Crescendo
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CRESCENDO
1.
"No, Daddy, please no! Not another a spanking!!"
Rob Jackson was sick of Vanessa's backtalk. All he wanted was a little
respect and consideration, a place to relax at the end of a day's honest
labor. Instead, he'd received nothing but snide remarks, passive
misconduct and blatant contempt. Worse still, the girl had outright
refused to perform her allotted chores, despite repeated warnings.
Well, Rob had finally reached the end of his rope. 'Nessa's behavior
would have tested the patience of a saint, and they were way past the
point of no return. It was time for some affirmative action, so to
speak. If reasoned discourse wasn't having the desired effect, there was
always the alternative, wasn't there?
Let's see if a good, long spanking over his knee wouldn't adjust her
little attitude problem.
'Nessa had known she was in serious trouble the moment he'd called her
to the living room. Looming over her like a granite sculpture, he'd laid
down the law in no uncertain terms, eyes narrowed with parental wrath.
His tone had left little doubt as to the outcome of this particular
lecture: while half-expecting the inevitable conclusion, she'd been
hoping he wouldn't go quite that far. There were very few things she
feared as much as a trip over her Step-Father's knee.
"No, Daddy, pease don't, I'm really sorry," 'Nessa wailed in open fear,
"I'll be really good from now on, I promise!" Rob ignored her pleas with
a kind of slow-burning disdain, inclining his head towards the
staircase.
"Up to your room right now," he replied in a gravel voice, "I'll be
along in a few minutes; you know what to do."
"Daddy, pleeease -"
"NOW!!"
Vanessa scrambled up the stairs in tears, having failed to overturn her
sentence. There would be no clemency, no lenience, no last second
pardon. She was going to be spanked like an errant child. It wasn't
fair, it wasn't right, and there was absolutely nothing she could do
about it.
Stepping through the open doorway, Vanessa glanced around her bedroom in
rising panic. She had to get ready, prepare for her swiftly-approaching
punishment. The first order of business was to drag the heavy, post-and-
rail chair to the middle of her bedroom. It had to be placed facing the
bay windows, from where her spanking would be visible to half the
neighborhood.
Having hauled The Chair to its appointed position, Vanessa moved onto
her next task. It was time to disrobe, shed her jeans and t-shirt in
preparation for her punishment. By the time her step-daddy arrived, she
had to be waiting submissively in her socks and underwear. This was an
integral part of her ritual humiliation: even though she was now
eighteen, Rob still bared her bottom whenever he gave her a spanking.
Whimpering under her breath, 'Nessa scampered around the room, setting
the furniture in order and climbing frantically out of her clothes. Her
head spun in near-hysteria, her tummy swarmed with butterflies. Time was
running out, and her Daddy was probably already on his way up. She cast
a frightened look about her room, making sure that everything was in its
place. He'd be here any minute, and she couldn't afford to be so much as
two seconds late. Unfortunately, the clock seemed be running slow today.
'Nessa's heart practically leapt into her throat as she heard her
Father's footsteps ascending the stairs.
2.
Rob entered the room a few moments later, his jaw set in lines of grim
determination. Vanessa immediately renewed her appeals for leniency,
suggesting numerous alternatives to traditional punishment - grounding,
extra chores, loss of privileges, even corner-time. Needless to say, it
was all for naught; Robert Jackson was not a man to be trifled with.
Judgment had already been pronounced, justice would be served without
delay.
Scowling, Rob seated himself in the chair and ordered her to finish her
preparations. At the same time he started to roll up his shirt sleeve,
right forearm rippling with thick, corded tendons. At the sight of these
manly exertions, 'Nessa's self-control faltered completely, as she knew
precisely what came next.
"Please, Daddy, nooo," she implored, nonetheless following his curt
instructions to the letter. The moment had arrived, it was time to bare
her bottom. Weeping in utter misery, she begged him to let her keep her
underwear on, to spank her over her panties.
"Please don't make me take them down, ohhhh, nooo, please, please,
Daddy!!" Her desperate appeals were met only with Rob's bald-faced
threat to make it much worse if she didn't get those panties down right
now!
Voicing a tiny sob, Vanessa faced away from him, taking hold of the
elastic waistband of her low-cut cotton underpants. Tugging them slowly
down in back, her lush, ripe bottom-cheeks came gradually into view. She
was trying to get away with a partial baring, lowering her pants just a
few inches in the back. Needless to say, Rob had already stood for more
than enough. Face darkening with anger, he told her to GET - THOSE -
PANTS - DOWN!
