Family Tradition

Mr. Hayes noticed a distinct change in his daughter during her first visit home as a married woman. She was talkative, confident but most of all respectful. It seemed the timid, unsure girl he sent off to get married had faded into the strong, loving woman that he met with a bearhug on the front porch. Yes, getting married was the best thing to ever happen to this girl.

As a good wife should, he noticed she stayed close to her husband and offered help when appropriate. When her mother came into the living room, she graciously offered her seat. A good thing, since her rear hadn't completely recovered from the whipping her husband gave her just two nights ago.

She was the last to sit when dinner was served and made sure all had their fair share before she took her helping of corn, beef, biscuits and potatoes laid out for dinner. Her parents sat at either end of the table while her husband sat beside her. Beneath the table cloth they held hands warmly, an act that did not go unnoticed from either her mother or her father.

Across from them sat Amanda, the youngest of the four daughters. She still lived at home and attended the local college during the day while helping manage the finances of the family farm whenever she had a spare moment. She was a bright girl, though increasingly antagonistic as she grew older. This frustrated her parents, especially her father, who couldn't discipline her as fervently as he once did when she was a child. Over the years her bottom had grown a resilience to his hand and hairbrush that grew stronger as her mouth and attitude only worsened. Though she did well in her classes, her parents were finding it more and more difficult to control her. It seemed that she, as women tend to do, was growing up and asserting herself. She would be leaving home to make her own life soon and this saddened them.

As always the dinner was a fabulous success and afterward the family sat around the table cleaning their plates of every last scrap. Travis thanked his mother in law and the women for preparing such a delectable meal and, resting his hand on his wife's knee, sighed contentedly.

All seemed well until Mr. Hayes spoke to Amanda to ask if she had finished the paperwork for the bank.

"I did but I still have to look it over once more to be certain," she replied. "I won't be here tomorrow night so I'll finish it before then."

Not entirely pleased with this answer, he asked what was so important about tomorrow night.

"It's Billy's party dad. Remember I told you it's time for his annual blow out at his father's ranch?"

"You know I don't approve of him and the type of people he surrounds himself with. I thought I told you you couldn't go?" Travis saw her bite her lip and roll her eyes. Apparently Mr. Hayes saw it too. "You'll be staying home tomorrow with Travis, your sister and your parents. I expect you to listen and remember what I say next time."

Hands balled into fists, the girl left the room. The room was silent as everyone listened to her bound up the stairs. Though unsaid, everyone knew it was up to Mr. Hayes to do something. It's never been the way of this family to let a girl pout as she just did.

Casually, to address the tension in the room, Mr. Hayes remarked, "Just let her get it out. Come tomorrow she'll know better and will be more obedient."

In fact, the opposite proved to be true. The next day Amanda slept late and missed her first class, though she managed to sneak out before anyone but her brother in law was aware of it. She did not return until late afternoon, having gotten dinner elsewhere. She retired to the den to watch television while the rest of the family chatted and enjoyed another large meal.

Halfway through, Mr. Hayes called to his youngest daughter using both her first and middle names. When he called for her a second time she reluctantly appeared. "I'd like you to bring the rolls from the oven," he told her.

She looked over at the oven which sat just a little beyond her father's reach yet was across the room from her. Knowing better than to complain, she sighed and walked to the appliance, opened the door and retrieved the basket full of freshly cooked rolls nestled in a cloth napkin. Without a word, she plopped them down beside her father and turned to leave.

"and put the cake on the counter for desert," her father called after her.

With a slightly more animated step, she went to the refrigerator and took out the cake. She placed it on the countertop and looked at those seated around the table as they watched her. For a moment she had a vision of her scooping a fingerful of homemade chocolate frosting onto her finger and sucking it into her mouth but knew better.

