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From rdragon@ix.netcom.com Wed Dec 25 11:35:46 1996
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: FATHER OF THE BRIDE PART ONE
From: rdragon@ix.netcom.com(***)
Date: 25 Dec 1996 16:35:46 GMT
F
//Title: Father of the Bride, chap 1-3
NOTE: The original was received as a single file. I have split it on
chapter boundaries into parts to meet email size restrictions on some
systems.
Assume the following story is fiction.
Copyright 1994 by the author. All rights reserved. To be
redistributed only with permission of the author. Archive permission
has been granted to the "hermes" file server. (That's where you
*should* have obtained this file.)
Feedback solicited. Comments, suggestions, criticisms to
an50731@anon.penet.fi.
Table of Contents:
Chapter 1. The Bride-to-be
Chapter 2. Father of the Bride
Chapter 3. Cooperative Agreements
Chapter 4. Logic and Philosophy
Chapter 5. On the Hot Seat
Chapter 6. Reverie
Chapter 7. Of Mice and Moms
Chapter 8. The Task at Hand
Chapter 9. Wedding Day
Chapter 10. Mysterious Wedding Presents
Chapter 11. The First Mysterious Present
Chapter 12. The Second Mysterious Present
Chapter 13. Explanation
Chapter 14. Second and Third Items
Chapter 15. Caught!
Chapter 16. Duplicity
Chapter 17. Fulfilling the Bargain
Chapter 18. Mother and Daughter
Chapter 19. Barbara
Chapter 20. Lisa
Chapter 21. Secret Codes
Chapter 22. Credit
Chapter 23. Balance of Power
Chapter 24. Father and Mother of the Bride
Chapter 25. Amy Challenges
Chapter 26. Warm Up
Chapter 27. Demonstration
Chapter 28. Barbara Accepts the Challenge
Chapter 29. Barbara Stands the Test
Chapter 30. Dinner Conversation
Father of the Bride
Chapter 1. The Bride-to-be
"Why did you decide to get married in the winter? It's cold and
wet
out here!"
The day was made for trudging. The rain was pouring down, and
every
step they took left momentary footprints on the sidewalk. The
umbrellas were
useless with the gusts of wind, and water was beginning to collect in
the
bottom of their plastic shopping bags. The three shoppers remained in
high
spirits, but it was taking more of an effort.
"I'm not getting married outside, silly! It certainly wasn't *my*
idea
to drive downtown today," Amy retorted. She still wasn't completely
sure what
her two best friends were up to. She had let them lure her downtown on
the
pretext of finding "something old, something new, something borrowed,
something
blue." But what could she borrow downtown, except trouble? Amy was
quite the
adventurous one, though, and looked forward to the surprise she thought
her
friends had in store for her.
Dianne spoke up. "That's right, Kim. It *was* your idea! And I
still
think it was a good one. Let's get out of the rain, and we'll feel
better.
Nordstrom's is just a block over, and they have a place we can eat
lunch."
Amy didn't really care where they went. She was quite willing to
play
along with whatever their plan might be. But mostly, just one thing
was on her
mind: Only two weeks, and she would be married to Jeff! With thoughts
of
Jeff, she bounced between feeling cold and wet, and feeling excited and
wet.
These two weeks would seem to drag on forever, she was sure, in spite
of all
the details she had to work on for the wedding.
Nordstroms. Their newest destination reminded Amy of something.
"Mom
has a charge account there," she told the others. "I'm sure she'll let
me use
it, if we find something really nice. Let's get out of the rain!"
It would be weeks before Amy realized it was this little comment
that led
to such a life-changing series of events.
Chapter 2. Father of the Bride
"Just five days, and my little Amy will be married," Tom mused to
himself.
He would be glad when the wedding was over; both he and Barbara, his
wife,
seemed to spend every extra moment with wedding details. But it was
worth it;
Jeff seemed a good choice of husband, and they (of course!) wanted the
best
for their firstborn daughter.
Little Amy? Not exactly. Tom realized his daughter had grown
into a
stunning beauty. She remained a very conservative dresser, but
whatever she
wore always seemed to look just right on her. Yes, stunning was the
best
description. She was no airhead either, though she could give that
impression
when it suited her purpose. Jeff would have a handful, all right.
The phone rang. It was Barbara. After they talked together a
moment,
it was obvious she was concerned about something.
"Did you do any shopping at Nordstrom's last week?" she asked.
"No, why?"
Barbara explained that the monthly statement had just arrived, and
included several hundred dollars' worth of charges from last week. Who
could
have charged on the house account then?
"Was that the day Kim and Dianne took Amy downtown?"
Barbara said it was. "I forgot we gave Amy permission to use that
account years ago. She's never touched it since high school. Do you
think
she might have used it without asking last week?"
Tom replied, "I think we'd better find out tonight. If it was
her, she
has a lot of explaining to do. If not, we'll report the forgery
tomorrow.
I'll call Nordstrom's today and see if they can dig up the charge
records--
and have them stop any further charging!"
They speculated for a few moments longer as to what could have
been
bought with all that money. Certainly they hadn't noticed Amy with
anything
new besides the sweater she showed them last week.
Tom hadn't been off the phone to Nordstrom's for more than five
minutes
when it rang again.
"Dad?" It was Amy.
"Your mother and I were just discussing you. Where are you?"
"That's what I'm calling about. I'm at the police station."
"What! Are you hurt? What happened?"
"No, I'm fine. But we had a little problem and they won't let us
go
home unless somebody picks us up. They said we need a bail bond."
"Just what happened? And who's 'we'?"
That was the tough question, but Amy was anything but stupid, and
knew it
was going to be asked. "Kim and Dianne are here with me. They accused
us of
shoplifting. They don't care if we're really innocent or not. They
say we
have to stay here overnight unless somebody posts bail. Dianne's not
18 until
next month, you know, so they are about to take her over to 'Juvy
Hall'.
