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Message-ID: <47682asstr$1083543005@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: FEATHER7@IX.NETCOM.COM (Wolf Feather)
Keywords: BDSM, daddy, father, daughter, schoolgirl
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NNTP-Posting-Date: Sun, 02 May 2004 13:06:17 PDT
Subject: {ASSM} Wayward Schoolgirl (MDom/fsub, light S and M, "Daddy play," nosex)
Lines: 191
Date: Sun,  2 May 2004 20:10:05 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

For those searching for a story with sex in it, look elsewhere.  For those
interested in light, non-sexual BDSM, this may be what you want.  

Comments definitely appreciated - especially via e-mail (to counteract the
spam in my Inbox).  





WAYWARD SCHOOLGIRRL
Wolf Feather


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."

=====================================
            Wolf Feather 
       FEATHER7@IX.NETCOM.COM
=====================================
What isn't remembered never happened
          - _Serial Experiments Lain_
=====================================

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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