ner be­lied it.”

 Vanessa, un­dress­ing for bed, told Brenda that she was listen­ing, even though she 
was in the pro­cess of un­snap­ping her bra and al­low­ing her big breast mounds to fall free 
of their silk and lace con­fine­ment.

 Brenda con­tin­ued.

 “He said that he would have to listen for my heart­beat, which by this time was 
ra­cing so fast, I could feel it against my bosom,” Brenda said. “I knew that if I could feel it 
beat­ing, he would surely hear it.

 “He placed his ear against my chest. He said he would have to open my blouse. 
Nat­ur­ally, I didn’t think any­thing of that. He’s a doc­tor. He looks at na­ked wo­men dozens
of times a day. They may not all be as built as I am, but still, you ex­pect some pro­fes­sional 
treat­ment from a doc­tor, don’t you?”

 “Sure you do,” Vanessa said, sit­ting be­side Brenda now on the same bed as she 
did her nightly breast mas­sage. Each night, she stroked her large bos­oms in a cir­cu­lar, 
up­ward move­ment. She firmly be­lieved that this would keep her heavy chest from sag­ging,
and she ex­pec­ted to have up­turned globes for many years.

 “Well, the next thing I know, he had his ear on one of my nipples. Yes, it was 
ac­tu­ally in his ear. My nipple was in­side his ear! He moved his head around in such a way 
that it felt as if he was fuck­ing my nipple with the in­side of his ear. I know it sounds 
per­ver­ted, but that’s what I was think­ing, and it frightened me.

 “With his tongue, he star­ted lick­ing my other nipple and suck­ing it into his 
mouth.”

 “That bas­tard! Boy, what nerve,” Vanessa said, strok­ing Brenda’s honey blonde hair
to com­fort her.

 “That’s ex­actly what he was. A bas­tard. He was just hot for sex and he thought 
he’d use his clever bed­side man­ner to lure me to him.”

 They agreed that he had quite a nerve, and Vanessa’s story of her date that night 
was equally as shock­ing in its own way.

 She told it.

 “I went to this party given by sev­eral of the new in­terns at the hos­pital. It was 
quite a bash. They had li­quor bottles hanging from the ceil­ing with tubes run­ning from 
them as if they were spe­ci­men bottles of some kind.

 “My date was very hand­some, but he got drunk very quickly. He had beer on his 
breath even be­fore he picked me up for the even­ing, and after we’d been at the party for 
about an hour or so, he’d con­sumed at least four straight drinks.

 “He was drunk as a skunk.”

 “No kid­ding,” Brenda said, tak­ing her turn to un­dress now.

 Vanessa was back to mas­sa­ging her breasts now, as she did every night, as she sat 
on the bed with Brenda wear­ing only a brief pair of black panties.

 Her long, bright red hair hung down her back.

 Brenda bared her pussy and listened as Vanessa con­tin­ued.

 “He got real af­fec­tion­ate when he was drunk, though, and I found that rather 
amus­ing and charm­ing, in a way. It wasn’t that I really liked this guy. I had just met him at 
the train­ing hos­pital the week be­fore, and aside from one very straight lunch to­gether, this
was our first date.”

 “But I al­ways think that an af­fec­tion­ate drunk is a lot nicer than a rowdy one, 
don’t you, honey?”

 If Brenda was taken aback by her room­mate’s af­fec­tion­ate use of the word 
“honey,” she showed no sign of it. They had both been through the mill, so to speak, on their 
dates of that even­ing, and now they were bar­ing their souls to each other, as well as bar­ing 
a num­ber of other things.

 It was only nat­ural the two at­tract­ive girls would be­come close.

 Vanessa con­tin­ued.

 “Any­way, he was hug­ging me around and kiss­ing my neck, and then he said that 
he had to go to the bath­room and that he wanted me to come with him.”

 “He ac­tu­ally wanted me to join him in­side the bath­room. Well, I figured, why 
not? What have I got to lose? Ap­par­ently, it met some­thing to him, and prac­tic­ally 
noth­ing to me.”

 “He un­zipped him­self and pulled out his cock. It was big, and he stroked the thick 
fore­skin, pulling it back to re­veal the red­dish, wet dick un­der­neath. He took my hand and 
placed it on his prick. ‘Hold my cock while I take a piss,’ he told me. You’d think he’d be 
ad­jus­ted to the hu­man body, I mean him be­ing a doc­tor and all. But really it’s quite the 
con­trary, he was fas­cin­ated with his own ur­ine!”

 “Fur­ther­more, he got his kicks out of this scene. He laughed and called it wa­ter 
sports as he dir­ec­ted his stream from the bowl to my feet!”

 “I really got angry then. And so then I told him that I didn’t en­joy get­ting my feet 
soaked with his hot ur­ine, he told me that he would gladly get down on his hands and knees 
and lick off every drop of his own stuff and swal­low it!”

 “Need­less to say, I got out of there real fast, but not un­til I had wiped my wet feet 
dry on his trousers. He was apo­lo­giz­ing to me as soon as he got out of the bath­room, but 
I was ready to get my coat and go home alone. And that’s ex­actly what I did.”

 “I don’t blame you,” Brenda said, draw­ing Vanessa close to her. “You went through 
hell to­night. Poor baby,” she ad­ded, strok­ing Vanessa’s long, red hair.

 They held each other like that for a while, and then they felt each other’s nipples.

 Brenda’s mouth was down on Vanessa’s soft, warm, long and smooth neck.

 It was only a minute later that she was kiss­ing it gently, with a series of wet little 
kisses.

 “Oh that feels so good,” she moaned. “Do it more. Do it all over me.” Vanessa was 
on her back. Her large, na­ked breasts were ex­posed like ripe mel­ons.

 Then she covered each round globe with hun­dreds of wet kisses.

 She didn’t miss a spot, in­clud­ing the nipples and the circles around them.

 She rubbed her own pussy against Vanessa’s pussy as she straddled her on the bed 
and made love to her room­mate’s beau­ti­ful breasts with her hands and with her mouth.

 That was how it happened. It seemed per­fectly nat­ural for them.

 After Vanessa had writhed be­low the moisten­ing slit of her girl­friend, she star­ted
to try the more ag­gress­ive role. She turned Brenda over, and star­ted to kiss her. But 
in­stead of work­ing on the girl’s breasts, she moved down between them, kiss­ing the 
cleav­age, and then moved down fur­ther, kiss­ing the smooth belly, and then found the belly
but­ton, and then found the pussy.

 She knew how it felt to have a mouth down there, since she had been sucked and 
eaten by many men. But she knew how to do it to an­other wo­man so much bet­ter than the 
men had done it to her. Why? Be­cause she had the same phys­ical equip­ment down there. 
She knew how it felt to have a tongue muscle swirl­ing around her clit.

 And so she worked Brenda into a frenzy, build­ing her up each time with her sweet 
tongue. Work­ing in and out and around like a little prick.

 When she had Brenda prac­tic­ally climb­ing the walls, she would stop.

 She would al­low the girl to com­pose her­self a bit, and then she would start again.

