Carol’s Car Troubles

She got it for her 18th birthday. She loved it. She had begged her father to let her have one for over a year, ever since she passed her driving training course at school with flying colors. Since that time he had let her use one of the family cars now and then, but maintained she was far too young to have a car of her own.
“They are not cheap” he would tell her calmly, “what with the price of petrol and auto insurance. You’ll need a good job to afford one, that is assuming you ever save enough to buy a car”. A disappointed Carol would pout for a few days, but then her naturally cheerful nature would appear.
Imagine her surprise on her 18th birthday when after he gave her the ceremonial “birthday spanking” (19 nice firm spanks in all on her shapely rear, 18 plus 1 to grow on), her father smiled and suggested, “Oh, my girl, you might just want to look out on the driveway for a moment”. Carol rushed to the nearest window that looked out to the side of the house, and cried out joyously. There it sat. A beautiful shiny sports car. O.k. it was not a brand new one, but it was last year’s model and looked good enough to eat.
“Oh DADDY” the shapely teen cried out her joy as she rushed into her father’s arms for a bear hug and a fatherly kiss on her cheek. “OH it’s beautiful, Daddy, just beautiful. OH thank you so much”. The middle aged man laugher merrily.
“Like it, do you, my girl? Well I’m glad of that. I figured this year you might like your birthday present a bit. But now, Carol, you must promise me something.”
“Oh, yes, Daddy, anything. I’ll promise you anything you want, truly I will, Daddy” the cute vivacious blonde cried out eagerly.
“You must promise me to drive carefully at all times. No speeding, no careless swerving or passing other cars on the road. Will you promise me that?”
Carol nodded vigorously. “Oh, yes, Daddy, of course I will. I’ll be very careful.”
And Carol was for the first 6 months she had her car. After finishing high school she had taken a job at the local video store, and was able to pay her car expenses. She lived at home and paid her father nothing for room or board. Her mother was dead, so Carol was really the “lady of the house”, doing the cooking and cleaning, and running the house for her father and herself.
Carol was very proud of her car. Her school chums were truly impressed with it, and with her. They begged to get to go for rides in it, and Carol was thrilled to take them.
Then her car troubles began. To show off and to give her friends (and herself) a bit of a thrill now and then, Carol began to speed a good deal on the highway. Oh she was careful not to do so in heavy traffic. And to keep her promise to her father, Carol never made dangerous lane changes or passed other cars in an unsafe manner. But her pretty food would from time to time get somewhat heavy on the accelerator.
She had had her own car for a little over 4 months when Carol got her first ticket for speeding. She begged the patrolman to let her off, to give her one more chance to be a good driver. He smiled tolerantly but shook his head.
“Sorry, miss, but I can’t do that. You were driving over the speed limit, I’m afraid.”
He finished writing out the ticket and handed it to her. She could either appear in court to fight the ticket, or pay the fine. She knew going to court would be useless. She had been driving at least 10 miles over the posted limit. She took the ticket and drove home with sinking heart. What would her Daddy say? What would he do? Maybe he would “ground” her by taking away her car driving privileges?
After dinner that evening when he was in their living room in his favorite easy chair reading the paper and having his after dinner pipe, Carol joined him, and after some pleasant conversation about the events of the day, she took out the ticket and showed it to him. She explained as best she could what she had done. But she didn’t try to make any excuses. She accepted full responsibility for what she did.
“I’ll pay the fine, Daddy, and I promise there will be NO more tickets, I promise you that.” Her father listened to her calmly, nodded his head at her plan and promise. But then he added,
“Very well, Carol. But now IF you should be so foolish as to get another speeding ticket, I am going to have to punish you. Do you understand me? It has been quite some time since I have had to spank you, my girl, but get another ticket, and I promise you I shall give you an extra sound spanking.”
A blushing teen first protested that now she was over 18 she was much too old to be spanked. But then she hurriedly assured her father that she would never speed again, not ever.
Then her car woes took a different turn. Within a period of a month she got three parking tickets. Her father was not pleased with that either. And much as he had done after her first speeding ticket, he warned her another parking ticket in the next 3 months, just one more, and he would blister her but good. The threat of a spanking did seem to influence his daughter’s behavior. It had been months since she got that speeding ticket, and she had not received another.
That is, until one evening when she had stayed after work to chat with a young fellow who had just begun to work at the video store—in fact he was on the shift following hers. And he was cute, very cute. And he was single, just a year or so older than Carol. She got into a chat with him (there were few customers browsing in the store at the time), and the first thing Carol knew it was almost time for her father’s dinner, and she hadn’t left for home. He didn’t like it when his dinner was late. He would like it even less if he found out she had been flirting with a good looking guy at her place of employment. So Carol got into her sports car and took off for home like a bat out of hell. She knew she was speeding, but she hoped and prayed there would be no police car around to see her. There was.
Carol heard the siren and looked up in her rear view mirror and saw the patrolman’s motorcycle following her. She pulled over to the side of the road and waited nervously. A fairly young officer came up to her window and asked to see her license and car registration. She handed him both. Then she used every feminine wile in her arsenal to persuade him not to give her a ticket. She even explained that her father had threatened to spank her soundly if ever she got another speeding ticket.
“Oh and he will, officer, he will spank me very hard. Oh please can’t you let me off with a warning this one time, oh please?”
At first the officer looked somewhat sympathetic. Then he leaned into her open window slightly to get a better look at her figure. He seemed to like what he saw.
He pulled his head back out and began writing out her ticket. She began to cry like a baby.
“Oh, oh, oh” she sobbed, “oh Daddy will kill me, he will simply kill me” she told the man miserably. The tall good looking officer smiled down at her, tore off the completed ticket and handed it to her to sign. He kept the official copy and gave her her copy.
“Now, now, miss, I don’t think he’ll do anything of the kind. Spank you perhaps, yes.
But I daresay a young girl such as yourself has been spanked before more than once, now haven’t you?” Carol blushed a deep shade of red as she nodded. He chuckled. “Yes I thought as much. Have a pleasant evening, miss, and do drive carefully.” The man turned and went back to his motorcycle. Carol started her car and pulled away from the curb slowly.
To her dismay when she arrived home, her father was already there. He was both curious and upset. Curious as to why she was so late coming home. Upset that there was no sign of any dinner for him in the house. What was the girl thinking?
Before he could get her to explain why she was so late or ask what she planned to do for dinner that evening, Carol burst into tears and took out the ticket from her purse.
“Oh, Daddy” she began, sobbing now as she spoke, “oh, Daddy, I’m sorry I am so late, but uh, I got a ticket just now for speeding.” She handed him the ticket. He read it quickly, frowned and said,
“You know what I must do now, don’t you, Carol?” She nodded weakly.
“Very well go at once to my study. I will be there in a moment.” Carol left the living room with sinking heart. For years now any time he planned on spanking her for any reason, her father had Carol go to his study. It was there he would punish her. She entered the study, blushing and with head hanging low in shame. She realized under her skirt, her firm round bottom cheeks and her shapely round thighs were all trembling badly. She hated it when her Daddy spanked her. She had always hated it.

