Chapter 8
"No, Daddy, no," Suzanne pleaded.
But her father would have none of her begging.
She had earned the disciplining of her life, and he was certain that he would be remiss if he did not deliver every bit of it to her.
The fact that she had lost her virginity on this trip to New York infuriated him beyond belief. He was completely irrational now. This discovery, and the manner in which it had been discovered, made him a madman of discipline.
"You cunty bitch," he cursed at his little girl. "You fucking slut. You whore. You're a fucking whore, aren't you. Answer me, bitch!" he snarled, slapping her globes so hard that the sound bounced off the walls.
"No, Daddy, no," she cried.
Already, the tears were streaming down her face.
It was a good thing for Salvatore, although probably not so good for Suzanne, that the room was at the very end of the hallway. On one side of it was the empty room which was taken by Salvatore and his wife. On the other side was the brick wall of the outside of the hotel building.
Therefore, the sounds of the slaps, which echoed down the hallway, none the less, were muffled at least, in terms of being overheard directly through a wall.
Not that Salvatore was thinking of such considerations now.
No, he was spanking away with a feverish venom, anxious to punish Suzanne until she was a very sorry girl.
This time his punishment of her was not confined to spanking her with the hand, the belt, or with the ropes which he used like a whip on her.
They were the same ropes which he had used to tie her to the chair, and they really delivered a sting when slapped hard enough across her naked, upturned bottom.
She could not get away, no matter how much she squirmed.
He slapped her again and again, with all of his might.
Her ass was bright red. In fact, the white cheeks had never become so red before. They were glowing, literally glowing with heat.
When her Daddy placed his sweaty palms on the globes, steam seemed to rise from the soft flesh.
But then he did something which he had never done before.
He moved around to his daughter's head. He unzipped his prick.
She reeled, for a moment, startled by this action, and startled, as well by the scent of musty maleness which rose from his crotch.
"You'll learn to behave for your Daddy," he warned her. "You'll learn not to run around in New York like a bitch in heat. You'll learn with your Daddy's big dick down your fucking whore throat. Suck it, cunt. And if you bite, I'll slap your fucking head off."
This was discipline gone too far!
Suzanne knew that she deserved a punishment, and therefore she could only cry about being fastened to this chair, and about receiving the spanking, the belt-whipping, and the flogging with ropes.
But this was something very different.
This was the punishment of incest!
She knew that it must be very, very wrong.
But he gave her no choice.
She felt the hot head of his bulbous dick pressing against her lips.
Suzanne kept her lips tightly clenched so that the dick could not enter her.
But her father gave her naked ass cheeks a volley of very hard slaps. All he had to do was bend forward while his boner was at her lips, and he could spank her already blazing and abused ass globes until she was forced to cry out.
She kept her lips clenched for as long as she could. When she couldn't stand it any longer, when her tears were flowing like rain, she had to open up her mouth and let out a cry.
Naturally, or unnaturally, according to one's view of such things, that was when her Daddy rammed his big, fat, fuck pole into her tender young mouth!
"Whore!" he continued to yell at her as he fucked her face.
She wanted to tell him that she was sorry, but her mouth was stuffed.
She wanted to tell him that she would not let it happen again, but then, a girl can only lose her virginity once. That much had already taken place.
She felt her father's balls slapping against her face.
He felt his daughter's throat as it swallowed up his dick flesh.
"I should fuck a baby into you, you whore. You should be made to have your father's child," he told her, saying anything to embarrass her.
This was a discipline session she would never forget.
He spanked her so hard, his hand started to ache.
If he had stopped spanking her when his arm got tired, he ordinarily would have stopped himself long before this. But something was egging him on.
He couldn't even tell what it was that was making him think with every spank, that he needed to give her another one.
He needed to spank her just one more time.
Just one more time.
He would look down on those ass globes stretched out for his pleasure. He had tied her so tightly this time that her ass itself wasn't permitted to move at all. Not barely a muscle.