 When she felt Brenda’s legs wrapped tightly around her body, when she felt 
Brenda’s fin­ger­nails dig­ging into her back, she knew that she had her go­ing.

 But most of all, she could tell by the way the girl’s little snatch closed upon her 
tongue when she was ap­proach­ing cli­max. After all, Vanessa’s own pussy had done that 
many times, on her own fin­gers, and on men’s pricks.

 So it was only nat­ural for her to un­der­stand what it meant when the walls of a 
hot, tight, juicy pussy closed and snapped around her own tongue.

 She had brought Brenda to near cli­max six or seven times. This time, it would have 
been cruel to hold out any longer. She star­ted to thrust her tongue in and out so fast that it 
be­came a blur. She was work­ing with a frenzy to bring Brenda to or­gasm.

 She felt the quivers deep in­side the con­vulsing pussy.

 She felt them with her tongue.

 That was when Brenda star­ted to scream, for­cing Vanessa’s face deep into her 
cun­tal pud­ding as it gushed gobs of sweet nec­tar into her suck­ing mouth.

 After that night, their les­bian en­coun­ters con­tin­ued through to gradu­ation.

 They par­ted tear­fully upon gradu­ation, with Brenda go­ing off to her 
ho­met­own of At­lanta, Geor­gia to prac­tice her pro­fes­sion. She had been a real sweet 
Geor­gia peach. And a juicy one, too.

 Strangely enough, Vanessa, who star­ted work­ing in New York, re­ceived a let­ter 
from Brenda some months later. Brenda was mar­ry­ing a male doc­tor.

 It was some­thing of a jolt to Vanessa, who had be­lieved that Brenda had real­ized 
her full po­ten­tial as a les­bian. But one can never be cer­tain of such things. Sexu­al­ity is 
ever-chan­ging.

 And now, here was Nurse Vanessa Steven­son with an en­ema bag in her hand.

 And was Mrs. Sal­vatore Amo­relli, be­ing told to raise her na­ked bot­tom for the 
long, rub­ber hose which Vanessa was greas­ing with Vas­el­ine.

 And back at the hotel, the horny Sal­vatore had just entered the room where his 
naughty daugh­ter was wait­ing. An­grily, he grabbed her and tied her to the chair, 
ex­pos­ing her ass for his pun­ish­ment straps.

 It was to be a more severe spank­ing than usual, for he was sure she de­served it, 
what with the way she had be­haved to­ward her mother.

 But the tele­phone was ringing, and Sal­vatore wondered who might be call­ing 
Su­z­anne’s room at this time of night. He looked at the girl, bound to the chair, with her 
na­ked buns high in the air, await­ing a spank­ing.

 She was help­less and vul­ner­able now, and even the spe­cial powers which she 
was cer­tain she pos­sessed would not help her now.

 As hard as she con­cen­trated, there was no get­ting over the fact that she knew 
who was call­ing though. It could only be Mike, the New York boy who had spanked her and 
fucked her. She tried to close her drip­ping, newly screwed and deviri­gin­ized pussy, but the 
way her father had tied her legs to the chair made that im­possible.

 Her cunny was quiv­er­ing.

 “Say hello,” Sal­vatore said as he picked up the tele­phone.

 Weakly, Su­z­anne uttered a faint hello into the mouth­piece.

 Then Sal­vatore took the phone back and placed it to his ear.

 Sure enough, it was Mike, and he was horny.

 “Hi, baby. It’s me. I was think­ing of that sweet little pussy I fucked today, and I just 
had to call you and jerk off over the phone. Talk to me about the way you like your hot little 
buns spanked be­fore you get fucked and I’ll drop a big load of cum.”

 Su­z­anne’s Daddy slammed down the phone.

 He reached between the legs of his bound daugh­ter.

 The cunt was drip­ping as he forced his fin­gers slowly into the hole. He was 
fin­ger­ing her cunt, anxious to feel that tightly stretched mem­brane which defined her 
vir­gin­ity.

 There would be hell to pay if it were miss­ing.

 And it was miss­ing.





CHAPTER EIGHT


“No, Daddy, no,” Su­z­anne pleaded.

 But her father would have none of her beg­ging.

 She had earned the dis­cip­lin­ing of her life, and he was cer­tain that he would be 
re­miss if he did not de­liver every bit of it to her.

 The fact that she had lost her vir­gin­ity on this trip to New York in­furi­ated him 
bey­ond be­lief. He was com­pletely ir­ra­tional now. This dis­cov­ery, and the man­ner in 
which it had been dis­covered, made him a mad­man of dis­cip­line.

 “You cunty bitch,” he cursed at his little girl. “You fuck­ing slut. You whore. You’re a 
fuck­ing whore, aren’t you. An­swer me, bitch!” he snarled, slap­ping her globes so hard that 
the sound bounced off the walls.

 “No, Daddy, no,” she cried.

 Already, the tears were stream­ing down her face.

 It was a good thing for Sal­vatore, al­though prob­ably not so good for Su­z­anne, 
that the room was at the very end of the hall­way. On one side of it was the empty room 
which was taken by Sal­vatore and his wife. On the other side was the brick wall of the 
out­side of the hotel build­ing.

 There­fore, the sounds of the slaps, which echoed down the hall­way, none the less, 
were muffled at least, in terms of be­ing over­heard dir­ectly through a wall.

 Not that Sal­vatore was think­ing of such con­sid­er­a­tions now.

 No, he was spank­ing away with a fe­ver­ish venom, anxious to pun­ish Su­z­anne 
un­til she was a very sorry girl.

 This time his pun­ish­ment of her was not con­fined to spank­ing her with the hand,
the belt, or with the ropes which he used like a whip on her.

 They were the same ropes which he had used to tie her to the chair, and they really 
de­livered a sting when slapped hard enough across her na­ked, up­turned bot­tom.

 She could not get away, no mat­ter how much she squirmed.

 He slapped her again and again, with all of his might.

 Her ass was bright red. In fact, the white cheeks had never be­come so red be­fore. 
They were glow­ing, lit­er­ally glow­ing with heat.

 When her Daddy placed his sweaty palms on the globes, steam seemed to rise from 
the soft flesh.

 But then he did some­thing which he had never done be­fore.

 He moved around to his daugh­ter’s head. He un­zipped his prick.

 She reeled, for a mo­ment, startled by this ac­tion, and startled, as well by the scent 
of musty male­ness which rose from his crotch.

 “You’ll learn to be­have for your Daddy,” he warned her. “You’ll learn not to run 
around in New York like a bitch in heat. You’ll learn with your Daddy’s big dick down your 
fuck­ing whore throat. Suck it, cunt. And if you bite, I’ll slap your fuck­ing head off.”

 This was dis­cip­line gone too far!

 Su­z­anne knew that she de­served a pun­ish­ment, and there­fore she could only 
cry about be­ing fastened to this chair, and about re­ceiv­ing the spank­ing, the 
belt-whip­ping, and the flog­ging with ropes.

 But this was some­thing very dif­fer­ent.

