Sarah's Seduction

The next morning, I woke up before Sarah. I leaned into her bedroom and gazed at her. She was still fast asleep in her bed, facing toward the wall, both bed covers and her nightgown down around her waist. I tiptoed into her room and walked over to her bed; I could clearly see the silhouette of her exposed breast.

I reached for the sheet and pulled it up almost to her shoulders, covering her enough so it would hopefully be less embarrassing for her when I woke her up. I looked at her as she lay there, still asleep, now covered, and I sighed.

I'd forgotten how cute Sarah was when she slept; peaceful, restful. I'd missed out on seeing that daily for the last several years; now, I'd have a chance to make up for it.

I sat down on the edge of her bed and stroked her hair, pushing it back behind her ear. My sweet Sarah is so pretty.

I leaned down and kissed her temple, and then her cheek.

Sarah stirred, drawing in a sudden, deep breath, her eyes fluttering. Slowly, her eyes opened. She blinked a couple of times to focus and then she turned her head to look at me. Suddenly conscious of the fact she was practically naked, Sarah touched briefly at the sheet, and realizing she was covered up, she relaxed and rolled over.

"Good morning, Daddy."

"Good morning, sweetheart."

"I thought I was lying here..."

"I covered you up, sweetheart"

Sarah's eyes widened. And her mouth... was she smiling? Maybe a little?

"You... you saw me naked?"

I took a deep breath and nodded. I didn't tell her I'd seen her naked last night, or that I'd watched her masturbate, or that the thought of her naked and masturbating was making me hard again.

"You were rolled over against the wall." I rubbed her arm. "I saw your back."

"Mmmm. You could have rubbed my back to wake me up. I would have liked that."

"I'll bet. If I'd started rubbing your back to wake you up, you'd still be pretending to be asleep, just to keep me doing it."

"Not me, Daddy."

Her feigned innocence was clearly an act. We both knew I was right. Yet, it was cute. She was adorable, and she knew it.

"Come on," I said, patting her arm and grabbing her hand. "Get up."

Sarah sat up in the bed, loosely holding the sheet as she did. She put her arms around my neck to hug me and it slid down below her breasts just enough to bring us into contact with one another. I found myself hugging my daughter, my hands caressing her bare back as her breasts pressed against me.

I ran my hands up and down her back, making her purr.

"Mmmm. That feels really good, Daddy."

"I know, sweetie. You've always enjoyed it."

"Mmhmm." Sarah sighed and kissed me on the cheek as she leaned back.

I kissed her on the forehead and she smiled.

"Get up, get your shower and get dressed," I said. "We'll have breakfast and then we can get started on everything we need to do to get you ready for school."

It was nearly an hour and a half before we headed out the door. I'd made her change clothes twice.

"Wear something nice and respectable," I'd said when she came out in short shorts and a spaghetti strapped top that clung to her chest.

Her second outfit was jeans that hugged her every contour and a quarter sleeve blouse that likewise hugged her chest.

Finally, after I'd pushed into her closet, we'd struck a compromise; a sun dress. The ruffled upper half hugged her chest but didn't reveal every outline beneath the cloth, and the skirt draped her lower body in a soft layer of cloth that at once concealed, yet displayed her legs in a most feminine way.

I watched with great interest as Sarah slid into the car, the cloth riding up above her knee, revealing her shapely calf. And I suddenly realized the spaghetti strap top and quarter sleeve blouse hadn't been that bad choice wise; at least with them she'd been wearing a bra; leaning forward in her sun dress, I could easily see her cleavage.

As we drove to the school, she pulled the dress up to mid thigh, spreading her legs apart.

"I'm hot, Daddy," she said when I looked at her.

I nodded and we drove on. Air conditioning would take care of most of that in short order.

"So, your mother and I didn't get a chance to talk about this much. What sparked your sudden decision to come live with me?"

"I just decided I wanted to come live with you. That's all."

"Are you sure there isn't more to it than that?" I asked.

She shook her head. "There isn't."

"Did you leave a boyfriend behind?"

Sarah turned her head and looked at me. She shook her head again.

"If I meet someone I want to go out with, are you going to give me as hard a time about it as you did about what I decided to wear today?"

"It depends on the young man," I said. "If you're going to date, I want you to go out with someone that's going to love you and care about you."

"How will I know that without going out with them first? You know... to give them a chance?"

