Tyler Perry's House of Payne Father Knows Best

  No Daddy, No!

a collection of father spanks daughter stories

by

Perry Symon Fowler

All rights reserved

Copyright © September 2022 by Perry Symon Fowler

Published past LSF Publications

http://world wide web.lsfpublications.com/

Cover design by Nathaniel Scott.

This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in role past any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the limited written consent of the publisher.

This is a piece of work of fiction which depicts not-consensual spanking. Any resemblance to actual persons, places or events is purely coincidental.

Strict daddies, stern footstep-fathers and misbehaving teenage daughters ... the perfect combination for a naughty girl going over her daddy'south knee joint for a bare lesser spanking. In this collection of stories, the fathers stand for no nonsense, and various teen girls become their bottoms soundly spanked with hand, paddle or hairbrush. Though they may plead and wail and hope to be good, they are all properly punished. Many have to confess their delinquency before the spanking starts, and many are disciplined close to an open window so that their embarrassed wails and yelps can be heard by neighbours; it all adds to the humiliation of the disgraced teenage girl... who inevitably ends upwardly over the paternal lap time and time again as she submits to her daddy's subject area.

This collection features the post-obit stories: Attitude; The Mitchell Protocol; The Walk of Shame; The Persuader; Breakfast at Suzie's; and The Triple Play.

Contents

Attitude

The Mitchell Protocol

The Walk of Shame

The Persuader

Breakfast at Suzie'south

The Triple Play

Also from LSF Publications...

Attitude

Equally shortly as they arrived home, Dan Carrothers sent Vanessa straight to her room. There had been a disagreement earlier that evening, and he'd promised her an extremely painful lesson on the ride in from town. This left no room for doubt on Nessa'south office; she knew from prior experience precisely what he had in shop for her. Dan's philosophy was simple: the easiest manner to settle a dispute was to have his daughter direct over his genu and give her a spanking. Not just a few abrupt whacks on the derriere, either: Dan specialized in long, hard and extremely thorough strappings... the kind which invariably left her weeping and breathless, unable to sit down down for days later on.

Standing in the living room, Vanessa tearfully begged her father to allow her off - or at to the lowest degree reduce her penalisation to some less severe culling. The argument hadn't been very serious, and she was sorry now; it would never happen again. She was too quondam for a spanking, she wasn't a child, she was eighteen years old! None of her friends had to suffer parental spankings, information technology just wasn't right.

"Delight, Daddy, not a spanking," she wailed, desperate to overturn the final verdict, "Information technology's non off-white, I'm besides big for that. You can't spank me like a little girl, yous can't!"

Unfortunately for Vanessa, Dan was totally unimpressed past his girl'south rhetoric. He was her father, and every bit far as he was concerned, she'd never be as well onetime to go over his knee. Information technology made no deviation to him that her friends never received spankings. This evening, she'd exist going to bed with a hot, throbbing bottom, and that was the end of it.

"Now - up to your room, young lady," Dan told her, gesturing towards the stairway. "I'll exist along to bargain with you in a moment."

So Vanessa ran weeping upwards to her room, already feeling her father's hot, stinging palm-impress on her soft, curvaceous tushie. Throwing herself on the bed, she cried piteously, knowing she had no 1 to blame but herself. She knew her father well plenty to realize that disagreements merely led to a well-smacked lesser. She listened apprehensively for his inevitable approach, imagining how much it was going to hurt.

Why did she ever argue with him? All she had to do was continue her oral cavity shut and pay him the respect he deserved. She'd been over his knee too many times to merits ignorance of the constabulary: he'd been spanking her for years now, and she was well aware he had lilliputian tolerance for dissent.

Subsequently what seemed similar an eternity, she heard his footsteps coming up the stairs. She bit her lip confronting the oncoming inundation of fresh tears, and sat up on the bed, ready to starting time pleading for clemency the moment he walked into the room. She knew there was piddling hope of a last minute reprieve, but there was zip else she could do. She absolutely dreaded existence stretched beyond her Daddy's lap - and with good reason.

Dan stepped through the doorway, a tall, wiry man with wide shoulders and lean, muscular arms. He carried a curt, black razor-strap in his correct mitt.