They're just waiting to see if you'll pick us all up. I've been trying
for an
hour; your phone was busy." There. She'd said it just right, implying
the
whole matter might be a horrible mistake and nothing for her father to
get
too terribly upset about.
Tom caught the "Miss Innocent" act, and decided to reserve
judgment until
he had the whole story. It was time to make it clear that he knew
there was
more to the story than had yet been explained. "I was on the phone to
Nordstrom's. That's why you couldn't get through. Do you know
anything about
some in-store charges made last week?"
Amy mentally kicked herself. She'd forgotten all about that!
This wasn't
going to look very good. She did her best to explain. "Oh. It was an
emergency. I was going to tell Mom about that right away, and then I
forgot--
I was so cold and wet when I got home... They're scowling at me here.
I'd
better get off the phone soon. Could you please come pick us up?"
That answered the forgery question. Tom had confirmed that the
charges
were made by his daughter. For one about to marry, she should know
better!
So he told his daughter, "I think an overnight stay would probably do
you a
lot of good. You'll have plenty of time to think about what's right
and
what's wrong." Tom was very big on Right and Wrong, and his daughter
knew it.
"Daddy, please! They said we could go if you bail us out. I'm
scared of
being here overnight. Please come get us?"
Tom thought about it. A bit of a scare might be just what she
needed to
bring her back down to Earth. On the other hand, he'd hate to have her
hurt
there. First, to be sure she knew this was serious--he was not about
to
bail her out with no questions asked. "I'll tell you what. Since you
probably only get one phone call, I'll call Jeff for you. Seeing as
how he's
about to marry you, he ought to be anxious to bail you out. I don't
know about
Kim and Dianne; I suppose I could call their father for them." Kim and
Dianne
were sisters.
"Please don't tell Jeff! I'd die! Please, PLEASE come get me!"
"Maybe Dianne's father would rather bail you out? I, for one,
think a
stay overnight would do you some good."
Amy knew her father was backing her into a corner. She did not
like that
at all, and was even more mad at herself for letting herself get into
this
mess. How much would she have to admit, how many promises would she
have to
make before he would agree to come get them? She'd do anything to get
out of
there, especially without Jeff knowing. It was just a matter of
finding the
right words to say. First she had to explain why Dianne couldn't call
her own
parents.
"Kim and Dianne are afraid to call. Dianne got busted once
before--
that's why they insist on bail. She's sure her Dad would ground her
for life
if he knew. So Kim's stuck too. If he bailed out Kim, obviously, he'd
find
out about Dianne." Actually, grounding would be the least of Dianne's
worries.
She would most likely spend the first day of grounding waiting for her
back
side to cool off. But Tom didn't need to know that.
"All right then. I'll come get you. But understand that actions
have
consequences. Anyone I bail out tonight comes straight home to discuss
things
with me and your mother. Don't expect us to go easy on you. After you
hang
up, tell Kim and Dianne that if we bail them out too, we'll have the
same
discussion with them that we do with you. It's their choice. Are you
sure
you don't want to stay there and think about it?"
This speech gave her pause. Was her Dad reading her mind? When
she was
a little girl, talk about actions and consequences always meant a
spanking was
on the way. She'd not heard that phrase in many, many years. She was
a full-
grown adult now. Surely he didn't think he could still spank her? And
what
about her friends? No, even when she was little, she'd never been
spanked
in front of any of her friends. And certainly none of her friends had
been
spanked by either of her parents. So this must just be part of the
game,
backing her further into a corner. Besides, just about anything would
be
better than spending the night where she was.
"I'm sure, Dad. Please just come get me."
Chapter 3. Cooperative Agreements
After receiving the necessary instructions, Tom hung up the phone
and reflected a few minutes. A disciplined and careful person, he
rarely took
action without thinking things through first. A plan had been forming
in his
mind while he was on the phone, and he now considered what additional
groundwork might be necessary before meeting the girls.
He'd used that phrase with Amy almost automatically, to point out
what
she *really* deserved. But now that he thought it over, he it realized
it
might turn out that spanking *was* the appropriate action to take, even
at
this point in life.
Just in case, then, he would lay the proper foundation, obtaining
the
necessary permission and cooperation. Even if a spanking proved
unnecessary
or counterproductive, this extra "clout" might help to get the message
across to people who did not want to hear what he had to say.
Now that Tom had thought things through, he gave Kim and Dianne's
father
a call. They passed the time of day for a few minutes. Neither cared
to
talk about sports, but both were accomplished outdoorsmen, and talk
about
the weather led up to Tom's reason for calling.
"Do you remember the time a few years back that your girls went
with us
for a couple of weeks?"
"You mean when you took them all the way out to Bryce Canyon?
They had
a great time. I heard all about it. I think the one loop you walked
is still
the longest hike they ever took."
"Yes, that was quite a trip. What I was remembering just now,
though,
was an offer you made before we left. We never needed to take you up
on it, but
I'm wondering if it might still apply."
"What was that?"
"Well... I just got a call from Amy. She's with Kim and Dianne,
and the
three of them seem to have gotten themselves in trouble. I don't think
Kim or
Dianne are ready to face you yet. It looks like it might work out best
if I
bail out all three at once, and I'm wondering if it would be a good
idea for
me to treat your two daughters exactly the same I do Amy.
"Back on that Bryce Canyon trip, you said to treat your daughters
the
same as I would my own. If they needed spankings, to go ahead and
spank them.
Of course, that wasn't necessary the whole trip.
"But from the confused story Amy just told me, I'm wondering if
the best
thing possible would be to hand out spankings all around. Then I
remembered
what you said years ago, so I thought I'd call just in case that's how
I deal
with Amy.
