Spanked by daddy stories

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Alas, the mood finally passed. I became aware that my backside now itched most unpleasantly in addition to the dull, throbbing, ache which hadn't seemed to matter earlier, and also that I was ravenously hungry. But I knew better than to call Spanked by daddy stories Mommy or Daddy, much less leave my room. In the Christensen family, when you were spanked and put to bed, you stayed there, and not a peep was expected from you until the next morning or until a grownup gave you permission to re the family. Handprince c Please do not reprint or repost this story without permission from the author:.

It wasn't long before the stairs creaked under his tread as he made his way up to my room. Mommy had doubtlessly told him "everything" as she saw it. I knew Daddy would listen to my side of the story. I also knew that after weighing my words in the balance, he would side with Mommy, as he always did. And then, Daddy would spank me. I began to cry as soon as he came through the door. He sat down on the bed and sat me on his lap, cradling me with his left arm and drying my tears with his handkerchief. In his deep resonant voice, he gently commanded me to get ahold of myself.

And, almost as if a spell had been cast, the need to cry faded away. When I told him I hadn't lit the matches and didn't know who had, his face darkened and I couldn't look him in the eye. He pointed out that it couldn't have been anyone else, since Mommy and I were the only ones home and Debby was at hockey practice and hadn't been home all day.

Desolate, I nodded my head yes or no when he prompted me with questions, Spanked by daddy stories laying out the logic which lead, step by step, inexorably, to my guilt. Finally, I mustered all the courage I had and placed my palms tenderly on his chest and forced myself to look directly into his steel grey eyes.

I didn't do it I really really didn't! A moment passed. Then his confident expression wavered and it was he who broke my gaze and looked away. I was never a good liar under any circumstance. And lying while looking Daddy square in the eye was more than I could think of doing. And of course, Daddy knew this quite well. Could it be?

Was Daddy actually going to believe me? Had God finally come to my rescue? My heart lept and I caught my breath as I awaited his next words. Daddy frowned to himself and looked downward, then back at me, studying my face.

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I lowered my eyes quickly, unable to meet his probing gaze, though I knew I ought to. Then he looked away again.

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Several seconds passed. His eyes closed and his breathing deepened, and I realized he was asking God for guidance. So I offered a silent prayer of my own, begging God, as the only One who knew I was innocent, to please make Daddy believe me - and to please, please not make me have to get another spanking! Daddy looked up again. There was sadness in his eyes, but the confidence had returned. But the facts speak for themselves.

I have never known you to tell a fib so convincingly as you did just now. And that is a change in you which troubles me very deeply. Daddy didn't believe me. I began to cry again but he hushed me. He was not finished speaking yet. When she attempted to chastise you, she says you threw a tantrum and refused to submit.

Is this true? It just happened! I didn't mean it! The Good Lord has commanded me to spank you. Daddy held my wrists firmly against the small of my back and clamped my legs into position between his. Strangely, I felt no fear, only desolation. Mommy, Daddy, God - all had abandoned me. I didn't understand why this had happened, only that it must somehow all be my fault, and that I must be the most worthless little girl in the world to deserve it. As I felt Daddy's cool, dry hand tucking up the skirts of my jumper and petticoat to expose the seat of my panties, I sincerely wished, for the first time in my life, to die.

On occasions, the urgent fear I experienced when Daddy exposed my panties to spank Spanked by daddy stories was leavened with embarassment at knowing that he was looking under my dress, and seeing everything there was to see. Our mother placed a high value on ladylike deportment on the part of Debby and me. We were strictly admonished never to allow our panties to show, especially when a male could Spanked by daddy stories them, even Daddy. Yet whenever Daddy spanked us, suddenly that rule didn't apply.

Up came your dress and down came his big hard hand on the seat of your plainly visible panties. But that afternoon, as Daddy turned up my skirts, I had already plummeted to a level of misery beyond fear or embarassment, a level of misery I had never known existed. Daddy was saying something. It was a question, but I didn't know what he'd said so I didn't know which answer to give.

And I felt too miserable to ask. The force of the smack drove me into his thigh. His hand continued to press against my backside, as if pushing the spank deep into my buttocks Daddy was stronger than Mommy, and when he spanked you could tell!

He had always used only his hand to spank us. He didn't need anything else. The pain came a fraction of a second later, like hornets stinging deep into my buttock muscles, still tender from the hairbrush. I shrieked and then sobbed and sobbed deeply, desperately drumming my feet against the floor, helpless to escape the intense smarting from my behind. It was normal for Daddy's spankings to hurt this much, but not after only the first swat! I didn't feel him remove his hand from my bottom, but about ten seconds later, just as the sting was beginning to ease just slightly, WAP!

Oh, how it hurt!

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My mind cried out for escape, my body tried to flee, but all I could do was kick my legs against the floor from the knees down and wail into the coverlet. And then my heart swelled with hatred.

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I hated God for making this happen to me, all of it. I hated Him for Spanked by daddy stories a world where things this awful, this unfair, this monstrous, could happen to poor little girls. My loathing filled all space until even the pain from my bottom was barely noticable. My hatred ripped the earth asunder and set fire to the sky - blasting God, killing God, as Daddy's tireless hand continued to swat the seat of my panties. But as spank after slow, measured spank landed on my bottom and the pain grew and grew, eventually it drove out even the hatred until I was no longer shaking the earth and igniting the sky.

Suddenly I was just a helpless, wailing child, face drenched with tears, receiving a very sound spanking from her Daddy. And at that moment, Daddy stopped. The sound of my crying must have changed, indicating that my Will had broken and that my heart was now prepared for Repentance. He turned my skirts back down again to preserve my modesty and released my wrists, allowing me to rub my bottom while I cried and cried across his lap.

Minutes passed before I unsteadily managed to stand up, still sniffling and crying softly, but ready to listen to directions. In a deep kindly voice, without anger, he instructed me to stand facing the corner and think about my sins. I sniffled a timid "yes, Daddy" and promptly obeyed him. The bedsprings creaked as he rose from his seat.

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Then came the sound of his footsteps. Then the door closed behind him. And in that moment, alone in my room, came the terror. Never had I sinned so grievously as I had done just a minute earlier: those awful, awful thoughts I'd had about God! Surely there could be no forgiveness for me, ever! My soul was forfeit.

In the corner of her bedroom stood an obscenity, an abomination in the eyes of the Lord. I was falling, falling, falling ever faster into a dark endless pit - falling away from daylight and family and friends and from all that there was to love. In my mind I screamed out for help, but there was no salvation for a miserable, undeserving wretch like me.

Daddy had taught Debby and I to think of damnation as a spanking which never ended, except that the pain was all over your body instead of just your bottom, and it was much, much worse. And there was no forgiveness and love afterwards because there was no "afterwards. Worst of all was being cut Spanked by daddy stories forever from Jesus, with no hope of salvation.

And now, that was to be my fate. Hatred welled up in my breast anew, but not hatred of God. I hated myself. I deserved to be in Hell The door opened and Daddy came across the room. He placed his hand on my shoulder and turned me to face him.

Was I ready to repent my sins?

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