The flesh, as supple as it was, became stretched with the rounded shape of the bottom held firmly in one position. This caused the ordinarily flawless white cheeks to become like smooth, white stones. Like marble, really, because not only were the globes translucent, shining there in all their glory, but they were like alabaster.
The cheeks were white, but lightly traced with just the most barely perceivable lines which were the veins of her youthful body.
That is, until she started working on her.
After the first stroke which set his hand on fire, her ass was certainly on fire, too. He told her that her first stroke would be a very special one.
"I'm going to pack the strength of ten strokes into this one," he told her before he began. His voice was deep, and there was just a trace of a quiver to it. Nobody else upon hearing it bellow would have noticed that quiver, but to Suzanne's perceptive ears, it meant that her father was in a very rare state of mind at the moment.
He was in complete control of himself and of his emotions, but he was ready to give way at any moment arid flail.
His even temper was a sign of his tremendous belief in restraint.
Why, he was spanking Suzanne because he wanted her to restrain herself.
If she met somebody who was nice, who was sweet and handsome, who liked her and treated her well, and who fulfilled her sexual fantasies, then Daddy would insist that she restrain herself from giving in.
Maybe it was because this made no particular sense to Suzanne, she had to, for the very first time in her life, go against her father's wishes.
Knowing the tremendous importance her father placed upon restraint and disciplining punishment, she had never come out and really done something terribly wrong. The reason was simple. Her father wouldn't allow it.
That is, he would allow it, but he would punish her to the degree that he deemed equal to what she should take. His assessments were always a bit on the severe side, for he was of the personal belief that when in doubt, always be more strict, more severe. If the ass is so red that it looks as if the next stroke may break the skin and cause a sliver-thin cut from the switch or the twig, then give it that one more stroke.
Go the limit.
That was his belief, and that was why he would always give it that extra crack with a twist in it. That was why he would punish her with fifteen strokes when she might have been punished enough with twelve.
That was why he would rather give a full count of sixteen, rather than cut it short at fourteen when the account to be settled from her weekly discipline book was fifteen.
But that may have been exactly why he caused Suzanne to break away from her good behavior. She knew that he would always punish her, and so she never went so far as to misbehave to the extent of really getting terribly punished.
She knew her father, in his belief that she would be better for it, would stick her into a tub of boiling hot water and force her naked pussy down into it.
But Suzanne, as she took her beating this time, believed it was sick. As she took the spanking under restraint, (for she was restrained in the chair,) she started to think. A thought virtually burned and beamed in her mind, and this helped her forget about the pain for a while.
It was amazing. This thought was so powerful, it was making her forget about the pain. She could hardly understand it. Was she so numb already that she didn't feel it?
She smiled.
As she smiled, she felt the tears drip down her face and dry to her cheeks.
The smile also made her feel good inside. It made her feel lighter, and she took a deep breath. The spanking hand of her father continued, but she didn't even feel it. She was consumed now with her discovery. Nothing else mattered.
She was being punished too much. What had she done so wrong? She was glad that she wasn't a virgin any longer. She felt free to fuck!
And fucking felt good.
Even now, as she looked calmly at Daddy who continued to spank her with his hand for the first one which was to have the weight of ten, she watched the way his bone of a penis pressed heavily against his loose trousers with every lunge of his punishing body.
The first stroke was actually ten strokes. They came hard and fast, and when ten had been given in very quick succession, like the rapid fire of a machine gun, he stopped. That ten-count was equal one. Each of ten strokes would pack that kind of ten-fold wallop. It was like taking one penny and making it ten pennies.
It was like taking a thousand dollars and making it ten-thousand.
But to her it felt like a million dollars being spanked onto her ass a million times. That is, until she started to make those realizations.
Until she saw herself as the one with power!
Why, she always had that power!
It was just that she didn't realize it.
When Daddy spanked her for doing something wrong, it was because she had only gone that far, and no farther. She was in control of that
She realized that she was in even control when she wrote the punishments down in her book - the ones she felt that she deserved.
She didn't really have to report every detail of how bad she had been.