 This was the pun­ish­ment of in­cest!

 She knew that it must be very, very wrong.

 But he gave her no choice.

 She felt the hot head of his bulbous dick press­ing against her lips.

 Su­z­anne kept her lips tightly clenched so that the dick could not enter her.

 But her father gave her na­ked ass cheeks a vol­ley of very hard slaps. All he had to 
do was bend for­ward while his boner was at her lips, and he could spank her already blaz­ing
and ab­used ass globes un­til she was forced to cry out.

 She kept her lips clenched for as long as she could. When she couldn’t stand it any 
longer, when her tears were flow­ing like rain, she had to open up her mouth and let out a cry.

 Nat­ur­ally, or un­nat­ur­ally, ac­cord­ing to one’s view of such things, that was 
when her Daddy rammed his big, fat, fuck pole into her tender young mouth!

 “Whore!” he con­tin­ued to yell at her as he fucked her face.

 She wanted to tell him that she was sorry, but her mouth was stuffed.

 She wanted to tell him that she would not let it hap­pen again, but then, a girl can 
only lose her vir­gin­ity once. That much had already taken place.

 She felt her father’s balls slap­ping against her face.

 He felt his daugh­ter’s throat as it swal­lowed up his dick flesh.

 “I should fuck a baby into you, you whore. You should be made to have your father’s
child,” he told her, say­ing any­thing to em­bar­rass her.

 This was a dis­cip­line ses­sion she would never for­get.

 He spanked her so hard, his hand star­ted to ache.

 If he had stopped spank­ing her when his arm got tired, he or­din­ar­ily would have
stopped him­self long be­fore this. But some­thing was egging him on.

 He couldn’t even tell what it was that was mak­ing him think with every spank, that 
he needed to give her an­other one.

 He needed to spank her just one more time.

 Just one more time.

 He would look down on those ass globes stretched out for his pleas­ure. He had 
tied her so tightly this time that her ass it­self wasn’t per­mit­ted to move at all. Not barely a 
muscle.

 The flesh, as supple as it was, be­came stretched with the roun­ded shape of the 
bot­tom held firmly in one po­s­i­tion. This caused the or­din­ar­ily flaw­less white cheeks to 
be­come like smooth, white stones. Like marble, really, be­cause not only were the globes 
trans­lu­cent, shin­ing there in all their glory, but they were like ala­baster.

 The cheeks were white, but lightly traced with just the most barely per­ceiv­able 
lines which were the veins of her youth­ful body.

 That is, un­til she star­ted work­ing on her.

 After the first stroke which set his hand on fire, her ass was cer­tainly on fire, too. He
told her that her first stroke would be a very spe­cial one.

 “I’m go­ing to pack the strength of ten strokes into this one,” he told her be­fore he 
began. His voice was deep, and there was just a trace of a quiver to it. Nobody else upon 
hear­ing it bel­low would have no­ticed that quiver, but to Su­z­anne’s per­cept­ive ears, it 
meant that her father was in a very rare state of mind at the mo­ment.

 He was in com­plete con­trol of him­self and of his emo­tions, but he was ready to 
give way at any mo­ment arid flail.

 His even tem­per was a sign of his tre­mend­ous be­lief in re­straint.

 Why, he was spank­ing Su­z­anne be­cause he wanted her to re­strain her­self.

 If she met some­body who was nice, who was sweet and hand­some, who liked her 
and treated her well, and who ful­filled her sexual fantas­ies, then Daddy would in­sist that 
she re­strain her­self from giv­ing in.

 Maybe it was be­cause this made no par­tic­u­lar sense to Su­z­anne, she had to, 
for the very first time in her life, go against her father’s wishes.

 Know­ing the tre­mend­ous im­port­ance her father placed upon re­straint and 
dis­cip­lin­ing pun­ish­ment, she had never come out and really done some­thing ter­ribly 
wrong. The reason was simple. Her father wouldn’t al­low it.

 That is, he would al­low it, but he would pun­ish her to the de­gree that he deemed 
equal to what she should take. His as­sess­ments were al­ways a bit on the severe side, for he 
was of the per­sonal be­lief that when in doubt, al­ways be more strict, more severe. If the ass 
is so red that it looks as if the next stroke may break the skin and cause a sliver-thin cut from 
the switch or the twig, then give it that one more stroke.

 Go the limit.

 That was his be­lief, and that was why he would al­ways give it that ex­tra crack with
a twist in it. That was why he would pun­ish her with fif­teen strokes when she might have 
been pun­ished enough with twelve.

 That was why he would rather give a full count of six­teen, rather than cut it short at
four­teen when the ac­count to be settled from her weekly dis­cip­line book was fif­teen.

 But that may have been ex­actly why he caused Su­z­anne to break away from her 
good be­ha­vior. She knew that he would al­ways pun­ish her, and so she never went so far as
to mis­be­have to the ex­tent of really get­ting ter­ribly pun­ished.

 She knew her father, in his be­lief that she would be bet­ter for it, would stick her 
into a tub of boil­ing hot wa­ter and force her na­ked pussy down into it.

 But Su­z­anne, as she took her beat­ing this time, be­lieved it was sick. As she took 
the spank­ing un­der re­straint, (for she was re­strained in the chair,) she star­ted to think. A 
thought vir­tu­ally burned and beamed in her mind, and this helped her for­get about the 
pain for a while.

 It was amaz­ing. This thought was so power­ful, it was mak­ing her for­get about 
the pain. She could hardly un­der­stand it. Was she so numb already that she didn’t feel it?

 She smiled.

 As she smiled, she felt the tears drip down her face and dry to her cheeks.

 The smile also made her feel good in­side. It made her feel lighter, and she took a 
deep breath. The spank­ing hand of her father con­tin­ued, but she didn’t even feel it. She 
was con­sumed now with her dis­cov­ery. Noth­ing else mattered.

 She was be­ing pun­ished too much. What had she done so wrong? She was glad 
that she wasn’t a vir­gin any longer. She felt free to fuck!

 And fuck­ing felt good.

 Even now, as she looked calmly at Daddy who con­tin­ued to spank her with his 
hand for the first one which was to have the weight of ten, she watched the way his bone of a 
penis pressed heav­ily against his loose trousers with every lunge of his pun­ish­ing body.

 The first stroke was ac­tu­ally ten strokes. They came hard and fast, and when ten 
had been given in very quick suc­ces­sion, like the rapid fire of a ma­chine gun, he stopped. 
That ten-count was equal one. Each of ten strokes would pack that kind of ten-fold wal­lop. It 
was like tak­ing one penny and mak­ing it ten pen­nies.

 It was like tak­ing a thou­sand dol­lars and mak­ing it ten-thou­sand.

 But to her it felt like a mil­lion dol­lars be­ing spanked onto her ass a mil­lion times. 
That is, un­til she star­ted to make those real­iz­a­tions.

 Un­til she saw her­self as the one with power! Why, she al­ways had that power! It 
was just that she didn’t real­ize it.

