Spanking For One

Spanking for One.

Tags/spoilers: Daddy, daughter, spanking, blowjob, bikini, lotion, massage, sundress, slut, incest.

All characters are over 18 (and a couple of them

way

the hell past it).

*

I suppose it was my fault.

It was a Saturday, sunny as I could hope for, and I had nothing else to do but lay out by the pool.

"Morning, Daddy," I said, as I walked past him in the yellow bikini Mom had said I could only keep if I didn't wear it out of the house. The back yard was technically part of the house, so I was pretty sure that wasn't what she'd meant.

Dad had his back to me but turned as I opened the French doors and let myself out onto the deck, and I heard his grunt of surprise. I was expecting a 'Morning, Bubs' (I have no idea where that pet name came from or what it meant -- lost in history -- but infinitely preferable to 'pumpkin', 'angel' or 'princess', right?) and the lack of response, that grunt aside, was strangely satisfying.

I guess it had something to do with the itsy-bitsy bikini that barely covered my ass from the back, and didn't cover much more at the front, either. But the yard was fully fenced all the way round, and not overlooked with the exception of Mr Roger's windows -- and he was too old to care what I wore, even if he could see that far. So Dad couldn't object, could he?

There was a sun lounger already perfectly positioned for the angle I needed, and it only took a moment to set down my book, adjust my towel, then a few minutes to apply some suncream. Only thing worse than tan lines? Sun burn. Wasn't going

there

. Thirty minutes a side, maximum; in this heat, any more and there was a risk I'd burn. But I already had a quite pleasant coppery base tan, and I knew I could manage an hour in the sun with ease, if I creamed up well and turned when I needed to.

Finally ready, I lay out on the lounger, put some Miley Cyrus on my Spotify. I couldn't read face up, it was too bright. I'd wait until I turned over. My book was on the table beside me. Instead, I relaxed and closed my eyes.

For about ten fucking minutes, until my AirPods died.

Crap

. I was

sure

I'd charged them.

My instinct was to yell for my Alex, my brother, but he was away with friends on a camping trip. I glanced toward the house, wondering if a sorrowful look would summon Dad out to see what I needed. Chance was low, and I knew better than to call for

him

. I could get away with bossing my brother around. Dad? No chance.

Sighing, I pushed myself up from my extremely comfy sun-drenched lounger and went to switch out my traitorous AirPods for my Wi-Fi headset. I could Bluetooth that into my phone instead, and though it wasn't as comfortable it would do.

Dad wasn't in the kitchen when I came back in, but then I'd never really expected him to come out and proactively offer to help anyway. That wasn't his style. I padded upstairs. Both Alex's room and my room were on the right, with mom and dad's room to the left. I'd almost reached the top of the stairs when I heard it: a sharp

crack

coming from the left, followed by a gasp.

I frowned. I didn't recognize those sounds.

Another

crack

sounded almost immediately, and I paused one step shy of the top of the stairs. It almost sounded like... but no, it

couldn't

be.

"Yes... spank me, Daddy."

Oh.

Oh.

I stood in shock for such a long time that two more of those soul-wrenching

slaps

echoed from beyond mom and dad's door. It wasn't just that the sounds I'd heard were spanks. (Yeah, I'd finally figured that out even without the hint mom had given.) It wasn't just that it was

Daddy

spanking

Mommy

, which was pretty fucking shocking as it was. Hell, I didn't know they still had

sex

, let alone... kinky sex. And speaking of kinky sex...

"Oh fuck... do you like spanking me, Daddy?"

Daddy. She was calling him

'Daddy'

.

That was so fucked up it was beyond kinky. Well, okay, I guess it wasn't. But it was a whole level of kinky

way

beyond what one would ever expect from one's

own parents

.

"You know I do, you little slut." Another

crack

accompanied my father's gruff response.

I realized I'd been standing one step short of the landing for about two minutes. Or getting on for a dozen spanks, each one clearly heard despite the closed door, along with the gasps, the whimpers, and the casually thrown in and frequent use of 'Daddy'.

Fuck

. For a moment I was tempted -- really, really tempted -- to creep up that last step, tiptoe to the left and push my ear to their door. Or maybe even see what could be seen through the keyhole. But I didn't. I padded as quietly as I could to my room and found my headset. By the time I'd reached the top of the stairs again, the sound of spanking had been replaced with a different slapping sound, this one lighter, more frequent and more rhythmic. I could hear mom's high-pitched whimpers through the door.