But she always believed she was writing them down because she didn't want to lie to her father. She would never dare lie to her father. It would be wrong.
Those were the things she thought, but now she knew that it had all been bullshit.
She wanted those spankings!
She made sure she was just bad enough each week to earn as much as she wanted.
She knew her father and she knew how much he would give her for each and every offense. She had always seen to it that he gave her as much as she chose, as much as she desired to satisfy some very hard-to-satisfy lust.
And then, of course, she'd let him go that extra step farther.
Maybe it was a trait, a manner of habit, which she had picked up from him.
She always allowed him to take her just that one extra step. Just that one step which would turn mere discomfort into pain, mere pain into torment. Spank me, Daddy! Spank me, Daddy, Goodnight!
That was what she had created for herself. All week long she waited for punishment day. She waited for that special part of Sunday.
She felt freer after a Sunday's spanking than she felt after a Sunday's mass.
She felt really cleansed.
But this time he was spanking too hard!!!
This time she had gone farther than she'd really expected. Somehow, when she saw the legs of her muscled, young gymnast, spread slowly apart over his head to form a pair of wings, she wanted to stuff her face into the center.
But she didn't really reckon on him wanting to spread her legs.
Now she was a new girl, however. She had done the very thing she had always feared most. She could hardly think of anything he would punish her more for than losing her cherry to a stranger in New York. Except, maybe, throwing her mother out the window.
This girl really had it tough.
But she felt a power tingle in her cunny lips as he set her ass on fire with handstrokes which left the feeling of a thousand needles tingling on her ass cheeks.
She realized how powerful she had been all these years.
She had gotten her father to give her just the right amount of punishment strokes - each and every time!
It was nothing which could be explained. It just happened.
It was her power. It was the power which had made her concentrate hard enough to make things happen.
She gazed across the room. There was an object on the floor. She stared at it a moment. She concentrated on it. Her gaze made the object move!
It moved across the floor. Not noticeably, at first, except to the most careful observer.
But gradually it started to move, more and more, faster and faster.
And Suzanne was sure that she was responsible.
If she were used to using her powers so specifically, she would be able to virtually snap the ropes which were binding her ankles and wrists to the chair for this punishment.
She would have stopped her father's hand in mid-air!
At the moment, as vulnerable as her body was, she could hardly believe that she was supernatural enough to do something like that!
She had kicked her legs as much as her bondage allowed, but still, the ropes which criss-crossed her upper thighs, and around her waist, made her ass globes like marble globes, so firm did they stay even as he spanked.
But there was something else that was coming into her head.
Again, she went with her imagination, and she found that she knew all the answers. She was listening to that little voice inside of her.
She was listening to that something inside the pit of her stomach. And that conscience knew everything. It didn't get mixed up in the ego, or tangled in her wanting of Daddy's approval.
Of course not!
She didn't think that if she acted without restraint, her father would punish her. She didn't need him to control her any longer.
All the time, she had really been controlling him.
Realizing this, she realized, too, that she could control herself.
"More? You think you need more, you slutty little bitch?" Daddy demanded.
His voice was deep, but the veins were popping out at his temples and the words were coming through clenched teeth.
"Answer me, you fucking little cunt!" he snarled, flailing her ass with a flurry of angry strokes. Unwilling to actually lose his temper on his daughter's ass, he stopped himself. He restrained himself. Again, he was in control.
In control of himself. Yes, but of his daughter, too?
"I think I've taken enough, Daddy," she said, "but if you think I deserve more, I'll take it from you," she said sweetly.
Tied up as she was, she didn't dare to say anything which might rile him.
There would better times to be so foolish.
Naturally, he took it as a "fresh remark" as he called it, anyway.
"You disrespectful bitch," he yelled. "I bring you to New York on vacation, spending my hard-earned dollars to show you a good time, and you go ahead and in one day manage to give your virginity to some boy you meet in a shopping center, and to push your mother out the hotel window!"
"Daddy," she started.
But he wouldn't listen. He continued to rant and rave as he stalked away from the chair into which she was turned with her ass sticking way up.