She didn't join them for the rest of the meal and turned off the television to read the newspaper. From the other room she heard pieces of their conversation, none of which interested her. The night neared to a close and she found herself drifting to sleep on the overstuffed sofa her mother got from her grandmother. When she awoke the house was almost completely dark. Slowly rising from her sleep, she made her way to the kitchen and found the chocolate cake inside the refrigerator. A great deal of it was missing from leaving almost half. She knew her father never missed a chance for seconds when it comes to her mom's chocolate cake and she regretted missing her portion by falling asleep.

She happily cut a thick slice and placed it on a small plate. Skipping into the living room, she began eating, curling the blanket around her.

Mr. Hayes awoke just before the sun rose, as is his custom and showered as the rest of the family slept peacefully. Dressed and ready for the day, he saw his youngest daughter still asleep on the living room sofa, a plate of crumbs and an uncleaned fork rested beside her.

Standing beside her prone body, he called her name quietly. When she didn't answer he raised his voice.

"AMANDA LYNN!" Her father called to her, causing her head to rise quickly. She had spent enough years in her family to know when her father was all business and to tread lightly. This was one of those times.

"You left a mess in the kitchen and you're quickly on your way to missing class again. I want you upstairs getting ready this instant!" She was on her way before he finished speaking. His hand slapped her bottom as she walked by, causing her to jump and wince in embarrassment and more than a little pain.

Quickly jumping in the shower, she washed, dressed and collected her things. She was downstairs just as her father was finishing cleaning the kitchen. Seeing her ready to leave he admonished her, "You've got to change your attitude, young lady, if you want to keep leaving with your mother and me. You know I don't stand for such behavior from my daughters." She looked down at the ground, unable to deny that she had been acting badly. "And tonight I want you home no later than five," he continued. "You'll join the family for dinner. Your sister is leaving tomorrow and I want their last night with us to be enjoyable. After that, you'll spend the evening in your room going over the paperwork you've been putting off."

She listened to him speak, her cheeks turning red. "Ok."

"Do you understand me?" He asked.

"Yes..."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, sir," she answered, aware of what he expected of her. A tear collected in her eye and she excused herself and went out the door before he noticed it.

Not wanting to upset her father any more, she walked in the door at quarter to five. Her father was still outside and her sister and brother in law were not home. She went upstairs to her room, closed the door and planned to study until her mother called her for supper. She was immersed in her Business homework when she heard her father calling her from the bottom of the stairs. This time she answered him immediately.

"Would you come down here please?" he called to her.

Dropping her pen, she stood at the top of the stairs to face her father. "Yes, dad, what is it?"

"Come down the stairs, Amanda. We need to discuss your attitude."

She clenched her teeth, more upset at herself than at her father.

Her father kept a small study behind the living room where he wrote his letters, kept his paperwork and oftentimes read. It was a small room with a desk, chair, love seat, and coffee table. Bookshelves lined the walls and framed pictures of their family dating back generations were scattered around the room. It was off limits to the girls. She even heard her mother being chided for intruding the few times she dared enter without his permission. As he sat down, he told her to sit beside him.

Nervously she did, afraid to do anything but what he told her.

"Amanda Lynn, you're my daughter and I love you more than you could ever know," he began, resting his hand on his daughter's knee. "I love having you home with your mother and me while you attend school and I'm always happy to have you helping me out with the farm." He sighed and looked away, breaking his gaze from her pale blue eyes. "As you've grown older, you seem to have become disobedient towards your elders, especially your mother and me. That is something I won't tolerate."

He saw her swallow nervously. Her knee shook slightly. She opened her mouth to speak but Mr. Hayes shushed her before she could begin. "Just listen to me for once, child. You're older, just turned nineteen last month, but you're far from a woman. Your behavior has shown you still have a bit of the impudent girl I thought we had left behind in grade school. I'm getting tired of your sass, your poor attitude and not obeying your mother and I."

She nodded, biting her lip and unable to look at him.

"This morning I had to clean up the mess you made after waking you up when you overslept. On top of that, the cake your mother worked on attracted ants when you left it out. It had to be thrown away this morning, though it was barely even half eaten. Your mother worked hard on that cake and to just forget to put it away like that shows a lack of respect." He removed his large hand from her knee, "Stand up Amanda Lynn."

