Domestic Discipline: Strict Father Spanks Daughter To Tears

This is a fictional story that is only allowed to be read from the age of 18

Table of Contents

Young Woman Sneaks Home Late And Gets Caught

The streetlights flickered faintly as Emma crept through the quiet suburb. Her sneakers scuffed the asphalt, the sound echoing in the stillness. A pale moon hung in the sky, casting silvery light on her long, glossy hair that cascaded in soft waves over her shoulders.

At eighteen, Emma knew exactly how to wield her charm: a cropped top bared her flat stomach, and tight shorts hugged her flawless rear. Her pink thong peeked out provocatively when she bent over—often on purpose.

She smirked to herself, feeling untouchable. The world was hers, and rules? Those were for others.

It was well past midnight when she unlocked the front door. The hinges squeaked softly, and she held her breath, hoping to slip inside unnoticed. But as she stepped into the hallway, a harsh light snapped on.

Her father, James, stood at the foot of the stairs, arms crossed, his face a mask of anger and disappointment. His gray T-shirt stretched over his broad shoulders, his bushy eyebrows furrowed. The faint scent of his evening coffee lingered, mingling with the subtle polish that always clung to the house.

“Where were you, Emma?” he asked, his voice deep and controlled, but laced with a sharp edge that brooked no excuses.

Emma shrugged, tossing her hair back and leaning casually against the wall. “With friends. Chill, Dad.” Her lips curled into a cheeky smile, her eyes glinting with defiance. She thought she could wrap him around her finger, as always. But something in his gaze—a steely resolve—made her pause.

“Chill?” he repeated, stepping closer. His shoes clicked on the hardwood floor. “You come home three hours late, without a word, and that’s all you’ve got to say?”

Young Woman In Trouble: Father Puts Naughty Daughter Over The Knee

Emma rolled her eyes, planting a hand on her hip. “What’s your problem? I’m eighteen, I can do what I want.” Her voice dripped with arrogance, each word a jab at his patience. She spun around, aiming to storm up the stairs, but his hand clamped onto her upper arm like a vice.

“Not so fast, young lady.” He yanked her back, his grip firm but not painful. “You’re about to learn there are consequences.”

Emma wrenched free, her cheeks flushing with fury. “Let me go! You can’t do anything to me!” She spat the words, her chest heaving. Deep inside, a tiny spark of unease flickered. His gaze was unrelenting, his stance radiating authority. She swallowed, struggling to maintain her bravado.

Without another word, he seized her wrist and dragged her into the living room. The soft carpet muffled their steps, but her heart pounded loudly in her ears.

The room was warm, the leather couch gleaming under the glow of a floor lamp. A faint ticking from the wall clock counted the seconds like a metronome of doom. James sat on a hard wooden chair he’d pulled from the kitchen and tugged Emma toward him with a sharp jerk.

“What are you doing?” she hissed, yanking at his grip, but he held her effortlessly.

Her eyes widened as he pulled her across his lap. Her stomach pressed against his hard thighs, her head dangled downward, her hair brushing the floor.

Panic surged, mixed with incredulous rage. “Let me go right now, you can’t do this!”

Bare Bottom Spanking: Father Punishes Daughter

“Oh, I can,” he said calmly, his voice a low rumble. His hand rested briefly on her back, pinning her in place. Then he grabbed the waistband of her shorts.

With a swift tug, he yanked them down, exposing her tiny pink thong that barely covered anything. Emma gasped, kicking her legs, but his other arm pressed her down relentlessly.

“Dad, stop!” she pleaded, her voice cracking. But her words bounced off him. He hooked his fingers into her thong, pulling it down to her knees in one determined motion.

Her bare rear was now exposed, the skin smooth and flawless, marked by faint tan lines from her last beach day. The cool air in the room made her shiver, her labia tightening slightly as humiliation crashed over her in waves.

“You brought this on yourself, Emma,” he said, raising his hand. The first slap landed with a sharp crack on her right cheek. Pain exploded like fireworks, searing through her skin.

Emma shrieked, her legs jerking involuntarily. Her hands clawed at the carpet, seeking anchor, as her rear quivered, trying to dodge the next blow.

“Stop! Please!” she whimpered, but his hand fell again, this time on the left side. The crack echoed through the room, blending with her choked sobs. Each smack left a red print, her skin starting to glow.

Her cheeks jiggled with every hit, the tan lines standing out paler against the growing redness. The pain was intense, a throbbing burn that intensified with each second.

Emma squirmed, her legs flailing, but his grip was iron. She felt the rough texture of his jeans against her stomach, smelled the faint sweat clinging to him. Her cheeks were wet with tears that dripped onto the carpet. “It hurts!” she sobbed, but he paused only to rest his hand on her heated rear.

Punishment With The Belt: Domestic Discipline On Bare Butt

“That’s the point,” he said, his voice steady but unyielding. “You need to learn responsibility.” He spanked again, slower now, more deliberate, letting each blow sink in. Emma bit her lip, trying to stifle her cries, but they escaped anyway, raw and desperate.

After what felt like an eternity—perhaps ten minutes—he stopped. Emma panted, her body trembling, her rear blazing like a furnace. She thought it was over, but then she heard the unmistakable sound of a belt sliding through loops. The leather creaked as he folded it in half. Her heart skipped a beat.

“No, Dad, please don’t!” she begged, twisting her head to look at him. Her eyes were red, her lashes clumped with tears. But his face remained stern, resolute.

“Get up,” he ordered, pulling her to her feet. Her shorts and thong tangled around her ankles, hobbling her. He guided her to the couch, bending her over the armrest.

Her rear jutted out, the red cheeks trembling faintly in the cool air. She heard the leather belt creak as he weighed it in his hand.

“You’ll get exactly ten strikes,” he said. “And you’ll count them.”

Emma shook her head, her hair sticking to her damp cheeks. “I can’t… please…” she whispered, but the first lash of the belt cut her off. The leather bit into her skin, a sharp, stinging pain far worse than his hand. She screamed, her body bucking. “One!” she gasped, her voice breaking.

The second strike landed, hitting the other side. “Two!” Her legs shook, threatening to collapse. Each lash was precise, the leather leaving red welts across her already burning skin. By “five,” she sobbed uncontrollably, her body shuddering, but she kept counting, terrified he’d start over.

Spanking At Home: Young Woman Gets Spanked To Tears

The smell of leather and sweat filled the room, mixed with the faint trace of her perfume still clinging to her.

The clock’s ticking grew louder, a relentless rhythm pacing the strikes. At “ten,” Emma collapsed, sinking to her knees, her hands clutching her scorching rear. Her skin was hot, swollen, a deep red crisscrossed with darker stripes.

James set the belt aside, his chest rising and falling heavily.

“I hope you’ve learned your lesson,” he said, his voice softer now but still firm. He helped her stand, gently pulling up her shorts and thong, though she flinched at every touch. Tears streamed down her face, but she nodded silently, unable to speak.

He guided her to the stairs, his hand light on her back.

“Go to bed, Emma. We’ll talk tomorrow.” She nodded again, climbing the steps, each one a painful reminder of her punishment.

In her room, she collapsed face-down on her bed, the cool sheets soothing her burning rear slightly. She closed her eyes, humiliation and pain mingling with a strange relief. Maybe, just maybe, she’d understood something.