Dean's Life

Across

Dean's pov

I sat down next to her on the bed and held her in my arms as she sobbed. What can I say? I'm a wuss. I can't ignore my little girl's sadness. Waiting for her to calm down, I rubbed her back and shushed her. After another minute, I dried her tears and ensured she was ready to listen.

"Do you remember when we had that discussion last year about the two boys who were playing on the ice on Mill's pond and the ice broke, causing them to fall through and drown?"

She nodded her head, avoiding my gaze.

"I'm going to need a verbal answer, young lady."

"Yes, Daddy, I remember," she replied softly, clearly afraid of where this conversation was heading.

"And do you remember me telling you how upset I was after having to inform those boys' parents of the accident?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"And do you remember promising me you would never play on an ice-covered pond because it's incredibly dangerous?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Bring me your hairbrush, Katherine Rose," I ordered sternly.

Her eyes opened wide in fear as she nervously questioned, "W_why?"

"ﹰBecause I'm going to spank you with it, little girl."

Jumping up from the bed, she instinctively covered her bottom with her hands as she backed away from me, voicing her objection, "Daddy, no, don't."

"I'm not going to tell you again. Do it now, young lady."

"Nooooo," she whined loudly, starting to tear-up again.

"You just earned yourself another spanking tomorrow night. Do you want to try for three?"

"Daaaaddy," she cried, stomping her foot in protest.

"One," I started to count.

"No, Daddy, please," she continued to resist.

"Two."

"No, I'm going, I'm going," she repeated hurriedly, as she rushed over to her dresser to get me the brush. "Stop counting!" She knows if I get to three, she'll be receiving bedtime spankings every night this week.

When she handed me the brush, I swiftly pulled her across my lap, knowing my resolve would crumble if I had to look at her sad little face another second. Pulling down her pants, I hardened my heart in order to teach my daughter a very valuable lesson with this punishment. I began her spanking over her underpants with my hand. Katie cried and kicked her legs with each painful slap to her upturned bottom.

After a sufficient warm-up via the palm of my hand, I slipped two fingers under the waistband of her pink cotton panties and pulled them down below her hips. Seeing the lightly reddened skin of her bottom revealed beneath, I picked up the hairbrush, determined to finish the job. I held the back of the smooth wooden brush flush against her punished skin. Tapping her bottom twice, I signaled my intent to follow through with this discipline.

It only took two solid smacks with the brush to elicit loud protests from my repentant daughter.

"OWWWW!" she screeched, trying to reach back to shield her delicate little behind from further assault by my sturdy wooden helper.

Pinning her hands to the small of her back, I tucked her legs beneath mine to prevent her from fighting me during the remainder of this punishment. I brought the brush down swiftly, watching her posterior shade a darker red with each and every harsh stroke. I continued to spank my now very sorry daughter, despite her shrill cries, until I felt she'd learned her lesson. I'm not going easy on her, I can't.