My cheeks were burning with embarrassment as I made my way back outside. I supposed, ostensibly, my parents were a healthy, attractive, red-blooded couple with needs. Even if Dad was a couple years shy of fifty and mom was only five years younger. I guess they weren't

that

old. They were still in shape, after all. Mom had her yoga and Pilates and Dad his swimming, running machine and weights. And I guess from their perspective, they'd expected me to be in the yard for an hour or so, with my AirPods in so I wouldn't be likely to hear anything.

I lay on the lounger, my book lying forgotten, the music in my ears not drowning out the memory of my mother's voice.

"...Do you like spanking me, Daddy?"

Fuck

. That was so wrong. Hearing your mom calling your daddy... well...

Daddy

when they were so clearly doing...

that.

Hearing your daddy calling your mom a slut.

And fuck, but I was wet. So unbelievably fucking wet. Why was I so wet? It was my own parents! It shouldn't be turning me on! Was it just finding them having sex? Ugh, no. That didn't do anything for me. Was it the spanking then? That was... weird, but I couldn't deny it was intriguing. I mean, I've watched porn. I've seen people get spanked. I haven't

been

spanked -- not since hitting puberty, anyway, and it hardly counts when you're a mouthy eight-year-old. Okay, so maybe the spanking was affecting me a bit.

But not as much as hearing mom calling daddy Daddy. That was... unbelievable.

Was this just some perfectly innocent roleplay thing that they'd always done? Or -- and I could hardly bear to consider the question -- was this somehow a fantasy about

me

?

Their nineteen-year-old daughter. Currently wearing hardly anything, out on a sun lounger, far less innocent than I had been a half-hour earlier, when I'd walked past Daddy wearing not much more than a smile.

Fuck

. Was that what had triggered it? Had he seen me? Had he stood behind the window, watched me rub suncream into my body, got all horny

watching me

, then gone upstairs to wake mom up and take it out on her?

So it was my fault.

No. That was too much to consider. It

had

to be a coincidence. They probably just did some kinky roleplay stuff and today was daddy/daughter and next week was teacher/student. Nothing to do with me at all. Perfectly innocent, harmless, healthy sexual play between consenting adults, a loving couple. That just happened to be my parents.

The alarm on my phone went off. Half hour already? I turned over, stretching out on the lounger with the sun on my back, my mostly-bare ass on display. Something that hadn't bothered me

at all

as I'd walked out earlier, but now... what if they'd finished, and were watching me? Hell, their bedroom

overlooked

the yard.

But again, I was being silly. There was a perfectly reasonable, nothing-to-do-with-me explanation for this. I reached up and untied my bikini straps (tan lines) and relaxed again. I would forget about it. What they did in the privacy of their bedroom was, after all, completely their business.

And none of mine.

*

"Emma, you're gonna burn if you stay out here much longer."

I jumped so hard my whole body jerked. I hadn't heard him come out. Had I dozed off? I reached for my phone, wondering how much time I had left of my second half hour.

Fuck

. I hadn't reset the timer. I'd been more than a bit distracted -- for obvious reasons -- and I'd forgotten. And I'd been out here... almost ninety minutes. Fuck, fuck. I needed to get in fast.

"Thanks, Daddy," I said, pushing myself up. "I hadn't realized the time." Completely forgetting that I'd untied my bikini top, which obviously stayed right on the lounger as I sat up. Or that an hour and a half lying in the sun, followed by sudden movement, left one dizzy with the world's largest head rush.

I flung an arm across my bare breasts but not before I'd managed to give him an eyeful. "Sorry," I muttered, my cheeks flaming with embarrassment.

Great. Flash him right after he'd spanked and fucked mom. Just perfect timing.

He chuckled softly. "That's okay, Bubs. Take it gently, now. Take your time heading inside. I'm just going to do a few laps."

He stepped to the edge of the pool and dived in, but not before I'd seen the lump in his swimming trunks. Had I turned him on? Or was that as big as he was when he

wasn't

turned on? I'd never really noticed before.

Could my day get any more surreal?

A half hour later he knocked on my door.

"Emma? You decent?"

"Um..." I was still in my bikini bottoms, and I'd just pulled a short t-shirt on. Funny how, in my own bedroom, with my daddy about to enter, that felt indecent, but at the side of the pool wearing a hell of a lot less was just fine.  But that was before I knew my parents used the idea of me to stimulate their sex life.  Or didn't.  Maybe it

was

all innocent. "...I guess?"