"So what do you think? Would you rather I send Kim and Dianne
home
whether they're ready or not, or deal with them the samØØØØ Amy? Or
should I
give you a call once I get the whole story?""
Fred was accustomed to making quick decisions. After a few
moments of
surprised thought, he replied. "There's obviously a story here that
you're
being careful to not tell me. Please assure the girls that we'll
listen;
we'll try to wait until they're ready to explain.
"In fact, if punishment is necessary, and that can be handled
without
our intervention, maybe they'll feel more free to come tell us. If you
don't
disclose that you and I have talked, just tell them that you'll
intervene on
their behalf--you know, the old 'good guy/bad guy' routine.
"If they agree that they'd prefer to be treated the same as Amy,
and that
they'd rather have you and Barbara deal with the situation, go right
ahead
with what you think is best. If they need a spanking, go ahead and
spank
them. Just so all three are treated fairly. Don't let them fool you.
Kim
and Dianne have both been spanked before. In Dianne's case, it was not
all
that long ago.
Fred hesitated, but then continued. "You don't need to tell me,
but I
think I will let you in on a secret to keep to yourself. If this
problem has
anything to do with shoplifting, be careful to not go too easy on
Dianne. We
have been through this before. If I'm guessing wrong, please forget I
said
anything!
We'll be home; feel free to call if you need to. Let me know how
it
works out. Good luck!"
"Thanks. I don't know the whole story yet, but so far as I can
tell it
has nothing to do with immoral behavior. There doesn't seem to be
anything
to worry about in THAT direction."
"Well, that's something. I suspect I know the problem, but I'll
wait
for the whole story. Let us know if we can help."
That conversation went surprisingly well. Now it was to the bank,
and
then time for the final piece of groundwork. He made a last telephone
call
to set up an appointment at the police station and get directions to
the
station.
His appointment was with the desk sergeant, as it turned out. It
was
a slow night, and the sergeant was willing to take the time to discuss
the
situation.
The sergeant agreed the plan just might work, shaking up the girls
enough
to keep them on the right path in the future. Seeing as how it was the
first
time for his daughter, and if all went well no police help would be
necessary, the sergeant was willing to make the exception needed to
support
Tom's plan.
All three girls were waiting for him. Women, not girls, he had to
keep
reminding himself--after all, Kim was the same age as Amy, and Amy was
about
to get married. Dianne was four or five years younger than her sister,
but
dressed to look as close to her in age as she could.
The sergeant made his speech to the girls. He had seen a lot of
women
who started out in exactly their situation. He described their
experiences
the second, third, and (in some cases) final time. Most of these
people were
now dead. He explained how and why.
The sergeant was good at what he did, Tom could see. The sergeant
now
moved from the horror of what happened to most, to the good news that
it need
not end that way. The really smart ones--and he could name some of
them
too--chose to learn their lesson the first time. These three at the
moment,
at least, obviously intended that this be the only lesson necessary.
The sergeant finished up by explaining that he hoped that they
would
listen to Amy's father, who at least cared enough to come get them, and
try
to set them off in the right direction.
He had made an agreement with Tom, he explained, which was this:
They
would discuss tonight how to deal with the situation, and where to
proceed
from here. If at any point Tom didn't feel he was getting sincere
cooperation,
he was to bring them right back down to the station. If they wouldn't
come
back with him, he (the sergeant) would send an officer out to pick them
up.
Could he do that? Yes, he could.
If they ended up back here, that obviously meant that they
wouldn't learn
the easy way. He, the sergeant, assured the women they would have a
rough
night if they ended up back here. They would do their best to ensure
the
women learned, one way or another, what jail could be like.
This threat was in a normal tone of voice, but all three women
shuddered.
Even Tom wasn't quite sure the sergeant was acting. It was almost like
a
sadistic jailer inviting the women into his special "play room."
The sergeant concluded by saying that he got off duty at 2 am, but
if
Tom called before then, he could easily arrange to be there the rest of
the
night. He glanced at the women, and you almost wondered if he was
about to
drool and lick his lips.
As the three women shuddered--more noticeably this time--and
looked
towards the door in obvious hope of deliverance, the sergeant gave Tom
a
broad wink. "Be sure to call and tell me how things are working out."
Tom had to put on his fiercest scowl, to keep from chuckling in
relief.
The drive home was quiet. None of the three young women wanted to
be the
first to speak, and Tom preferred to wait until they got home.
From rdragon@ix.netcom.com Wed Dec 25 11:36:51 1996
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: FATHER OF THE BRIDE 2/9
From: rdragon@ix.netcom.com(***)
Date: 25 Dec 1996 16:36:51 GMT
Assume the following story is fiction.
Copyright 1994 by the author. All rights reserved. To be
redistributed only with permission of the author. Archive permission
has been granted to the "hermes" file server. (That's where you
*should* have obtained this file.)
Feedback solicited. Comments, suggestions, criticisms to
an50731@anon.penet.fi.
Chapter 4. Logic and Philosophy
Home, for Tom and Barbara, was at the eastern edge of the suburbs,
near
the base of the Cascade Mountains. Their home had originally been
shamefully
far from town, but with more people building homes in the area, they
were now
considered suburban.
Tom and Barbara lived on nearly a full acre of land. About half
of it
was wooded with tall douglas fir trees, and planted with 20-year-old
spruce,
western redcedar, and hemlock trees. The wooded portion of their yard
was
kept pruned and brush-free, the rich soil matted with fir needles.
Because of
the shade, Barbara could get little to grow beneath the trees.
When they were growing up, their two daughters used to play many
games in
"the woods." They would often come back inside fragrantly smelling of
crushed
spruce and redcedar needles. For several years it seemed that Amy
needed to
be constantly rescued for one reason or another, usually because her
younger
sister had tied her to a tree. Amy was the more adventurous of the
two, but
the younger sister always seemed able to extricate herself at need.
