by Philip Kemp
No response. Tom headed upstairs and into his daughter's room. It was in half-darkness, the curtains still closed, and the air heavy with the stale smell of alcohol breath. He drew back the curtain, letting the midday sun flood into the room. There was a protesting groan from the bed.
"Urghhhh, Dad..."
Tom pushed the window wide open. "Smells like a brewer's dray in here, girl. Now come on, get yourself up and downstairs. We need to talk."
Downstairs in the kitchen he made coffee, listening to the groans and bathroom noises as Cindy dragged herself back to consciousness. Finally she made her appearance, dark hair still tousled, in pyjamas and dressing-gown. Even in her dishevelled state, Tom thought, she was still an exceptionally lovely girl, almost the image of her mother at the same age, and he felt an impulse to hug her and tell her everything was forgiven. But he hardened his heart. Let something like this go, and God only knew what she and her precious mates would be up to next.
"There's your coffee, girl," he said gruffly. "Sit down and drink it while it's hot." She sat down opposite him and sipped her coffee, reluctant to meet his eyes. "Don't suppose you remember too much of what happened last night, do you, young lady?"
Her gaze flickered towards him, a hint of apprehension in her eyes. The words 'young lady' evidently still held certain associations for her. "We - we were just chilling out at this club," she began hesitantly.
"Chilling out, eh? Does 'chilling out' usually involve getting stinking drunk, dancing on the bar, making a right spectacle of yourselves, getting yourselves hauled in by the cops? Not to mention all the breakages. Eight hundred quid's worth, girl!"
"Ohmigod, did we? Oh, we can't have done! Oh Dad, I'm so sorry!" Cindy looked ready to cry.
"Sorry, are you, lass? Well, I think you'll very soon have something more to be sorry about. Because it's not just what you did at that damn club, is it? It's the fact that you sneaked out, you and your clever little friends, when Pat and Geoff and Wally and I believed you all safely tucked up in bed. Just what was the idea of that, young lady?"
"Well," she faltered, her eyes lowered, "we thought - I mean - we didn't reckon you'd let us go if we told you."
"Too right I wouldn't," snapped Tom. "I've heard enough about that place to know it's nowhere for young girls to spend the evening. But not telling us - that makes it ten times worse. Do you realise what might have happened - four pretty teenage girls, dressed like tarts, hopelessly pissed, all your defences down? You could easily have got yourselves raped, or worse! And we wouldn't have had a clue where you were! What the hell were you thinking, Cindy?"
She was crying for real now, tears tricking down her cheeks. She looked far younger than her years. "Oh Dad, I - I'm - I didn't - what are you going to do?"
"You'll find out soon enough, young lady," responded Tom grimly. "Now finish your coffee, go and get yourself showered and make yourself presentable. We've got visitors in just over an hour's time."
"Visitors? But - but who?"
"You'll see. Now go on - get yourself going."
An hour later Cindy was back downstairs, looking slightly less the worse for wear, though still complaining of a headache. Tom felt a twinge of sympathy; thinking back to his own youth, he remembered more than one occasion when he'd rolled home considerably the worse for wear. But in this case, he reminded himself, the drinking was the least of it. Even at their most uproarious, the worst he and his mates had done was puke in the street or piss in the occasional front garden. He'd never smashed a place up, nor sneaked out in the middle of the night. And when he thought again of what the consequences to his daughter, his only child, might have been, he felt a chill of horror. "Yes, consequences," he murmured to himself. That was what Cindy and the rest of her silly little Fearsome Four gang had to learn. Consequences.
Just past two o'clock the doorbell rang. Tom opened the door to Pat Henderson, escorting a sulky-looking Melissa, and Geoff Morris with Libby, who looked nervous. "Hi, everyone," said Tom. "Come on in. No sign of Wally and Alison yet? Hope he hasn't - ah no, here they are," he added, seeing the remaining father-daughter pair rounding the corner of the street.
"Hey, Uncle Tom, what is this?" demanded Melissa resentfully when everybody was assembled in the hall. (Tom wasn't really her uncle, but their two families were close enough for the honorary status.) "You gonna give us a lecture? Dad's already been bending my ear all morning - do we have to go through all that shit again?"
