by DJ Black
Deborah hadn't really known her father and yet she missed him with all her heart. His sudden demise less than a year before while on business in Belize had been unexpected and had left her an orphan. At 19, she was too young, in her opinion, to strike out alone and she did not have the heart to finish college. So now here she was aged 20 living with Cassidy and her father's friend, Tom Bainbridge.
Tom was an old army friend of her father's and he had opened his home to her at the funeral without the slightest hesitation in such a paternal manner that it hadn't even occurred to Deborah to refuse. Since then she hadn't needed to work or even help around the house. She was a permanent house guest and as such was treated like a princess. That was really the problem.
Over the previous year she had observed Cassidy's relationship with Tom with growing envy. And that had been before she had found out. From the time she first arrived she had noticed, but had never been able to put her finger on it.
"I have a bone to pick with you, young woman," he would say at breakfast or dinner, and 19-year-old Cassidy would look downcast and mutter a reply.
Then later on, Cassidy and Tom would disappear into the study, sometimes for hours. Afterwards Cassidy always looked positively glowing. So one day she had resolved to find out what went on between them.
"I have a bone to pick with you," Tom said one Saturday lunchtime.
"Yes Daddy," Cassidy had said with a blush.
That was her chance, Deborah thought. As soon as she could she hurried off to the study and looked for a place to hide. With little time to ponder, she settled on the great marble disused fire place, which had a huge and heavy antique iron fire guard. Sitting behind it was easy and although she could not be seen, it afforded her a flawless view of the room.
She didn't have to wait long as after less than five minutes Tom entered followed by Cassidy.
"Why do you do these things?" Tom began scolding his diminutive daughter almost at once.
The petite blonde looked down as ever and just chewed her lip.
"Well?" Tom barked.
"I'm sorry Daddy, I didn't mean to do it. I..."
"Didn't mean to do what?" Tom's eyes narrowed.
"The car. I..."
"The car, what have you done to the car?"
"Oh." Cassidy's face fell. "I guess I really am for it then. You don't know I backed into a lamp post yesterday?"
"Good grief, girl. How much trouble can you get yourself into?"
"Are you going to spank me?"
Deborah shifted her bottom on the hard marble floor. A spanking? This was way too good to be true.
"I certainly was, but perhaps now I should take stronger measures," Tom continued. "Is there anything else you want to confess while we are about it?"
"Um!" Cassidy looked up and pretended to consider. "This not about seeing Mark Channing again is it?"
"The Channing boy, I might have known; and after I expressly forbade you to have anything to do with him."
Cassidy looked panicked now. What did Daddy know? At this rate her bottom was in for a difficult afternoon indeed.
"One last chance to fess up or I'll double the bill," Tom said firmly, folding his arms in a challenge.
Cassidy held her breath. Daddy couldn't possibly know about the joint in the garden at Wendy's party, could he? Drugs were number one badness. If Daddy knew about that then she would be grounded until at least Christmas and her bottom would get at least one industrial strength blistering and probably several. One false move here and things could get very sticky. What did he already know?
"How much mischief have you been up to?" Tom asked in exasperation when he saw no ready confession was coming his way.
Then Cassidy remembered giving Mrs Jones at the newsagents the finger as she drove off with Mark Channing. The old biddy must have split on her.
"I was rude to Mrs Jones," Cassidy said quietly, dragging her toe along the edge of the rug. "Sorry."
"Finally." Tom heaved a sigh, not at all sure he wanted to know what else Cassidy had been up to.
Cassidy stared at her feet and awaited her doom.
"A spanking and the tawse," Tom said after a moment's consideration. "The tawse for seeing the Channing boy again and then you can consider yourself gated until further notice."
"Yes Daddy." Cassidy could not fault the justice of it. She even considered confessing about the drugs, as she was in a penitent mood, but her courage failed her.
In her hiding place, Deborah's breath quickened until she was sure they could hear her. Then as she watched, she saw Cassidy reach under her cardigan and unbuckle her jeans belt. With a small blush she lowered them, together with her knickers right down to her ankles and then tottered forward towards Tom.
Tom reached into his desk drawer and took out a heavy leather carpet slipper and then pulled his daughter firmly across his lap so that her bare bottom was, as it happened, presented to the fireplace.
Deborah noted that Cassidy had some stark tan lines that served to emphasise the twin bubbles of her small but firm bottom. She noticed that her palms were sweating and she felt a little light-headed.
Cassidy grabbed a chair leg with her left hand while her right hand was held into the small of her back by Tom. There was no further ceremony as Tom immediately belaboured the girl's bottom with rapid and certainly vigorous spanks.
The dull thudding whacks elicited little more than a murmur from the squirming Cassidy, although Tom blasted down with heavy spanks. Deborah was amazed at her friend's fortitude.