He cracked the door, and a hand came through, holding a bottle of after sun. He wiggled it at me. "Do your back?"

"Oh. Yes, please, Daddy."  It wasn't like I could say no.  It was only prudent to say yes -- I'd had the sun on my back for way longer than I expected, and besides, it would be awkward to start saying no to him.  Not as a fucking awkward as saying yes, but... oh

fuck

, I was so fucked.

The door opened fully, and he came in. He'd swapped his swimming trunks for a pair of shorts, and his hair looked messy and disheveled as though it had been recently towel-dried. His chest and legs were bare, and for the first time I saw how much of a hunk my dad really was. I'd never even thought of him like that before, but hearing him spank mom while she called him 'Daddy'... well, it kinda changed my perspective a bit. Okay, a

lot

. I felt a blush rise and looked away, embarrassed.

"I figured you would need this after being in the sun so long, Bubs. Didn't I tell you to set a timer?"

"I... I thought I did. I kinda got distracted."

By listening to my parents fucking after the whole daddy/daughter spanking roleplay thing.

And here I was, still wearing those bikini bottoms, about to lie down for him.

So yeah, turned out my day

could

get more surreal.

I lay down on the bed, as much to bury my rapidly-heating face as to get the ordeal over with sooner. I felt the bed shift with his bodyweight as he sat next to me, and heard the sound as he flipped open the bottle cap.

"Shoulders too?"

"That would be nice, thank you."

"Better pop the shirt off then."

"Oh, um..." I wriggled until I could grasp the hem of the shirt, arching my back to lift my upper body from the bed and pull it over my head. It wasn't graceful, but I could do it without flashing him. Again.

"Cold bit."

He laid his hands on my skin, covered in the lotion, and it wasn't even that cold. He slathered it on good, and it hardly took him a minute. It wasn't even a massage, just the clinical application of after sun from the small of my back to my shoulders. He took enough time to make sure it was mostly rubbed in, then I felt him rise just as I was beginning to relax into his touch.

"Done already?" I asked in surprise.

He smiled down at me. "I'm assuming you can reach the rest yourself."

I blushed, lowering my eyes, as he turned for the door.

"Lunch in an hour?"

"That would be great, thanks, Daddy."

He closed the door behind himself, leaving me alone in my room with my thoughts. I'd been lying basically naked on the bed while he rubbed the lotion into me, and he hadn't even hung around to stare.

It was all in my head. My parents weren't the kinky fucked-up ones; no, that was all me.

Dammit.

*

The next day was Sunday. Mom was off on a three-day work trip that meant she had to fly out early and was gone by the time I got up. Dad was having breakfast in the kitchen.

"Morning, Bubs," he said, glancing up as I came in. His expression didn't change as he saw me, nothing but polite interest at the presence of his daughter, sporting bed hair and an oversized t-shirt. Hell, it was a lot more clothing than I'd worn yesterday, even if there was no bra beneath. But then he'd seen my bare breasts yesterday too.

Thanks, Emma, that's not a helpful reminder so early in the morning.

"Morning," I mumbled, and placed a hand on his shoulder as I kissed his cheek. I fixed myself some orange juice while he finished his toast.

"Plans for today?"

"Not really. You know, summer break.  Nothing much to do.  Hang out by the pool a bit, I guess. With a timer, this time." He chuckled. "And there's possibly a party this evening at Milly's. Any chance of a lift home?"

He raised an eyebrow, "What time does it finish?"

"Er... like... midnight?"

"I'm too old and lazy for midnight taxi runs." He fished out his wallet and dropped a twenty on the breakfast table. "Uber is on me, okay?"

"Aww, thanks Daddy. And you're not old."

He was dressed in polo shirt and slacks, and he definitely didn't look old. He looked handsome and trim. Plus, I'd seen him half-naked yesterday, and he had the body of a thirty-something.

Goddammit, Emma, go take a cold shower or something.

That sounded like a really good idea.

He spoke as I was walking away. "Mom's already left for the airport."

I paused in the doorway, turning back. "Yep. I'll message her to tell her I love her."

He shrugged. "She knows, but that would be nice. And just to remind you that I'm playing golf today."

I'd totally forgotten, but that explained the dress code. "Sure thing, Daddy. Have a nice time."

"Paul will be picking me up in about..." he looked at his watch, "ten minutes or so. You'll be okay here by yourself?"

