Your first punishment - and a disconcerting discovery

His face, when he comes in, has a strict expression. "This is not okay, Zoe. You can't run away from your duties." He closes the door behind him, and you notice a click. Oh shit, you think to yourself. Did he lock the door? Sitting down beside you, on your bed, he starts talking about being disappointed. "I expected you to last a bit longer before I had to give you your first punishment. Please, make this easy on yourself, and lie over my lap."

He's going to spank you. He might have locked the door, he's more than twice your size, and you have no room for escape. Hesistant, you get up, and with your heart beating heavily in your tiny chest, you realize that there is no escape. If you comply, he might be lenient. So you lean over, rest your stomach on lap. You can feel him lifting up your skirt, then pulling down your tights. Your buttock is exposed, only half covered by a pair of tight, white panties.

"Since you complied, I'm going to let you off with a mild spanking, this time," he says, and then his hand slaps down. You whimper. The pain is not unbearable, but worse than the pain is the humiliation. Tears are welling up in your eyes again. And down below, between your legs, a familiar yet uncanny feeling stirs. Am I getting turned on by this? you ask yourself. No, I can't be getting turned on by this. He's my dad. And he's a guy. But with every smack, every whimper from your mouth, it's getting harder to deny that somewhere in there, there's some part of you that is finding all of this erotic. It must be the scenario, you say to yourself. The idea of a hot girl being spanked. Crossed wires.

He's stopped, now, and he's gently massaging your sore cheeks. And then you feel it. A finger, sliding back and forth across the back of your opening, on top of your panties. Involuntary, you let out a sound that might just have been a small moan. And then it's gone. It just touched you once or twice. Probably by mistake.

He pulls your tights back up, your skirt back down, and then gives you a warm embrace. For the third time today, you cry in his arms. Confused, scared. Aroused. And the way you're cradled, in his lap, it's hard to deny that your father, too, is responding to all of this with arousal. You can feel his erection against you, and for just a moment, your body betrays you, and you shift in such a way as to press yourself against it.

His reaction is imminent. Though he doesn't give an explanation, he quickly excuses himself and gets up. "It's late. Give it all a long, hard think until tomorrow," he says, "and then at breakfast, we'll discuss your chores for tomorrow."

Long and hard... was that a freudian slip? He leaves you, and you look at the time. It really is late. Probably time to get to bed. You leave your room, too, to go to the bathroom to prepare for the night.