But this afternoon "the woods" was a rainy, soggy, dark
background. (It
was raining again, but that was normal for February.) The remainder of
the
yard was also soggy, but colorful. Colorful, that is, if you happen to
enjoy
green. Green grass, just a few green weeds, green moss (three
different
shades), and green juniper bushes. The rhododendrons and roses would
provide
a brilliant display in the summer, but right now everything was dormant
for
the rainy season.
The house was brightly-lit and inviting, a two-story farm house
with
basement. (There was no farm, but it was supposed to look like a farm
house
anyway.) The outside was painted sky blue with white trim. Today,
with the
lowering skies, it looked like battleship grey.
Barbara was waiting for them at home. She looked even more
disturbed than
Tom--but it had been a long week of wedding preparations. She directed
everyone in to the living room and sat down next to Tom.
The next two hours were filled with tearful remonstrance. It took
a
while for everyone to get the story straight. The initial story seemed
to
leave out a few details, and ignored the concepts of right and wrong.
The
whole story, as it finally developed, was this:
Dianne was a habitual shoplifter. She couldn't help it; it was
practically an addiction. She'd pretty much gotten caught at
Nordstrom's.
Instead, the girls agreed to put the charge on Barbara's in-store
account.
They were going to explain and make good right away. But things didn't
quite work out. The story was that, today, they were trying to
*return*
things when they got caught.
The store manager had told the police that they were already
suspicious.
The three of them had been closely watched, and that's why they got
caught.
So was this all Dianne's fault? Well, no, not exactly. Kim and
Amy
had benefited at least once each in the past, and "sort of" encouraged
this
behavior. It was Amy who signed the Nordstrom's charge. And this from
a
woman about to be married?
Tom was a systems programmer by trade, and made a habit of looking
at
things logically, breaking problems down into their component parts.
Now that
he had the situation identified, he proceeded with the question: What
issues
still need to be dealt with, and what can we do to prevent the problem
from
happening again?
Tom announced his solution. "Okay, here's the deal. Starting
tomorrow,
each of you need to make a list of each person you've stolen from. You
need
to apologize and make restitution. You might want to ask each one to
forgive
you."
"But Daddy, I don't have that much cash. How am I going to pay
them
back this week?"
"Sell your car. If you need to, find other things to sell. Let's
not
forget that you *are* in the wrong here."
This statement got all three of the young women wound up. They
went
around and around about whether Tom was being reasonable, and whether
it was
physically possible, even if they had the means, to pay back every
person they
had wronged. They finally came to the agreement that each woman, by
tomorrow,
would make a list of each *known* theft, and an estimated amount.
Tomorrow,
then, they would together work out a plan for getting everyone repaid,
realizing
this might involve selling off a few essentials. Tom assured them that
such
a written plan would make things easier as they discussed the problem
with
each of their victims.
Now came the main event. Kim and Dianne would have to explain the
situation to their parents, and Amy would have to tell Jeff. Tom was
willing
that they wait a few days before breaking the news--this way, at the
same time,
they could also show the progress they had made at setting things
right. But
they had to give a "full disclosure" before the end of the week.
Tom's reasonableness, of course, was again called into question.
Amy did
*not* want to tell Jeff. Tom was willing to let Amy wait until she and
Jeff
returned from their honeymoon trip, but no longer. With Kim and
Dianne, Tom
relented. Provided they kept to the agreement, and accepted the
remainder of
their punishment, they would not be required to tell their parents.
"Please, Dad, if I can get everything straightened out before the
wedding,
couldn't you let me start with a clean slate? It would mean so much to
me.
I'd never forget if you forgave me this one last time."
Barbara had been quiet for several minutes, but saw it was time
again for
her to show her support for her husband.
Barbara said, "It's already getting late, and you're just wasting
time.
I think you'd better hear Amy's father out before you start arguing.
Amy, he's
still your father and I think you need to show him a little more
respect."
Her words would not seem to carry very much weight--there was really
nothing
stopping the young women from walking out--but they had their effect.
Amy asked, "You mean there's more? I guess we'd better hear it."
Now it
was time to get nervous. She suspected what was coming, but could
hardly
believe it was possible.
"Oh yes indeed, there's more! We talked about restitution, but we
have
not talked about punishment. Theft is still a crime, whether the goods
are
returned or not, punishable with jail time.
"I discussed this with the desk sergeant. You saw me talking
before
picking you up. I explained that I needed an alternate plan in case I
found
you three rebellious or uncooperative. He doesn't normally do this,
but as
you heard, he agreed to allow me to turn you back in!
"So, you see, you have two options. You can take the 'official'
route,
returning to the station tonight, and making do as best you can. Or
you can
take the 'parental guidance' route, accepting discipline and
instruction from
us. Which will it be?"
Amy replied, "It looks like I'll be spending all week apologizing
to
people. But I guess I'd rather do that than spend the time in court.
I do
NOT want to go back to that hateful station!"
Tom continued, "That sounds about right. In fact, if you can get
everything cleared up before your wedding, you won't need to tell
Jeff."
Tom turned to the sisters. "Kim and Dianne, what about you two?
Shall
I deal with you two the same as Amy, or send either of you back to the
station?"
Kim answered for both of them, "We'll take our lickings here,
along with
Amy."
"Fair enough. Now what punishment do you think is appropriate to
the
situation? Is there anything short of jail time that would keep you
from
pulling this ever again?"
Nobody had any suggestions. Tom and Barbara waited expectantly.
The
young women had obviously thought of a thing or two, but were reluctant
to
mention anything for fear it might come to pass. Just apologizing and
paying
people back was obviously deemed insufficient, and being placed on
restriction
was pointless with the wedding less than a week away.