Groaning in abject humiliation, 'Nessa peeled the sheer cotton fabric
down to her knees, slowly revealing her sleek, naked bottomtops. She
wept in undisguised shame, tears glistening on her cheeks like liquid
diamonds. She hated being treated like a little girl; it was degrading
beyond all description -
Especially since she'd been born a boy.
3.
Then:
'Nessa's birth name had been Vern Ascot. She'd lived seven years under
that title, an endless, golden childhood full of hotwheels and
playgrounds and catcher's mitts, the same as any other boy growing up in
God's Green Acre. That was before The Change had struck, before TISM had
altered his existence forever. Toxically Induced Sexual Morphism was
considered one of the rarest genetic disorders in human history, yet
Vern had somehow managed to win the cosmic jackpot, along with an ever-
increasing number of children born in the Courtland Valley.
Vern's transition had occurred in sporadic bursts over three grueling
years. The ordeal had taken a tremendous toll on his entire family: as
the medical bills piled up and finally buried them beneath an avalanche
of debt, his parent's marriage had collapsed into a toxic wasteland of
anger, tears and accusations. Group counseling sessions had only
exacerbated the situation, allowing Vern's father to vent his rage and
disgust to anyone who would listen. A burnt-out veteran of two Middle
Eastern campaigns, he was furious with the hand fate had dealt him,
blaming his wife for the transgendered freak he'd been saddled with. The
divorce had followed twelve months of drunken shouting matches, and Vern
- now going by the name Vanessa - often suspected that it had come as
relief to everyone concerned, especially his long-suffering mother.
The next few years had passed in a slow, grey limbo as 'Nessa rode out
her transformation, gradually adjusting to the complexities of female
life. By the time she turned twelve, both she and her Mother - the
former Mrs Grace Ascot - had recovered sufficiently from their shared
traumas to start enjoying life once more. Their financial situation had
improved considerably: Vanessa had won a grant to Lainsbury Academy and
Grace had even started dating again; an old flame from her university
days named Rob Jackson.
Possessing a child's natural fear of strangers, 'Nessa was a little
reluctant to accept her Mommy's new boyfriend (particularly since her
father's violent outbursts still haunted her dreams), but she understood
that she had to give him a chance, if only because he made her Mommy
happy. After everything they'd been through together, her Mother
deserved a little peace and comfort, both of which Rob seemed more than
capable of providing.
As the days crept by and the seasons chilled, 'Nessie discovered - much
to her surprise - that she actually enjoyed his company, finding him to
be kind, warm-hearted and amazingly generous on occasion. Best of all,
Rob honestly didn't care that she was a tranzie. This was, perhaps, his
defining virtue. In contrast to virtually every other man she'd ever
known, Robert Jackson seemed to have no prejudices whatsoever. And that,
in 'Nessa's view, was the dealmaker.
Over a year's worth of dining, picnics and outings, Rob became a
permanent fixture in Vanessa's life. He was far more than just a "fun
uncle," he was a genuinely good man: honest, reliable and trustworthy;
the proverbial Tower of Strength her Mother was looking for. He wasn't
exactly perfect - 'Nessa had noticed pretty early on that he was a bit
of a workaholic - but in virtually every other respect, he was the most
eligible bachelor in Ridgewick. The inevitable wedding took place the
following May, with 'Nessa playing bridesmaid at the civil ceremony. It
wasn't precisely a fairy tale marriage, but life seemed to stabilize to
some degree, and the world kept turning as it always had...
With perhaps one exeption.
4.
Now:
Rob ordered her to turn around. Moaning lightly under her breath,
Vanessa obeyed his command in tear-soaked silence. She was literally
blushing from crown to heel, standing there with her panties peeled down
to her knees while her step-daddy subjected her to another one of his
patented pre-spanking lectures.
Eyes downcast in complete and utter misery, 'Nessa covered herself in
front with both hands, feeling a cold rush of gooseflesh over her tummy,
thighs and shoulders. Needless to say, this desperate attempt to
preserve her modesty was utterly futile. Rob instructed her to hold her
hands behind her, leaving her nubile young body on open exhibition. This
tableau continued for the next five minutes while Rob concluded his
extended harangue with a detailed list of her recent misdemeanors.
And then it was time to go over his knee.
Gripping her tightly by the wrist, Rob guided the whimpering girl across
his lap until her head was nearly touching the floor. Her smooth, white
buttocks were thrust rudely upward, practically staring him square in
the face. Sobbing in abject disgrace, 'Nessa lay jack-knifed over his
paired thighs with her toes hovering above the floor on the other side.
Her slightly splayed cheeks clenched back and forth in mute expectation.
