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Daughter forced to sit on father's lap during a road trip.

She looked in my eyes, and looking back, I saw hope for us. A chance at love between us.

Tears rolling slowly, softly down her cheeks, she looked as though she was desperate for love and acceptance. Cara said simply, "Then I'm ready for it, Dad." She turned her head back around, giving me a trust that was utter and complete. She was at my mercy, only wanting--or needing--to please me.

"Cara, please lower your shorts. To the ground."

She paused, clearly confused and uncomfortable. I wondered if the sight of her big, strong father standing over her like this had made her panties wet. I wouldn't have been surprised. It had happened with her sisters. She looked up at me. "Is it absolutely necessary?" Her voice became a whisper. "Maybe just this time we can do it with my panties on?"

I smiled down at her sweetly. "Cara, I know you are shy, but my girls grew up with this. Part of the punishment is the shame you are feeling. Now be a good girl, a good girl for your father, and lower those bottoms."

She smiled back tentatively, then lowered her panties. They fell to the floor, and in the shadows of her room I still thought I saw a wet mark in them. I was growing hard. I looked up her strong, curvy legs, to see her thighs pressed tight together.

"Now step up to the bed. Kneel on it, Cara." Her body was still trembling slightly. She nodded, but did not move. "Don't keep me waiting." Then she moved, kneeling in a most wonderful way. I stared at that brown butt, not believe how wonderful it looked. "Good, good... now just part your knees a bit. Don't keep them closed."

"Oh god, please no," I heard her whisper, more to herself than me. She buried her head in the pillow, mortified, and spread her thighs a bit. Indeed, she was a bit wet.

"Good girl, putting your face in the pillow. Your... well, your sisters both do that." Now, the time had come. "Alright, Cara my love... ten hits, okay?

Through the muffled pillow, she said, "Okay D-d-daddy." Her body was quaking now. I doubted anyone had ever hit her before.

"Count for me... with each swat, my love." Her only response was her soft brown hair moving up and down: yes. "Here we go."

I gave her an intentionally light swat.

"One," she counted.

"Good girl, Cara." Then another swat, just as light.

"Two," she said, clearly thinking this wouldn't be too bad.

Then, I smiled to myself. Time to take things to hard strength, though not my fullest.

Smack! "Three!" she screamed. "Owwww, Daddy!" I had no response. "Please..." she cried out, but was interrupted. Smack! "Four!"

I could tell that she was crying into the pillow. "That's right," I said, my pent-up anger releasing. "Keep counting!"

Smack! I heard her count five while my eyes glowed at the sight of her precious ass jiggling right in front of me. And it wasn't just that: with each hit, she flinched, and with each flinch her knees slid on the bed sheet. With each hard hit I saw more of her soft, almost hairless dark honey-colored pussy.

"Cara, never, ever speak to me like you have today, you bitch!"

Her body was shuddering before the smack of the next hit. "Six," she whimpered. She felt that the words of love before had been a trick, that I still hated her after all. At the moment, I didn't know what I was feeling.

"You want to be treated good? Then act like a proper girl!"

Smack! She cried out something, probably "seven" and I heard hate and tears in her voice.

I looked down: clearly, her ass was in fire, her legs hurting and sore, and her pussy wet and burning. I was nothing but rage; I put my whole body behind the last hits, anger and rage and confusion from the last three weeks bubbling and boiling over. My daughter looked terrified from my rage.

"Don't you ever--"SMACK "ever act like--" SMACK "a fucking stuck up cunt again!" SMACK!!

Partially out of breath, partially disgusted with her and myself, I threw the belt down. I stared at my new daughter, not sure of what I was feeling.

There was a moment of silence, then Cara's steely voice.

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