Jenny stumbled out of the Uber, her head still buzzing from the previous night’s indulgences. The ride home had been long, silent, and suffocating, her father’s clipped words over the phone still ringing in her ears.

“You’re coming home this weekend. No excuses.”

She knew she was in trouble the moment she heard his voice. There was no warmth, no softness—only disappointment and authority. Her father had always been strict, but she had never given him a reason to intervene before. Until now.

Shoving her phone into her purse, she trudged up the driveway, her stomach twisting in knots. She hadn’t set foot in this house in months, had barely even called. College had been her escape, a place where she could finally let loose and live the way she wanted. But now, standing in front of the heavy oak door, reality crashed down on her.

The grades. The missed classes. The nights blurred with alcohol and faceless strangers.

She reached for the doorknob, hesitating. There was no telling what awaited her inside. Would it be anger? Disappointment? The worst of all—her father’s quiet, brooding silence?

With a deep breath, she turned the handle and stepped inside.

The house was eerily still. The only sound was the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway. The air smelled of freshly brewed coffee, but there was no warmth in the atmosphere, only an unspoken tension that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Close the door,” a voice came from the living room. Deep. Commanding.

Jenny swallowed hard and obeyed, the door clicking shut behind her like a final judgment.

She took slow, reluctant steps toward the living room, her pulse pounding with each one. As she turned the corner, she saw him—her father, sitting in his usual chair, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

“Go up to your room, Jenny. I’ll be up to talk to you.”

Her heart raced as she headed toward her childhood bedroom.

The lecture was coming.

And there was nowhere left to run.

Jenny's dad slammed the door to her room, the echo bouncing off the walls like a pinball in a machine set to tilt. She knew he was mad—his footsteps had been like thunder coming up the stairs, and his breathing had gotten heavier with each step up. But she had hoped he would cool down before coming to talk to her.

Now, she sat up in bed, her heart racing, as he loomed over her. His eyes were two storm clouds ready to burst with rain. He threw her report card on the bed, the pages fluttering like the wings of a dying bird. "Look at this," he bellowed, his finger stabbing at the sea of red F's. "Is this what you call getting an education?"

Jenny swallowed hard, the taste of fear thick in her mouth. She had never seen him this angry before. It was as if the very air in the room was charged with electricity, ready to zap her into oblivion. Her mind raced for a way to explain herself, but the words got tangled up in the thick silence that hung between them.

Yet, amidst the fear, something strange began to stir within her. It was a feeling she had never quite felt before—a warmth spreading through her chest, down to her belly, and then lower. Her nipples responded to the intensity of his gaze, hardening under her thin pajama top, and she felt a dampness spreading in her underwear. The anger radiating from him was like a strange aphrodisiac, and she couldn't help but feel a twinge of arousal.

Her father's eyes narrowed, the blue irises almost disappearing into the black of his pupils. "I said, are you listening to me?" he repeated, his voice now a thunderous whisper that seemed to shake the very foundation of the house. Jenny realized she had been staring at him, her thoughts wandering, and she snapped back to reality, nodding meekly.

"Yes, Daddy," Jenny answered meekly. "I'm sorry," her eyes watered.

He took a deep breath, his chest expanding like a balloon before letting it out with a huff. "You're not just sorry, Jenny," he said, his voice a mix of disappointment and anger. "You need to understand the gravity of this situation. You're failing school, and I won't stand for it. You know what happens when you disappoint me," he paused for dramatic effect, "you get a spanking."

Jenny felt her body tense, the warmth in her belly turning into a knot of dread. She knew that tone—it was the one he used right before he punished her. She had hoped that maybe this time she could avoid it, but it seemed her hopes were in vain. The anticipation was almost unbearable as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her out of bed. Her legs dangled over the side, trembling as he guided her over his lap.

He was still dressed in his work clothes, the rough fabric of his pants scraping against her soft skin. Jenny felt a strange mix of fear and excitement as she lay there, her dad's hand resting on her bottom. She could feel the heat of his palm even through the thick material of her pajamas. "I don't want to do this, Jenny," he said, his voice gruff with tension. "But you need to learn a lesson."

Jenny nodded, her eyes squeezed shut, bracing herself for the pain. But instead of the expected smack, she felt his hand caress her gently, his calloused fingers tracing the curve of her buttocks. She couldn't help but let out a little gasp of surprise, and she felt him tense beneath her. The air grew thicker, the silence deafening. Then, without warning, his hand came down with a firm smack. She jolted forward, her eyes flying open, a stinging sensation blossoming on her skin.

He spanked her again, and again, each hit harder than the last. Jenny bit her lip to stifle a cry, the sound of his palm meeting her flesh echoing in the room like a drumbeat. But with each smack, the knot of dread in her stomach began to unravel, and the warmth grew stronger. She felt a wetness spreading between her legs, her pussy pulsing with a need she couldn't quite understand. Her cheeks grew hot, not just from the sting, but from a deep sense of embarrassment and arousal.

Her dad's hand paused, and Jenny could feel his eyes on her, assessing her reaction. She knew he was looking at her, at the way her body responded to his punishment. The thought made her even wetter, and she couldn't help but push back into his hand, silently begging for more. "You like this, don't you?" he murmured, his voice low and gravelly.

Jenny's face flushed, and she nodded, not trusting her voice. His grip on her waist tightened, and she felt his cock swell against her stomach. The realization of his arousal sent a bolt of pure, unfiltered desire through her body, making her pussy throb. "Daddy," she whispered, the word a plea, a confession, a declaration of her need.

He leaned down, his warm breath tickling her ear. "Let's see what you can take," he murmured, his hand moving to the waistband of her pajama pants. With a swift tug, he pulled them down, exposing her bare bottom to the cool air. The anticipation was agonizing, her skin prickling with goosebumps. The first smack against her bare skin was like a bolt of lightning, sending shocks of pain and pleasure through her body. She gasped, arching her back, pushing her ass up for more.

The smacks grew in intensity, a rhythmic dance of pain and desire that seemed to sync with her racing heart. Each hit sent a wave of sensation crashing through her, her arousal growing with every thwack. Jenny could feel her pussy clench and unclench, begging for release. The sting grew, a delicious crescendo that had her panting and squirming over her dad's lap.

Her father's breathing grew labored, his hand pausing every few moments to rub her tender flesh, the heat from his touch searing into her skin. Jenny could feel the fabric of her panties growing damp with her arousal, the friction of the material against her swollen clit only adding to the torment. "Do you think you've learned your lesson?" he grunted, his hand resting on her reddened cheeks.