Foreword
Spankable.
That's what saucy Suzanne Amorelli was. She was spankable.
Her rounded ass globes were just begging to be bruised and abused by the heavy hand of her strict, Italian father. He believed in firm, old-fashioned discipline, delivered regularly, and severely.
When his hand became too hot from spanking his naughty, teenaged daughter, he'd switch to a doubled over leather belt to really blaze up the warmed up posterior.
He'd have to hold her down, of course, because after ten minutes of well-deserved punishment, she was kicking and crying, and trying to squirm away from his disciplining punishment strokes.
But he would beat her until she'd received the dose she'd earned.
It was on a family vacation in New York City that the disciplining really grew out of hand. Suzanne could feel her father's bulging erection slamming against her virgin pussy each and every time he brought the wooden paddle down on her upturned ass globes. She was being held over his knee for more than pure discipline.
When her mother told her to kiss her Daddy goodnight, she started to tremble, and she felt the quivers in her quim, as well as on her red hot bottom.
She knew that Daddy would kiss her back only after he'd kissed her ass with his strap. And then he'd force his tongue down her throat and punish her for being flirty. It confused her, and it bruised her.
Why was Suzanne so damn spankable?