Nervously, like a newborn foal, she stood on shaky legs. "I had hoped you were mature enough that I wouldn't have to resort to such methods, but you've proven me wrong. You've been immature and disobedient, which is what I'd expect from a girl less than half your age." He reached for the button on her jeans as he spoke. "As I did when you were younger and which I should have continued doing, I'm going to spank you for your behavior." She instinctively reached for his hands as he unbuttoned her but pulled back before he could say anything. "I hope you will learn something from this so we don't have to make it a habit. Such a childish punishment is something left for little girls, not nineteen year olds."

He unzipped her pants, showing her white panties and brought her jeans down to her knees. With her hand in his, he helped her bend over his lap. He was pleased she didn't show more resistance; her willingness to go over displayed her desire to obey, though she was obviously afraid. It had been far too long since she had gotten a good, hard spanking and, while he didn't intend to make this one too harsh, he hoped she would remember how it made her feel.

He gazed lovingly down at his daughter's panty-clad bottom and rested his hand beneath the bottom swell of her round cheeks. It was large, almost covering her whole bottom and stretched from one full buttock to the other.

She sniffled, a tiny, sad sound, in anticipation of what her father had decreed. It had been years since her last spanking and she remembered vividly the shame of it; her bottom being bared, scolded like a child and spanked like a baby. No matter how old she was, or how much she tried to fight it, she always ended up crying, often sobbing more heavily than she would have believed. The entire act was unbearable, enough to make her cry at the mere thought. The years had made her father's hand seem worse than it was. It brought back memories of searing pain and slaps on her soft cheeks that made her cry out. She shook visibly on her father's lap.

With a deep breath, Mr. Hayes raised his hand and watched for a moment as it hung in midair over his daughter's form. A moment later it descended and he watched as the quake of his slap rippled through the flesh of her bottom cheeks. She whined, more to release the built up tension, than from actual pain, and he placed his hand against her bottom once more. The cotton of her panties was stretched fully, leaving the impression of her young burgeoning bottom fighting to free itself.

Another slap as his hand rose and descended and brought another squeal from the girl laying across his lap. Again and again his hand struck her bottom, bringing with it strong cracks that echoed in the small room. After a short while Amanda's squeals turned to sharp, tiny cries and soon after that, she began weeping. It wasn't noticeable at first, just small, barely visible tears that made their way slowly down her cheeks, but they were there. She did her best to hide them from her father out of pride, but if he had seen them, he most likely would have taken pity on his youngest child.

The house was still with the spanks ringing out like gunshots through the nearly empty home. Mrs. Hayes napped in the other end of the building only waking up during the peak of the girl's punishment. The sound of spanking, while all too familiar to the older woman and not completely unpleasant, caused her to close her eyes with a feeling of respect for her husband. Though she at times disagreed with her husband's views on discipline, having been on the receiving end countless times herself, she did believe Amanda needed such treatment and was happy he was there to provide it.

By the time the spanking had finished, Mr. Hayes had long since acknowledged his daughter's tears and could feel the heat radiating from her flesh underneath his stinging hand. He kept one hand on her tender rear end and slowly stroked the small of his daughter's back. She was still crying softly though her cries had turned to low sobs.

With his help the girl on his lap turned to face him. The sight of her tear swollen face and runny nose almost caused his heart to burst. Gathering her in his arms, he pulled her close and rocked her tightly as she lost herself in his embrace. Her hand was tiny against the worn flannel of his chambray workshirt. It smelled of topsoil and sweat- the scent of her father and one that lifted her spirits, reminding her of days spent playing in the fields on summer evenings.

She was gone now. Little left of the cocky college student he'd addressed earlier that evening. All that remained was a vulnerable, needy girl that knew when it came down to it that her daddy would always be the authority in her life, no matter how much older she got or how big she became. She was always his little girl.