I nodded. She had a point.

"And what if it's a girl? What if I decide I want to go out with a girl?"

I looked over at her.

"Do you like girls instead of boys, sweetheart?"

She shook her head. "I like boys and girls, Daddy; girls a little more, because boys are usually always so rude."

"They can be like that," I said as we arrived at the school.

The entrance to the school was at once old but fresh. I knew the school had taught students for at least four generations, and many of the buildings on campus were at least thirty years old, but they were well maintained. The main building, specifically, had been renovated three years ago. The wood work still looked remarkably fresh, and the floor, polished marble tile, shone with a brilliance that matched the echoes of the woman walking towards us in high heels.

She was tall, close to my age, maybe a little older, and magnificent in every way. Red hair pulled back into a French braid, high cheek bones, stunning green eyes and a slender body contained by a pin-striped blue skirt suit with a white blouse. The gap between shoes and skirt was covered by blue hose that encased lovely calves.

No, I told myself. Not hose. Stockings. A woman this elegant wore stockings. Of course, I had no way of knowing for sure. But I told myself a woman of her stature, her position, her beauty, surely must avail herself of the opportunity to wear lingerie that tested the limits of professionalism when possible.

"Hello," she said, offering me her hand and smiling warmly. "I am Ms. Brandt. I'm the head-mistress here at Julian Hills."

I introduced Sarah and myself.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Thomas. Ms. Delaney told me you'd be coming." She looked Sarah up and down with a discerning gaze, sizing her up, forming opinions.

Finally, Ms. Brandt nodded, approvingly, holding her head high, so there was no mistake, so that we understood she was in charge.

"Right this way," she said, turning on her heel. "Ms. Delaney is our student affairs coordinator and one of the associate deans. Don't let the title fool you. She's indispensible to us here; especially to me. I don't know what I'd do without her. She'll take care of everything you need to get started here at Julian Hills."

My eyes traveled down to Ms. Brandt's ass as she stopped in front of a heavy oak door, turning the large ornate handle, her foot kicked out behind her as she stood poised to enter the office of her assistant. There was something ornately seductive about the shaded blue curves of her leg disappearing under her skirt, and I had to look up quickly as we walked into the office of the student affairs coordinator.

The ornate oak paneling motif continued, but instead of polished marble tile, lavish, elegant carpeting covered the floor, a sound dampening pad for the large antique desk a few feet away.

"Evelyn, I'd like you to meet Mr. Thomas and his daughter Sarah. Sarah will be attending classes with us this year. This is her first time here, so you'll need to give her and Mr. Thomas some extra attention."

Evelyn Delaney stepped out from behind her desk. She was young; much younger than I would have expected. Rich honey blonde hair piled into a bun behind her head, sparse wisps of hair dangling deliberately from just above her temples; soft blue eyes, kind, yet calculating; a smile that was warm, yet testified to the fact that she was a woman not to be trifled with. A white ruffled blouse, a gray flecked skirt and heels; she was clearly professional, yet absolutely stunning in her appearance.

Ms. Delaney was clearly the subordinate of the two women, yet she had her own air of authority.

"Yes, Ma'am," she said, nodding to Ms. Brandt and shaking first my hand, then Sarah's.

"Won't you please sit down?" She gestured to the chairs in front of her desk as the headmistress left her office, then walked back around her desk and sat down.

"I see that you're already eighteen, Sarah?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

Ms. Delaney smiled. "You'll be one of five in your class that are already of age. It's our expectation that you'll bring added maturity and balance to the mix."

We chatted for a few minutes as Ms. Delaney reviewed the forms I'd already filled out. She gave us a welcome packet that covered everything from attendance and grading policies to extracurricular activities and college prep recommendations. A few minutes into our discussion, another woman came in.

"Ms. Thomas, my name is Ms. Winchell. I'm the registrar here. I need you to come with me so we can schedule your classes." By comparison to Ms. Brandt and Ms. Delaney, Ms. Winchell was frumpy, dull brown hair pulled and pinned in a severe fashion, a librarian's horn-rimmed glasses on a string around her neck, a dull blue dress that clung irresolutely to her, and navy blue flats, scuffed on the toes and the insides of the heels.

Sarah looked at Ms. Winchell, then at Ms. Delaney, then at me.

