Author: Jack Crawford
Title: Living At Home
Summary: College coed, Cindy, still lives at home and when her grades aren't up to par she learns the hard way that Daddy doesn't care how old she is ...  a good strapping and caning will get her to focus better!  
Keywords: dom, MF, md, spank,
<!--ADULTSONLY--> Copyright: 2010

   Cindy knew what was in store for her.  She was frightened by it.  She
hated it.  Yet, she knew it was something she needed and she had accepted
that.  The clock was ticking by slowly as she waited for her father in his
study.  Her nerves were frayed having had to wait nearly eight hours for
the inevitable and she adjusted her posture in the hard chair for the
umpteenth time in the past 30 minutes.

   She was an extraordinarily bright young lady.  Her straight "A" average
in high school coupled with near perfect admission's test scores had earned
her entrance to any college in the country, yet she chose to stay at State
University.  In many ways, she had yet to grow up and she was smart enough
to recognize that.  The comforts of familiar surroundings and family
support had caused her to stay home and attend the local university.

   Her father could have afforded to send her to any school, not that it
would have posed a hardship given Cindy's scholarship offers.  But, when
Cindy decided to live at home, he had given her fair warning.  "No matter
what your age, young lady," he had lectured, "You will continue to abide by
my rules as long as you live here." She had nodded, somehow happy with the
comfort of the familiar structure, and only a little miffed at continuing
to be treated as a school girl.

   She heard the garage door open and looked up at the clock on the mantle.
6:15 P.M.  Her father was right on time as usual.  That was

   a trait that his daughter found attractive: absolute reliability and
predictable behavior.

   Cindy tried to organize her thoughts, but her brain was filled with the
same butterflies that had occupied her stomach all day.  All too soon, her
father strode purposefully down the hallway and almost missed seeing Cindy
in his study.  His peripheral vision noticed her and he stopped abruptly,
knowing immediately why his 20 year old daughter was sitting in his study
waiting for him, but not the specifics.

   He entered the darkly paneled study and sat down in the large leather
chair behind his desk.  He silently filled his favorite pipe, tamped down
the tobacco and took quite some time to ensure that the bowl of tobacco was
properly lit.  Settling back into the large leather chair, he contemplated
his daughter for several moments.  Cindy refused to look up at him and was
nervously fidgeting with her fingers, a sure sign that something serious
was amiss.

   "Do you want to discuss something with me, Cindy?" he asked firmly, yet
not unkindly.

   Cindy knew it was best to get it all out in the open so she did not
hesitate to answer.  "Yes, Daddy," she answered timidly, "I received my
last test score in Anatomy this morning.  It was only a 76."

   Well, that's not the end of the world, her father thought to himself. 
She would have to be punished for not applying herself, but Cindy's
behavior told him that there was something else.  "That's not good enough,
Cindy," he said to her.  "You can do much better than that, and you know
your mother and I expect much better.  Didn't you know the material?"

   "Not very well, Daddy," was her meek reply.

   "Why?"

   This is where I'm really going to get it, she thought.  "I, uh, didn't
study like I should have.  You see, I went out several times this week with
some friends and got in very late." She hung her head a little lower as she
continued.  "I only got about two hours of sleep the night before the test
and had a hard time concentrating."

   When her father remained mute, Cindy was compelled to fill in the
awkward silence.  "The shock of that test score was all I really needed to
wake up to my responsibilities, but I know what is coming next and would
like to get it over with quickly, please."

   "No, I don't think you know what is coming next," her father answered
sternly.  "Yes, you will be strapped for your poor grade, but I think
something else is necessary to make you understand the significance of your
irresponsible actions by staying out all hours and not studying!"

   Cindy's eyes widened as her father opened his desk drawer and removed
the awful strip of heavy leather that he simply referred to as "the strap".
She eyed the menacing implement.  About 18" long it was worn at both ends
...  one end by hands that had sternly and lovingly utilized the instrument
and the other end well worn through its vigorous application to the bared
buttocks of any number of miscreants.  Her father stood and gave his
daughter the simple command, "Assume the position!"

   He watched with anticipation as his attractive daughter moved the two
chairs that faced the desk away from the front of the desk.  She unbuttoned
her tight jeans, pushed them to the floor then repeated the process with
her white nylon panties.  As she bent over the desk and grasped the far
side, her father stepped behind her, admiring her form as he thought how
similar she appeared to his wife in the same position.  I wonder if Cindy
knows that her mother is still strapped on a regular basis?  Pushing that
thought aside, he attended to the business at hand.

   "This strapping is for your poor test results, Cindy," he pronounced. 
"Arch your back and get that bottom well up." He waited as she complied,
the subtle movements causing erotic and unfatherly thoughts in his mind. 
I'll have to find an excuse to strap her mother tonight, he thought, or
she'll be suspicious when I attack her in bed.

