Wayward Schoolgirl

It was a Thursday evening. Dinner was finished and My loving wife and slave was putting the last of the dishes away while I sat in the porch swing, reading a magazine article on the newest screenshots and news for Gran Turismo 4 while enjoying the final hour of daylight. I became so involved in the article that I did not notice the cessation of clinking sounds wafting out the kitchen window or through the screen door. I barely even registered the sound of the screen door opening and closing some time later as I scoured the latest PlayStation2 reviews.

"Daddy?"

That word DID register. My wife has long had an interest in "daddy play," and while we are almost always Master and slave, she does sometimes prefer father-daughter scenes instead. This was obviously one of those times. Actually, our roles remain the same; only the terminology (and perhaps the clothing) changes in these scenes.

I looked up from the magazine and saw her standing before me, hands behind her and eyes lowered to the wooden floor of the porch. With her small frame, she naturally looks about eight to ten years younger than the actual twenty-four years of her existence. The black shoes, white socks, red pleated skirt, white midriff-baring mini-blouse (with no hint of a bra underneath), glasses, and hair ribbon - her "sexy schoolgirl outfit" - made the schoolgirl appearance extremely believable; all she lacked was a backpack, or perhaps books in her arms, to truly complete the illusion.

"Yes, princess?" her pet name had been carefully chosen - it simply sounded "right" as it rolled off my tongue, but it also worked well for both Master-slave and father-daughter play.

"About Monday's test..."

I raised an eyebrow. "You got it back today?"

"Yes, Daddy." she hesitated.

"And?"

"Mr. Traxman has insisted that you sign it tonight and that I return it to him tomorrow afternoon in class."

I tried to keep my voice as stern as possible. "And why should I sign a test? He has never asked me to sign a test before."

she stepped back, keeping her eyes affixed upon the floor. "i failed again, Daddy."

Purposely, I waited a few seconds before responding. "You what?"

Suddenly, she became animated, stepping close to Me and actually looking Me in the eye, like a robust politician making an impassioned speech to a nationwide audience through a single television camera. "But i only failed by two points this time!!! That's a great improvement over last time, Daddy!!!"

"What will a college admissions person see on your transcript, princess?" I countered instantly. "Will they see a number grade or a letter grade?"

"A letter grade, of course."

"And does that letter grade include any notation as to how far or how close you were to the next higher letter grade?"

The animation from seconds before faded away, like a tiny wrapper blown by the wind across an empty stadium parking lot. "No, Daddy."

I sighed aloud, primarily for dramatic effect. "Go to your room, princess. Obviously, the previous spankings have not done enough to inspire you to study enough to even get a 'D' for a grade!!!" I sighed again. "I obviously need to do something more. Go to your room and wait."

Suddenly, she rushed toward Me, her hands on My shoulders. "Daddy, please!!!"

Since she was in the perfect position, I yanked her down over my thighs and - before she could react - spanked her twice, HARD. Just as quickly, I grabbed her shoulder and hauled the wayward schoolgirl back to her feet. "To your room, young lady, now!!!"

With mock sniffles, she turned her back and reentered the cabin. In the meantime, I returned to the magazine, reading until there was no longer enough natural light to illuminate the pages.

Reentering the cabin, the lights were all off. I wondered if this was part of My wife's plan, or if she had simply neglected to turn on any lights while on the way to "her" room. In case of the former, I left the lights off, instead making My way to the mantle above the fireplace, where I always keep a lighter and a few candles for in case the electricity does stop for a while at night. With a candle lit, it was much easier to make My way to the bedroom.

The bedroom door was closed. Taking up the angry father role again, I simply opened the door and walked in without knocking. In a way, I was hoping to find princess laying on the bed, masturbating furiously, but was just as impressed that she simply sat on the edge of the bed in the darkness, her hands between clamped thighs, her head downcast with her long brown hair hiding her face.

"What about the lights?" I queried.

"The electricity is out," she replied. "Am i going to be punished for that as well?"

"Of course not," I admonished her roughly, setting the candle in an empty candleholder on a nearby dresser. "But lack of electricity is still not an excuse for not studying enough to get at least a 'D,' or ideally a 'C' at minimum."

"i know, Daddy. i'm sorry." she still had not looked up at Me since I had entered the bedroom. Other than her mouth, and the subtle rise and fall of her breasts for the required breathing, she had not moved a single millimeter.

"Lay on the bed, on your stomach." Although princess hesitated for a moment, she complied, never once looking at Me, nor even in My direction. As she moved, she kept her head bowed, her face shielded by her hair. When she was finally in position, she had (purposely?) turned her face toward the west window, away from me. I imagined that she was smiling to herself, eagerly anticipating the upcoming punishment.

As quietly as possible, I unbuckled and removed My belt. Bending it in half, the well-worn leather felt good against My side as I approached the bed. The six-inch risers underneath the bedposts held my "daughter" at the perfect height, so that I could strike her without bending forward or down.

Raising the hem of the skirt, in the Master role, I was pleasantly surprised that My wife wore a white thong. In the father role, I was disappointedly surprised that My "daughter" wore a white thong.

"you know that thongs are not to be worn by such young girls!!! Ten additional!!!"

"Yes, Daddy."

Seconds later, princess howled as her bare cheeks felt not a hand, but a leather belt. Even to My ears, the sound of the impact seemed vicious, yet I could not allow Myself to come out of the father role yet. "Since a traditional spanking seems to do you no good, perhaps a belt will beat some inspiration into you."

Twenty-nine strikes and countless sobs and screams later, I left the bedroom, taking the candle with Me. Back in the living room, I put the belt back on, then sat at the dining room table, continuing to reread So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish by candlelight.

Eventually, the wayward schoolgirl emerged from the shadows, approaching the table with a thick book held tightly to her chest. I could sense that the "Daddy play" was not yet completed to her mind, so I motioned for her to sit while I stood and walked over to the heavy wooden "Box of Toys" in the corner.

"Now that you supposedly have the inspiration to study," I announced as I returned to the table with a lengthy rope, "this should ensure that you keep your nose in the books."

Without a word from either of us, I did something completely new. In under two minutes, the single rope had secured her torso to the back of the chair (and also framed her breasts quite nicely) and linked her ankles with the chair's front legs. Only her arms were free to move, and the ends of the rope were tied off well out of the reach of her hands.

"And now you and I can read together," I said as I sat across from her.

Several minutes into the "study session," just as I finished a chapter, I looked up and saw her eyes link with Mine. Despite the faint remnants of tears illuminated by the candlelight, she wore a soft smile upon her lips.

"Daddy, Master," she half-whispered, "thank You."