 When Daddy spanked her for do­ing some­thing wrong, it was be­cause she had 
only gone that far, and no farther. She was in con­trol of that

 She real­ized that she was in even con­trol when she wrote the pun­ish­ments down
in her book – the ones she felt that she de­served.

 She didn’t really have to re­port every de­tail of how bad she had been.

 But she al­ways be­lieved she was writ­ing them down be­cause she didn’t want to 
lie to her father. She would never dare lie to her father. It would be wrong.

 Those were the things she thought, but now she knew that it had all been bull­shit.

 She wanted those spank­ings!

 She made sure she was just bad enough each week to earn as much as she wanted.

 She knew her father and she knew how much he would give her for each and every 
of­fense. She had al­ways seen to it that he gave her as much as she chose, as much as she 
de­sired to sat­isfy some very hard-to-sat­isfy lust.

 And then, of course, she’d let him go that ex­tra step farther.

 Maybe it was a trait, a man­ner of habit, which she had picked up from him.

 She al­ways al­lowed him to take her just that one ex­tra step. Just that one step 
which would turn mere dis­com­fort into pain, mere pain into tor­ment. Spank me, Daddy! 
Spank me, Daddy, Good­night!

 That was what she had cre­ated for her­self. All week long she waited for 
pun­ish­ment day. She waited for that spe­cial part of Sunday.

 She felt freer after a Sunday’s spank­ing than she felt after a Sunday’s mass.

 She felt really cleansed.

 But this time he was spank­ing too hard!!! This time she had gone farther than she’d
really ex­pec­ted. Some­how, when she saw the legs of her muscled, young gym­nast, spread 
slowly apart over his head to form a pair of wings, she wanted to stuff her face into the 
cen­ter.

 But she didn’t really reckon on him want­ing to spread her legs.

 Now she was a new girl, how­ever. She had done the very thing she had al­ways 
feared most. She could hardly think of any­thing he would pun­ish her more for than los­ing 
her cherry to a stranger in New York. Ex­cept, maybe, throw­ing her mother out the win­dow.

 This girl really had it tough.

 But she felt a power tingle in her cunny lips as he set her ass on fire with 
hand­strokes which left the feel­ing of a thou­sand needles tingling on her ass cheeks.

 She real­ized how power­ful she had been all these years.

 She had got­ten her father to give her just the right amount of pun­ish­ment 
strokes – each and every time!

 It was noth­ing which could be ex­plained. It just happened.

 It was her power. It was the power which had made her con­cen­trate hard enough 
to make things hap­pen.

 She gazed across the room. There was an ob­ject on the floor. She stared at it a 
mo­ment. She con­cen­trated on it. Her gaze made the ob­ject move!

 It moved across the floor. Not no­tice­ably, at first, ex­cept to the most care­ful 
ob­server.

 But gradu­ally it star­ted to move, more and more, faster and faster.

 And Su­z­anne was sure that she was re­spons­ible.

 If she were used to us­ing her powers so spe­cific­ally, she would be able to 
vir­tu­ally snap the ropes which were bind­ing her ankles and wrists to the chair for this 
pun­ish­ment.

 She would have stopped her father’s hand in mid-air! At the mo­ment, as 
vul­ner­able as her body was, she could hardly be­lieve that she was su­per­nat­ural enough 
to do some­thing like that! She had kicked her legs as much as her bond­age al­lowed, but 
still, the ropes which criss-crossed her up­per thighs, and around her waist, made her ass 
globes like marble globes, so firm did they stay even as he spanked.

 But there was some­thing else that was com­ing into her head.

 Again, she went with her ima­gin­a­tion, and she found that she knew all the 
an­swers. She was listen­ing to that little voice in­side of her.

 She was listen­ing to that some­thing in­side the pit of her stom­ach. And that 
con­science knew everything. It didn’t get mixed up in the ego, or tangled in her want­ing of 
Daddy’s ap­proval.

 Of course not!

 She didn’t think that if she ac­ted without re­straint, her father would pun­ish her. 
She didn’t need him to con­trol her any longer.

 All the time, she had really been con­trolling him.

 Real­iz­ing this, she real­ized, too, that she could con­trol her­self.

 “More? You think you need more, you slutty little bitch?” Daddy de­man­ded.

 His voice was deep, but the veins were pop­ping out at his temples and the words 
were com­ing through clenched teeth.

 “An­swer me, you fuck­ing little cunt!” he snarled, flail­ing her ass with a flurry of 
angry strokes. Un­will­ing to ac­tu­ally lose his tem­per on his daugh­ter’s ass, he stopped 
him­self. He re­strained him­self. Again, he was in con­trol.

 In con­trol of him­self. Yes, but of his daugh­ter, too? “I think I’ve taken enough, 
Daddy,” she said, “but if you think I de­serve more, I’ll take it from you,” she said sweetly.

 Tied up as she was, she didn’t dare to say any­thing which might rile him.

 There would bet­ter times to be so fool­ish.

 Nat­ur­ally, he took it as a “fresh re­mark” as he called it, any­way.

 “You dis­respect­ful bitch,” he yelled. “I bring you to New York on va­ca­tion, 
spend­ing my hard-earned dol­lars to show you a good time, and you go ahead and in one 
day man­age to give your vir­gin­ity to some boy you meet in a shop­ping cen­ter, and to 
push your mother out the hotel win­dow!”

 “Daddy,” she star­ted.

 But he wouldn’t listen. He con­tin­ued to rant and rave as he stalked away from the 
chair into which she was turned with her ass stick­ing way up.

 “I’m go­ing to get a bar of soap so I can stuff it in your mouth while I beat your ass,”
he said. “That will teach you to speak with some re­spect to your father. After all I’ve done for 
you! Tak­ing you on this trip, rais­ing you and ... “

 “Enough, Daddy,” Su­z­anne said with a new adult­ness in her tone.

 It was a ser­i­ous enough state­ment from a ser­i­ous enough young wo­man to 
make him stop dead in his tracks. His jaw dropped slightly, but he didn’t speak.

 Su­z­anne filled the si­lence with her side of the story.

 “First of all, I did not push mother out the win­dow. She came leap­ing at me. She 
was go­ing to throw me to the floor, or worse. I know that if I hadn’t moved away from in 
front of the win­dow, she wouldn’t have hurled two stor­ies to the pave­ment. But really! It 
was only self-de­fense, or of­fense, really.”

 She con­tin­ued be­fore her father had a chance to speak.

 “Be­sides, I ap­pre­ci­ate everything you’ve ever done for me, in­clud­ing this trip to
New York. Maybe even, es­pe­cially this trip to New York – but not for the reas­ons you had in 
mind.”

 “Oh, do you ap­pre­ci­ate this trip to New York be­cause it gave you a chance to 
be­come a whore? To lose your cherry like a com­mon slut? How much did he pay you, 
pig-whore?”

 “Father!” she ex­claimed, stop­ping him short.

 And then, they both gasped. He went pale.

 Su­z­anne real­ized that she had called him father for the very first time. Up un­til 
now, it had al­ways been Daddy. Su­z­anne felt sud­denly sad, and the room seemed to 
darken.