"Well, don't just sit there, young lady," MS. Delaney said, popping her hand flatly against her desk. "Pop to it. Go with Ms. Winchell and get your classes."

Sarah took a deep breath with wide eyes and stood up, slowly following the overtly plain woman.

When the door had closed behind them, Ms. Delaney cleared her throat.

"Mr. Thomas, if you would, please, find the sheet that's next to the last on the right hand side of the folder and pull it out."

I dug through the sheets of paper and found the one in question. Or did I? I read over it quickly and thought to myself that it must surely be a joke.

"'Corporal punishment?' Seriously?"

"Oh, very much so, sir," she said, standing up and walking around to the front of her desk. "We take discipline very seriously here."

"Well, I'm sure that's all well and good, but..." My eyes were rapidly scanning the paper and now, they were looking at the legs, ankles up to just below the knee, of Ms. Delaney. Was she wearing hose? Or stockings? Whichever, her legs looked fantastic.

"Mr. Thomas."

I looked up. A knowing smile. She'd seen me looking, hadn't she? I felt my face turn red.

"Many of the girls here arrive with many of the problems facing teenage girls these days hounding them. They all but beg for discipline. They want order. They want structure. We provide that. And when it breaks down, we restore it."

"With... spankings?" I looked up at her. Clearly, I wasn't the first parent to question this.

"Paddling, more specifically. 'Licks', I believe is the vernacular term."

"No. No. You are not going to paddle my daughter."

"Mr. Thomas, ..."

"She just came to live with me."

"Mr. Thomas, ..."

"She's eighteen years old."

"Mr. Thomas!" Ms. Delaney slammed her hand down flat on the desktop and leaned forward, bringing her face closer to mine. "This is only negotiable within the narrowest frame. It is one of the methods we employ. That is not negotiable. If you cannot be agreeable to it, then we must part ways, right here, right now."

"What do you mean, 'within the narrowest frame'?"

She crossed her legs and leaned back against the edge of the desk again as she pursed her lips.

"Some parents absolutely will not consent to the paddle or the strap under any circumstances. And we understand that."

"I've always felt that if you use an object, you're apt to lose control, you might actually inflict pain beyond what's needed for the discipline," I said.

Ms. Delaney nodded. "That's a commonly held feeling. It's one I cannot, that we cannot, fault. However, corporal punishment remains a pillar of our disciplinary policy."

"So..." If they were willing to fudge on the paddle, where was they're line drawn?

"If you will not consent to allowing us use of the paddle," Ms. Delaney said, "you must then commit to a more hands on approach."

Hands on?

"What do you mean?"

"If we administer the licks, we do so with a paddle." She recrossed her legs again. "If you're predisposed against that method, then you must commit to supporting our policy by declaring your willingness to administer the punishment yourself. Here. On school grounds."

I sat there looking at her as her words soaked in.

"Read the paper."

My eyes dropped to the paper and I finished reading it rapidly. Their bottom line last resort was my willingness to spank my own daughter depending on disciplinary decisions handed down by the faculty and staff of the school.

I took a deep breath and sat back, mulling it.

"Of course, you need to understand. With most girls, we only need to do it once. The shame and embarrassment usually has the intended effect of correcting their behavior. And it's a ground level punishment. Not where we start, of course, but a lot of offenses that could progress to worse things usually come to a complete halt rather quickly."

"Where would I... I mean, if... if Sarah did something, and you decided she needed a spanking, where would I..."

"On her behind, of course," Ms. Delaney said, smiling.

I shook my head. "No, that's not what I meant."

"Oh. I'm sorry. Here. In my office."

"Here. In your office?"

She nodded. "In private. And I'd be here as a witness. To ensure the punishment was administered."

"I see."

"Mr. Thomas, you said a few minutes ago that Sarah just came to live with you."

I nodded.

"How long have you lived apart? If I may ask..."

"Most of the last twelve years, except for visitations and such."

"Hmmm. I see." Ms. Delany shifted against her desk and looked out the window. "In that time, the last twelve years, have you spanked Sarah? Ever?"

"No."

"Not even once?"

"No."

She looked back at me.

"Speaking from... personal experience, I can tell you that as much as it might pain the both of you initially, it can be bonding for a parent to spank their child. The child knows their misdeeds have a consequence; they know that their parent cares; when you use your bare hand, as you apparently would be want to do, you share the pain of the punishment. And most importantly, afterward, you have an unequaled opportunity for reconciliation; the hand that inflicted pain and discipline can provide comfort and consolation, love and healing. It could bring the two of you much closer together.