All too soon the door opened and her father entered his study, carrying one of his long thin canes in his right palm. When she saw the stick, Carol cried out with alarm.
“OH, Daddy, oh not the cane, oh please not the cane”.
Her father simply took a high stool and set it out, then told the blushing, trembling blonde to bend over the stool seat. She did so, resting her upper body firmly on the leather cushion. Her firm shapely ass rose invitingly. But it was not ready for the cane just yet. No first her father would reach down, take hold of the hem of her short skirt and hike the material well above her curving bottom globes, pushing it up on the small of her back. Then his fingers would slip under the hem of her panties and roll them down to her knees to bare all of her spanking area completely.
Carol had a very spankable behind. Even her father (in a moment of candor) would confess that he found his daughter’s backside to be most attractive, and that like many men he found spanking her was a very pleasing activity. Oh sure he might tell her how much it pained him to have to punish her in the age-old, traditional juvenile manner, but the truth was he enjoyed doing so!
“18. You are to receive 18 strokes tonight, Carol my child” the man announced in a low, clearly smug tone. As her father and disciplinarian he could set the number of cane strokes he would administer. She could protest that number of course, but all the same she would receive them on her bare backside.
“OH, Daddy, OH not 18, oh not so many, oh please, Daddy, I can’t stand so many, truly I can’t” the tearful blonde protested and begged at one and the same time.
“Yes, Carol, you will receive 18, and here is why. Your usual punishment has been 6 of my best, has it not? I rarely administer more than 6 strokes with the cane, now do I?”
Carol sobbed bitterly but shook her blonde head. “No, Daddy, no you don’t” she agreed.
“Yes, so today we have: the speeding ticket, and surely 6 is not sufficient punishment for that offence alone, but in addition we have you coming home late, and finally we find no preparations for my dinner have been made. 6 strokes for each of your faults, a total of 18 in all. And, Carol my girl, I assure you I am going to make them quite firm”.