 Daddy looked at his girl, stretched with her arms and legs tied with rope to the 
un­der­side of an over­turned chair. He saw the red­ness which was glow­ing with heat on the
curves of her beau­ti­ful bot­tom. He saw her cunny peak­ing through, and it was wet and 
glisten­ing.

 Yes, the lips had been vi­ol­ated.

 She had lost her vir­gin­ity on a trip to New York City.

 “But father,” she re­peated, lik­ing this au­thor­ity, “I’m not sorry that Mike fucked 
me. It felt, well, it felt like noth­ing ever be­fore. I didn’t like it at first. It hurt. He was big. I was 
tight. There was some blood.”

 “But he was force­ful. The way you’d be, father. Oh, don’t try to say you wouldn’t 
give a hard fuck, Father. I’ve heard you and Mother do­ing it.” Sal­vatore felt his prick get­ting
harder.”

 “After a while, it felt so good. I was scream­ing with joy. I was beg­ging him to fuck 
me deeper and harder. I pleaded with him not to stop. I loved it. The only time it felt bad was 
when I thought about how you’d pun­ish me for it later. But then, I looked at Mike, and 
in­stead of see­ing Mike, I ima­gined you! I saw you there fuck­ing me, Father. Daddy.”

 He couldn’t quite ac­cept this tre­mend­ous com­pli­ment for what it was.

 He still be­lieved, as she had, that in­cest was the truest ta­boo.

 He be­lieved that he would surely be pun­ished by God for do­ing it with 
Su­z­anne.

 Some­times, even that didn’t mat­ter.

 Su­z­anne star­ted talk­ing to him again.

 “But I wouldn’t be sorry even if I hadn’t ima­gined that he was you. I loved the way 
his cock felt in­side of me. It filled my pussy, Daddy. You’re a man. You know how it feels to 
stick you big dick in­side the warm, wet chan­nel of a young pussy. You know how it feels to 
have a tight pussy work­ing its muscles on your stiff dick.”

 Sal­vatore swal­lowed hard. He felt sweat break out all over his fore­head, and the 
crack of his was wet. The black hairs of the crack were curl­ing with dew.

 She had him.

 She had him in her pos­ses­sion.

 “But you can’t even ima­gine what it would be like to have a pussy. I know what it’s 
like, and I know how it feels to have a piece of a man’s body, his most per­sonal, private part, 
deep in­side.

 “Why, just feel­ing it in my hand was a thrill, all hot and pulsat­ing: But when I felt it 
in­side of my pussy, it had a spe­cial power to it. And I con­cen­trated all my en­ergy on his 
prick, and even when he left it deep in­side without mov­ing it barely at all, we were both 
howl­ing like wild an­im­als, or moan­ing and pant­ing to­gether, real, real hard.”

 Su­z­anne’s in­cred­ible powers had trans­ferred them­selves, dur­ing her 
in­ter­course with Mike, dir­ectly to the very wet and slosh­ing con­nec­tion between his dick 
and her in­ner­most fe­male­ness.

 “Daddy, you can never ima­gine the feel­ing of hav­ing that tightly stretched 
mem­brane rip with the steady force of a throb­bing cock head!”

 “I mean, it’s the flesh of an­other body, a body so un­like my girl­ish one. Where I 
am soft and roun­ded, he was muscled and firmed. Where my wet pussy was deep, his hot 
prick was long. I thought we would fly away in that in­ter­twined po­s­i­tion. When I wrapped 
my legs around him ... “

 “Enough dirty talk, Su­z­anne!” her father in­sisted. “You have made me so ashamed
of my own daugh­ter, I don’t even feel like spank­ing you now. Can you ima­gine what our 
father-daugh­ter re­la­tion­ship has turned to, Su­z­anne? I won’t even ful­fill my father duty 
and give you the spank­ing you de­serve. I don’t even care that much about you.”

 “And I don’t want you to,” Su­z­anne said, but it was in­ten­ded with malice. “If you 
care about me, that means you care what I do. And frankly, Father, I’m a big girl now. I’m 
fif­teen years old and my body be­longs to me. You can just learn to keep your tra­di­tions off
my pussy.”

 “But you’ll make mis­takes without me there to guide you and pun­ish you.”

 “If I make mis­takes, I’ll make them and I’ll learn from them. I’ll just have to learn to 
take care of my­self. I’ll have to do it from in­side. I don’t need your spank­ings any longer.”

 “And I don’t feel like giv­ing them to you,” her father told her, but it was not with 
un­der­stand­ing that he spoke, al­though he cer­tainly fol­lowed her wishes, as al­ways, it 
seems.

 He un­tied her as he told her that he was dis­gus­ted with her.

 “I love you, of course. You are my daugh­ter. I planted the seed of you in­side your 
mother, and I raised you. I’ll never stop lov­ing you be­cause of that. But I don’t care about 
you any longer. You’ll have to take care of your­self. I don’t care about you. I love you, but I 
don’t care about you any­more.”

 She didn’t re­spond in words, but she did smile to her­self.

 Su­z­anne was get­ting what she wanted. This time she was sure of it. She real­ized 
it. Her head was filled with other times when she had got­ten oth­ers to do ex­actly as she 
wished. The boys who called her on the tele­phone just as she wished them to star­ted 
pop­ping into her head, but she had to clear such thoughts from her brain at the mo­ment. 
There were more im­port­ant things to do.

 When she was re­leased, her father took her wrists and rubbed them with his strong
hands. He rubbed gently though. He was bring­ing the cir­cu­la­tion back which the tight 
ropes had stopped. He was sooth­ing her aches.

 Her own hands reached back to the ass globes. Ouch. They were sore.

 She could feel the heat burn­ing off of them, and she knew that they were red hot 
and prob­ably not so pretty to look at, all criss-crossed with the signs of a good, old 
fash­ioned spank­ing.

 Sal­vatore, how­ever, had a total hard-on look­ing at that ass.

 It had been his pleas­ure to part the tender, well-spanked globes many times, and 
to see the lack of hair in the crack of his daugh­ter’s young ass, and to see the quiv­er­ing 
little tan spot which opened into her as­shole.

 He had spanked it.

 “I think I have to get back to the hos­pital,” Sal­vatore told Su­z­anne, who rubbed 
some ice on the aching cheeks of her ass.

 “Aren’t vis­it­ing hours over?” Su­z­anne said, know­ing it was late, and chan­ging 
the sub­ject from the one of spank­ing as her father so ob­vi­ously, wished to do.

 Why, he had even turned the pun­ish­ment chair back into an up­right po­s­i­tion 
without even com­ment­ing on it.

 “I have some un­fin­ished busi­ness to com­plete there,” her father said firmly. “I 
must go back and take care of it.”

 It was clear that he didn’t want to speak about this sud­den change in a pat­tern 
which had re­mained steady for many years.

 The cycle of the weekly spank­ings and the in­sist­ent pun­ish­ment for the 
break­ing of the slight­est in­frac­tion was now des­troyed. It had ended when her father 
stopped a spank­ing be­fore its pre­vi­ously as­signed con­clu­sion.