Nessa'due south optics widened in alarm. She quailed at the sight of the strap. Nooo!

It was the strop: a ten-inch length of hardened leather, particularly adapted to fit Dan's wide manus. Different others of its kind, this one was stiff and rigid, more like a paddle than a belt. Now she knew precisely how painful this spanking was going to exist. His choice of instrument meant that he was going to pay particular attention to her upper thighs. Vanessa immediately lapsed into loud sobs of fright and supplication:

"No, Daddy, no, please not the strop, it hurts as well much! Please Daddy, don't employ the strop!"

Dan sabbatum downwards on a nearby chair, completely ignoring her frantic pleas, and took off his jacket. He then flexed the leather against his left manus, checking its weight and swing. Information technology was perfect as always, the one implement he could trust to render his daughter'due south bottom a hot, glowing reddish.

Vanessa covered her face up and sobbed bitterly: she could tell past the expression on his face up that she'd be over his knee for a good ten minutes at the very to the lowest degree.

Dan opted for a skillful, strong talking-to before he got down to business concern. Scolding was, in Dan's opinion, one of the most important components of the disciplinary process, allowing Vanessa ample opportunity to regret her misbehavior and drive home the bespeak that she was getting exactly what she deserved. Being spoken to like a naughty little girl also added to the embarrassment she was already feeling.

When he finally finished the scolding, Dan called her over to his chair and instructed her to take down her shorts and underpants. This was the role which Vanessa hated the nigh. She remembered the many times over the years when she'd been required to perform this ritual, helplessly undoing her jeans and presenting her naked bottom for parental discipline.

Taking downwardly her panties was utter humiliation - despite the frequent spankings she'd received from her father, she'd never quite gotten used to baring her lesser to him. She lowered her shorts to the floor, and so begged him to allow her at least the nobility of a panty spanking.

"No, Daddy, please don't make me bare my lesser, allow me continue my panties upward, you don't know how bad it is-"

"You lot get those panties down at present immature lady," Dan growled, his voice rising in paternal fury.

The explicit threat in his voice overrode all desire to preserve her modesty. Sobbing in abject misery, Vanessa slipped her underpants downward to her upper-thighs, hoping to get away with only a partial baring. Just Dan wouldn't stand up for it. He was going to paddle her red all the fashion from her tender young bottom-cheeks to her smoothen alabaster thighs. Tears flowing freely, Vanessa bent over to peel her lacy pink panties all the way downward to her ankles. She was absolutely burning with shame now; her begetter had a completely unobstructed view of her bottom.

When she straightened upward, Dan reached out, took her by the wrist, and led her over his articulatio genus. She was crying steadily now, whimpering little pleas for mercy while he shifted her over his lap to allow for maximum effect. Once he'd placed her botto

k into the most vulnerable position he could find, he paused to survey the task ahead. Her lush, pale bottom cheeks were staring at the ceiling, clenching and unclenching with anticipation.

Dan Carrothers was something of an expert, a man who took pride in his work. His spankings were unusually long, more often than not lasting for at least ten minutes, and oft stretching out to 15. Today he might try for a new record. He ever started with some initial manus work, working slowly upwardly to a throbbing cherry. When his hand got tired, he would but switch to an instrument. Today, of course, he'd be attention to Vanessa's bottom with the leather hand-strop.

Vanessa continued her whimpered pleadings. "Don't ... delight Daddy ... no don't, noooo."

Dan ignored her, raising his hand high over his caput. Vanessa clutched her bottom cheeks against the expected blow, bursting into new tears - her time had come. She lay passively over his genu, sobbing piteously. How could this exist happening to her? She was eighteen years one-time, a senior in high school. None of her friends had to suffer paternal spankings, their parents treated them like adults. Yet here she was, draped over her father's knee, panties down, bottom up, nigh to take a good, hard spanking like a six-yr-old girl!

Dan's difficult, broad hand finally came downwards, meeting Vanessa'southward soft, quivering lesser with a high, sharp bang-up audio that could have been heard halfway down the street. Vanessa screamed in pain, kicking her anxiety helplessly as each blow descended. Dan gave her lesser his full attending, alternating betwixt each cheek, watching equally the daze-waves resonated all the fashion down her thighs. Dan fell into a long, rolling rhythm, smacking away with all the force of his strong right arm. Vanessa'due south bottom swiftly warmed to a brilliant, glowing red. The flush began to spread inevitably down her legs.

