Spanking for One

"...Back by midnight, young lady, or we'll be going for round two."

Words that had plagued me since he'd uttered them. Such a temptation. I pushed my thighs together at the thought of once more being draped, naked, across his lap. The application of the lotion afterwards. His hands on my skin, spanking, rubbing, stroking. Fuck, I need to get laid.

"You alright, girlfriend? You look... distracted."

I smiled at Milly. "I'm fine. Been a busy weekend." Life-changingly busy.

She hooked her arm in mine. "Well, you look sexy as fuck. Let's go and tease some boys." She giggled at me, "In that outfit, you'll have them drooling over you!"

The time passed agonizingly slowly, not least because I glanced at the clock every five minutes. "...Back by midnight..." like Cinderella, and did she ever get spanked by the Prince? The story suddenly seemed the poorer for not including that. Fuck, and now I seem to have developed a spanking fetish. Just like my Mom, apparently, getting spanked by Daddy. Fuck, stop it, Emma!

As the evening wore on, I oscillated every few moments between wanting to deliberately be late, and wanting to make sure I was back on time. I wanted him to spank me again. But what was the point, when he saw it only as what it was: discipline for an errant child?

Yet as the thought occurred, I wasn't so sure anymore. Was that really how he saw it? He spanked me earlier out of rage -- largely because, if he were to be believed, I'd scared the hell out of him. So one might argue that the punishment had been so physical, and so infantile, because he was somehow psychologically regressing as a parent. Some theory.  Well fuck, it made sense in my head. He'd wanted to hurt me for scaring him, to leave his mark on me so I wouldn't forget, and treat me like a child because it reflected the vulnerability he'd felt at something bad happening to his child. Yeah, the more I thought about it the more it did kinda make sense.

But this Cinderella-bullshit didn't make any sense at all. Not in the same light. Not in any way I could discern. There were only two options I could come up with. One, it was a throw-away quip, a comment made because he felt guilty about spanking me, and nothing he was actually serious about. Or two, he meant it, and he meant it because he wanted an excuse to spank me again. But then, around about ten-thirty while I was not-really-listening to some guy Milly was talking to explain why he was God's gift to women, I had an epiphany. What if One and Two were secretly the same thing? What if it was a throw-away quip, but also secretly an intent that he wanted to spank me again? I just couldn't see him getting so angry over me being half an hour late. Not historically. So if it was just a quip, and he wasn't serious, and I turned up exactly on 12:30, he'd be like "no dessert for a week." Fine, whatever. But if he wanted any excuse to spank me, I'd have given him one. And then, if he spanked me, it was because he wanted to! Yes! That was the perfect solution!

Fuck, now I had to wait for another ninety minutes before I could call an Uber. Why was time moving so slowly? I'd been to funerals that dragged less than this party.

I made small talk for another hour, nursing an orange juice the whole damn time. I didn't want to go home drunk. I wanted to be aware of everything that happened.

By 11:30 I couldn't take it anymore, said my goodbyes to Milly and went to wait out front. It was peaceful there; the quiet of the night with the backdrop of the party music's muffled bass matching the rapid beating of my heart. What would I do if he spanked me again? Hell, what would I do if I got back home, and he'd fucked off to bed already? Oh god, please not that one. Anything but that one. At least let me know where I stand with this!

And that was the beauty of my plan. Assuming he wasn't asleep, he'd either be pissed (mundane, boring punishment, lifetime of regret that nothing else happened) or he'd feign he was pissed (hot naked spanking, followed by... what?). But at least I'd know.

On the dot of midnight I called an Uber. Fuck you, Daddy. Cinderella is a bad girl. Whatcha gonna do about it?

It pulled up outside my house at 12:25. Not quite the 12:30 I'd promised myself, but I couldn't fucking wait any longer. I gave the driver the $20 Daddy had given me for the purpose, took a deep breath, and slid my key into the lock.

There were no lights on downstairs. No, wait... a slight glow from the kitchen. But that was just the deck light outside. Fuck, he really had gone to bed. Worst. Possible. Opti --

The small lamp in the lounge flicked on, and he was sitting on the sofa, glaring at me. "I'm pretty damn sure I said midnight, young lady."

Thank fuck. Okay, part A done. Part B of my plan: get the outcome I wanted.