 But it also seemed that some­thing su­per­nat­ural was press­ing him back to the 
hos­pital. His sud­den de­sire to get back there was highly un­usual for him.

 He had been totally in­volved in a job which he con­sidered to be one of his most 
im­port­ant, if not the most im­port­ant: The dis­cip­lin­ing of Su­z­anne.

 He had vir­tu­ally let the paddle drop. He had to get out of there.

 It was like a starving per­son, smelling the scent of freshly bak­ing bread.

 He was com­pelled to fol­low that trail, and he knew even now that it led to the 
hos­pital where his wife was bed­ded.

 Su­z­anne did not stop him. She didn’t quite know why, but she knew that it was 
best for him to go back there. She didn’t really know what was hap­pen­ing there, but she had
a feel­ing.

 No sooner than her father left the door did the tele­phone ring.

 It was Mike again.

 “Are you al­right? That call was so strange. You hung up, or ... “ “I’m al­right, now. A 
little sore on the bot­tom, but oth­er­wise, I’m okay.” She could tell that Mike was smil­ing 
when he boas­ted about the way he had wal­loped her. He was think­ing that she was telling 
him that his spank­ing had had its long-last­ing ef­fect on her. Ac­tu­ally, she was re­fer­ring 
to still an­other one which had happened on top of that one! But she didn’t let on. She 
al­lowed him to have his pride.

 She knew how to handle him!

 “I’m horny,” he told her. “Can I come over and fuck you up the ass this time?”

 “My as­shole is quiv­er­ing,” she said. “But it’s best that you don’t come here. Start 
play­ing with your­self. Get a hard-on. And by the time the cum starts ooz­ing out that slit, I’ll 
be there to sit my cunt on it.”





CHAPTER NINE


Back at the hos­pital, all was not well.

 It was not that Su­z­anne’s mother wasn’t feel­ing well. Quite the con­trary, with her
at­tract­ive young nurse play­ing with her clit, she was feel­ing quite well in­deed.

 This had been go­ing on for some time now. Many or­gasms had been 
ex­per­i­enced between them.

 Su­z­anne’s mother was now be­ing called the little nick­name the nurse had made 
up for her. Sweet Clitty.

 As for the nurse, she had told Sweet Clitty that she had plenty of time. She had been
as­signed to this room and this room alone. Sal­vatore had seen to it that his wife was not left
un­at­ten­ded for any mo­ment at all.

 The night be­longed to them now. The door had been locked, but there would be 
no vis­it­ors, any­way. Or so they thought.

 Sweet Clitty was call­ing her wo­man Nurse Honey, be­cause she was a nurse, and 
be­cause the slit of her pussy was lined with such sweet nec­tar.

 The nurse had the en­ema hose up Sweet Clitty’s as­shole.

 At least eight inches of the rub­ber were be­ing pressed all around by the walls of 
Sweet Clitty’s as­shole. They were so sens­it­ive, they could feel the wa­ter rush­ing up into 
the hose from the over­stuffed bag of wa­ter.

 It felt warm. When it rushed out into her ass, filling her up, it was hot.

 She felt her belly be­ing bloated. She felt as if she were preg­nant.

 But all the time that the wa­ter filled her ass, the nurse dis­trac­ted her by play­ing 
with her clit­oris. She had her fin­gers pinch­ing the love but­ton.

 Her juices were drip­ping all over the nurse’s fin­gers.

 Still, the nurse squeezed the clit, and flicked her fin­ger over it.

 Never was she un­aware of the amount of hot wa­ter she was pump­ing with steady
pres­sure into the bloat­ing ass and belly of her nude cap­tive.

 She pressed her hand into Sweet Clitty’s belly and mas­saged it un­til Sweet Clitty 
moaned. It was caus­ing a lot of pres­sure on her cunt.

 She was also afraid that the hot wa­ter would rush out of her ass.

 It was be­com­ing more and more dif­fi­cult to hold that wa­ter in­side.

 But the nurse kissed her, shov­ing her tongue muscle deeply down her throat.

 When she turned off the catch which was al­low­ing the wa­ter to flow into the 
wo­man, she told her to keep all of that wa­ter in.

 “Don’t let a drop out.”

 Then she climbed on top of her, breasts to breasts.

 She star­ted to hump her with her fe­male body. Her breasts were boun­cing 
against her breasts, and their cunts were writh­ing to­gether, with the nurse press­ing 
down­ward and mak­ing cun­tal ro­ta­tions which star­ted Sweet Clitty’s pussy juice to froth.

 Sal­vatore was press­ing his body against the wind which had howled up out­side.

 He had caught a cab to the hos­pital be­cause he didn’t even want to waste time 
park­ing. He grabbed the front door and al­most knocked over an eld­erly pa­tient on 
crutches.

 He was anxious to get up to his wife’s room.

 He moved so fast and so surely that nobody stopped him.

 The guard, who should have told him that there were to be no more vis­it­ors un­til 
to­mor­row at el­even, went to as­sist the poor man on crutches who barely knew what had 
happened.

 “I just felt this breeze come brush­ing by me and ... “ The nurse on duty in the lobby 
should have asked any­one who’d got­ten bey­ond that point to sign in, but by the time she 
turned her head, he was in the el­ev­ator.

 The nurse on the floor where his wife was sup­posedly sleep­ing did, how­ever, stop
him and ask for his iden­ti­fic­a­tion.

 “I don’t have time for that now. I have to see my wife.”

 “I’m sorry, Sir, but that will be im­possible, I’m afraid.”

 “Yeah, well I’m afraid it’s pos­sible, bitch,” he snapped as he headed down the hall.

 Of­fen­ded and alarmed, the nurse called the guards over the in­ter­com at her 
desk. In no time at all, they had leaped onto the floor from the stair­wells lead­ing both above
and be­low it. They were right be­hind Sal­vatore as he tried the door. They were right 
be­hind him as he turned to the side and heaved his full weight against it, ram­ming it open!

 They all gasped along with him at the sight of his lus­cious wife with her legs spread
wide. The ass of a beau­ti­ful, red-headed nurse was stick­ing up.

 The nurse’s head was down between Sweet Clitty’s legs, now, and there was a 
slurp­ing noise em­an­at­ing from that area.

 It stopped Sal­vatore in his tracks, but not for long.

 Furi­ous over this and all that had happened on this day of in­cid­ent after 
in­cid­ent, after in­cid­ent, after in­cid­ent, he ran to­ward the scene.

 Grabbing the nurse by her breasts, he hurled her off the bed sav­agely.

 She went reel­ing na­kedly, back­wards into the arms of the guards who now filled 
the room.

 “Keep away from you, all of you!” Sal­vatore bel­lowed. He was like King Kong, 
jump­ing onto the hos­pital bed un­til the springs creaked.

 His wife was trem­bling with fear. And she still had that hose up her ass.

 He pulled it out with one harsh stroke, rip­ping her as­shole which had been 
clutch­ing the in­vad­ing rub­ber at that mo­ment of ul­ti­mate fear and con­fu­sion.