As mentioned earlier, Dan was an extremely thorough spanker, working his manner systematically over every available inch of lesser mankind, roofing both cheeks equally, and devoting enough of time to repetitious spanking. He always made certain to spank the aforementioned spot over and over again: there was no signal in punishing the girl unless it was really going to injure her.

He was also very conscientious to utilise his hand to the upper thighs, just below the curve of her cheeks. In Dan'due south experience, this was the almost painful portion of a spanking, especially after he'd switched to the paddle. He oft devoted the last half-dozen or seven minutes of a spanking solely to Vanessa'due south upper thighs, during which time she would shriek and squirm on his lap in a near frenzy. He usually had to hold her downwards on his lap to prevent her landing on the flooring.

Past the fourth dimension Dan had completed the 'hands-on' phase of the spanking, Vanessa'south lesser was covered with a pulsing strawberry-red chroma which reached from the top of her cheeks half-manner downward to her knees. Shining and tender, you lot could almost see the heat rising from it.

Vanessa lay doubled over her Dan's lap, sobbing out exhausted little pleas for leniency.

"No more, Daddy, please don't spank me any more, I've learned my lesson, I'll never do it again."

Even the most determined of fathers would have been satisfied by this signal; the job was done, the culprit punished, and parental justice was served.

Only Dan Carrothers was something of a perfectionist; domestic correction should never be hampered by false sorrow or remorseful tears. He was definitely not the kind of man to let his naughty piddling girl off with a paltry eight minute hand-spanking.

It was time for the strop.

---oOo---

"No Daddy no! Please, not the hone!"

Vanessa's lush, smoothen bottom-cheeks were already hot, red and throbbing. The thought of her father's heavy leather hand-paddle existence applied to them reduced her to a fresh spasm of helpless, sobbing pleas. Here she was, limply stretched over Dan's lap, bottom turned upwards to the ceiling for her latest well earned spanking, crying like a lost child. Tears of warm shame streamed downwardly her cheeks while Dan picked up the strop in his sure, firm grip. Smiling grimly, Dan nodded approving at its difficult, sharp weight, taking a practice stroke through the air. Vanessa shrieked as the leather whistled directly to a higher place her tender, unprotected derriere.

"Now, nosotros're going to deal with your little attitude trouble once and for all," Dan told her, "I've had enough of your sulking and petulance, and information technology's high time you learnt a bit of respect for the man of the business firm." He settled her back into position, ignoring her frantic struggling, and raised the hone over his head.

"No, Daddy, nooooo!" the girl cried, trying to cover her bottom with her hand. "Please don't, information technology'll hurt really bad!"

"You take that mitt out of the style, or I'll brand this a lot worse, young lady," Dan warned. "Y'all're long overdue for a skillful, difficult spanking, and I'm going to brand sure you become everything you have coming to you lot. Now terminate that squirming and hold your bottom up."

Vanessa removed her paw, sobbing miserably.

This had to exist the worst spanking of her life (fifty-fifty worse than the time Dan aptitude her over the armchair and thrashed her with the feather duster. That had lasted a good twelve minutes, and her round, naked lesser had been absolutely criss-crossed with glowing pink stripes that took days to fade). Dan connected to scold her in his stern, paternal tone; lecturing on her responsibilities as a girl, and reminding her that she could blame no-1 simply herself. Vanessa wept pitifully, alternately flinching and clenching against the inevitable cuddle of the leather.

Finally, the strop flashed downwardly across her bottom.

The leather met her flesh where the cheeks overlap the upper thighs. Pain erupting like an exploding star halfway downwards her legs, Vanessa screamed at the pinnacle of her lungs. Dan drew back and the hone slashed down in a blood-red hot arc. The daughter kicked and bucked on his lap, her long blonde hair flying. Dan favored her upper thighs, laying on smack after agonizing smack onto her tortured little fanny.