Amy made one last try. "You know we're really sorry. You've made
your
point. Couldn't you just forgive us? It seems to me that would be the
'right' thing to do."
She knew the answer from her childhood memory, even before it was
given.
"Certainly we can forgive you, and all the store owners can forgive
you, but
that does not alter the fact that actions have consequences. Either
way, the
shoplifting still happened."
"There was that phrase again," Amy thought to herself. "Actions
have
consequences." She knew what was coming for sure, now.
Amy practically wailed. "Surely you don't mean to spank me! You
haven't
spanked me in years and years! You said yourself that I'm too big to
spank.
What good would that do?"
Tom replied, "Let me put it this way. If you were younger, and
behaved
as you did, would you feel yourself deserving of a spanking?"
Amy was crying a bit, but they were not the tears of sorrow she
used to
cry when about to be spanked. Rather, she was feeling sorry for
herself; she
was grown now and did not deserve to be treated like a child. She was
not
to the point of snuffling yet, and replied in a small voice, "I suppose
I
would deserve one if I were little. But I am NOT little. You're not
being
fair!"
Indeed, was he being fair? Yes, he was; she had the option. But
would
it do any good? Tom wasn't sure. It *did* sound a bit crazy. "To be
fair,
you have the option of returning to the station." Amy shook her head
at this,
as Tom continued, "But you obviously don't want to take the adult
consequence.
Remember, you're in the big time now, Amy. That was a real police
arrest. You
have a real police record, which does not please me in the slightest.
Since
you don't want the adult consequence, the child's consequence seems
logical.
Maybe that will help remind you to stop acting like a child. Remember
that
tears and restitution, so long as both are sincere, have always been a
good
combination."
Tom again asked if anyone had a better suggestion, one that was
equally
likely to achieve the intended deterrence. The young women looked at
each
other, but nobody spoke.
"Very well, then. Kim, do you also agree to a spanking, making
restitution, and hopefully disclosing matters to your parents? You
*are* an
adult, so the spanking is entirely your option. I will do my best to
make it
worthwhile--that is, I will try to make you cry even though you're a
grown
woman. Is that what you want?"
Kim replied, "It's not exactly what I *want*, but I guess I'm
stuck with
it. Go ahead if you think you must."
"So you agree to everything?"
"Yes, except I don't know if I'll be telling my parents or not."
"Fair enough." Tom turned to the youngest. "Dianne, same
question. I'm
sure it's not exactly what you want, but is it fair enough? Are the
spanking
and restitution acceptable?"
Dianne figured she was getting off easy. She answered, "Yes."
Tom was struck by another idea. "I just had another thought,
Dianne.
I'm not sure a spanking will be all you need to cure you of the
shoplifting
habit--but I'll do my best. Will you also agree to get counseling
related
to stopping the habit, beginning this very week?"
"Okay."
"Care to guess what the consequence will be if you don't follow
through?"
"Another spanking?"
"Right. Will you also agree to that, or whatever your father
decides?"
"I'd take the spanking. But I'll go get the counseling--really, I
will."
"How about you, Amy? How long's it been? At least eight years,
maybe
ten? Do you accept a hard spanking as a fair punishment, and agree to
make
restitution this week?"
"I guess so. I already said yes."
"Very well. Rather than telling Jeff, what do you expect as a
fair
consequence of not getting everything cleared up this week as
promised?"
"It sounds like I'll be getting another spanking if I don't do it.
But
I promised I would, and I will."
"Good. Now then, I don't think we'll do this in private--I don't
think
that would be quite appropriate under the circumstances. Please take a
chair
from the kitchen to the rec room and we'll meet you there. I don't
think you
would want to be spanked here, so close to the front door.
"If anybody needs to use the bathroom, now would be a good time.
You
know where it is."
It seemed everyone suddenly needed the bathroom. Amy took a chair
back to
the rec room and then joined the sisters in the bathroom.
This turned out to be a twenty-minute break. Tom realized all
that talking
was thirsty work, and used the time to down two glasses of orange
juice. By
now it was too late in the evening for anything with caffeine, or he'd
be up
all night. That wasn't the real point, of course--Tom simply liked
orange
juice, but had not wanted to interrupt the tearful discussion for such
a
mundane consideration.
Tom had a good sense of the ridiculous. Holding up a spanking for
a
glass of orange juice! Barbara caught him chuckling to himself, and he
explained the humor of the situation. "Here we are on this solemn
occasion,
with three women about to get their bottoms warmed--but they're hiding
in
the bathroom and I'm enjoying my orange juice! We're all acting the
part.
Amy, Kim, and Dianne are acting like little girls trying to put off
their
punishment. I think it's finally beginning to sink in. And here I am,
analyzing the situation.
"Well, it's time for the ceremony. Do you want to remind the
girls of
what they're here for, or shall I?"
Just like old times, Barbara called to the children in the
bathroom,
noting that their time was up, and that keeping "your" father waiting
would
not be a very good idea. Washing-up sounds continued, but the door
soon
opened.
Chapter 5. On the Hot Seat
Everyone filed in to the rec room. Tom crossed to the window to
draw the
drapes. The window only looked out on "the woods," but he considered
spankings
to be private and automatically shut out any chance of onlookers. This
room
was a warm, cozy room, decorated in earth tones, with woven wall
hangings. One
wall was entirely given over to book shelves, with a television set in
the
corner across from the couch. Furniture consisted of the couch, a
wicker
chair, and a couple of bean-bag pillows the girls used to lay on as
kids.
There was the chair Amy had brought, right in the center of the
rec room.
It certainly looked ominous, but Amy reminded herself that it was just
a
spanking, and would soon be over. Barbara seated herself in the wicker
chair
by the window, and the girls sat together on the couch.