"Sure, don't worry about me."

"See you later then."

"Have a good day, Daddy."

I was in the shower when I heard him shout 'Goodbye', and the front door had shut before I'd replied.

I mooched around the house for a bit. Couldn't spend all day in the sun; it was just too hot, and I didn't want to burn further. I'd got away with it the day before, but only because of my base tan and the timely application of after sun.

What to do with myself? I played some computer games, but my heart wasn't really in it. Watched twenty minutes of Netflix before I got bored. My mind was all over the place, and I knew why. I couldn't stop thinking about yesterday.

In the end I got up and got dressed. I'd go into town, maybe buy some clothes. Could do with something fresh for Milly's party -- a new summer dress would be perfect.

A short while later I stepped out of the house, stopping with surprise as I saw Daddy's car in the drive. Surely he wasn't back already? But then I remembered -- he'd said Paul would be picking him up.

So his car was here. And the keys were just inside. He'd never know, and mom was on an airplane somewhere.

It sure beat an Uber. And saved some money. He couldn't argue with that, could he?

Daddy's car was an Audi Q7. A large SUV. It was beautiful, and he'd only had it for a few months. I'd only got to drive it once before, and then only for a few miles on an empty road. It was fast, too, and it sure made the trip into town a lot quicker. I parked it up really carefully, went to find myself some lunch, and then I'd go hunting for a summer dress.

It took me barely an hour to find something I liked, and I wore it out of the shop, my jeans and t-shirt in a bag, the strappy heels I'd worn ubiquitous with any look. I'd worn a bra beneath my t-shirt but gone commando under my jeans, and that meant I was now naked beneath the dress. It had all been on a bit a whim, and it wasn't really like me at all. I was feeling reckless and daring, and I was sure that was connected to yesterday too. I dunno, but finding out your parents fuck like rabbits in kinky ways just...

does

something to a girl. Or to me, anyway. Driving Daddy's car had been part of it too. It made me feel empowered, and added to the thrill.

It was by now past three, and as I drove home, I realized I shouldn't have stopped for lunch. I didn't know what time Daddy would get back. How long did a round of golf last, anyway? He'd left pretty early, too. I needed to get there before he did, otherwise he'd probably be pretty pissed that I hadn't asked to borrow the car.

I was two streets from home when a cat ran out in front of me. I slammed on the brakes and swerved. I'd been so keen to get home before Daddy did that I'd been going a bit fast, and the car didn't stop before it hit the curb. There was a loud

bang

as the front hit, and I felt the jolt through the whole car. Missed the damn cat, though. Small mercies.

It was obvious a moment later that something wasn't right. I stopped in the road and got out to see the damage. The front tire was flat, where I'd hit the curb, and somehow there was a massive scrape across the alloy, too. Like, a

massive

scrape.

Fuck

. This was going to be expensive, but worse than that, I wasn't sure I'd have time to get it fixed before he got home. Could they even replace an alloy from stock? Home was only a mile or so away; I drove carefully, the car juddering all the way on the rim of the damaged wheel.

It was with a sense of relief that I pulled into the drive. Now, if I could just call the garage before...

The front door opened, and Daddy stepped out. He was on the phone to someone, and I heard his voice clearly.

"She's just turned up, thank God. Yes, with the car too. You can ignore the report, thank you, officer. Oh yes, don't you worry, I most certainly

will

be having words with her."

The last was said as he stood beside the window, looking right at me.

He killed the call. "Out you get." I'd never heard his tone as cold as it was in that moment.

I opened the car door. "I'm sorry, Daddy," I began, "there was a cat, and it ran out in front of me..."

I don't think he'd realized the damage I'd done until I said that, for he immediately walked around the front of the car, and it didn't take him long enough to see the tire. And the alloy. His face went from grim to murderous in the time it took my brain to print

'G-R-O-U-N-D-E-D'

in foot-high neon letters across my frontal cortex.

"Get inside," he said, through gritted teeth.

I picked up my bag from my passenger seat, my phone too, only then noticing I had six missed calls. My phone was on silent -- I hadn't remembered doing that. Dammit, no wonder he'd been on the phone to the police.

He followed me inside and closed the door with a softness that was more menacing than a full slam would've been.

"You took my car without asking," he said, and his voice sounded calm even though his eyes were cold. This was him at his most furious, I knew from experience. He was one wrong word away from a full-on explosion.