"I'm going to get a bar of soap so I can stuff it in your mouth while I beat your ass," he said. "That will teach you to speak with some respect to your father. After all I've done for you! Taking you on this trip, raising you and ... "
"Enough, Daddy," Suzanne said with a new adultness in her tone.
It was a serious enough statement from a serious enough young woman to make him stop dead in his tracks. His jaw dropped slightly, but he didn't speak.
Suzanne filled the silence with her side of the story.
"First of all, I did not push mother out the window. She came leaping at me. She was going to throw me to the floor, or worse. I know that if I hadn't moved away from in front of the window, she wouldn't have hurled two stories to the pavement. But really! It was only self-defense, or offense, really."
She continued before her father had a chance to speak.
"Besides, I appreciate everything you've ever done for me, including this trip to New York. Maybe even, especially this trip to New York - but not for the reasons you had in mind."
"Oh, do you appreciate this trip to New York because it gave you a chance to become a whore? To lose your cherry like a common slut? How much did he pay you, pig-whore?"
"Father!" she exclaimed, stopping him short.
And then, they both gasped. He went pale.
Suzanne realized that she had called him father for the very first time. Up until now, it had always been Daddy. Suzanne felt suddenly sad, and the room seemed to darken.
Daddy looked at his girl, stretched with her arms and legs tied with rope to the underside of an overturned chair. He saw the redness which was glowing with heat on the curves of her beautiful bottom. He saw her cunny peaking through, and it was wet and glistening.
Yes, the lips had been violated.
She had lost her virginity on a trip to New York City.
"But father," she repeated, liking this authority, "I'm not sorry that Mike fucked me. It felt, well, it felt like nothing ever before. I didn't like it at first. It hurt. He was big. I was tight. There was some blood."
"But he was forceful. The way you'd be, father. Oh, don't try to say you wouldn't give a hard fuck, Father. I've heard you and Mother doing it." Salvatore felt his prick getting harder."
"After a while, it felt so good. I was screaming with joy. I was begging him to fuck me deeper and harder. I pleaded with him not to stop. I loved it. The only time it felt bad was when I thought about how you'd punish me for it later. But then, I looked at Mike, and instead of seeing Mike, I imagined you! I saw you there fucking me, Father. Daddy."
He couldn't quite accept this tremendous compliment for what it was.
He still believed, as she had, that incest was the truest taboo.
He believed that he would surely be punished by God for doing it with Suzanne.
Sometimes, even that didn't matter.
Suzanne started talking to him again.
"But I wouldn't be sorry even if I hadn't imagined that he was you. I loved the way his cock felt inside of me. It filled my pussy, Daddy. You're a man. You know how it feels to stick you big dick inside the warm, wet channel of a young pussy. You know how it feels to have a tight pussy working its muscles on your stiff dick."
Salvatore swallowed hard. He felt sweat break out all over his forehead, and the crack of his was wet. The black hairs of the crack were curling with dew.
She had him.
She had him in her possession.
"But you can't even imagine what it would be like to have a pussy. I know what it's like, and I know how it feels to have a piece of a man's body, his most personal, private part, deep inside.
"Why, just feeling it in my hand was a thrill, all hot and pulsating: But when I felt it inside of my pussy, it had a special power to it. And I concentrated all my energy on his prick, and even when he left it deep inside without moving it barely at all, we were both howling like wild animals, or moaning and panting together, real, real hard."
Suzanne's incredible powers had transferred themselves, during her intercourse with Mike, directly to the very wet and sloshing connection between his dick and her innermost femaleness.
"Daddy, you can never imagine the feeling of having that tightly stretched membrane rip with the steady force of a throbbing cock head!"
"I mean, it's the flesh of another body, a body so unlike my girlish one. Where I am soft and rounded, he was muscled and firmed. Where my wet pussy was deep, his hot prick was long. I thought we would fly away in that intertwined position. When I wrapped my legs around him ... "
"Enough dirty talk, Suzanne!" her father insisted. "You have made me so ashamed of my own daughter, I don't even feel like spanking you now. Can you imagine what our father-daughter relationship has turned to, Suzanne? I won't even fulfill my father duty and give you the spanking you deserve. I don't even care that much about you."