With her spanking only moments away, Vanessa's sense of humiliation was
literally beyond description. She wept in hopeless resignation, softly
begging for mercy and whispering "please," "don't," "daddy" and "no" in
various combinations. When she felt Rob's left arm taking her firmly
around the waist, she tensed her entire body, knowing precisely what
came next. Vanessa had not forgotten how hard her father spanked, nor
how long he could make it last.
"Please, Daddy, no no no..." she cried as that wide, determined palm
swept down across her naked cheeks.
5.
Then:
Prior to the marriage, Grace had been 'Nessa's sole disciplinarian,
usually dispensing justice with a few smacks to her pantied bottom
whenever required. Like any child, Vanessa found it a little painful and
embarrassing, but tended to shrug it off as a normal part of growing up.
She sometimes even claimed that her Mommy hit like a girl, knowing that
Grace found the comment particularly annoying.
All of that had changed during her thirteenth year, when both of her
parents agreed she needed a firmer hand than Grace was able to provide.
'Nessa was growing up, ripening into a beautiful young woman. Limits had
to be established for her own good. She required guidance, the same as
any other girl her age. Most of all, she desperately needed some extra
care and attention.
The kind that only a strong, loving Step-Father could supply.
Her first spanking over Rob's knee had taken place following a
particularly vehement argument with her mother. Rob had intervened
before the spat could escalate to a full-blown screaming match, sending
the girl to her room and promising the sorest bottom she'd ever known.
'Nessa had stared at him in stunned disbelief, realizing for perhaps the
first time that she had completely over stepped the mark.
Disbelief turned to outright fear when he'd come upstairs and instructed
her take down her shorts and panties. He was going SPANK her on the
BARE! Vanessa had immediately begun to wail in shame and terror. He had
no right to punish her like a six year old child - he wasn't even her
real father! As a last ditch gambit, she played the gender card,
protesting that she wasn't a girl - she was a boy and should therefore
be spared this indignity.
Rob had dismissed all of her pleas with an impatient wave of his hand:
if she was going to act like a spoiled little girl, she would be treated
like one. He'd had more than enough of her lies, deceits and mischief.
For all intents and purposes he was her Father, and as long as she lived
under his roof she would damned-well respect his authority.
His patience finally taxed to the limit, Rob had taken the struggling
girl over his lap, peeling her pants down without further ado. Vanessa
screamed as she was stretched across his knee with her alabaster buns on
rude display:
"No, no, please Daddy, it's not fair, I don't want a spanking!"
The punishment that followed lasted only five minutes, but it brought
'Nessa to heel in ways that would shape her behavior for decades to
come. Rob established his position as the proverbial Man of the House,
Vanessa learned to never question his decisions. It was a lesson well
learned, one which lasted right up to the present day.
6.
Now:
The spanking began with a series of loud, staccato smacks across
'Nessa's tightly clenched cheeks, during which she shrieked at the top
of her lungs. Each retort was as loud as a shotgun blast, echoing off
the walls and shaking the windows in their frames. Within a minute, her
milky white bottomtops were shining bright pink. She kicked her legs in
rhythm to Rob's relentless tempo, squirming her peach from side to side.
"Hold still!" Rob ordered, holding her gruffly in place with his free
hand. His palm lashed down almost faster than the eye could follow. One
minute turned to two, then to five, then to ten as Nessa's lush, ripe
bottom-cheeks blazed cherry-red. 'Nessa bucked about on his lap, shaking
her hips in a futile attempt to evade that wide, blistering palm.
Once he'd finished tanning her lower cheeks, Rob turned his attention to
her upper thighs. He was determined to teach the girl a lesson she'd
never forget, and this was the best way to get his message across.
Vanessa shrieked with each thunderous swat, working her way up to a
virtual crescendo. The pain was nothing short of exquisite.
Recounting the full extent of Vanessa's agonies might be considered
redundant; suffice to say that within fifteen minutes, her naughty young
bottom had assumed the tones of an Autumn sunset (and even this might
simply be stating the obvious).
There is, of course, one pertinent detail which might be worth
mentioning.
Rob honestly didn't care that 'Nessa was a tranzie; she was his daughter
in every sense of the word that mattered. Their relationship might have
been very different had she looked and acted like a boy, but the point
was moot. 'Nessa wasn't a boy, she was a pretty teenaged girl who'd come
to love him as her Father - again, in every sense of the word that
mattered.
Which was why he'd never shirked his parental responsibilities. He gave
her love when she needed affection, cash when she needed money and a
roof over her when she needed shelter. He gave her everything she needed
- and that included a good, hard spanking when she misbehaved. No
exceptions, apologies, no excuses.
