Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!Copyright 1985-2016 by the Flogmaster. All Rights Reserved. Free distribution via electronic medium (i.e. the internet or electronic BBS) is permitted as long as the text is _not_ modified and this copyright is included, but _no_ other form of publication is allowed without written permission. This document _may_ contain explicit material of an ADULT nature. ***READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!*** Anything offensive is your own problem. This story is for **entertainment** purposes only, and it does _not_ necessarily represent the viewpoint of the author or the electronic source where this was obtained. All characters are *fictional* -- any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.
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A Day of Spankings
(****, M/fffff, Severe, nc spanking, paddling, strapping, cropping)
A family accumulates a bunch of spankings and has to pay for them all in one day. (Approximately 3,600 words. Originally published 2006-01.)
The Monday after Thanksgiving weekend, Mike got the news. He met Marshall Woodman, head of the Western Division, in his office. In blunt fashion Mr. Woodman informed him that the company had decided to fold the Buffalo plant and everyone would be out of a job at the end of the year.
For a moment Mike couldn't breathe. All he could think about was the huge mortgage on the house, his wife's medical bills, and the loan he'd just signed for Katie's orthodontia. Just last night he and Deborah had been talking about needing a new vehicle as the six-year-old minivan had hit 150,000 miles and needed some serious repair. Mike could already see the pile of bills on the kitchen table and foreclosure letter from the bank.
"Of course we want to keep you on, Mr. Martin," said Mr. Woodman smoothly. "This decision has nothing to do with your performance here; it's a corporate decision to change direction, that's all. We feel you've done an excellent job running the operations here. In fact, we're promoting you. We'd like you to take over our facilities in Phoenix."
It was like rounding a corner in a dark tunnel and being suddenly blinded by light. There was hope! The foreclosure letter from the bank silently faded away as Mike was offered double the salary, moving expenses, a housing allowance for one year, a huge bonus, and allowed to pick his own management team.
Mr. Woodman cautioned, "I won't kid you: the Phoenix plant is a mess. It's been losing money for three years and there are many problems. It's a tough challenge, but we feel you're the man for the job. Will you accept?"
Mike had little choice. Jobs were rare and as always, finances were tight. How could he turn down a raise?
Moving in December would be a nightmare. There was the monster task of selling or renting the house, all the packing and moving, new schools for the girls... all in one short month.
Deborah took the news well. Since she'd hurt her back and couldn't work, she knew the family was entirely dependent on Mike's salary. It was sudden and unexpected, but moving beat being homeless.
The girls weren't nearly so easy. Monica, a junior in high school, was furious, for this wrecked all her senior year plans. She'd spent a decade building her reputation and establishing her cool factor only now she was to be ripped away and forced into a brand new school in the middle of the year. Could anything be worse?
Alison was even more upset. The fifteen-year-old had just landed her first steady boyfriend and couldn't imagine life without Andrew. Katie and the twins, Sheri and Teri, weren't quite so horrified, but they were all nervous about going to a new school and bummed about leaving all their friends.
Of course the girls had no say in the matter. They complained and argued and stormed and slammed a few doors, but none of that changed reality. At first Deborah tried laying down the law, paddling a few rebellious bottoms, but that didn't really change any attitudes and Deb had far too much to do to take time out to spank her daughters. She asked Mike to strap Alison when the girl refused to pack her belongings, but Mike was spending four days a week in Phoenix now and told his wife the whipping would have to wait.
"Just keep a log and we'll spank 'em later," he muttered before falling into an exhausted sleep.
December moved by in an eye-blink. It seemed like one day Mike announced they were moving and the next the family was piling into a brand new Suburban and heading for Arizona. Christmas was celebrated in an empty house with a store-bought dinner heated in the microwave.
Two days after Christmas the moving truck arrived and it was more chaos. Hastily packed belongings now had to be unpacked, and a week later it was still impossible to find certain things.
Both Mike and Deborah felt like they hadn't slept in months, and the rebellious girls were cranky and made everyone miserable with their constant complaining and tantrums. Spankings earned were dutifully marked on a chart, but somehow that didn't have the immediate behavioral impact that a sore rump brought.
It was almost February before the family could catch their breath. By that time the girls were adjusting to their new school and the family was settling into a new routine. The massive organizational overhaul at the Phoenix plant was going well, so Mike was less stressed, and Deborah had finally unpacked the last moving box. Life was not exactly back to normal, but at least was more manageable.