"And I don't want you to," Suzanne said, but it was intended with malice. "If you care about me, that means you care what I do. And frankly, Father, I'm a big girl now. I'm fifteen years old and my body belongs to me. You can just learn to keep your traditions off my pussy."
"But you'll make mistakes without me there to guide you and punish you."
"If I make mistakes, I'll make them and I'll learn from them. I'll just have to learn to take care of myself. I'll have to do it from inside. I don't need your spankings any longer."
"And I don't feel like giving them to you," her father told her, but it was not with understanding that he spoke, although he certainly followed her wishes, as always, it seems.
He untied her as he told her that he was disgusted with her.
"I love you, of course. You are my daughter. I planted the seed of you inside your mother, and I raised you. I'll never stop loving you because of that. But I don't care about you any longer. You'll have to take care of yourself. I don't care about you. I love you, but I don't care about you anymore."
She didn't respond in words, but she did smile to herself.
Suzanne was getting what she wanted. This time she was sure of it. She realized it. Her head was filled with other times when she had gotten others to do exactly as she wished. The boys who called her on the telephone just as she wished them to started popping into her head, but she had to clear such thoughts from her brain at the moment. There were more important things to do.
When she was released, her father took her wrists and rubbed them with his strong hands. He rubbed gently though. He was bringing the circulation back which the tight ropes had stopped. He was soothing her aches.
Her own hands reached back to the ass globes. Ouch. They were sore.
She could feel the heat burning off of them, and she knew that they were red hot and probably not so pretty to look at, all criss-crossed with the signs of a good, old fashioned spanking.
Salvatore, however, had a total hard-on looking at that ass.
It had been his pleasure to part the tender, well-spanked globes many times, and to see the lack of hair in the crack of his daughter's young ass, and to see the quivering little tan spot which opened into her asshole.
He had spanked it.
"I think I have to get back to the hospital," Salvatore told Suzanne, who rubbed some ice on the aching cheeks of her ass.
"Aren't visiting hours over?" Suzanne said, knowing it was late, and changing the subject from the one of spanking as her father so obviously, wished to do.
Why, he had even turned the punishment chair back into an upright position without even commenting on it.
"I have some unfinished business to complete there," her father said firmly. "I must go back and take care of it."
It was clear that he didn't want to speak about this sudden change in a pattern which had remained steady for many years.
The cycle of the weekly spankings and the insistent punishment for the breaking of the slightest infraction was now destroyed. It had ended when her father stopped a spanking before its previously assigned conclusion.
But it also seemed that something supernatural was pressing him back to the hospital. His sudden desire to get back there was highly unusual for him.
He had been totally involved in a job which he considered to be one of his most important, if not the most important: The disciplining of Suzanne.
He had virtually let the paddle drop. He had to get out of there.
It was like a starving person, smelling the scent of freshly baking bread.
He was compelled to follow that trail, and he knew even now that it led to the hospital where his wife was bedded.
Suzanne did not stop him. She didn't quite know why, but she knew that it was best for him to go back there. She didn't really know what was happening there, but she had a feeling.
No sooner than her father left the door did the telephone ring.
It was Mike again.
"Are you alright? That call was so strange. You hung up, or ... "
"I'm alright, now. A little sore on the bottom, but otherwise, I'm okay."
She could tell that Mike was smiling when he boasted about the way he had walloped her. He was thinking that she was telling him that his spanking had had its long-lasting effect on her. Actually, she was referring to still another one which had happened on top of that one!
But she didn't let on. She allowed him to have his pride.
She knew how to handle him!
"I'm horny," he told her. "Can I come over and fuck you up the ass this time?"
"My asshole is quivering," she said. "But it's best that you don't come here. Start playing with yourself. Get a hard-on. And by the time the cum starts oozing out that slit, I'll be there to sit my cunt on it."