A coming-of-age story about a lesson learned the "hard" way -- a hard paddling with hard wood.

(M/f, non-cons/cons, paddling, a bit intense. Father/daughter scene - if that bothers you, etc...)

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From the kitchen window, he could see impending disaster only a few seconds away and he was powerless to stop it. Just as his not-quite- sixteen year-old daughter came careening around the corner on her bicycle, three small children appeared out of nowhere and went charging across the street, directly into her path. Not surprisingly, her attention was focused intently on the cell phone in her right hand, texting a friend who ironically lived three houses down the street, and who she could more easily have talked to face-to-face. Panicked, he yelled a warning, fully aware that nobody would hear him from inside the house.

Fortunately, at the last second one of the children saw her coming and let out a startled shriek. His daughter looked up, and half a second away from mowing the last child down, swerved sharply and missed all three. Since she only had one hand on the handlebars, she naturally oversteered, whereupon the bicycle dutifully obeyed the laws of physics and sent her sprawling across the front yard. The cell phone went flying, bounced down the driveway, slid through the open garage door and landed in the middle of the floor.

"Damn that phone!" he thought. She wasn't going to learn to holster it and pay attention to what she was doing until she killed herself or someone else. He was naturally relieved when she picked herself up and brushed off her T shirt and sweat pants. The children paused for a moment, and then seeing that she had suffered nothing worse than grass stains, ran off to wherever they were going. Nobody had been injured, so all four of them put the incident out of their minds. His daughter picked up the bicycle and began looking for the lost phone.

Oddly enough, he was not angry with her-she was just being fifteen. But he shuddered when he realized that she would be driving a car in a few short months, and if she didn't develop an appreciation for what a moment's inattention could cause....

At that moment, he understood what he had to do. He retrieved the large wooden paddle from the top of the refrigerator, set it on the counter near the table, drew the curtains on the window and went out to the garage. He picked up the battered but still operational phone from the floor and waited for her with his hands on her hips. Having given up on finding the phone in the yard, she wheeled the bike into the garage and looked up to see him standing there with a stern, solemn expression on his face.

"Looking for this?" he said calmly and coldly, holding the phone in front of him.

She said nothing, not knowing how much he had seen, or what he was thinking. He had warned her repeatedly about using the phone while she was riding, cooking or doing anything else that required two hands and complete attention, and she was sure he wasn't happy. She half expected him to confiscate the phone, but cautiously took a step toward him, and took the phone from his hand As she did so, he took hold of the upper part of her right arm, lifted her to her toes, and ushered her swiftly into the kitchen.

"Dad..what...???" she said as he pulled her over to the kitchen table. At that point, she saw the paddle sitting on the counter next to her, and suddenly understood what why the kitchen curtains had been drawn shut. "Noo....Dad...Please don't paddle me..I'm too old...." She whined and struggled, trying stand up and turn around. Just as before, though, she was off balance and had the phone in one hand, so she just ended up twisting herself more solidly against the table as he continued to hold tightly to her arm.

Then the whining turned to a plaintive "nooooooo..." as she felt him grab the back of her sweat pants and quickly yank them down to her knees. They fell into a useless puddle around her ankles as she continued to squirm, and this further restrained her movement. She had been paddled before, although not often--and perhaps not often enough, he thought--and she knew she was about to get it bare. She continued to protest and beg, and then began to cry, partly because she was embarrassed about her father seeing the panties she was wearing - dark blue and decorated with large white stars-and partly because she realized that she herself would be seeing bright, white stars in a moment.

She needn't have worried about the embarrassment, because he barely noticed the panties. Without missing a beat and in one swift motion, he pulled them well clear of her round, developing rump. It bounced and flexed as she struggled against his hold in a last, vain attempt to escape.

In one smooth, almost choreographed motion, he quickly grabbed the paddle, lifted his daughter to her toes again, bent her forward, and drew it back, but only waist-high. He understood that it was not a baseball bat, and it didn't need to be treated as such in order to be effective. He flexed his wrist fully, so that the end of the paddle pointed at the ceiling and held it just a half second, carefully considering his aim. This accident may not have injured his daughter, but it was definitely going to hurt. Perhaps, he thought, that's exactly what she needed in order to learn from it.

SPLAT!