Yes, she might complain that he wasn't her biological father. Yes, she
might claim that she'd been born male. Yes, she might even argue that
she was too old for a spanking. And all of that would completely true.
It would also be completely irrelevant.
Because at the end of the day, he was her Father, she wasn't a boy, and
she'd never be too old for a spanking. They'd been a family for over
five years now, and 'Nessa knew precisely what to expect whenever she
stepped out of line.
As he'd told her years before: if you're going to act like a spoiled
little girl, you're going to be treated like one.
Always a man of his word, Robert Jackson spanked extremely hard, putting
his entire shoulder into every thunderous smack. His wide, steely palm
lashed down in a scathing blur, searing Vanessa's bottom with rich,
carmine hand-prints. A gleaming, purple tint began to suffuse her upper
thighs, creeping slowly down her slim coltish legs.
'Nessa's discipline generally lasted a minimum of ten minutes - often
much longer - depending on Rob's mood and the severity of her
misconduct. His steady over-hand pace did not let up until at least the
halfway mark, after which he took a short break to rest his arm and
scold his errant step-daughter. Needless to say, Vanessa kicked and
thrashed a great deal during these prolonged spanking sessions, wailing
and sobbing beneath his intractable hand.
Rob prided himself on being exceptionally thorough. He spanked
relentlessly across both cheeks in rapid succession, scalding the flesh
halfway down the thighs. The pain was nothing short of exquisite, and
words cannot adequately describe the degree of agony the unfortunate
young girl suffered, though her shrieks of anguish might covey at least
some sense of her misery.
Due mention should also be made of the festive atmosphere under which
justice was dispensed. As noted above, Vanessa's spankings invariably
took place in front of an open window. This well-respected and time-
honored tradition was the crowning glory of the Jackson protocol:
whenever 'Nessa lowered her panties for her Father, the entire scene was
visible to half the neighborhood - particularly to the brownstones
across the road.
Possessing a firm belief in the benefits of abject humiliation, Rob
assumed - correctly - that the open curtains added a public element to
an already communal spectacle. With the sound of her punishment echoing
through the length and breadth of Ridgewick, Vanessa knew that everybody
within range had to be witness to her disgrace - though she naturally
hoped against all logic that nobody would hear.
7.
By the time Rob finished, 'Nessa's bottom had turned a bright, lurid
crimson, shining like a storm-beacon in the night. Simmering with liquid
heat, it pulsed and throbbed as the exhausted girl lay sobbing across
her Father's lap. Leaning back in his chair, Rob sighed in grim
satisfaction. The verdict had been rendered, the sentence had been
served, all of his domestic obligations fulfilled. 'Nessa's firm young
bottie had been well and truly smacked.
This particular spanking - one of the longest Vanessa had ever received
- clocked in at close to nineteen minutes, a record even for the Jackson
residence (over the next three weeks, it would be discussed up and down
the block by friends and neighbors alike, detailing the finer points of
the evening's entertainment. 'Nessa herself would hear whispered
accounts from various high school 'informants,' none of which involved
even the slightest hint of exaggeration).
Following his accustomed routine, Rob allowed 'Nessa to catch her breath
for two minutes before hurrying her along with an additional swat and a
scolding remark or two. The lesson had been learnt, the homily had been
taught. It was time for the miscreant to confess her sins and express
her regrets. Rob Jackson never did anything by halves, and his step-
daughter had to demonstrate an appropriate amount of genuine contrition
before her punishment would be declared complete.
Once she'd managed to find her footing, Vanessa was required to stand
with her pants down and her head lowered while she thanked Rob for her
spanking and apologized for her behavior. This was followed by a litany
of heart-felt promises concerning her future good conduct, most of which
lasted the better part of a week (at which point she found herself
across her Daddy's lap with her naked bottom-cheeks staring at the
ceiling). And thus, the cycle would begin anew, usually with the renewed
vigor reserved for military bootcamps or religious inquisitions.
At this late stage, one might be tempted to ask why 'Nessa didn't pack
her bags and leave - she was, after all, eighteen years old, an adult in
most jurisdictions and therefore free to pursue life, liberty and
happiness on her own terms. We might reply that the reasons were both
complex and numerous - and therefore beyond the scope of this discourse
- but that would be somewhat disingenuous of the author and (perhaps) an
insult to the intelligence of the reader.
So...why would any pretty young woman in her late teens tolerate such
overtly degrading treatment at the hands of a parent who wasn't even a
blood relation?