Unfortunately, the behavior of the girls had not improved. They constantly fought, ignored their mother's instructions, and acted snotty and rude. Almost two months without a spanking had emboldened the girls.
That was when Deborah produced the spanking chart. The behavior of the girls during the previous seven weeks had been carefully logged and each had earned a number of spankings. Deborah had used green, yellow, and red marks to indicate the severity of the spanking. Green were warning spankings, sound but not severe, delivered with the hand or hairbrush. Yellow were punishment spankings, hard and thorough, with the paddle or leather strap. Red spankings were the most severe, indicating a full thrashing with a nylon riding crop.
After studying the chart, Mike shook his head in disbelief. "It will take hours to deliver all these spankings!" He made a decision.
"We'll have a spanking day," he announced at breakfast. "This Saturday will be spankings all day long for all of you."
Of course there were vehement protests, but when Monica went too far and was awarded an extra paddling, the others went quiet. Each could see her tally on the chart and the thought of adding more to the dramatic total was not pleasant.
Saturday dawned with five girls as nervous as cats in a thunderstorm. They were somber as they drifted down for breakfast. Monica was annoyed, feeling she was much too old for spankings. Alison was skeptical. She was on the board for nine spankings and couldn't believe that her father seriously intended on spanking her nine times in one day!
After breakfast, the spankings began. Mike herded everyone to the basement den where he'd set out all the implements he planned to use. There was the fat ebony hairbrush, the small oak paddle, the heavy razor strop, and the dreaded nylon riding crop. The atmosphere in the room was so thick you could paint with it.
"All right, pajama bottoms off. Everyone!" cried Mike.
He placed the spanking chart on the table in front of him and studied it carefully. His manager mind was spinning with the complexity of this scheduling task. Besides the mere administration of the actual spankings, there were many other factors to consider. He didn't want to spank any girl twice in a row, for not only would that be a little unfair, it also wouldn't be as effective, for spanked bottoms tend to numb a bit. A girl would feel it better after a break. She would also better appreciate her lesson with some time to anticipate the punishment.
Mike also wanted the spankings to have variety and to escalate in severity as the day wore on. He needed variety to keep the girls on their toes, and for himself, so he wouldn't get in too much of a rut. There was also the aspect of physical stamina to consider: too much of the same implement and Mike could wear himself out.
As Mike pondered the problem, his daughters got undressed. Soon they were all pantless, scant pajama tops not covering up their petite panties. Monica wore skimpy pink ones, Alison pale blue. Katie and the twins wore ordinary white, though the older girl's were lacy around the edges. All the girls were shivering in their near-naked state, but not because of any chill. They stared at their father as the minutes slowly ticked by, but none dared interrupt his concentration lest they provoke him to beginning the spankings early.
Finally, as the clock struck nine, he was ready. He grabbed the pad he'd been writing on and checked it one last time. "Okay, here's the schedule. Alison, since you've got the most spankings coming, we'll begin with you. Then Katie, the twins, and Alison a second time. Those will be hand spankings. We'll take a short break around ten, and then I'll paddle Monica."
There were gulps at this announcement, but no one protested. Alison already had tears in her eyes as she reluctantly went over her father's lap. He got himself comfortable on the couch and carefully tugged down her panties.
"Daddy, nooooo!" she cried, but of course it was for naught. The spanking, though it was only by hand, was loud and thorough. Mike spanked every inch of his daughter's round bottom until it glowed a bright pink and she lay sobbing.
Fourteen-year-old Katie was not at all happy about being spanked, but she had smarted off to her mother that day in December. Now she wished she had controlled her temper better. Her frilly white panties slid down her creamy thighs exposing a petite plump rump that was just perfect for spanking. Mike's hand exactly covered one cheek as though it was made for it. He quickly began to spank, moving from one bobbing buttock to the other, ignoring the wild howling Katie produced.
The twins, adorable at twelve, were next. Teri watched as Sheri's little butt was roasted hot pink and rubbed her own tush in sorry contemplation of her dreadful fate. At least she was only in for five spankings today. Foolish Sheri had earned herself seven! Of course Teri did have two hairbrushings on the list, but Sheri had a strapping on hers.
