Joni suggested that for the scene as an eighteen-year-old returning after curfew and tipsy, that we play at my place after a social event she needed to attend the next Friday evening. As the time approached eleven, I sat in my favorite chair reading. The only lights in the house were two lamps near my chair. I heard the latch on the front door as it opened and a moment later it closed. I wondered what Joni was thinking about as a few seconds ticked away. She then tip-toed down the hall past the archway that leads into the living room.

“Just a minute, young lady,” I chided. “Where are you going?”

“I’m tired and am going to bed,” Joni replied.

“Come in here, It’s well past your curfew and we need to have a serious discussion,” I countered. Joni approached me and I asked, “Have you been drinking?” She began to shake her head and I warned, “Joni, don’t lie to me. That only makes matters worse.”

“Yes, daddy,” she responded meekly

“Yes, you’ve been drinking,” I queried for clarity. She nodded, admitting her guilt. “Ok, well you know what this means.” Again she nodded wordlessly. A while back, I had rearranged the living room and now the couch was away from the wall, more in the center of the room and facing the television. We were standing behind the couch and I had found that the back of it to be a perfect place for miscreants to bend over and get their backsides warmed.

“Bend over the back of the couch, Joni,” I ordered and she hesitantly complied. In this pose her head and shoulders were essentially against the seat, her bottom was raised perfectly to receive swats and her toes were a few inches off the floor. I lifted the back of her sundress and slowly pulled down her panties and let them fall to the floor. I spanked her bare bottom for a good minute just to give it a bit of warmth and color. I paused and opined, “I don’t think this is delivering the message very effectively.”

I walked to the kitchen and returned a moment later with garden shears and a flashlight. “Go out to the willow tree and fetch three switches,” I ordered pointing at the door to the back patio. “Make each as long as your arm and the thinnest part no smaller than your little finger. Joni groaned at the instruction to fashion the implements that would soon bite into her bare buns. “Get going, cuz the longer you take the more strokes you’ll get,” I threatened and she hurried out the door.

A few minutes later she returned with the switches and handed them to me. “Very good,” I acknowledged and then added, “Assume the position again.” She bent over the back of the couch again. I cleared my throat intentionally and she reached back and pulled up the back of her dress. Her cheeks were still rosy from the hand spanking and I tapped the first switch against the crest of her cheeks before delivering a sharp strike, then a second to the crease between cheek and thigh and a third about midway between the first two. I repeated the process for the other two switches individually and then for a final foray, held all three together and replicated the pattern. Joni gasped audibly with each strike, the pitch and intensity growing with each impact. I paused and ran my hand across her beautiful ass, now punctuated by a ladder of darker lines, some of those lines emerging as tactile welts.

She stood and the dress fell back to cover the evidence of our play. “I’m going to bed,” she stated. I thought that meant she was leaving to go to her place but instead walked to the archway and paused. She unzipped her dress and let it fall away, leaving her completely bare. She turned to face me, her body resplendent with lamp light accentuating her curvy parts. “Join me?” she asked.