"I'm not fourteen anymore, Daddy," I said, nonchalantly, as I lifted first one foot than the other, slipping off my strappy heels. "It's, like, twenty-six minutes difference. So what."

"You'll talk to me with respect under my own roof, young lady. When I said 'midnight', I meant 'midnight'."

"Yeah, well, sorry. There was a delay on the Uber."

The kitchen was on the far side of the lounge. I had to walk through it -- past him -- to get there.

"Bullshit." He was up before I was halfway across, standing in my way. I stopped, looking up at him.

He was radiating anger. I could almost feel it coming off him like some tangible sense of warmth.

"What did I say would happen if you were late?" he growled at me.

Fuck, this was it. "I don't remember, okay? Sorry I was late. I'm going to go to bed --"

"I said, 'we'll be going for round two'."

Oh yeah, so he had. Like I hadn't replayed those words fifty times in the past four hours. "Did you?"

"You know damn well I did."

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Fine. So what's 'round two'?"

"You know damn well what it is."

"I'm tired, Daddy, humor me." Say it. I want to hear you say it.

He didn't say it. Instead, I watched as he walked to the sofa, and sat down in the middle of it. My heart flipped to see him sitting there, exactly where he had earlier. He still didn't say anything, he merely waved one hand over his lap.

"You want a blanket?" I asked.

He growled at me. "You're pushing me, young lady, and I'm going to make you regret it. Get your ass over here right now."

Final-fucking-ly. He'd committed.  Part B achieved.  Now for part C: make damn sure he was aware of it as I was.

"Are you going to spank me, Daddy?" I asked, my voice suddenly small, with none of the sass I'd given him just a moment prior.

"You're damn right I am."

"On my bare ass again?"

"I'm sure as hell not doing it through your shorts, young lady."

Perfect. "Yes, Daddy."

I untied the knot on my shirt. I knew I didn't need to do this. I knew he knew I didn't need to do this; I figured he wouldn't stop me. Not now. He didn't.

I unbuttoned it slowly, slipped it from my arms, and let it fall to the floor.

My shorts were next. I flicked open the button on the front, then met his eyes. "I'm very sorry, Daddy. I'll take my punishment like a good girl."

I turned away from him, pushing the shorts slowly down my legs, bending at the waist, keeping my legs straight. He didn't say anything. I let them fall once they were past my knees and straightened again.

There was one more little button I needed to push. I looked at him over my shoulder. "Please may I keep my panties on, Daddy?"

"No." It was so husky, so primal, it was almost a growl. Fucking delicious.

I faced away again, reaching up to unhook my bra. Again, totally redundant. Again, I knew he wouldn't stop me. He wanted me naked. I wanted to be naked. We were on the same page now. He wouldn't be able to deny it after this.

Besides, he'd said I had perfect breasts.

My fingers in the waistband of my panties. Had anyone ever lowered underwear as slowly as I did then? I didn't know, but if they had, they had the balance of a dancer and the self-control of a monk. I was neither, but I was motivated. I wanted my daddy's lust to grow to where he could no longer deny it.

At last, the panties fell to the floor, and I straightened slowly, turning to face him, as nude as I had been in my room with him earlier. Mere hours before.

His eyes roamed my body, and all I saw was hunger. No guilt at all. Perfect.

"On your lap, Daddy?" I asked, softly. Even my phrasing had been deliberate; it's amazing how much time you had to plan during a four-hour party.

"Yes."

I'd said 'on', not 'over', and he hadn't caught it.  I hadn't thought he would; I wondered how much of his blood was still in his brain at this point.  Hopefully not much.

I stepped toward him, each movement deliberate; the way I ran my hands up my body, the way I shook my head slightly, freeing my hair loose down my back; the way each leg crossed over the other, like a runway model, never actually showing him a glimpse of my pussy. Oh yes, Milly dear, I do know how to tease boys. One boy anyway. One man. My Daddy.

But when I reached him, I didn't lie across his lap like he'd asked. No, this was also part of my plan. Oh, he could spank me if he wanted to -- I was pretty sure that, by now, he wanted to -- but if he was going to do it, he could do it my way.

Looking right at me.