Tom turned the chair to face the couch, and sat down. "Amy,
you're
first."
Amy stood up and took five reluctant steps to stand next to her
father,
and knelt across his lap.
"Nice try, Amy. I'm sure you haven't forgotten. Hard spankings
are
always on the bare bottom. You'll need to slip off your jeans and
panties."
"But Dad, I've *grown*. Can't I just keep my panties on?"
"This will be a spanking you won't want to have repeated. Take
them off."
It was difficult from this ignominious position, but Amy managed
to
unsnap her pants and push everything down to her knees. It was very
hard to
do while keeping her thighs clenched together, and Tom grinned at her
dilemma. That still wasn't quite enough, though. "Take them all the
way off."
Amy complied, using her toes to slip each opposite shoe off, then
twisting
around to reach her knees and tug everything off as one unit. The
socks came
off, too, so everything was bare from the waist down. Except for her
blouse,
which Tom tucked up out of the way.
"My goodness, you *have* grown. You were just a girl the last
time you
were spanked on the bare bottom. Are you ready?"
"Dad!" These comments on her womanhood were embarrassing her. So
far as
she was concerned, now was not the time to be commenting on how grown
up she
had become. She knew her father was toying with her. "Yes, just get
it over
with."
Tom began to spank the bride-to-be just as he had in years past.
Even
when she was eleven or twelve, 5 or 6 hard swats was enough for tears
and
uncontrollable crying. Amy clenched her cheeks, as always, and made
his
hand hurt. With three people to spank, this just wouldn't do.
"Amy, relax."
She did, but her whole body seemed to say, "Just get it over
with."
Tom delivered twenty slow, hard swats, by far the hardest spanking
he'd
ever given. The sharp report of each swat sounded loud in the room,
and it
was accentuated by Amy's complete silence. The sound had been made
from the
palm of his hand, Tom realized, and it was starting to seriously hurt.
And
two more people to spank!
Tom paused to massage his hand. It was nearly as red as Amy's
bottom--
in fact, the palm was turning a little bit blue. Amy had remained
motionless
through the entire ritual.
After a few more moments, Amy asked, "Can I get up now?"
"Yes, you may. This isn't working. You might as well put your
panties
back on."
Amy slid off Tom's lap, turned and quickly slipped her panties on.
They
were both tight and sheer, and--to her obvious surprise--suddenly
uncomfortable.
"Well, at least that's something," Tom thought to himself.
"My hand won't last very long at this rate. Amy, go see if you
can
find that old paddle we made for you and your sister. It's probably
still
on the top shelf in the basement, over towards the left. You'll
probably
need to wipe it down with a damp cloth to get the dust off. Check
quickly,
please!"
Leaving her pants on the floor, Amy went in search of the
instrument
of her punishment. Even when applied with only moderate force, two
swats
had always brought tears to her eyes. Kitchen-sink noises soon
announced
that she had found it, and she soon returned to hand the paddle to her
father.
The two sisters had remained motionless the entire time Amy was
gone in
search of the paddle, not wanting to draw attention to themselves.
They
were, no doubt, contemplating their fate. Except for having to bare
their
bottoms--that would be horrible by itself--Amy's spanking had seemed
bearable.
Bearable, that is, until she had been sent to fetch the paddle. Kim
and
Dianne could but watch in trepidation to discover their fate. And who
would
be next? But Amy had returned now, in blouse and panties, carrying the
paddle
in her left hand.
It looked so small! It was hardly larger than a wooden spoon,
true,
but had always appeared a large and fearsome instrument when the girls
were
younger. "So," Tom thought to himself, "even this might not do the
job."
"Back over my lap, please, with your panties off."
Amy appeared to have adopted a fatalistic attitude, and complied
without
further protest. She slipped her panties back down past her knees and
stepped
out of them, not bothering to try to cover herself. She immediately
placed
herself back across her father's lap. Legs together, bottom up, feet
down,
hands and head down. She was determined to go through with it, and be
adequately cooperative. By now her bottom had toned down to a soft red
blush.
After a couple of taps to get the swing right, the first swat of
the paddle
changed Amy's whole perspective. "Yeouch!" Her right hand shot back
to cover
her bottom.
"Amy, keep your hands down," Tom chided. "I shouldn't have to
hold them."
Once again, she complied and tried to relax. At least now she knew
what was
coming and could prepare herself for it.
Tom continued with slow, medium-hard swats. "So that's still
enough to
get her attention," he thought to himself. He could see the tension
rising
as he worked back and forth with a steady rhythm, smack, smack,
stopping after
twenty blows.
This was a serious spanking. Amy could obviously feel it now, but
she
still wasn't crying. But it looked like she was close--the last few
swats
had each brought a slight gasp.
Tom stopped and looked at the paddle. It was--let's
see--seventeen
years old. Half a year younger than Dianne. He'd made it himself, out
of
the sugar maple out front. It had been struck by lightning the
previous
summer, but he did his woodworking (paddle making, that time!) over the
winter
months. Yes, it was "soft" maple carved seventeen years ago this
month. It
showed no signs of deterioration or cracking, so Tom figured he could
use
it rather more severely without danger of breaking anything.
Tom brought the small paddle up and took careful aim, placing his
other
hand on the small of her back. This one ought to hurt.
It did! With a screech, Amy shot straight out with her hands
covering
her bottom. She hung still in the air, with her back arched and her
feet
straight out, arms behind her.
"Relax and put your hands down. There's a lot more to come."
Part of
this punishment was psychological. Tom, of course, knew Amy had never
had
a long spanking before. Even the worst of offenses had been handled
with
a dozen slaps of the hand or a half-dozen from the paddle. And tears
had
never been in short supply. This time, though, it seemed useful to
give
the impression of an endless punishment, each stage more severe, with
plenty
more to come.
