Step Father and Daughter

The room is warm and the breeze passing through the open window does little to ease the discomfort in the room. Her skin feels like it's crawling and the high humidity only makes her hangover worse. He isn't happy, why should he be? She knows she has made a huge mistake drinking that much and coming in so late, the hangover is bad, but any headache will not feel half as bad as what her ass is going to feel like. The anticipation isn't helping, he knows what he is doing by making her wait.

She doesn't know what's worse, the pain from the thrashing, the humiliation of being naked in front of him or the shame and guilt of secretly enjoying being at his mercy. God she wants him so badly, especially when he gets like this. The punishments have been getting worse but then she has been VERY mischievous lately.

Since turning 18 she has been nothing but trouble, for the first month he almost seemed to ignore her, until she started misbehaving. First he tried to treat her like a mature adult and lecture her about womanhood and the responsibility that comes with it. That only made it worse, she wanted nothing more than to sit on his lap, lay her head against his chest and listen to him breathe as he read his paper. She knew she couldn't do that anymore which tore her up inside.

The lectures turned back to admonishment and then the spankings began again. That was just over a year ago and the spankings had gotten worse. She just couldn't control herself, anything to get his attention. The day she crashed the car that was her 18th birthday led to one of the most painful nights of her life. The savagery that she unleashed in him was almost unbearable. She begins to grow a little wet thinking about it. She hears his footsteps as he begins to climb up the staircase toward her room, she knows what's coming and a shiver runs up her spine...

He stands at the closed door and takes a deep breath. His mind racked with guilt and confusion, God he loves her, but it's more than that, he wants her and the guilt tortures his mind like nothing else. As he sat downstairs doing everything he could to not think abut the spanking that he would have to administer. HAVE TO ADMINSTER, like it was a chore! As much as he took disciplining her seriously, there was always that driving force that had fast become impossible to suppress. DESIRE! Every spanking was a heady mix of powerful emotions... anger, disappointment, guilt, shame and lust.

Every stroke was a contradiction of release and frustration. Some nights he would simply lose control, justifying it in his mind that this time she had really crossed the line. He knocks, slowly and dispassionately, doing everything he can distance himself from what is to come.

The raps on the door are firm yet controlled. She grips the quilt and bids him enter, her voice so quiet he hardy hears. The door opens slowly and deliberately, everything he does is always precise and considered. "Come to my study young lady" He turns his back and starts to make his way there. She rises, knees feeling weak and slowly moves to follow him. She watches his large frame as it slowly descends the stairs in front of her. Her stomach is in a tight knot. He opens the study door and strides purposefully in, holding the door for her. She catches her breath and almost can't breathe as she enters the room.

The study is all dark colours, leather and wood. It is his space, his sanctum and she is never permitted here unless it is by invitation. "Remove your clothes" He commands as she stands in the centre of the open space of the room. She lifts her top off over her head and lets it fall into a pool on the floor, she unclips her bra and drops it on top of the top. Next she unzips the knee length skirt which slides down her long smooth legs and finally she peels off her panties, blushing as the last vestiges of her coverings are gone. She gathers up the clothes, takes them over to the plush leather chesterfield against the wall and folds them on the seat neatly all the while thinking if he is watching her or not.

He stares at her she folds the clothes, his cock fighting against his underwear and trousers. He turns just as she finishes and rise and turns to move back to the centre of the room. He moves behind the desk and sits down on the high backed leather office chair so she can't see the battle that rages below his waist. "Fetch the cane" He commands, desperately trying to hide the tension in his voice.

"Yes sir" she responds and complies by moving to the coat stand by the door, the cane resides in the umbrella basket at it's foot, she draws it our slowly, again struggling to breathe, her knees go weak again. She moves slowly to the desk, palms outstretched with the cane nestled on them. She places it deliberately on the desk. " Assume the position" She complies by placing her palms on the edge of the desk shoulder length apart. She moves her feet about 2 feet away from the desk and spreads them shoulder length apart as well, keeping her legs straight and forcing her back to bend.

He rises and moves behind her as she stares down at the edge of the table as she has always done. He places a hand on her ass and then raises it, bringing it down hard! She cries out! He strikes again, then again and again and again. He spanks her 20 times. Their customary warm up. Each spank impossibly harder than the one preceding it, her eyes moisten and her ass turns pink. He collects the cane, flexing it in his powerful hands. He swishes it down and it whistles in the air and pierces her heart.

He holds it to her ass, raises it and brings it down hard, she screams in agony, and almost collapses. After a minute she composes herself and resets herself in the position, the cane finds itself back on her ass and she shudders at the touch. It will be a long night...