Page 36 of Trained By Her Daddy

Chapter 12

Placing my hairbrush next to me, I sat on the bed at exactly five o’clock and listened to John’s heavy footsteps advancing down the long hall.

Slow, methodical, footsteps.

Who came up with the barbaric idea to spank their child with a hairbrush? The old-school tradition should be outlawed, and I silently vowed to protest that archaic discipline at another time. But as the bedroom door opened and John’s brawny frame filled the doorway, my rational thought ended, and my ragged breathing commenced.

I once read a story where the heroine who was about to be spanked was filled with relief. Relief that her guilt would soon be over, and she would be able to move on with a clean slate.

Sounds cleansing, no?

Unfortunately, relief was not one of the emotions running through my veins. Embarrassment that I, a twenty-four-year-old grown woman, was about to be spanked with my own hairbrush? Yes. The clear understanding of why I’d been given the instruction not to wear panties under my jammies. Indeed.

Honestly, at that moment I wasn’t feeling any type of relief. Nope. Not one bit.

Taking a few steps in my direction, John slipped his hands into his pockets. And then he stopped and held out one hand for the hairbrush as his eyes radiated with disappointment. “Now then, let’s hear the real account of what happened, little miss, and you better tell me the truth.”

John pulled me to standing and immediately made himself comfortable on the bed before he jerked down my pajama pants—one side at a time. Then he took my arm, gently guided me across his lap and rested his large hand onto my quivering buttocks. “Were you adjusting the volume on the car stereo, or texting on your phone? Either way, I’m unhappy your eyes were taken off the road—but right now, I want your honesty.”

“I’m so sorry, Daddy.”

“Is that an answer, young lady? I don’t think it is. So, tell me what would help you focus. Should I get the bath brush to help you have a moment of clarity? Because I have one hanging in my bathroom.” He shifted his weight as if he were about to get off the bed.

“No, sir! I-I was texting my friend while I was driving, and I’ll never do it again.”

He sat back down and patted my bare behind. “And?”

“A-And I lied to the officer,” I quavered in a hushed voice. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yes. I’m sure you are.” Readjusting my rear end over his lap, he wasted no time bringing his thick hand down onto my bare ass.

Hard.

Besides the initial shock of the first smack landing, my first thought was it felt like his hand rather than a wooden implement, so it seemed as though he wasn’t using the hairbrush. Not yet, at least. I guess this was his idea of a warmup—and thank God in heaven he didn’t have a bath brush placed next to him.

Some things you need to be grateful for in this world.

But then reality reared its ugly head as I felt his palm coming down in a slow and unrelenting rhythm. It was one slap landing right after the other, and my bottom was starting to burn as he covered every inch of my tender skin. Even so, I tried to hang in there and be tough, hoping the spanking wouldn’t last too long. Maybe he’d forget about using the hairbrush.

Right.

As his hand began falling harder, involuntarily groans and whimpers spilled from my mouth. It was then John decided to scold me in between each spank to make sure his points were coming across crystal clear.

“Don’t you know how dangerous it is to text and drive? Don’t you know how many people die in car accidents because someone like you was foolish?”

“I’ll never do it again! Oww! Please stop! I learned my lesson!”

“And then you had the nerve to lie to the officer? Well, the lying will stop right now, little lady.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” I whimpered, not knowing what else to say.

“Make no mistake, this will be a painful lesson you will never forget.” His voice was serene but penetrating as his hand squeezed my tender buttocks.

As much as it embarrassed me to be over his lap and chastised this way, I knew I deserved to be punished. Not only did I break an important rule of his, but then I had the audacity to lie to the officer. John knew what was best for me, and in his own way, he took the time to show me how much he cared and valued my life. His stern hand hurt like hell at that moment, but I knew there would be a loving hug in his arms to follow my punishment. And boy, did I look forward to snuggling into his chest.

But unfortunately, he wasn’t done. Nope. My punishment was far from over.

Reaching behind my body, he grabbed the hairbrush and rested it on my blazing bottom for several minutes. The cool, smooth wood seated on my inflamed skin brought tears of embarrassment back to my eyes. Without a doubt, he was pausing to silently reinforce why I was being punished. And then he spoke in a calm, low tone. “After every smack, you will respond in a polite and contrite fashion. Do you understand?” he growled before releasing the first crack of the brush against my poor ass.

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