After the twins had been thoroughly spanked, it was Alison's turn again. She was extra-reluctant this time, her bottom only just cooled from the fierce slapping it had received minutes earlier. "Oh please, Daddy!" she begged, but there was no mercy, only red hot pain as her bottom was thoroughly spanked again. She wept and wept but her father didn't relent until her ass was crimson and hot and his hand was aching from all the work he'd done.
Monica was pale as her father handed her the solid oak paddle to hold while he went and soaked his hand in hot water. The other girls stood sniveling and shivering along the wall, their bare bottoms pink and red as they stood with panties hanging around their ankles. The spanked girls ruefully knew that this was only the beginning and many more spankings were due before the day would end.
At ten fifteen, Mike returned and without a word took the paddle from Monica and drew her across his lap. With her panties pulled down, her full bottom was sleek and graceful, the skin creamy and unblemished. The chubby cheeks were very round and the paddle sank into the fatty mounds like a cookie into coffee. The buttocks quivered with each loud swat and Monica squealed and writhed in misery as the intense pain mounted. She had wanted to take her punishment like a big girl but that thought was lost the moment the penetrating pain began. She couldn't believe how much that paddle hurt. It had been nearly eight months since her last spanking and she had forgotten how much it _hurt_; her only concern had been the humiliation of being treated like a child. Now she howled and kicked and wept just like her sisters.
It was now Alison's turn again, the first of several hairbrushings, and she was rightly terrified. Her bottom was already a deep pink when Mike began smacking her rump with the brush and he didn't stop until it was an even crimson. Katie sobbed and clutched her ass as she ran to the wall to weep and rub her sore cheeks in misery.
Then it was the twins again, Sheri and Teri each getting another thorough hand spanking that left them breathless and crying.
Mike then massaged his sore hand and picked up the paddle, grateful to have an implement for a change. He motioned for wide-eyed Katie to come across his lap. She was extremely reluctant and only obeyed when he threatened to add an extra strapping to her total. Her butt had cooled and was now only a mild pink, but it quickly went scarlet as the hard oak slammed into the plump flesh. Within seconds Katie was screaming and kicking, but Mike held her down for her age in whacks, as was the family tradition. She was one sorry girl when the paddling was over.
It was Monica's turn again, and this time the oldest girl approached the parental lap with serious concern. She'd already felt that paddle and now dreaded it immensely. "Please, Daddy, can't you just ground me?" she moaned. She knew it was useless but she had to try. Her foolishness earned her an extra three whacks for an even twenty buttblisters.
By this time it was after eleven and time for a break. All the girls were granted turns to use the bathroom, one at a time, and Deborah brought out a pitcher of ice water and glasses. All the girls -- and Mike -- were extremely thirsty.
"It's all the tears," Teri explained matter-of-factly. "Our bodies need more water."
Perhaps that was so, but Mike was on a tight schedule and precisely at 11:30 a.m. he bent poor Alison over for her second hairbrushing. She'd had a bit of a break but this was her fourth spanking in the same morning and it only took a few smacks of the brush to get her wailing and kicking. The tears flowed and her bottom was cherry-red when Mike put down the hairbrush.
For a change of pace, it was hand spankings for the twins. Both cried violently though in truth the spankings were not severe: Mike's hand was too sore for him to really spank very hard. Because of that, Mike kept Sheri across his lap and went right into her hairbrushing. She really didn't like that but there wasn't much she could do about it except writhe and kick and weep.
After the twins, it was time for Alison's third and final hairbrushing. This was actually bad news because it meant that soon only the more severe implements would be left and she still had five spankings to go! The hairbrush was vicious and left her butt blotchy with crimson marks. She didn't cry as much as before, though, for her butt was a bit numb.
It was then time for a lunch break, which all the girls appreciated, though they weren't allowed to leave the den. Deborah served ham sandwiches and potato chips and there were ice cream sandwiches for dessert. Then there was a half hour of "quiet time," during which the girls struggled to find a comfortable way to not sit down. All were becoming increasingly somber as they looked at the spanking implements their father had left on the table. All too soon, it was time for more spankings.
Monica was the first to taste the razor strop. She had thought the paddle was bad, but it had nothing on the fierce burn of the strop. Her father lashed her ass and the back of her legs and Monica squealed and kicked like a two-year-old.
Katie watched the strapping with wide eyes because she knew she had one coming. Fortunately for her, Alison took another paddling first. Her butt was starting to look fuchsia!
