It's me again - Samantha.

I wrote last time about the fantasies I have about being spanked, and that the only outlet I have for that is my Dad. It's been a while since he spanked me - as I've gotten more mature. I think I've become less mouthy, and that's mostly why. But for a while now, despite how much I hate getting spanked (and disappointing him enough for him to punish me), there's nothing that makes me cum harder than fantasizing about being over a man's knee and crying hard while he lights my bottom on fire with a wooden paddle as Daddy does.

And those fantasies are always strongest in the aftermath of a spanking, after the crying stops and the fire in my bottom starts to spread elsewhere... And like I said, it had been a while, so I hatched a bit of a plot.

Since I don't have a boyfriend that I trust enough to spank me, I'd just have to get Daddy to do it. But that would require me to do something to get punished for, and I don't really want to upset Daddy enough that he has to do that. So if I was going to do it... I decided I'd record it on my phone so that I could re-live the experience over and over. Maybe that would be enough. As I said, I didn't really want to upset Daddy, but I certainly couldn't ask him for a spanking - he'd think I was nuts. I feel guilty about that, but what can I do?

As for what I need to do to get punished... That's actually pretty easy. I just have to get mouthy with him, and he'll say, "That's it, Sam. Go to your room. I'll be there shortly," and there's no turning back. Once a sentence has been passed, there's never any avenue for appeal. But we have a pretty cordial relationship now, so there isn't much opportunity for that.

There is one additional button I can push, though. Daddy doesn't drink a lot, but maybe once a week or so he'll have a shot of whiskey. A few years ago I got into his whiskey, and that earned me a pretty bad spanking. So that was the plan: pour out some of his whiskey, as if I had drunk a bunch of it, then get into an argument about it with him. That surely will do the trick.

But if I was going to do that to Daddy, I absolutely had to make sure it was worth it. I tried all sorts of arrangements for my phone to try and get the best camera angle. I wanted to see my face, and my bottom as it changed color, and the best place I found was sort of propped up on the shelf in my closet. If I put it on a little stand near the end and shut the door most of the way, there'd be no way it would be seen, and the angle was nearly perfect. I practiced setting it up as quickly as I could, knowing I would have only one shot at it.

When I was sure I had it down to a science. I steeled myself for the real thing. My schedule got me home from class a couple hours before Daddy came home from work, so I found myself in the kitchen, looking at the Jack Daniel's bottle on the shelf.

This was it. If I did this, there would be no turning back. I took the bottle down, walked to the sink, and poured a generous amount of it down the drain. Then I put it back on the shelf, turned it a different way, with the lid not tightly screwed on.

I went to my room. I knew I wasn't going to be doing any studying that afternoon. I was too nervous. As my mind ran over and over every possible scenario, I realized the worst case was that he didn't notice at all.

From my bedroom, I heard the garage door open, then close, then I heard the door in the kitchen open. There was just the briefest moment, and then I jumped when he shouted, "Sam! Come here!"

The butterflies immediately started in my stomach, and I stood up. I took a deep breath. I didn't rush. I tried to get into the mindset of a rebellious teen. Then I ambled into the kitchen. He was standing with his bottle of whiskey.

"What's up, Dad?"

"You've gotten into my whiskey again, haven't you, Sam? We've been through this. You're too young. What's gotten into you?"

I crossed my arms and put on an angry face. "I'm not too young! I'm twenty years old. What, there's some sort of magic that happens on my next birthday?"

"Watch that attitude, young lady. The law says you're too young and, more important, so do I."

I rolled my eyes and delivered my own coup de gras, "Oh fuck you."

"That's it! Go to your room. I'll be there shortly."

I turned and stomped back to my room and slammed the door, like I always do. But then, quick as a flash, I grabbed my phone and opened the camera app and started recording a video and then put it in the closet and set the door just so.

Then I sat on the bed and waited while my mind turned in on itself, wondering if this was a bad idea. I knew how embarrassing and painful it was going to be, and the dread was all-consuming.