I placed one hand on his strong shoulder for support, then I slipped a knee to the side of his lap, and the other I lifted and let fall the other side. I straddled him, my thighs spread wide and open, and I let both hands press against his firm chest. Fuck, but he was built well, my daddy. I could see why Mom liked him so much. Why had it taken me so long to see him like this?

I was kneeling over him, looking down at him, and that didn't feel right. I lowered, slowly, until my bare ass was resting on his thighs, and our faces were nearly level. Our lips were almost touching. The look in his eyes was one of such hunger that I wondered as to the beast I was in the process of unleashing. But I didn't want there to be any doubt, and this was the only way I knew to make it obvious, to make it so that no one could deny it.  How we would both be sure.

My lips brushed his, and I whispered to him, "Do you want to spank me, Daddy?"

A growl was the only response I got, but then his arm snaked around my waist, so fast I wouldn't have been able to move if I'd wanted to. I so didn't want to. He pulled me hard against him, and I gasped at the sensation of it. Then his other hand came down on my ass, and I gasped again.

"Yes... spank me, Daddy." I couldn't help but think I'd heard Mom say those words, not just a day ago. The thought sent a thrill through me.

He released my waist even as his hand came down on my ass again, and as my body jerked at the contact, his free hand came up and gripped my breast, squeezing it. I cried out. Not from the pain -- although it did hurt, a little bit -- but from the recognition that we'd finally crossed a line that couldn't merely be dismissed as a father disciplining his errant child.

"Oh fuck... do you like spanking me, Daddy?" Mom had said that too. The words had been seared into my brain.

"You know I do, you little slut." And that had been his reply. How far we'd come, and how fast.

But it was me, now, not Mom.

"Your slut, Daddy," I whispered to him. "No one else's. Just yours."

He growled again, and with one hand gripping my breast and the other pushing down on the top of my ass, he pulled my body against his. My naked pussy was pressed against the lump in his jeans, a lump that was the proof, if needed, that Daddy liked spanking me.

My plan had worked. The only problem was, when I'd made it, I'd only gotten this far. I didn't know what would happen next, only that I'd have no control over it whatsoever. It was scary. Thrilling, yes, but fuck it was scary. Would he punish me? If he did... would I like it?

"You've been pushing me, haven't you?"

"Yes, Daddy. I'm sorry."

"Ever since yesterday morning and that bikini."

So it had been the bikini that had started all this. I knew it was all my fault. "Not quite, Daddy," I demurred.

He seemed to hesitate, surprised I hadn't immediately accepted whatever he'd said. But I felt it was time for some honesty. We'd come so far; there was no backing out now. He might as well know.

"What do you mean?"

"Well... I kinda heard you and Mom... while you thought I was outside getting some sun. I came back in, and I heard you... um..."

His lips twitched in amusement. "You heard me spanking your mother?"

"And fucking her, Daddy."

His hand landed on my ass was a slap. "You stayed to listen? You dirty little girl."

"No, Daddy, I swear... I only heard as I went past on the stairs. But... I heard her calling you 'Daddy'."

His lips twitched again. I knew he wasn't angry anymore, not that that would change anything now.

"It made me wet, Daddy," I confessed. Fuck, but I'd been dying to say that to him. I had a little body shudder right then, as I uttered those words.

"I bet it did. So, you've been pushing me since then."

"Well, um, actually... no."

He raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"The after sun was so clinical, and the car was a stupid accident," I said in a rush. "The spanking was your idea, not mine. When you put lotion on my ass you left so soon afterward, I thought you didn't see me that way. The thing with the clothes was you, not me. It was only this evening, when you said, 'Cinderella or round two', that I saw the opportunity to discover how you really saw me."

He actually smiled, a sexy, easy grin. Then raised an eyebrow, "Cinderella?"

"Back by midnight, Daddy."

"Heh. And you weren't. On purpose."

"Mmm." I wriggled my butt against his lap. "Spank me, Daddy?"

His arm came around my waist again, and he held me tightly against his body. "Oh, I will."

He spread his thighs, and in this position my ass was easy prey for his blows. I gasped with each strike, and each blow pushed me forward against him. My pussy was rubbing against his hardness, and each strike sent little tingles of pleasure through me to complement the pain. It all soon became too much, and I had to rest my forehead against his shoulder. Still he spanked me, each slap reverberating through the lounge as much as it did my body, and by now my ass was long past the stinging phase and well into the very warm phase. It was only then that I turned my head and, with each new spank, placed a little kiss against the side of his neck.