Carol at that point could only sob with shame, fear and guilt. When her father explained it in those terms 18 cuts of his cane for not one but three separate offences did appear most reasonable. She knew some of her friends would get as many as a dozen cuts of their father’s cane for just one bad deed.
Fortunate for the shapely blonde her father had placed the tall stool in front of his desk so that now as she tried to lie face down over the stool seat, Carol was able in fact to put her palms down on top of that desk to brace herself. Each time he raised that thin cane and brought it whistling down across her bare cheeks Carol let out a shriek of agony. The cane hurt, oh how it hurt. And it marked her soft flesh, marked it clearly and marked it badly. One angry red weal after another quickly appeared on those round, normally milky white globes. True to his word, her father was indeed making each cut of his cane a firm one. He spanked her carefully and he spanked her slowly, trying to prolong her punishment as long as he could to enjoy the sight and found of her correction. Even he was somewhat startled at how quickly the hard wood of his cane marked her beautiful buttocks and upper thighs.
18 strokes of a cane may not seem like all that much. But if you could have been there in the study that night and watched as Carol’s firm ass was covered with those angry red welts, and listened to her cries of grief, then you would change your view perhaps.
To remind her of her various faults, after the first 6 cuts had been given, the man calmly informed his tearful daughter that they were for coming home late. Another 6 followed, and those he told her were for not having dinner prepared on time. Only 6 remained, and they would be for getting a second speeding ticket!
Carol knew instinctively that the final 6 cuts of that awful cane would be the worst. They would be the hardest, but mainly they would follow a dozen her tortured flesh had already received. Now it would be difficult, almost impossible, for her father to find a spot on her shapely backside that was not bruised. So as he lashed her bare seat with the hard wood the final 6 times, the welts or marks began to crisscross each other. Now her bottom which was like a blank canvas for her father’s paint brush (his cane) is a pattern of those angry red weals, one crossing another, and then another.

Finally the last stroke was delivered. By now Carol is crying out loudly and continuously with the pain. Through her own sobs however she hears her father tell her to stand up. She does so, allowing her short skirt to fall down over her badly bruised buttocks and thighs, but her dark panties still rolled down to her knees. She stands facing her father. He stands facing her, holding that terrible cane in both his hands for her to see. She had just felt it 18 times. Now as he chided her and lectured her on the importance of being a “good girl”, she could only sob and discreetly comfort her tortured bottom by rubbing it gingerly through her skirt. Her father didn’t object to that, nor did he forbid it.
“Oh by the way, Carol, don’t worry I am not going to punish you again, but I am indeed curious—why were you so late coming home? And was that the reason you were speeding?”
Carol was still blushing from the shame of having been spanked. Her pretty face was wet with her tears. Now she hung that pretty head of hers down till her chin was nearly resting on one round breast as she sobbingly replied,
“Uh, oh, Daddy I was late because I stayed after work to talk to another employee, and uh yes that is why I was driving so fast, I was trying to get home to fix your dinner” the tearful blonde explained softly now.
“Talking with one of the other girls, were you, my girl?” her father asked. Carol gulped, shook her head side to side.
“No, Daddy, uh it was with a new employee, a young man who just started to work at the store” she confessed. He chuckled softly.
“So chatting with a beau, were you?” he inquired with a broad smile.
Carol gasped and shook her head vigorously. “Oh NO, Daddy, oh no he’s not my beau. I hardly know the boy” she cried.
“Well, my girl, it seems to me that birthday present of yours has caused you nothing but grief. You have been having one trouble after another with it, have you not?”
Carol nodded. “But oh I’m so glad you gave it to me for my birthday, Daddy, I really am so glad.” Her father laughed again, this time loudly.
“It’s good you enjoy it so much, Carol dear, but I’m not sure that cute behind of yours is as pleased. Now, tell me, young lady, WHAT are we going to have for dinner? I’m famished, what with all this exercise after I get home from work.”
Carol bent over to tug up her dark panties. She wiped away the last of her tears.
“Will TV dinners be ok tonight, Daddy?” she asked nervously. He nodded.
“Sure they will, my girl. You fix them for us while I go out and have a scotch.”
Carol rubbed her sore bottom vigorously now through her skirt as she waited for the TV dinners to heat. She set the table, then served dinner for the two of them.
That night when she went to bed, Carol was still thinking about what her father had said about her car—she certainly was having a lot of troubles with it.


 Return to Grandpa's reading room