And then the knock came, and he opened the door holding the paddle. He ordered me to my feet and took my place on the bed. Then the order to lower my pants and panties. The embarrassment moved into the front ahead of the rest of the emotions whizzing through my head. Then I took my place over his lap and grabbed my pillow, like I always did. He took ahold of my waist with his left hand and tapped my bottom with the paddle.

"Sam, I don't know what's gotten into you, but whatever it is, I hope this teaches you a lesson about getting into my alcohol and giving me attitude."

I screwed my eyes shut in anticipation, and then it began. It was fast and furious, like it always was. The first swat landed hard. I gasped. Then they started coming fast and heavy, one after another. It only took a few before the pain was too much and I started wailing. I couldn’t stop. I just cried and cried, kicking and twisting, but he held me tight and kept going. I have no idea how long it lasted. Eventually he stopped, and I just lay across his lap crying.

It took me a while to notice that he hadn't ordered me to stand up. When he spoke, it was the surprise of my life.

"That's for the attitude, Sam. Now we're going to address the drinking."

Before I could process his words fully, he started spanking me all over again. It was as if I hadn't already been spanked. This time the first swat got me howling again, and I couldn't help but kick my legs and try to heave myself away from him, but his arm around my waist held me in place.

As far gone as I was, I couldn't miss what he did next. He slowed down and gave me a half dozen extra hard swats right at the tops of my thighs, making me scream.

And then he stopped. He ordered me to my feet, and my hands flew to my poor, abused bottom to try and soothe the burning fire (and, as usual, it didn't help at all). Daddy didn't say another word. He walked out of the room and shut the door behind him.

I collapsed face-down on the bed and cried until I couldn’t anymore. For a while I just lay there, too sore and ashamed to move. I had completely forgotten about the phone. All I felt was guilt and the deep, throbbing heat in my bottom.

But then... as always, those feelings in my crotch started up, and I started to think about what it must have looked like from a vantage point by the door. And just as I was sneaking my hand down to touch myself, I remembered that I didn't have to imagine it. I suddenly remembered the recording.

I got up, kicked off my pants, and went to the closet. The phone was still recording. I stopped it and climbed back onto the bed with a pillow under my hips. I opened the video, turned the volume down low, and hit play.

There I was, setting up the phone in the closet. Then I watched myself walk back to the bed and sit down, waiting. A minute later the door opened, and Daddy came in with the paddle. I watched myself get into position over his lap. Then the spanking started.

As soon as the first swats landed on the video, I slid my hand between my legs. I watched my bottom go from white to red while I listened to myself crying. I could see how hard I was kicking. I reached back with my other hand and scratched at the sore skin, the sharp little stabs of pain making everything more intense. My fingers moved faster. On the screen I was still being spanked, still crying, still completely helpless over his knee.

Suddenly, my entire body seized up, and I lurched into the most powerful orgasm of my life.

When I came to my senses, the video was over, and all I could do was pant and rub my sore bottom. I turned my head and looked back at it. It was deep red, with purple oval marks from his spanking and scratch marks from my fingernails. I knew in that instant that that video was the hottest thing I had ever seen. I put my phone aside and closed my eyes.

I woke up to Daddy calling me for dinner. I dressed, pulling my pants up gingerly over my sore bottom. When I saw Daddy in the kitchen, I felt bad about how I had spoken to him earlier - particularly because I knew I did it just to piss him off. I walked up and meekly said, "Daddy, I'm sorry."

He turned and smiled gently.

"It's ok, Kiddo. I'm sorry too, but you know I had to punish you, right?"

"Yes, Daddy. I understand."

He gave me a hug, and we sat down (I winced a bit doing it) for dinner.

I don't think I'm likely to get spanked by Daddy anymore. I'm going to have to find someone else. But in the meantime, I'm sure I'll relive that last one quite a bit.