In spite of her multiple encounters with Robert's weathered palm, 'Nessa
stayed on at the Jackson residence until well after her twentieth
birthday. At the time, she reasoned that she had no other choice than to
bite the bullet and drop her panties. A cash strapped university
freshman, she simply couldn't afford to move out. Her bank account was
an economic vacuum. Rob was paying all of her tuition fees and living
expenses. Seen from this perspective, a hot, smarting peach was a small
price to pay for her step-daddy's undeniable generosity.
Or so she told herself.
While she never would have admitted it, 'Nessa didn't want to leave.
She'd spent close on six years under Rob Jackson's roof, growing
physically and emotionally dependent on her surrogate Father. She
couldn't imagine living anywhere else; the mere thought of leaving
frightened her far more than the periodic trip across her Daddy's knee.
Because that was how she'd finally come to view him - the man who should
have been her true Father.
Her real sire had been a drunken, violent louse who'd abandoned his
family at the earliest opportunity; Rob Jackson was a solid, dependable
Everyman willing to sacrifice everything for his. Despite all the
scolding and nagging and (yes, let's face it) bare-bottomed spanking,
Vanessa had come to love him almost as much as he loved her, and he'd
certainly proven himself worthy of her devotion if nothing else.
There was, however, another reason.
It was something hidden and secret, buried so deep in her subconscious
that she was only vaguely aware of its existence. Like any girl in her
late teens - transgendered or genetic - Vanessa harbored covert dreams
and midnight fantasies. Even before The Change had come upon her, before
TISM had rewired her DNA and altered her destiny, 'Nessa had longed for
a powerful, caring father, a good man with a kind heart and a firm hand.
It was an unspoken desire shared by many women, and Vanessa Ascot had
proven no different.
Many an evening she'd spent in her room, play-acting the part of the
spoiled girlfriend, the pampered debutante or the rebellious daughter;
her head spinning with sultry visions of helpless submission. From her
earliest childhood, she had always wanted to be Daddy's little girl -
and in her mind at least - pleading and begging and weeping for mercy
were part and parcel of that identity. And how often had she begged and
pleaded and wept, knowing she was due for good, smart spanking?
'Nessa counted herself as very fortunate indeed to have a parent who -
unwittingly or otherwise - fulfilled all of the needs she couldn't
express (or even admit) to herself. Maybe that was why she got herself
into so much trouble week after week: an unconscious impulse to be
overwhelmed and controlled and dominated by a man she could count on
above everybody else. Robert Jackson wasn't precisely that man - but he
was very, very close.
8.
The truth was deceptively simple:
Ever since the day Rob had taken her in as his adopted daughter,
spanking had become a normal, almost integral part of her life - along
with the tears, shame and disgrace she suffered every time she was
forced to expose her nude, defenseless hynie. While she certainly didn't
enjoy having her fanny tanned, the prospect of living alone held no
great allure at this stage of her life.
Consequently, her varsity years were an epic of bare-bottomed torment.
It was, perhaps, the sole constant of her existence, as unvarying as the
phases of the moon. There was no respite, no break in the program, not
even after Vanessa sat her final exams. Hardly a week went by when Rob
didn't pinken her lush, ripe cheeks for one reason or another, and a
total of three years would pass before Vanessa Ascot decided to emerge
from her patron's shadow.
Contrary to popular misconception, there are still a few places where
teenaged girls are punished in the traditional manner, semi-rural
communities on the periphery of modern society, where family values are
held in higher regard than individual liberties. Although considered
anachronistic by outsiders, they are notable for their low crime rates,
bucolic atmosphere, and domestic harmony. Ridgewick is one such
location, surrounded by neighboring townships which enjoy much the same
quality of life. Significantly, Courtland County is known to have the
highest percentage of marital success in the country, a figure generally
ascribed by local residents to civic pride, strong role models and a
surprisingly level of affluence.
Vanessa Ascott would not have disagreed with this viewpoint. Graduating
summa cum laude from Chamberlain University, she went on to a high
profile career in Civil Law, making her fortune before returning to
Ridgewick at the age of twenty-six. Currently married with two adopted
children, she runs a legal practice with her law-partner over in nearby
Lainsbury.
Can her personal success be ascribed to 'tough love' and childhood
discipline? There is, obviously, no way to tell - as 'Nessa herself is
the first to admit. She notes, however, that Rob Jackson is far more
indulgent with his grandchildren that he ever was with her.
And were you to asked him why...well, Rob would probably shrug his
shoulders and put it down to the benefits of age. Indulgence is, after
all, one of the many advantages granted to all loving grandparents in
the present day - mainly in return for a life well spent.
The End
Lauryn
- 29.06.2020
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