It was neat having a Dad again, he was everything I hoped a dad would be. I

got a lot of his attention, he was fun to be around and still firm with his

expectations. My grades improved and according to mom, my manners and

behavior were remarkably enhanced. I found it easier to take instructions

from him, where I would usually counter my Mom with objections when ever she

said something, I didn’t with Dad. ( It still thrilled me to call him Dad, it

sort or rolled off my tongue with pleasure.)

But something was missing. Mom was always the one to correct me and apply

heat to my bottom when it was deemed necessary. I was beginning to wonder if

my new Daddy cared about me enough to correct me and if necessary spank me.

If he didn’t that could only mean he didn’t love me and everything was just

an act. The thought was depressing. It made me sad when I thought about it

that way. I noticed too that he never introduced me as his daughter. When we

met someone he would say this is my wife Joan and Jenny. “How much could he

love me if he did that?” I wondered

But despite my doubts and concerns life went on. I still had Dad, I mean Mr.

Erickson for one class a day. It was fun having Dad teach my class, at least

it was, until I realized I couldn’t use the usual ‘The dog ate my homework’

excuses any more.

It mattered little to my mom that I was fourteen and my opinion, too old to

be spanked. Dad made several references when ever I got a bit mouthy that

made it clear he shared Mom’s view on the matter of discipline for fourteen

year old girls. When ever he said something I would pretend to take the

comment with out notice, but I noticed, oh boy did I ever notice. I would

feel my knees go weak and my tummy would knot up in anticipation of getting a

spanking from my tall handsome step Dad. But he didn’t spank me.

Alone later in my room I would fantasize about what another spanking from

him would be like. I wondered. “Would he put me across his knee?” My

favorite fantasy involved just that. “Would he bare my bottom?” I would

blush with pleasurable embarrassment at the thought. I knew a spanking from

him would hurt, I found myself surprised at the thought that I hoped it

would, otherwise I reasoned that would mean he didn’t care enough to make it

a real spanking. I had in my head that if he cared, he would do it right, and

that meant hard. I gulped and would rub my bottom as if I had just gotten a

spanking.

Almost a month after they had been married Dad was at a teacher’s conference

at the school one Saturday morning when Mom called to me to get up and do my

chores. I had gotten up long enough to make my bed then laid back down to go

back to sleep as the mood seemed to strike me. I didn’t answer and rolled

over on the bed. Fifteen minutes later she called again. Ten minutes went

by and she opened my door. “Jenny Linda Erickson get up now and do your

chores.” I had insisted on having my last name changed to Dad’s when Mom

did, it made me feel closer to him somehow. I ignored her. I heard her cross

the floor to my bed. “Go away” I said in a petulant whine.

I felt her hand on my arm pulling me, I pulled back breaking her grip. I

rolled onto my side and opened my eyes. I didn’t like what I saw. She was

standing there with a really pissed look on her face and worse, her right

hand held the paddle. The paddle as it’s simply referred to in our house is

really an old hair brush that has warmed disobedient fannies in our family

for years, mostly mine I expect.

I pulled away again, sliding across the bed, sitting up straight I said.

“I’ll get up, quit bothering me, damn it.” If there had been a chance to

escape a spanking I threw it away with that comment and as soon as it was out

of my mouth I knew it. She reached over and took my wrist pulling me across

the bed and onto my feet. I resisted and pulled against her grip. “Jenny,

stop struggling.” She ordered. I didn’t, I pulled and struggled until I was

across her lap. Once her left arm clamped on my back I ceased my resistance,

it was over and I knew escape was impossible. Any more contest on my part

would only make what was coming worse. She was sitting at an angle on the

end of the bed with one leg over my left leg and my upper body on the bed.

She tugged down my PJ bottoms to the middle of my thighs exposing her

immediate work area. I felt the cool morning air on my freshly exposed tail.

I glanced over my shoulder as she held the paddle in her right hand and was

rolling up the right hand sleeve of her blouse with her other hand. I almost

burst into tears, I knew she only did this when she was about to really

blister me.

“Mom” I offered in a pleading voice, now sorry I hadn’t gotten up. She

didn’t answer and I hadn’t really expected her to. I buried my head into the

bed and gripped the bed spread tight intertwining it in my fingers. I felt

the paddle pat my bottom as she confirmed her aim and the target.

WHAP, The sound seemed dull in the room, WHAP, SMACK, The sting built

quickly as the worn smooth hair brush smacked against my bottom. I yelped my

protests into the bed. Mom knew full well how to apply the paddle. SMACK,

SWAT, SMACK. She was a quick spanker the swats came faster than I could

count. SWAT, SLAP, “OOOoooOO” I cried raising my head to let out a wail of

protest.

SMACK, SWAT, SPANK, SLAP, My free leg kicked as I struggled to get away. I

could feel my pajama bottoms sliding down my legs, some how that hardly

seemed important as the paddle burned my rear. WHAP, SLAP, SMACK “Ooooooooo

Mommiieeeee” I wailed. “Iiii SSSssssoorrrrryyyy” WHAP, SMACK, SLAP.

My head bounced off the soft bed with each impact of the paddle on my flaming

hiney. I sensed rather than felt my PJ bottoms slide off my ankles onto the

floor. WHAP, SMACK, SWAT. “OOOOOooooo” SWAT, SMACK, SPANK. Mom then

slide me forward on the bed and stood up. She gave me a small pat on the

back and said “I love you dear.” And with that she was gone and I was left to

cry and pull my bottoms back up, as I struggled to regain my composure.

That evening at dinner Mom related to Dad the events of the morning and my

refusal to get up when called. He arched his dark eyebrows and looked at me

as she spoke. I cringed in shame and tried to slide lower in my chair, to no

avail. When Mom was through spinning the story, made a tad too dramatic for

my taste, Dad looked at me and spoke. “Jenny, you’re lucky I wasn’t here.”

That’s all he said. I was left to wonder what would happen if he had been

there. I shifted on the hard chair still feeling the tingle on my bottom from

Mom’s paddle.

Later in my room I wondered again what would have happened if it had been Dad

instead of Mom. I knew I wouldn’t have had the nerve to struggle and try to

escape. Indeed as I thought about it I was puzzled why had I tried to get

away? I always took my spankings like a ‘big girl’ even when I was little, I

obediently did as instructed, bared my bottom and lay across Mom’s lap just

as I was told. This was the first time I had resisted a spanking.

After I undressed I went to my mirror and with my back to it, turned my head

and examined my bottom. I could still see some slight splotches of color from

the paddle. I rubbed and the revived the sting. “Would Dad have used the

paddle?” I pondered. I sort of hoped not, I considered a paddle too

impersonal. “If he loved me he would use his hand and not mind if it stung

his hand a bit, he would be willing to do that if he cared” Or so my

reasoning went. “Would I cry when he spanked me?” I smiled at that, I would

cry, I had no doubt of that.

With a final rub of my tush I slipped into my thin green silk pajamas ready

to go to bed when I heard Dad call my name. I went to my door, opened it and

answered. He called back from downstairs. “Jenn, come down here please, your

Mother and I want to talk to you.” “Oh, no” I thought I’m in trouble. I went

down to the living room and sat on the sofa across from them. Dad spoke

first. “Jenny, your Mother and I have decided that from now on I’ll be

handling the punishments.” I looked at both of them in turn. They looked very

certain in the new rules of the house. Dad continued. “That means if you do

something that deserves a spanking I’ll be the one administering it.” Mom

looked at me with a sympathetic expression. “ I know you’re disappointed

dear, but we think it’s best. you’re just getting too big for me to control.