He stopped after a dozen such kisses. "That'll do for now," he said, his breathing heavy. He hadn't been able to hit me as hard as he had lying across his lap, for which I was grateful, but he'd certainly made up for it with quantity.

He pushed gently but firmly with his hands on my hips, and after a spanking like that I was in the mood to obey. Instantly. I moved with his touch and as I did he spread his thighs wider, letting me slip to the floor between his knees.

"Show me how you thank your daddy," he said, and I knew exactly what that meant. We were well past any pretense now.

I knelt up, reaching for the buckle of his belt, and it took me a moment to work it loose. He just sat there, watching me, that same heat in his eyes that had aroused me the very first time I'd seen it. At last the belt fell open and I slipped the buttons on his jeans. It didn't take long until his hard cock pushed free of its captivity; it seemed I wasn't the only one in our family that occasionally went commando.

I'd had precisely one cock between my lips prior to this moment, but there was nothing I wanted more than to taste my daddy. I lowered my mouth over him, closing my eyes and moaning as his precum flooding my senses, and I pushed down as far as I could, wanting him so badly to fill me as much as was possible. He quickly pushed against the back of my throat, and I realized I'd been too ambitious; I had to rise up, take a breath, then try again. He let me go at my own pace; aware, perhaps, that I was using him to develop my skills, and content to watch me learn. I was grateful to him for that. I knew there would come a time, soon, when he could just fuck my throat, but for the moment I wanted to learn my limits, learn how I could push further, and learn what he liked.

And fuck, but I loved the taste of him! He was so hard against my tongue, yet so soft too. Slick with my own saliva, and I couldn't get enough of that salty-sweet taste of his precum. I felt him slide his hand into my hair, gripping and twisting, and his control of me only served to reinforce what I was to him now. His obedient daughter. His obedient slut. He held my head still, my mouth just barely over the end of his cock.

"Use your hands too," he said, and then he began to fuck my mouth.

I'd known he would, of course. I just hadn't expected it quite so soon. Perhaps I hadn't learnt quickly enough, or perhaps he'd merely grown impatient. Or maybe it was something more basic than that: he'd wanted to. Whatever the reason, I slid one small hand around the base of him, and with my other I gently cupped his balls. He had told me to use both my hands, and I was willing to do whatever he asked of me. My ass burned with the spanking he had given me, my mouth and hands were full of his cock, and my pussy was soaked with my own arousal. Fuck yes, I would do whatever he asked of me.

With his hand in my hair, he began to thrust up into my mouth, the strokes short and rapid, his hips jerking beneath my hands. My hand and mouth worked together around him to provide a sleeve for his cock, stroking and sucking in unison as he fucked my mouth. And he clearly knew what he was doing, for this was easy for me. He wasn't pushing me hard, beyond the skills I had yet to develop. He never went too deep. I just had to hold myself there for him, be the hole for him to use, and I was so willing to do that. He could use any part of me he wished, and secretly I was delighted that he was starting with my mouth, because fuck, did I mention how much I loved the taste of him?

It wasn't just the taste, either. It was the feel of his hardness, pushing itself between my lips and over my tongue, again and again and again and again, the smooth slickness of his cock, the head of him against my tongue, covered in that delicious flavor of his pre-cum, and the sensation of being able to please him as he wished me to. I closed my eyes and moaned around him, as he used his new slut daughter as he wished.

I felt his balls tighten in my gentle grip, and at the same time I heard him grunt. It was the only warning I got before his cock spurted and pulsed in my mouth, and then he was holding my head to him, thrusting no longer, just the head of his cock between my lips as he filled my mouth with his cum with spurt after spurt. I could feel the thick, creamy, salty liquid spray across my tongue, immediately filling my senses in a way I'd never dreamed. It was everything, that moment; being used by him for the very first time, that point of no return, that total acceptance of what I was to him now. I swallowed slowly, savoring the moment that his cum slipped down my throat and into my stomach, coming to rest inside my body. And as I swirled my tongue around him, ensuring I had captured every drop, I made myself a promise: I would have more of his cum inside me before this first load had been absorbed into me. I would have his cum inside me at all times, every day, from this point forward.