He brought the wood forward over only a short distance, but with lightning speed, It struck her rear low and squarely, and made a sound like a water balloon hitting pavement as her cheeks flattened outward. The shock of the impact made her jump, and instantly her whining exploded into a long, loud, painful wail of despair. She had lost her fight, the impending disaster had arrived, and now she was the one who was powerless to stop it. Harsh, but appropriate justice, he thought.

He kept the paddle in full contact with her ass for several seconds, using it to keep her pinned in position. Her wail ended when the supply of air in her lungs ran out, and her free arm began to flail as she drew her next breath. He drew the paddle back again and a large white mark that had formed at the spot where he had made contact quickly turned a bright pink.

When she had filled her lungs again, he gave her a second whack, equally as hard, but slightly higher on her rear. This time he removed the paddle immediately to inspect the damage. She let out a hoarse, guttural sob, dropped the phone on the table and her now free hand flew reflexively to her now flaming bottom.

This gave him an opportunity to secure her body in proper position, He let go of her left arm grabbed her right wrist, and pinned her arm behind her back. He bent her fully over the table and delivered two stinging pops in rapid succession, one on the outside of each cheek, punctuated by two pitiful, heaving moans. Her body was fully supported by the table now, and this time her left arm flew back to clutch her burning rear.

"Move your hand" he said sharply, and slapped the paddle hard across the top of her thighs, right above where her panties had come to rest, and just out of reach of her hand. She knew that if she did not comply, the paddling would simply continue there, so she removed her hand and grabbed the edge of the table. He waited a moment, then smacked the center of her rear again, just where he had landed the first stroke. She let out a shriek of pain, and collapsed on the table, sobbing profusely.

He paused, let her feel the burn for a few moments, then took her by the arm and stood her up, turning her around to face him. "Look at me." He said, firmly but coolly. He allowed her to rub her rear, and she continued to cry but gave him as much attention as she could divert from her stinging ass.

"You've been warned countless times about the limits of using that phone, haven't you? You could easily have run right over one of those kids," he lectured. "As bad as this hurts, it's nowhere near as bad as having to explain yourself to his mother while he's being loaded into an ambulance. Or worse."

She kept sobbing, but seemed to be able to comprehend what he was telling her.

"I need to know that I can trust you not to do something like this behind the wheel of a car," he told her. That's why you've got another half dozen coming, and you can either take them voluntarily with that in mind, or I can hold you down like I just did. Either way, you're going to get them, you're going to get them fast and you're going to get them hard".

A brief look of terror flashed across her face, and then it quickly faded to despairing resignation. She closed her eyes, tears still flowing freely, turned around, and bent over the table without saying anything. "That's good", he told her gently. "As unhappy as I am with what you did, I'm proud of you right now." At this, she relaxed a little, put her head down, and stuck her rear out to take what she had coming. His approval meant everything to her.

"No" he said, "open your eyes and lift your head." As she did so, he picked up the phone and placed it on the table right in front of her. "Keep your eyes on this...if you take your eyes off it, I'll give you extra until you are looking at it again. I want you to remember this paddling every time you touch this phone from now on." Heartfelt sobs replaced painful weeping as she realized what he was trying to do for her. As scorching and humiliating as it was, she made up her mind to learn the lesson he was trying to teach her. Through her tears, she fixed her eyes on the phone and waited.

He didn't make her wait long. Once he was satisfied that her concentration was fixed on the object that had caused all the trouble in the first place, he stood up and

*SMACK* *SMACK* *SMACK* *SMACK* *SMACK*

In less than three seconds, he had delivered a volley of hellfire to her already flaming fanny and thighs that turned both of them a deep violet red. She let out a long, loud rising wail, but kept her eyes open and on the phone. He paused to let her breathe, then pulled his arm back and swung the paddle for the twelfth and final time.

*CRACK*

Her heart, mind and body exploded in climactic a shower of pain, and she collapsed on the table, exhausted and hoarsely sobbing. He laid the paddle down, stood her up, and gathered her gently in his arms. He gently shushed her, stroking her hair, reassuring her that it was over, and praising her for having taken her punishment with a humble and contrite spirit. Even he was relieved that it was over, although not as relieved as he knew she was.

He held her in his arms, gently rocking her back and forth, until she had cried herself out. Then he gently raised her chin, wiped away her remaining tears with his thumb, and said "why don't you go lie down for awhile, and mom will be up a little later with some lotion." She gently nodded, and he helped her up the stairs, ushered her into her room, and gently closed the door.

"Well", he thought, "at least I won't have to confiscate the phone or the bicycle. I don't think she's going to be using either one for a little while."