Amy resumed the submissive position, but this time with obvious
trepidation. Tom inquired, "Can you lay still for the rest, or will
somebody have to hold you down?"
Amy said she'd try to keep still. She clenched her fists.
The next swat was just as hard, and elicited another screech--but
Amy
managed to stay still. Tom took aim, and delivered another hard one.
And
another. He didn't want to tire too quickly, so he started to wait,
resting,
a good half minute between swats. This time seemed like forever to
Amy.
The two sisters sat on the couch in stunned silence. Tom glanced
at
Barbara. It was hard to read her expression, but Tom was sure it was
not
disapproval. He would carry on.
Five or six minutes, and a round dozen hard swats, finally took
Amy to
her limit. The loud lamenting finally turned to tearful sobbing. She
finally sounded like a spanked little girl, tearfully promising to be
good.
Tom had no comment. He brought the paddle down again, hard. Back
came
the hands. "Barbara, could you hold Amy's hands, please?"
Barbara walked over. "Give me your hands, dear. I'm sure this
will be
over soon." Amy brought her hands back down and her mother took a firm
grip on each wrist.
"Yeoww!" Amy cried louder still, yanked at her hands and began
wiggling
around Tom's lap. Both Tom and Barbara had anticipated this, however.
Barbara
held on, and Tom wrapped his left arm around Amy's waist. He waited
for Amy
to settle down, and then waited a little bit longer while his arm
rested.
Amy lay there sobbing. She couldn't stop crying.
Amy's bottom was a deep red. It looked like she would probably
keep some
bruises through her wedding. Well, that was okay; what would she be
needing
to sit down for? Tom tightened his grip around Amy's waist and took
note of
what looked like the most sensitive spots.
Wow! Right on target, with a loud bang! Amy expected this one,
and
shrieked nearly before it landed. Now she was *really* desperate. She
yanked
and pulled and kicked and wailed. Yes, she was definitely feeling her
punishment now.
"Kim, I need you to hold Amy's legs for her. With a bare bottom,
all
this kicking just won't do." Tom's wry voice said he wasn't concerned
about
getting kicked, or concerned about Amy getting her legs in the way.
Quite
the opposite--Tom was adding to the punishment by pointing out how much
more
she should be embarrassed. Amy suddenly realized what had happened,
and
she clenched her thighs together, still kicking a bit from her knees,
like
a novice swimmer. It was a little late, but she tried to keep from
exposing
her most intimate parts to her father.
Kim held Amy down by the knees. Kim took care to keep herself
well clear
of that paddle. She knelt across Amy's ankles, pressing down with her
hands
just below Amy's knees. This was not too easy with stockings on, but
Kim
managed. Barbara knelt to hold Amy's head and shoulders down, folding
Amy's
arms together behind her back and taking a strong grip. Amy was stuck.
Amy
was completely helpless, exposed from the waist down and displaying a
burning
red bottom, with one of her best friends wrapped around her bare legs.
Amy
could only guess how intimate a view she was giving Kim. The fact that
Kim
would be soon in the same predicament probably made things nearly as
bad for
Kim. Not that Kim's sympathy was of any help to Amy!
But Tom figured Amy had pretty well gotten the message by now, and
there
were still two more to spank. Time to finish up. He planted his left
hand on Amy's lower back for leverage, and quickly brought the paddle
down--
hard--four times, right, left, right, left. Amy struggled frantically,
but
it was in reaction to the punishment, rather than from an attempt to
escape.
In fact, Tom was proud to realize, Amy had never attempted to escape.
They
had brought her up right--down deep, she remained obedient and
respectful.
Tom set down the paddle on the floor. "That's all, Amy. They can
let
go as soon as you settle down."
Amy immediately stopped struggling, and Kim and Barbara stood up.
Both
returned to their seats. Amy lay there snuffling for another few
moments.
Now that she had stopped thrashing, her tears were forming a puddle on
the
floor.
She stood up. Now there was another problem. Both her jeans and
panties
would be too tight for her poor swollen bottom. What to do? "Dad, may
I
go grab a skirt or something to put on?"
"No, I think you should stay here." Tom paused and then
continued, "That
was a lot harder than I had intended. But you wouldn't cry, and it
seemed
pointless to have a spanking without you being really sorry. Are you
sorry
now, or just mad at me?"
The tears had slowed down, but were still coming. Amy tugged at
her
blouse to cover her hips a bit--in fact, if she stood still, the blouse
was able to cover everything important. "I guess I'm sorry. That
really
hurt a lot, but I guess I did ask for it. And I'll make sure it never
has
to happen again!"
"I don't suppose you'll want to sit down, so just stand by the
couch
if you like." Tom turned his head. "Kim, it's your turn."
From rdragon@ix.netcom.com Wed Dec 25 11:38:19 1996
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: FATHER O F THE BRIDE 3/9
From: rdragon@ix.netcom.com(***)
Date: 25 Dec 1996 16:38:19 GMT
//Archive-name: FathrBride.2
//Author: an50731
//Title: Father of the Bride, chap 6 & 7
Assume the following story is fiction.
Copyright 1994 by the author. All rights reserved. To be
redistributed only with permission of the author. Archive permission
has been granted to the "hermes" file server. (That's where you
*should* have obtained this file.)
Feedback solicited. Comments, suggestions, criticisms to
an50731@anon.penet.fi.
Chapter 6. Reverie
She did not expect to enjoy it, but Kim had a good idea of what
was coming.
It had been a lot less than eight years since *she* had been spanked.
The week she turned thirteen, she had protested that she was now
too old
to be spanked. Both parents had been present. It was her mother who
answered.
"The day you turn 21, you will be too old to spank. Until then,
if you
ever need a spanking, you will get one."