"No, Mel," responded Tom equably. "This is rather more than a lecture - as you'll soon see. Let's all go into the sitting-room."
The sitting-room, it turned out, looked rather different from normal. The couch and armchairs had all been pushed back to the walls. In their place, four upright chairs from the dining-room had been arranged in a circle. In the middle was a low coffee-table. On it sat a kitchen timer - and four hairbrushes.
There were gasps from the four girls as the implications of this layout sank in. Cindy was the first to find her voice. "Dad - you're not going to - to..."
"Spank you? Yes, that's just what we're going to do," said Tom calmly. "And not before time either, I reckon."
"But - but - you can't!" burst out Melissa. "And in front of each other like this? It's - it's disgusting!"
"Disgusting, is it?" snapped her dad. "And what you got up to at that club wasn't? You were happy enough to act like drunken sluts in front of each other - so seems to me it's fair enough you get punished in front of each other, too!"
"Dad!" Alison was gazing at her father in horrified disbelief.
That's right, Tom thought. From what Wally said, she's never really been spanked. Well, high time she was.
"Dad, you're not really going to spank me - are you?"
Wally shifted uncomfortably. "'Fraid so, princess. That’s what we all agreed – you all get the same. And besides, lass, you can't say you don't deserve it after last night, now can you?"
"What's more," Geoff broke in, "It's not just your dad who's gonna spank you. We all are!"
"Wha-a-at?" The gasp was collective from all the girls.
"That's right," said Tom. "We agreed that, since you were all in on it, you all deserved the same punishment. But since some of us probably spank harder than others, we'd even it out by having all the dads spank all the daughters."
The girls listened in stunned silence as he calmly continued. "Here's how it's going to work. Each of us sits on one of these chairs, and puts one of you over his knee. Each girl starts off with the feller to the left of her own dad. I set the timer for five minutes, so each of you gets a five-minute hand-spanking from that dad. At the end of the five minutes, you all move one lap to the left for another five-minute hand-spanking. Then another. Finally each of you ends up across her own dad's knee, and he administers the final five minutes' worth with a hairbrush."
There was a moment's pause, then all the girls spoke at once.
"Dad, you're crazy!" That was Cindy.
"It's not fair!" Libby.
"But we're too old to be spanked!" Alison.
"Put a lot of thought into this, haven't you, Uncle Tom?" said Melissa, heavily sarcastic.
"Yes, I have, Mel," said Tom, choosing to answer her comment. "I didn't sleep much last night - I guess none of us dads did. And ever since we got hauled out to the nick last night in the small hours and found that our daughters, whom we'd raised as best we knew how, had turned into drunken, disorderly, tartily-dressed hooligans - and sneaky little liars into the bargain - I've been thinking a hell of a lot about what we could do about it.
"Over the last couple of years things have been getting steadily worse. Just because you four are pretty, bright, spirited girls, you've got the idea that you can do what the hell you like, and get no more than a slap on the wrist for it. If that. Well, starting today things are going to change. Now you may think that spanking is crude and horribly old-fashioned, and you may think, Alison, that you're too old to be spanked. Well, that's too bad. Because we four dads have
talked it over among ourselves, and we reckon that spanking - whatever you may say against it - is potentially pretty damn effective. A whole sight more so than telling you off, or grounding you, or stopping your allowances. We've all tried those things, and they don't do a bloody bit of good.
"So now we're going back to the old-fashioned ways, to see if they still work. And it's just too bad if you don't like it, because while you're living under our roofs and having us support you, you'll damn well do as you're told. Unfamiliar concept for some of you, I know - but that's how it's going to be from now on. You act up - you get your rear ends tanned."
Tom's lecture had the desired effect. All four girls had the grace to look shamefaced, and Alison was even sniffling a little. Tom waited a few seconds, then dropped his final bombshell. "Oh, and one detail I forgot to mention. All the spankings will be on your bare bottoms."
More gasps of outrage from the girls. "But Dad, you can't!" cried Cindy. "You'll see - everything!"