 The wa­ter star­ted rush­ing out of his wife’s as­shole, filled as it was with ass-juices.
Every­body stood back from that, ex­cept for Sal­vatore, who in­ten­ded to give his naughty 
wife the pun­ish­ment he felt she de­served.

 He turned her over and star­ted spank­ing her ass right then and there.

 He didn’t care that the wa­ter was rush­ing out. He just kept spank­ing.

 The sound of his hard hand on her wet, up­turned globes was echo­ing.

 The poor nurse, hate­ful of Sal­vatore, but un­able to do any­thing, was told by her 
male su­per­visor that she would have to have a spe­cial meet­ing with him to dis­cuss this 
in­cid­ent of her be­ing caught in an un­com­prom­ising po­s­i­tion in the room of a fe­male 
pa­tient.

 “I un­der­stand,” she said sadly. “I’ll get my clothes.”

 “No, don’t bother,” her su­per­visor told her. “I want to talk with you about this 
shame­ful in­cid­ent in the sup­ply closet. You don’t need clothes.”

 “Why, you male chau­vin­ist pig,” the les­bian nurse cursed.

 “Re­mem­ber, your job de­pends on this,” he told her calmly.

 Back on West forty-third street, Su­z­anne played with her nipples as Mike fucked 
her. There was that sin­fully sexy smile on her face.

 She didn’t know where her father was, but she knew that her power had caused him
to go there.

 She knew that she had caused her­self to get caught with her hand in the cookie jar,
so to speak, too many times. That part of her life was over.

 As Mike’s dick forced its way in­side of her cun­tal pud­ding again and again, she 
wondered if she should use her powers of con­cen­tra­tion to coax him into giv­ing her 
an­other spank­ing.

 She’d been spanked so much. Could she take any more this night? She thought 
about it. For now, just the fuck­ing felt good enough.

 At the mo­ment, it really didn’t mat­ter.

 She knew now that whatever happened, she would al­ways get her way.

 Back at the hos­pital, Sal­vatore was hav­ing his way! He stripped his clothes off. He 
was snarling like an an­imal. He was a mad­man.

 He had gone com­pletely nuts, and he caused the other ob­serv­ers to go run­ning 
from the room.

 He grabbed his cock at the base and squeezed it tightly.

 The veins in it swelled up. The head of his dick was bulbous, purple, and ooz­ing 
pre-cum. His big balls were hanging down.

 The les­bian nurse was awed by his spec­tac­u­lar dis­play.

 She had never been into men since those early ex­per­i­ences, but the way he took 
com­mand of this situ­ation was just too much for her to res­ist. She star­ted to swoon.

 She couldn’t help her­self. She had to touch his cock.

 Her hand was trem­bling as she reached for it. Her fin­gers grasped the shaft of it. It
was hot. She held it. She stroked it. She placed her fin­ger­tips on the slit of the open­ing at 
the cock­head, and smoothed the juices over the soft prick head.

 Sal­vatore’s wife looked on in a state of ut­ter hu­mi­li­ation.

 Not only had she been caught with the les­bian nurse, but now that nurse was 
feel­ing the cock of her hus­band!

 She had no choice but to stand back and watch.

 Sal­vatore took this wo­man and forced her down on her knees be­fore him.

 He pressed down on her back, for­cing her to the ground. Her mouth was opened. 
She was ready to taste that spe­cial taste of cock once again, after all these years, but 
Sal­vatore wasn’t go­ing to give it to her that eas­ily.

 He forced her mouth down on his balls. She felt that the sac was made of thick flesh,
and she sucked on, swirl­ing the sac in her mouth, feel­ing its warmth.

 “Suck on my balls, you bitch,” he said. “Steal­ing my wife’s pussy, huh? I’ll give you 
some­thing so you won’t have to go steal­ing pussy.”

 He ro­tated her head around and around in the ball sac.

 She was moan­ing and groan­ing. When he fi­nally gave her a chance to come up 
for air, she told him that she had some­thing for them both. She vir­tu­ally ig­nored Mrs. 
Amo­relli.

 She went to the sup­ply cab­inet. It was locked, but she had a key.

 Open­ing it, she quickly found what she was look­ing for. She brought out sev­eral 
square card­board boxes, small ones. They were colored a bright yel­low.

 “What’s that?” Sal­vatore asked her.

 “It’s some­thing we use for heart pa­tients to open up their ar­ter­ies and 
everything. It pumps blood through the sys­tem and gives a real rush. It’s called pop­pers 
be­cause the chem­ical in­side this little cap­sule rushes out when popped.”

 With that, she re­moved one of the little white cap­sules and placed it between her 
fin­gers. She squeezed it un­til it snapped, popped and star­ted its fumes rush­ing out.

 She held it to her nos­trils and in­haled.

 While it was de­signed for pa­tients with heart prob­lems, it really did a num­ber on
the reg­u­lar people who used it. After the nurse sniffed it, her head star­ted reel­ing, and she 
lost all of her in­hib­i­tions.

 She star­ted grov­el­ing at Sal­vatore’s feet, lick­ing him on his dirty shoes.

 “Yeah, bitch, I like that,” he told her. “It shows me what a slave you are.” She raised 
her arm, ex­tend­ing the pop­per to him. Even though the heav­iest fumes had already been 
con­sumed by the nurse, there was more power to be in­haled.

 Sal­vatore didn’t want to get hooked on drugs. He’d heard that once you try your 
first thing like that, it’s hard to stop.

 But the nurse had done it, so it was un­der the care of a med­ical per­son. At least, 
that was Sal­vatore’s ra­tion­al­iz­a­tion as he in­haled deeply.

 Al­most im­me­di­ately, he felt his face flush. He broke out in a cold sweat.

 But he loved it. He was still grabbing his dick tightly around the root.

 “I wanna fuck you,” he rasped. “Up the ass!”

 “No,” the nurse whimpered.

 But Sal­vatore pushed her down, for­cing her ass up.

 They were on the cold floor. It was quite a sight. The nurse moaned and begged 
Sal­vatore’s wife to help her, but of course, the wo­man did not as­sist at all.

 She merely stood there with her arms crossed in front of her, watch­ing.

 “Come on,” Sal­vatore said, tak­ing his fat cock and dir­ect­ing to­ward her 
bung­hole.

 She tried to squirm her butt hole away, but Sal­vatore gave her cheeks one of those 
hard spanks he was fam­ous for.

 She po­si­tioned her ass up for him and took an­other hit of the pop­pers.

 He tried to work his stiff dick into her ass. It wouldn’t go in at first.

 But then, all of a sud­den, he lunged it for­ward.

 “Oh­h­h­h­h­hhh,” she moaned. And she tried to get away.

 He held her back on his dick, but she man­aged to make the big cock slip out as she
rammed her fin­gers furi­ously into her va­gina.

 She star­ted to come.

 The juices just poured out of her cunny.

 She was moan­ing.

 Sal­vatore, aroused to see her reach or­gasm at the very feel of his pole up her ass, 
moved around and jerked on his dick, strok­ing it furi­ously.