"It's something to think about. But you need to decide quickly, because it can be a deal breaker. If you will not consent to the policy in any way, then she cannot attend school here."

I sighed. Part of me really wished I'd known about this going in. I signed the form. Sarah and I would discuss it; I knew she wouldn't be happy.

We wrapped up the last of the paperwork as Sarah walked back in with her schedule. The look on her face told me she was already well aware this was nothing like any other school she'd gone to before.

As we started to leave, Ms. Delaney came around the desk and shook my hand. Her grip was warm and fulfilling. I thought she was going to shake Sarah's hand, too, but I missed that call by a mile.

She hugged Sarah, kissed her on the cheek and welcomed her to Julian Hills. I had flashbacks to my days in college; this seemed oddly reminiscent of a senior sorority sister welcoming in a new pledge.

We left the school with Ms. Delaney bidding us farewell from the front steps.

Next stop, the school uniform shop.

Actually, the whole school uniform thing, for Julian Hills, anyway, has to be a racket. I say that, because it wasn't just skirts, blouses, sweaters and knee socks. It was shorts and t-shirts for gym class, Sarah's choice from seven different gym shoes, all of like colors, in hopes that the girls would all be somewhat similar. And lingerie requirements.

That's right. I said lingerie.

Reasoning for that became immediately understandable when she was trying on blouses and skirts. The blouses were sinfully thin; had Sarah been wearing a bra, I could have read the label to you through the cloth. But she wasn't wearing a bra; the sundress kind of precluded it, and as a result, it was like I was looking at my daughter trying on a slinky nightgown that she might have wanted to wear on her honeymoon; her breasts filled the cloth, nipples tenting against it as she buttoned it up and tucked it into the almost obscenely short skirt.

"What do you think, Daddy?" Sarah turned to face me.

She was standing less than five feet away, not a detail of her upper body concealed from my eyes.

"Great, sweetie." I shifted in my seat trying to ease my suddenly developing erection. "Let's wrap up here and get the rest of the items to go with the outfit."

One of the required purchases was the camisole; nothing super frilly or flamboyant; just an opaque, if not silky soft, layer to conceal that which the bra, if worn, was lifting and separating. The school had a recommendation for panties, too, and as short as the skirts were, I could see their recommendation being a valuable addition to the wardrobe.

By late afternoon, we were done shopping and headed home. Sarah had a good bit of unpacking still to do, and now she had some washing and ironing to add to it.

I helped her carry in the bags and Sarah traipsed off to her room, hands full.

I changed into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, went back to the living room and dropped down into my chair, flipping through the mail.

"Daddy?" Sarah walked into the living room. She'd untied her sundress and held it up against her chest, covering herself. "Can I try on my uniform? I mean, now that we have everything?"

"Sure, sweetie."

"Want to see me once I'm dressed up in it?"

I nodded.

"Okay, Daddy."

She spun on her heels and dropped her hands to her side. Suddenly, Sarah was naked from the waist up. And as she walked back out of the living room, she pushed the dress from her hips. My last glimpse of her was her sundress nearly down to her knees, panty clad ass shaking with each step she took.

I took a deep breath. She'll be fully clothed when she comes back in here, I told myself. It'll all be good.

I walked out onto the patio and stretched. I was kind of surprised, actually, that Sarah hadn't clamored to jump into the pool yet. It wasn't a big pool, by any means, just big enough to swim and play around in, to relax and cool off. My favorite part was the hot tub. It was still a bit on the warm side for the hot tub, but that would change in the next few weeks.

I turned and walked back into the house, leaving the curtains open. Sunlight flooded the living room, casting sudden shadows and highlighting Sarah when she walked back into the room.

I stopped and did a double take, then slowly found my way back to my chair, feeling for it as I kept my eyes on the scandalous vision before me.

Saddle shoes, white knee socks that could have been stockings if they were but a few inches higher, a blue plaid skirt that was heart-stopping short, white blouse and a matching blue sweater with the school crest sitting atop her left breast.

"What do you think, Daddy? Do I look good in it?" She stood in semi-side profile, one leg angled away, the other cocked and turned toward me, showcasing her aptly named knee sock clinging to her leg.