"Yeah, thought of that," said Tom. "So I dropped into Jeanette's and bought these." He took from the couch a plastic carrier and upended it on the coffee table. Four scarlet thongs fell out. "We reckoned it's going to be quite embarrassing enough for you young ladies getting yourselves spanked across our laps like little kids, and we didn't want to humiliate you into the bargain. So these will preserve your modesty - while leaving all the areas that matter nice and bare for attention."
"But I'm - I'm already wearing one," said Melissa.
"Oh, are you now?" said her father, with an ominous note in his voice. "I think you and I may need to have a little discussion about that later, my girl!"
Tom grinned. "Well then, Mel, y'can keep one of these as a souvenir, if you like - though sounds like Pat may have his own opinions about that. And each time you see it, it'll remind you of today."
"Come on, enough talking," said Geoff impatiently. "Get them thongs on, girls, and let's get started."
"Can we change upstairs in my room?" asked Cindy.
"No way," said Pat with a short laugh. "Once out of this room you'll all be away as fast as you can run. Change into 'em right here. We can turn our backs."
"Yeah, we'll stand here by the door," agreed Tom. Then added, intercepting a swift glance of Melissa's towards the front window, "Or better, two of us by the door and two by the window."
Pat chuckled. "Crafty as a barrel-load of foxes, eh?"
The four dads stood guard, backs scrupulously turned, while behind them they heard the rustle of clothes and whispered snatches of conversation.
"Are they really going to...?"
"Will it hurt?"
"Can't believe they're doing this."
"But we're too old to be spanked."
"Not fair..."
"Ready, girls?" asked Tom after a couple of minutes.
"Yeah, I guess," answered Cindy.
Tom could hear the pout in her voice. Well, my girl, he thought to himself, you'll have plenty to pout about pretty soon.
The men turned. The girls had replaced their jeans - or, in the case of Melissa, had presumably never taken hers off. All four stood in one corner of the room in a small protective huddle, apprehension written on all their faces.
"Ok," said Tom, "let's get started. Girls, drop your jeans and step out of 'em."
There were some mutinous murmurings, but the girls obeyed. Very soon four pretty young women stood all but naked from the waist down, only the tiny thongs preserving their modesty. It was, Tom had to admit to himself, an appealing sight. The other dads seemed equally transfixed.
Well, Tom thought, whatever their behavioural shortcomings, we've certainly raised four lovely girls. "Ok, fellers," he said, breaking the pause, "shall we take our seats for action?" He seated himself on the chair nearest the window, placing the timer on the floor beside him. Wally sat down opposite him; Pat was to his right and Geoff to his left. "Right, girls," he added, "you remember what I said? Each of you start off with the man to the left of your own dad."
Reluctantly they took their places. Cindy went to Geoff; Libby to Wally; Alison to Pat; and Melissa came to Tom. She stood by his right knee, pouting ruefully. He smiled at her. "Well, lass," he remarked kindly, "this won't be your first time across my knee, will it?"
This was true. Given the closeness of their families, and the friendship between the two girls since early childhood, it was accepted that whichever dad happened to be around when the pair got into mischief - which they quite often did - would dole out the appropriate punishment. So Mel had been spanked by Tom, and Cindy by Pat, on more than one occasion. But never for anything as serious as this.
Furthermore, it had been nearly three years since Tom had last spanked Mel. Now, as he drew her down across his knee into prime spanking position, he couldn't help but notice that her rear end had rounded out very appealingly in the intervening period. No question of it, the long-legged redhead had developed a temptingly spankable bottom.
Stroking the soft curves, he glanced round at his fellow-spankers. All three had got their respective culprits into position, although Wally had Libby placed a little awkwardly over his lap. As Tom watched, she squirmed herself into a more comfortable place - which, as it happened, lifted her bottom to the ideal angle over Wally's lap to receive punishment. Beginner's luck, thought Tom with an inward grin.
Another piece of luck - Pat being left-handed, Tom found he had a perfect view of all four bottoms. Very charming it was too. The narrow scarlet strip of the thongs - or black, in Mel's case - running between the twin mounds seemed to emphasise the paleness and roundness of the four curvy rears, as if presenting them as ideal targets. Well, they won't be pale for much longer, Tom reflected.