Kim's parents had already discussed the matter between themselves.
They
went on to tell Kim that they hoped today would be the last spanking
she ever
needed. There were plenty of other ways to get the point across if
need be--
and, they hoped, she had pretty much outgrown the need for any
punishment at
all. They assured her that so long as she began to act more and more
like
an adult, they would treat and respect her more and more like a young
woman
and not just a child.
But her father repeated their promise, and she knew there would be
no
argument. "Until you are 21, if you truly earn a spanking, I will give
you
one."
Then her father had ordered her across his lap. She was wearing
jeans--
how she wished that they had been a pair with pockets in the back--but
her
bottom soon felt like it was burning up. And this was right in the
living
room, with her mother watching. She was so embarrassed to be spanked
in
front of her mother at that age. She was determined not to cry. But
her
father had a heavy hand--even through her denim pants--and the tears
soon
came. By time she was allowed up, she was sure her pants would show
scorch
marks.
They had been true to their word. She got one that day, but never
again
for over a year. In fact, by time she was sixteen she had only
received one
more. She even went out of her way to get that one: Her parents had
been
relaxing her limits, and she wanted to see how far she could push. She
found
out. Once was enough; she never pushed those limits again.
Both parents were present for that one also. She was wearing a
canary
yellow miniskirt that day, almost too small for her. She was spanked
in the
living room again. This time her father directed her to bend over the
left
arm of the couch (left, that is, from the perspective of someone
sitting on it)
and lay along the seat cushion. Fred pressed down on her back, so that
her
stomach was laying on the cushion. She was told to bring her knees
forward
and press them against the side of the couch. That left her bottom so
high in
the air! The miniskirt was far too tight (which was part of the reason
for
the spanking), and she felt horribly exposed. Again, she associated a
spanking with mortal embarrassment. Her skirt just barely kept her
panties
hidden.
Holding her steady with his hand pressed into her lower back, her
father
spanked her bottom extremely thoroughly that day. Kim kicked and
sobbed and
wailed, but she was pinned to the arm of that sofa. There was no
escape from
those burning, punishing blows. That spanking seemed endless, but it
actually
"only" amounted to a dozen solid swats. Kim writhed on the couch,
grabbing
the edges of the seat cushion in her distress, the fabric soaking up
her
tears. Once released, Kim hid in her bed room the rest of the evening,
she
was so embarrassed. She had cried to herself for over an hour.
That should have been her last spanking, but it wasn't. The whole
year
she was sixteen, she was a model citizen. Use of a car was a privilege
to be
earned in her family, and she wanted to prove her parents' trust was
well
placed. As indeed it was.
It was when she was seventeen--a high school senior--that she
found
out that even the freedom of one's own car was not without limits.
This was
an act of wilful disobedience, pure and simple. She knew it, and her
parents
knew it. Even as she gave them, Kim knew her excuses to be
rationalizations,
merely attempts to ignore that what she had been doing was wrong. The
reasons
seemed good at the time; she'd believed her own excuses until
confronted.
Funny how that happens.
In Kim's family, there was only one answer for wilful
disobedience. She
knew that, and her eyes started to water. Knowing she was seventeen
years
old and truly deserving of a spanking brought the tears down her
cheeks. Kim
by now stood taller than her mother.
It had been years, but... "I guess I'm getting a spanking, aren't
I?"
Yes, but that was not all. First she was sent to fetch her
driving
license, to turn it over to her father with a promise to not drive
anything--
even a go-cart--in the next 90 days without her father's explicit
permission.
Depending on circumstances and behavior, she *would* be allowed to use
her
car on occasion.
Then came the spanking. She still blushed to think of it. Bare
hand on
bare bottom. She had earned it, and she was paid in full.
Kim preceded her father to her room. At least she would be
spanked in
private this time. Kim's room was not particularly large. Her bed,
desk and
chair, single book case, lamp stand and dresser took up most of the
floor
space. The walls were decorated with posters, most of them featuring
an
outdoors or animal theme. Her father pointed, and directed her to
kneel down by
the edge of her bed. He had pointed to the right side of the bed close
to
the foot. There was no footboard.
This was different. When she was little, her father always sat on
the
bed, or in her chair, and placed her across his lap. But this time she
was
directed to lean over the bed, her knees on the floor, laying along the
foot
of her bed.
Her father paused a moment, then directed her to sit back up long
enough
to bare her bottom. She was to pull down her pants and panties. Then
she
could lay back down.
How she had protested! She was offered a six-month driving
suspension
just for the privilege of arguing. Did they have a deal?
No they did not. No deal. She slipped her pants, and panties,
down to
her knees and lay back down.
Her father stood by her head facing the other direction, and
placed his
left hand lightly on her back. With his right hand, she discovered, he
planned to freely swing down at her bottom. So that was it. She would
be
getting a spanking like she had the last time, when she had been forced
to lay
over the edge of the couch.
And so she did. The first blow was a shock. It had been many
years
since she had been struck on the bare bottom. My, did it sting! But
her
father spanked her and spanked her. Kim began kicking to ease the
pain, but
her pants were in her way. Her father held her in place on the bed
with his
left hand. He had to lean his leg up against the bed to keep her from
falling
off the bed. But even with all that kicking, her bottom had still
seemed to
be perfectly exposed. Her pants, tangled around her knees, kept her
from
getting her feet in the way (as if that would have helped anyway). Her
father
just kept on spanking her. She was seventeen years old, getting the
hardest
bare-bottom spanking of her life. Her bottom was still sore the next
day.
The last time came just four months short of her parents' promised
deadline. Kim was nearly twenty-one now, and well past the era of
being
punished with a spanking. She was home for the summer between her
sophomore
and junior years of college. Between the merit scholarships and her
parents'
support, all of her school and living costs were paid--she didn't need
to work
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