   Properly positioned, Cindy waited for, then heard, the inevitable
swishing that preceded the angry bite of the heavy leather strap.  Already
ashamed of her behavior, Cindy's eyes welled up with tears even as the
second angry stroke electrified the smooth white expanse of her womanly
behind.

   Cindy clenched her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut forcing tears to
drop onto the desk blotter, but made little sound as the harsh strapping
progressed.  She knew she would get 24 strokes, one for each point less
than a perfect 100 on her Anatomy test.  And, as usually happened, when the
count neared the end, she broke down and cried hard, but without moving
from her position.  WHACK!!  SNAP!!

   "There.  That's the end of the strapping," her father announced.  "24
well deserved spanks for your test paper." Cindy raised up from the desk,
her crying easing as she unashamedly rubbed her sore bottom.  She wished
she could see the damage in a mirror; her bottom felt nearly twice its
normal size, but she knew her father had promised extra and she had to wait
for him to finish.

   "You said there was something else beside the strapping, Daddy?" sniffed
the young lady.  She had maintained her attitude in front of the desk
although she was standing straight up.  Her naked bottom felt a cool breeze
gently kiss its reddened surface.

   "I am pleased you remembered without my having to remind you, Cindy,"
her father responded as he replaced the strap in its place in his desk. 
"As I told you, it is important that you understand the seriousness of
irresponsible behavior such as you exhibited."

   Her father continued lecturing as he removed a key from his pocket and
unlocked a long closet built into the wall behind his desk.  Cindy could
not recall ever seeing the closet opened.  "As you know," he continued his
explanation, "I had the opportunity to attend school at Eton in England and
I can assure you that I learned the values of responsible behavior.  I
learned them from some very caring instructors at the business end of
something like this!" He turned to face his daughter, brandishing a thin,
three foot rattan cane.

   Cindy's hands flew to her face as she gasped in horror.  She dared not
say a word, but she trembled as she recalled the many stories she had heard
about a caning.  Her father had threatened to use a cane on her on
occasion, but had never actually used one.  In fact, Cindy had not known he
even had a cane.  I wonder if he uses it on Mom, she idly wondered.  I'll
have to ask her.

   "Assume the position!" barked her father, and Cindy's musings were
interrupted by her immediate compliance with the command as well as a
renewed shaking and trembling.  Never having felt the cane, she never the
less feared its effects.  "'Six of the best', as they say," her father
announced.  "I don't think any more would be of any added value." He paused
at her left side and lightly laid the thin rattan on his target, her
reddened and upthrust bottom.  "You will count each stroke, Cindy.  Do you
understand?" Cindy could only nod her understanding.  She could not find
her voice.

   Rather than the swish of the strap, the cane made a high pitched
whistling as it sliced through the air cutting into the fullest part of her
fleshy bottom.  She heard the loud CRACK!  of the cane impacting her
bottom, but it took a full second before the pain flashed to her brain.

   "OOHHH!" she cried out, her knees buckling slightly.  Then, as she
started to sob, she added, "One!"

   She had barely made the initial count before she heard the fierce
whistling and another shock wave assaulted her system through her naked and
throbbing bottom.  Both knees buckled and her bottom waved about as she
whimpered, then cried out, "Two!"

   Again, the third stroke was sudden and seemed to impact just as the pain
of the second stroke had begun to ease.  "AAHH, Daddy!" she cried out,
"That's three!  Please stop!"

   "Sorry, Precious," he answered, "You've got three more coming.  Please
hold still or I'll have to add some more strokes." He allowed Cindy a
chance to settle down as he examined the long livid lines that ran parallel
across his daughter's bottom.

   As she quieted herself, he drew back his arm and snapped the vicious
cane right at the very bottom of her behind.  Both legs kicked out as Cindy
screamed and cried, "Four!"

   Taking pity on the sobbing young woman, the final two strokes were
delivered in very quick succession.  So fast, that Cindy was still reacting
to stroke number five that her bottom actually arched up and met the cane
for its last terrifying cut.  The force of the blow and the stinging snap
of the cane thrust Cindy sprawling across the large mahogany desk.\

   "Five and Six!" she squealed.  "Oh, Daddy!  I've never felt such a
terrible thing in all my life!"

   "Remember it well then, young lady," he advised.  "Should we have a
repeat offense it will go much worse for you."

   As he put up the cane, Cindy heard the awful command to dress herself.
She really did not want to replace her tight jeans but had no other choice.
As she snapped her jeans in place, her father hugged her, then kissed her
forehead.  "Thanks, Daddy," she said simply.

   "You know I love you and punish you only for your own good, don't you,
Precious?" he asked.

   Cindy forced a little smile through her tear stained makeup and hugged
her daddy again.  "Yes, I do, Daddy," she said.  "It's okay.  I deserved
that." "Very well," he answered, pleased that she did understand.  "Why
don't you see if your mother has something she can rub into your backside
to take out the sting?"

   Raising up on her toes, she kissed his cheek, said, "I love you, Daddy,"
then scurried quickly from the room.  