As he expected, she stilled and soon fell asleep, surrounded by the tender bristles of his stubble and the warm scent that brought her back. His arms clenched under her naked bottom and bare thighs and he picked her up and carried her to her bedroom. She made not a sound as he lay her spent body on the fresh, cool sheets of her bed. He watched her nuzzle her pillow peacefully as he layered her in quilts illuminated by the dying sunlight.

His job finished, he felt as if a weight had been lifted. He was proud of what he'd done and did exactly what any good father would do. It was with this sense of purpose that he'd entered his bedroom to find his wife awakened and up to her waist in blankets, her romance novel open and unread on the bed beside her. She looked at the opposite mirror, lost in thought, as he entered.

For a moment, he stood watching her before he spoke. "You ok, dear?"

She shook her head as if surprised, "Oh, hmm? Y- yes honey. Just thinking is all."

"Of?" he asked, sitting on his side of the bed to remove his socks.

"Oh nothing," she answered quickly.

"Marie Anne, you think after more than twenty years of marriage I don't know you better than that? Now I know something's bothering you so you'd best tell me. There's no sense in keeping it bottled up. It won't help any."

She knew he was right but could only look down at her open hands, the cartoonish painting on the cover of her drug store novel and the soft texture of the blanket. Standing now, he unbuckled his belt, slipped it off and lay it across the rocking chair in the corner. Hearing the familiar sound of his belt slipping off, she looked up, hoping he wouldn't notice her interest. He looked down at her as he removed his faded jeans and climbed in next to her.

The bed was warm and he reached to turn off the light before pulling himself to his wife to hold her close. As he did, she folded in his arms and shook slightly. Kissing the top of her head he asked again what was wrong.

"Just heard you spanking Amanda, that's all."

"Yes," he admitted. "I had to. She's had it coming for a while."

She gulped and looked up at him. Her eyes were so soft and loving. She constantly reminded him how much he loved her. Though he knew she could be so weak at times and needed him. "I know. I was going to suggest it even, but it scares me."

He knew this was the reason. "Why are you scared? You're not the one getting the spanking. You've done nothing wrong... or have you?" he teased.

She pressed herself deeper into him and did her best to hide her nervousness. Her husband rubbed his hand down her back, finding her full bottom and palmed it. They both breathed deeply now and he could sense her arousal, smell it coming from her in waves. The hem of her nightgown went up and his rough hand slid easily between her soft, pale thighs. The spot of her sex was damp and his fingers became moistened. Freeing his cock from its entrapment, it prodded between her cheeks, seeking out the warmth of her body. Its heated tip kissed the bud of her sex, as if begging for entrance. With a quiet moan, her legs parted and, with a grunt of pleasure, his length traveled up inside her.

Upstairs Amanda found herself awaking from a short nap. She was naked from the waist down and the quickly drying damp spot on her pillow reminded her how she got that way. Buttocks still sore from that evening, she slowly sat up and began dressing. The stiffness of her body made it difficult to slip into the tight skirt and even tighter top. She applied her makeup quickly and with little light. Her father may still suspect and she didn't want to be caught just because he noticed the crack of light under the door. Then, as quietly as she could manage, she pulled up the sash of her bedroom window, carefully climbed onto the ledge above the front step, dropped down and was gone.

Travis and Janice returned soon after and, with her door opened, Travis noticed his younger sister in law was not in her room though it was long past her bedtime. Concerned but certain her father was aware of the situation he retired to bed with his wife.

Come morning he passed by her bedroom and saw it untouched from the night before. He grew worried and, when he saw his father in law reading the paper over a bowl of oatmeal and no sister in law to speak of, he grew even more concerned. Travis saw Mr. Hayes was upset and knew Amanda was most likely the cause of his concern.

Eventually the youngest girl snuck in the back door. It was mid morning and she'd hoped to make it past her father without him noticing. Unbeknownst to her, he had been waiting in the kitchen, calmly reading the newspaper and drinking black coffee, awaiting her arrival.

His response was expected: "Where have you been young lady?"

She stammered, unable to get out of it. She had been caught in the act and to lie would only get her deeper into trouble. Now she couldn't even tell the truth. Her voice failed her as she anticipated his reaction.