If Vanessa thought her father's hand-spankings had been painful, they were nothing compared to this treadmill of desperation. Holding her firmly in place with his left hand, Dan watched in growing satisfaction every bit her bottom gradually changed from ruddy to a sharp, angry and tormented shade of crimson. He swept down mercilessly, increasing his speed and force with each accident. Nessa sobbed and gasped and shrilled, hiding her face in her easily, close to the flooring.

"Daddy no!" she wailed. "Not like that, don't hit me in the same spot, it hurts likewise much. Don't, noooo!"

Leather continued to rain downwards on the girl's lower lesser and upper thighs. If there was one thing Dan Carrothers had learnt in all his years of disciplining his daughter, it was that repetitious spanking got the bulletin through, come up what may. It would be a long time before she questioned his will again, by god. Dan redoubled his efforts, the paddle flight with baking velocity.

"Owww! Daddy, non my thighs! Stop it – it hurts! Owwww, it hurts!"

Vanessa'south mind was spinning: she was pocket-sized and naughty and helpless; and her bottom was so sore. The spanking went on and on like it would never stop, and all she could do was beg and whimper and weep. Her father was so much bigger and stronger than she was. He could accept her over his knee like a half dozen-year-old girl, and there was absolutely nothing she could practice about it. His spankings were long and embarrassing and they injure and so much. How could she e'er face up her friends at school later this? What if they somehow constitute out? She was the merely girl in her class who had to bare her lesser; they'd never allow her live information technology down. In an other twelvemonth, she'd be the merely daughter at University to take regular spankings from her father - she'd never live that downwardly, either.

How long had she been over his knee? Xv minutes? Xx? Twenty-v? It felt like forever. Each stroke of the strop seared her lesser similar blueish fire. Vanessa's litany of child-like pleadings had no result on Dan Carrothers; he was determined to teach his niggling girl the lesson of her life this night. He alternated swiftly betwixt soft, vulnerable cheeks, periodically switching over to lavish his attention on her slender, quivering thighs.

"Ow! Aaaooww! Ow-aaooww!!"

Afterwards what seemed similar two years, Dan put the strop downward and stood Vanessa up abreast the chair. She stood trembling on uneasy feet, rubbing her o

utraged little bottom with careful hands. Her tushie glowed a vivid tone of blood-red red. Dan closely inspected the radiant blush which covered her derriere all the style downwardly to her mid-thighs. A good dark'due south work, truthful enough, he decided, simply not quite complete. Not yet, anyway.

"Now - time to cease upwards, piffling girl," Dan told her. "Anxiety together, legs straight; bend over and put your hands on the back of the chair."

Vanessa's eyes widened in fright and stupor, a new flood of tears cascaded downward her face up. It still wasn't over!

"No, Daddy, no more than, it's too much. I can't take whatever more, please Daddy, I can't stand it!" She swiped at her wet eyes with the back of her small-scale mitt, crying openly.

"You'll accept every bit much every bit I dish out," Dan told her sternly. "Now bend over and take your medicine, or you'll exist going back over my knee for another ten minutes."

Vanessa wailed, but complied with her father's command, grasping the chair-back with both hands and bending over to form an inverted right bending with her body. The action caused her to thrust her bottom out, ready for the strop's final administration.

Dan raised the leather again.

---oOo---

Placing his free hand on the pocket-size of her back to steady himself, Dan paused for a moment, because which spot should feel the first cut swipe. His optics wandered over the splendid rose tinge of Vanessa'southward cute, heart-shaped bottom. A magnificent work of art, information technology needed only a few finishing touches to complete the composition.

Nessa braced herself for the impact, squeezing another pair of enormous tears out of her tightly closed eyes. Standing like this with her pastel pink undies gathered around her ankles (and her pretty little tushie glowing in the cool evening air), she felt humiliated beyond all measure. She'd been scolded like a naughty school girl and reduced to whimpering tears of remorse. She'd been forced to bear her bottom like a disobedient child, enduring both her father'southward business firm right hand and the irresistible stroke of his leather hand-strop.

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Source: https://graycity.net/perry-symon-fowler/411094-no_daddy_no_a_collection_of_father_spanks_daughter_stories.html

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