 She saw that he was about to ejac­u­late, and so she grabbed his big balls and 
star­ted to pull on them as he came closer and closer and then came like never be­fore.

 “Ah­h­h­h­hhh!”

 His se­men was like thick glue. It gushed out and landed on the nurse’s body.

 She was groan­ing along with him as his thick fluid came.

 Sal­vatore’s wife, in total hu­mi­li­ation, watched on.

 It had been quite a week­end in New York City.

 So much had happened so fast.

 It was a bit much to handle, but they would have to do just that. It was a case of live 
and learn. If you don’t learn, you don’t live.

 Back at Mike’s place, Su­z­anne was un­der his thumb.

 He had re­moved his black leather belt. It was doubled over in his hand.

 He had her stretched out on the bed. Her ass was stick­ing up.

 He stroked the belt across her ass cheeks. He didn’t hit too hard, but he hit hard 
enough, and al­ways when she didn’t ex­pect it.

 As he whipped her with the belt, she played with his cock.

 She was able to watch his cock swinging back and forth as he beat her with the belt.
She played with it, strok­ing it and run­ning her fin­ger around the flared dick head.

 She moved her mouth to it, and star­ted to suck it, even though she had to keep 
win­cing with each smack across her bot­tom.

 “Don’t you dare bite on it, Su­z­anne, or I’ll really lay this belt on you,” her man told 
her.

 “Yes, Daddy,” she sighed, tak­ing her mouth off the shaft long enough to get those 
words out.

 He liked that. He liked the way she called him “Daddy” even though her real father 
was in the same city, too.

 He was her Daddy, now. He was the au­thor­ity fig­ure she would crawl to; the one 
she beg to spank her good­night.

 “Let’s live to­gether,” he sug­ges­ted. “You don’t have to go back to Pennsylvania to
live with your folks, now that you’ve got me. Stay with me. I’ll be good to you. I’ll spank you 
every night. You won’t be able to fall asleep without a spank­ing from me.”

 “And will you tie me to your bed each night?” she asked, pant­ing.

 “That’s where you be­long, tied, but not to the bed. I’ll tie you on the floor like a 
dog. You can sleep at my feet un­til you learn to be­have the way I ex­pect.”

 “I’ll earn the right to sleep in your bed,” she rasped, tweak­ing her nipples.

 “That’s the only way.”

 “And if I’m real good, what will I get as a re­ward? An ex­tra smack across the face?”

 “Yeah, a real good smack. You’ll get to be tied between my legs so that you can 
keep your head down on my pecker all night long. That’s right. I want your mouth on the full 
length of my boner all night long.”

 “And I’ll crawl un­der the table so that I can eat the crumbs which fall onto your 
lap,” she moaned, se­duct­ively.

 “Yeah,” he grinned.

 But it never happened.

 The week­end in New York soon was over.

 Mrs. Amo­relli was given a clean bill of goods and was dis­charged from the 
hos­pital.

 She did not say good­bye to the nurse who had “taken care of her.” Neither did 
Sal­vatore. Once he had shot his wad, it was all over. It meant noth­ing more than that to him.

 Su­z­anne re­turned with her par­ents to Pennsylvania. She re­turned as a much 
wiser young girl. For now she was aware of her spe­cial powers, and she was de­term­ined to 
use them for her own ends.

 She didn’t need Mike, or New York, al­though she would think of both of­ten, and 
she would write Mike from time to time.

 But she had her Daddy, as she’d al­ways had.

 And her weekly dis­cip­lin­ing ses­sions con­tin­ued.

 “Spank me, Daddy,” she would moan, as she lay over her father’s knees.

 And her father would spank her, the way he felt he should.

 She needed that to be a bet­ter girl, and he knew that he had to do his duty and 
give her everything she needed.

 Everything she needed, square across those twin roun­ded globes.

 Oh, how they burned red hot, turned from flaw­less white to crim­son.

 Her ass was al­ways sore now that she had dis­covered her powers.

 She never stopped need­ing these spank­ings, and it seemed that she was able to 
com­mand many men to beat her.

 There was the cop who caught her smoking grass in a parked car with a boy­friend 
late one night. He was go­ing to take her in, which she knew, would res­ult in a spank­ing for 
her.

 “Please, of­ficer,” she said. “Isn’t there any­thing I can do to earn my pun­ish­ment 
without hav­ing to go to the po­lice sta­tion? I don’t want my par­ents to find out. It would 
hurt their feel­ings. And I’d get spanked.”

 “Well, a girl like you needs a good, old fash­ioned spank­ing,” the po­lice­man told 
her. “I could see to it that your bot­tom gets a good red one. That would be pun­ish­ment 
enough.”

 And so, in the pres­ence of this boy­friend, she re­ceived an over the knee 
spank­ing with her skirts pulled up and her panties pulled down.

 After he had warmed up her bot­tom with ten minutes of hand spank­ing, he 
switched to his heavy po­lice­man’s util­ity belt, whip­ping her un­til she cried.

 Then she kissed the belt which had whipped her, and thanked the po­lice­man.

 In school, the same thing happened. A young, male art teacher was rather an­noyed
with her. She had traced a draw­ing from a book and passed it off as an ori­ginal.

 Her re­ward was a spank­ing.

 Why it had come to that, she couldn’t be cer­tain.

 But that’s ex­actly what it was.

 He told her to place her hands on his desk. She did that, stick­ing her ass out.

 She re­ceived a dozen hard wal­lops with his yard stick.

 The sound of that hard stick smack­ing her up­turned bot­tom globes rang 
through­out the school.

 After that, every­body knew that Mr. Hausser had spanked Su­z­anne’s ass after 
class.

 That was to be­come her repu­ta­tion.

 That was what the boys thought of when they saw her.

 And now she real­ized that she wanted it that way.

 Every­body knew she had a hot ass.

 She had be­come the hot­test little ass in town.





EPI­LOGUE


It was not un­til months later, how­ever, that Su­z­anne met the man that would 
truly pun­ish her little, ripe ass.

 She met him without in­tro­duc­tion, and she never did know his name, but he 
changed everything in her life for her, for he was the man that broke the patho­lo­gical be­lief
she had that she could con­trol men’s ac­tions.

 She was com­ing home from school one day and he was wait­ing in the bushes. He 
grabbed her and threw her to the floor, rip­ping her little skirt and panties off.

 Su­z­anne smiled as he pushed her on her stom­ach, for she began to con­cen­trate
on a good spank­ing, but in­stead, to her shock and dis­may, she got a big, hard cock up her 
ass.

 The rap­ist ripped into Su­z­anne’s little shit chute un­til it was all sore and 
bleed­ing, and then he came, zipped up and was gone.

 The pain in her ass took weeks to cease, but the wound to her ri­dicu­lous be­lief 
that she was the one mak­ing her spank her could never heal.

 She was fi­nally forced to ad­mit to her­self that her ass was simply at the dis­posal 
of the men in her life, whether she wanted it to be or not. They were the ones in con­trol, not 
her.