But then -- horror of horrors -- her father announced that Katie was next! The strop was awful. It was "only" fourteen strokes but Katie thought she was going to die. As every stroke landed she screamed, writhed in misery, and prayed it was the last. She vowed with every breath that she'd never be naughty again.
Next the twins each got hairbrushings. Teri was happy because she only had one spanking left. Sheri kept crying because she had two and one of them was a strapping!
Mike decided to give Alison's poor butt a break and instead of paddling her next, he gave the back of her thighs a thorough strapping. From the sounds she was making she did not appear to understand his generosity.
After a short bathroom break, Mike picked up the nylon riding crop. This was about two and a half feet long, thin, and bendy. It was hard and every stroke left a swelling welt the thickness of a finger. Monica found this out as she was bent over the sofa arm for seventeen licks across her full bottom. She yelled at every cut.
The other girls watched Monica's cropping with pure terror. Several of them had a cropping of their own scheduled and after seeing the welts across Monica's ass, none of them wanted their own bums to look like that.
Mike finished up Teri's final hairbrushing with extra-hard swats that made her weep uncontrollably, then he turned his attention to Sheri. Her chubby twelve-year-old bottom was hot pink from all her spankings and when he finished, it was a dark maroon.
Alison was paddled next, fifteen hard swats to her plump butt. Her ass really didn't appear that it could take much more. It was a dangerous purple in places and looked impossibly tender. Mike sent her to her mother for some lotion for he feared the skin might break. "Looks like your cropping will have to be on your thighs," he told the terrified teenager as she departed. For some reason, that made her burst into fresh tears.
It was finally Katie's turn for the crop. She was so frightened she could hardly move when her father called her. The only thing that got her going was that this was her last spanking. Just a few moments of agony and then it would all be over, at least for her. She finally managed to get herself over the sofa arm and wait for the whipping to begin.
The crop whistled through the air and quickly sank into the soft flesh of Katie's rump. She gasped and howled. She tried to get up, but was unbalanced, making it easy for her father to hold her down with one hand in the middle of her back. All she could do was wiggle her ass and kick her legs, so she did that. It didn't help as the crop licked at her butt and thighs, each horrible stroke leaving behind a swelling weal that throbbed agonizingly. Katie was never so happy as when she was finally allowed up. She stood by the wall kneading her blistered bottom, her fingers gently touching the thick ridges crisscrossing her cheeks.
Monica was next. Her butt already bore a series of crisscrossed welts from her earlier cropping. She didn't relish another one, but had already learned the penalty for protesting. Her ass felt like a huge target when she bent over the arm. But the shock of pain, when it came, was across the back of her thighs! Her father was cropping her legs, not her butt!
Oh how Monica howled. Perhaps it was a mercy, perhaps it wasn't. It didn't matter. The crop hurt abominably no matter where it fell. Her father didn't completely neglect her bottom. Every three or four strokes he'd whip the crop across her seat, and the white hot pain was almost more than Monica could bear. Eventually, though, the cropping was over. Monica's debt was paid and she retreated to the wall to nurse her wounds and cry.
Poor Alison was back with her fuchsia butt glistening with cream. She stood miserably and watched as little Sheri was strapped. The strop was loud and vicious and it quickly welted the little girl's rump and bare legs. It was only a dozen strokes, but Sheri had been thoroughly spanked throughout the day. When it was over and she stood next to her twin, it was obvious which of the two had gotten the worst of the discipline.
"Alison, we started with you and we shall end with you," said Mike, pointing to the sofa arm.
Reluctantly, Alison obeyed. Her poor bottom was purple with black and blue spots -- she'd gotten a brief, horrified look at it in the upstairs mirror -- and now she actually hoped her father had been serious about cropping her thighs. Her butt was so sore. She was positive a single stroke from that crop would split her ass flesh apart.
Fortunately for her, Mike was indeed a man of his word. He saw how badly damaged his daughter's rump was and stayed away from it, instead leaving fifteen evenly spaced weals across the back of her thick thighs. He cropped her right up to the base of her butt and every stroke hurt like the devil, but at least her ass was preserved. She sobbed until she had no tears left.
Well, it was a long day. Everyone was exhausted. It was almost four o'clock but the girls just wanted to go to bed. Even Mike was ready to crash. His right arm ached something awful. It had been a difficult day, but he was convinced his daughters had learned something.
"We won't have to do this again, will we?" he asked.
The consensus was unanimous.