Chapter 2

Sally lay over the kitchen table waiting for her father to give her the first spanking she had received in twenty years. He was upstairs checking on her daughter, and that gave her time to think. She had done a lot of thinking over the last few years, as her marriage deteriorated, most of it leaving her in despair. But now, in her father's house and with him about to restore her to her rightful place as his naughty little girl, she could imagine that there was hope. As she felt cold air wafting over her bare bum, she moved her feet even further apart, very aware of her moist quim and of girl juice oozing out and running down her thighs. Yet this wasn't really a sexual thing. It was the discipline that she craved. She realized now just how much she had missed his firm hand!

As Harry hadn't yet returned, she allowed her mind to drift over the last months. Her marriage to Tom had been a disaster pretty much from the start, and she knew now that she had completely messed up bringing up her daughter. She had been close to despair for weeks, and that last awful row with Tom, where he told her what he really thought of her and her daughter, would have driven her to consider suicide, had her dad not so willingly allowed her to come home.

She had known for a very long time that she wasn't satisfied with straight sex. Recently she had been seeing other men, trying to find what was missing from her life, and each new man had been allowed to fuck her in all the ways he wanted. Sometimes she had managed an orgasm, but never one so powerful as she gave herself with her vibrator and her memories. Memories of dad, and of this kitchen table and also of the corner where she always stood after her spankings.

Her dad had placed the cane on the table before going upstairs, and she couldn't stop looking at it. It looked brutal, and she wondered how the cane would feel. Occasionally in her more fevered nights she had contemplated being whipped or paddled, sometimes she even imagined being caned, by mysterious faceless men, and in many of those dreams she had pictured herself bent over this same kitchen table. But somehow never for a moment had she imagined that her dad might ever cane her. Yet now he was just minutes away from doing so. She reached a hand out and tentatively stroked the cane.

And that stopped her thoughts with a jerk. Why does he have a cane in the house? He didn't have time to go out and buy one after she said she was coming over, so it must have already been in the house. But he never used it on Sally, and her mom had been dead for nearly ten years. So he hadn't just been seeing other women, he must have been caning at least some of those other women! Suddenly Sally felt cold. She realized how selfish she had been, coming here at such short notice and interrupting whatever kinky sex life her dad might have been enjoying.

She would have to find a way to let her dad continue seeing his women, and doing with them whatever he chose, without getting in his way, and above all without Kate discovering what her granddad did for pleasure! She would offer to send Kate to stay over-night with friends, and she would go down into the basement and stay there until he said she could come back up. Then she heard Harry coming down the stairs, and realized her discipline was about start. He had said he would spank her first, so the cane wouldn't bruise her! She clenched her buttocks in anticipation, moved her hand away from the cane, and turned her head away so she wouldn't have to face him as he came in and prepared to punish her.

She heard music from the living room, and realized Harry had turned it on to hide the sounds, in case Kate turned off her MP3, though she could have told him that was unlikely. She panted as she sensed her dad entering the kitchen, but he didn't speak, and she didn't dare break the spell. For what seemed an age she lay there, guessing correctly that he was looking at her bottom, for the first time in so many years. Would he be disappointed by it? Was it not as firm and trim as she had been last time he spanked her? She couldn't bear the suspense. "How is Kate?"

"She's in her room but she didn't even notice me looking in," he said, but his voice was strained. Sally suspected that he had seen more than he intended, Kate usually stripped to her undies, often just her panties, and sometimes was naked, when alone in her room. She wondered how much Harry had just seen of his granddaughter. She wondered if Kate would have cared if he had seen her naked.

She felt her dad come close by her left hip. She felt him place the flat of his hand on her bottom. She heard his voice, gruff now. "So indeed, does this bring back memories?"

"Yeah," she sighed, but said nothing more. She wasn't yet ready to admit how much she had thought of this. There were so many other things she needed to tell Harry, the most important one being the real reason she had left Tom, but she didn't think she would ever admit to that. Then she yelped, as her father's hand cracked down hard on her ass, for the first time in so many years. And as the spanking continued she felt the tension draining from her body. She realized she should have come to see him ages ago and asked for this. She squirmed her bum, trying to show him she wanted it, needed it.

Harry spanked her soundly, until the whole of the area he intended to cane was bright red. At last he stopped, and reached for the cane.

Trying to sound confident, she said, "So daddy. I've never been caned before, do I have to count the strokes or anything?"

Harry laughed, and told her no, not this time. She felt the cane rest lightly across the cheeks of her bum. "Is it okay if I cry?"

"I don't think Kate is going to hear, so yes you may cry."

She felt the cane lift, there was a long pause, then a sharp hiss, and a blaze of pain, so sharp she couldn't help her hands jerking back to cradle her wounded bottom cheeks. "Jesus, daddy, that huts."

"Yes, I expect it does. And because you moved you will receive another stroke. Are you ready for the second of your seven?"

She moved her hands slowly from her bottom and up in front of her, and gripped the far side of the table. She took several deep breaths, then whispered, "yes, I'm ready daddy, for the second stroke. Of seven."