This continued for several minutes until Cassidy's bottom held two strong red ovals that all-but obliterated the previous smooth whiteness. By which time Cassidy was grunting at each impact and breathing hard. At some point she had crossed her ankles and bent her knees up, but not so far as to block the spanking.
Still the spanking went on until at last Cassidy began to blub and then start to cry in earnest.
"Feeling it now aren't you?" Tom said grimly.
"Yes Daddy," Cassidy wept. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
"You always are, afterwards."
Tom kept Cassidy barking out sobs for another few minutes as he spanked on until even Deborah could see she was spent.
"Now you think about the tawse and how much worse it is," Tom said pulling his daughter into his arms.
"Yes Daddy, sorry Daddy," Cassidy sniffed, her sobbing abating almost at once.
"Now you can go to the corner until I am ready to finish with you."
Cassidy eased herself to her feet and nodded. Then making no attempt to cover her sore bottom, she shuffled over to the corner and stood there with her hands on her head.
"Good girl," Tom said putting the slipper away.
Deborah watched in amazement as the 19-year-old meekly put herself into time out as readily as a five-year-old. Then as she moved to hug her knees, acutely conscious now of where the unyielding floor pressed hard into her bottom, she realised something else. She was moist with arousal between her thighs and she was dizzy with it.
It was a long afternoon, and after an hour in the fireplace Deborah was almost as uncomfortable as Cassidy must have been. In fact the only event all afternoon was when Cassidy begged to be allowed to put her arms down, a request that was granted. Otherwise Cassidy did not move, except for some mild fidgeting and Tom kept his head down in some papers on his desk.
Finally Tom sat back and stretched his arms. Then he stood up and went again to his desk drawer and took out a short length of thick leather split at one end into two.
"Alright, place yourself over the scroll arm of the bench," Tom said, pointing at an unusual long blue leather padded piece of furniture.
Cassidy looked nervously at the bench and flexed her fingers before shuffling across the floor, her feet still being restricted by her jeans and underwear around her ankles. The undignified posture she took, arse up across the scrolled end, made Deborah gasp. She again felt a strange tingle in her lower belly and an increase in moisture thereabouts.
Then her father moved behind her running the leather across the palm of his hand.
"I won't have you seeing that street trash Channing, not now and not ever. He might seem exciting to you but he is trouble, do you hear me?"
"Yes Daddy," Cassidy offered up in a small voice, blinking hard as she did so.
"Dip a little," Tom said firmly.
Cassidy responded with a back thrust of her bare bottom, as if she could be any more vulnerable.
Tom brought the tawse down from the shoulder in a short powerful thrust that ended in a tangy splat across Cassidy's exposed bottom.
"Ye-aah!" she exclaimed clawing at the leather upholstery.
As usual Tom did not set a count, he just laid in only intending to stop once Cassidy was done.
Up to then Cassidy's bottom had looked somewhat recovered with only a trace of mottled red. Deborah had been almost disappointed in the lack of staying power in the colouring. She needn't have worried. Within three punishing thwacks across her bottom it was redder than ever.
There was no chance that Cassidy could keep still for the tawse, and as well as wagging her bottom like a demented dog she was yelling her head off.
"Keep your bottom still," Tom growled.
"But it hurts, Daddy," Cassidy snivelled.
"Sorry Daddy, I know I deserve it."
In her hiding place Deborah hugged herself at the exchange. At that moment she hoped the strapping would never end and she trembled with an intense longing she could not name.
Tom resumed with the tawse, striking low and hard so that visible welts began to rise on Cassidy's upper thighs and lower bottom.
"Ah-huh-a-huh." Cassidy broke and became lost in her sobs.
"Will you be seeing Channing again? Will you?" Tom roared.
"No Daddy no," Cassidy wept.
"I'll have you in here every day for a week, a month even, if I hear of you being anywhere near him. Do you hear?"
The tawse blazed another band of fire as he made his point.
"Yes Daddy." Cassidy was becoming incoherent.
"Alright, back to the corner and stay there."
Cassidy got painfully to her feet and trudged back to the corner her arms wagging at her sides in lieu of rubbing, which was strictly forbidden.
"Daddy, may I?" Cassidy sniffed.
Cassidy put her nose to the wall but this time with Tom's permission clasped her hands in the small of her back rather than put them on her head.
That's how she stayed for another hour while Deborah huddled behind the fire screen with her mind racing with all that she had seen.
For the next day or two Deborah knew what to look for in Cassidy's behaviour and despite her sunny outlook, there was a stiffness about the way she moved and a hint of a wince whenever she sat down. That's if she sat at all, for as Deborah noticed, Cassidy seemed to avoid chairs as much as possible for most of that week.
But it wasn't Cassidy's behaviour that pressed on Deborah's mind as much as her own. The feeling that she was a pampered guest whose behaviour was always beyond question began to wear on her.
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