"Ok, lads," he said out loud, "all set to go?" He reached down and set the timer for five minutes. "Here we go then. And make it count!"
Raising his hand, Tom brought it down hard on the ripe curve of Mel's right bottom-cheek. It connected with a ringing slap, and the owner of the cheek in question let out a satisfying yelp - echoed almost immediately after by other yelps around the circle. Tom, grinning inwardly, landed an equally smart swat on Mel's left cheek. Another yelp, this time accompanied by a squirm.
Hmm, seems like I haven't lost my touch, thought Tom. He paused a moment to admire the twin pink handprints that now adorned the pale mounds, then settled down to spanking his honorary niece hard and steadily, now left, now right, covering every inch of the sweetly-rounded target area and taking care not to neglect the well-defined sit-spots where cheeks met thighs. Like most redheads, Mel had pale, delicate skin that blushed readily, and after only a couple of dozen spanks the bouncing, quivering bottom was already suffused with a rich, rosy glow - making it, Tom couldn't help reflecting, look even lovelier.
Continuing to spank Mel soundly, Tom glanced round to see how his fellow-dads were getting on. The loudest, most desperate squeals were coming from his right, where Alison was across Pat's knee. From what Wally had said, this was the first real spanking the cute brunette had ever experienced. Not that Pat was sparing her on that account. A gardener by trade, he had broad hands hardened by years of physical work, and now he was putting them to good use raising a fine blush on Ali's round, wriggling bottom. She'd evidently tried to protect the assaulted area, as Pat had one hand securely held behind her back, but her legs were kicking wildly and her head was tossing as smack after ringing smack brought the lesson home to her.
On Tom's left, Geoff was talking to Cindy in a calm, quiet voice while he soundly smacked her upturned rear, reminding her how much she and her fellow-culprits deserved this punishment, how she was lucky to have a dad who cared for her and how shabbily she'd treated him, how hot and sore her bottom was going to be by the time all this was over and how he hoped it would remind her of the consequences if she ever tried anything like that again. It seemed to Tom that the lecture, no less than the spanking, was getting through to Cindy; her repeated tearful wails of, "I'm sorry - owww! - I'm sorry!" sounded sincere to h
er father's ears.
The lack of vocal reactions so far from Libby suggested that she might be getting off lightly, thanks to Wally's inexperience as a spanker. But now a yip from the petite blonde, followed by a sharp intake of breath, suggested that maybe he was warming to his task. Glancing up, he met Tom's eye; Tom gave him an encouraging nod. Responding with a half-sheepish grin, Wally resumed spanking with more determination, and his efforts were soon rewarded by a deepening blush on Libby's chubby rear and a series of steadily more heartfelt yelps and pleas.
With a sense of satisfaction Tom turned his full attention back to the girl across his lap. Mel's soft bottom was bouncing and jiggling in lively fashion beneath his hand, and the blush on the pretty redhead's cheeks would have given a tropical sunset cause for envy. Shifting her slightly forward, Tom administered a dozen lateral stingers to her sit-spots and was rewarded with yelps of anguish.
"Owww! Oh please, Uncle Tom, not there! It really - owww - hurts!"
"Aye, that's the idea, lass," retorted Tom grimly. "And it's going to hurt a lot more before we're through here. Just wait till you get round to your dad - and that hairbrush!"
"Ooooh!" wailed Melissa, all too aware that, after only a couple of minutes of Tom's stinging swats, her bottom was already blazing hot and ultra-sensitive. Two more spankers to come - and then her dad with the hairbrush! And Pat, as she knew all too well from past experience, was no light spanker. Would she ever sit down in comfort again? "Please, Uncle Tom," she begged, "not so hard! I'm sorry - owww! - I really am!"
"Don't doubt you are, lass," responded Tom, spanking away with undiminished enthusiasm. "But what I'm wondering is are you sorry for what you and your pals did, or sorry 'cause you're getting your arse tanned? Either way, I reckon you're going to be a lot sorrier very soon!"
So for the next few minutes four paternal spankings continued unabated, while the heat and sting built up on four shapely and unprotected bottoms, and the squirming owners of the bottoms in question increasingly came to regret their wayward behaviour. Then the timer buzzed.
