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Family Tradition Ch. 01

By: eroswizard



My wife's father was a very successful banker. In his heart, however, he was a long haul trucker. She grew up listening to C. W. McCall's Convoy and watching Burt Reynold's Smokey and the Bandit. The family even watched the offshoots such as Kristofferson and Ali McGraw's Convoy and the continuation of the Bandit series, that would have been difficult for anyone but a true enthusiast to endure. Their family vacations were usually road trips, sticking to major highways, it was guaranteed that they would have a C.B. mounted under the dash. As he retired, moving from Seattle down to the Miami area, he chose to drive his own moving truck.

My lovely wife Cathy volunteered us to help with the move. I was not as thrilled as she was, but was more than willing to do what I could to help a wonderful family that was very accepting of me. It also did not hurt that Donna, Cathy's mom, was very attractive. I also owed him a great deal in that he had helped us out financially and with amazing contacts when we were just starting our trucking business. In reality we did very little, they had hired a crew to pack their household goods and load the truck. It was actually a lovely two days of hanging out with the family reminiscing. 

The reminiscing included long recountings of family vacations, Cathy in the back seat pumping her fist to get the trucks to honk their horns. It also led to Cathy again volunteering our service. We were to travel along with them, ala Bandit style, meeting them at their new house to observe the unpacking. My father, Ted's, corvette being our ride helped to improve my outlook on this venture. 

As I had a couple of things to arrange at the company before I could take off, there was a small alteration of plans. We would leave a couple of days after Ted and Donna. Actually this was little more than a pride thing, as I had hired well and the company ran fine without me. As driving the car would be faster and less tiring, we estimated that we would likely catch up somewhere in Texas on I10. As they were climbing into the truck, Donna handed Cathy her final assignment. We were responsible for a box that Donna had packed herself, not trusting the packers with "personal" items, which we were to deliver to their new residence. 

In addition to having the box promptly handed to me, I also had the task of distracting Donna and Ted while Cathy affixed two bumper stickers to their trucks rear bumper. One identified their call signs as Papa Bear and Foxy Mama along with the C.B. channel which they tended to monitor. Apparently this was a reference to past road trips and the handles they had been anointed them with. I was able to appreciate the one she placed on the driver's side of the rear bumper for passing cars much more: "If You Are Happy And You Know It Flash Your Tits". 

Slipping behind the wheel of the red convertible corvette, I felt much better about the trip. As I had seen very little of the country, I looked forward to the drive down the Pacific coast and across the South to the Atlantic coast. With the top down and wind blowing through our hair, Cathy and I even discussed renting a car and returning home via the Atlantic coast and across the Northern border. It also helped that Cathy was looking very sexy. With her floppy hat and sun dress blowing, she looked carefree and happy. It might even help me with my business; it feels a bit odd at times being the President of a major freightliner company with my travel experience being limited to flying to a meeting here or there and directly home.

However, I get ahead of myself as to how we made it to that point. Hardly out of our gated community, I realized that I had not packed my mothers box. As we discussed this and the need to flip around, we realized that we had not even taken it home from Ted and Donna's house. Their old house was on the way to the highway, thus it would not even be a delay for us, as long as someone else had not found it. Our concern grew as we drove. With relief we saw the box beside the driveway.

Jumping out and gathering the box, I noticed it was tipped on its side. Picking it up, I also noticed the top flaps were no longer folded as neatly and tightly together as when Donna handed it over to us. Placing the box between Cathy and I, we backed out continuing our trip. On the highway and approaching cruising speeds, I confessed my concerns about the possibility that someone else had opened the box before we recovered it. As Cathy had no idea what its contents were, she tried calling her mother. Cathy planned to open the box giving her mother a run-down of the contents. However the call went unanswered.

Cathy had no sooner opened the box and began looking thru the items, when her mother called back. Excited to use the technology that my personal car does not have, I answered via the 'vette and its Bluetooth connection. A blushing Cathy gave her mother a report of us being on the road and a bit of small talk failing to tell her about the purpose of our calling her. She answered my quizzical look by shaking her head. "no," and mouthing "Tell you later."

Cathy hung up and began playing with the radio. Sensing that she was avoiding telling me what was up, I reached for the box, which she pulled away from me. Hesitantly she began to talk:

"You have heard all about our road trips, well those were our good times: A time when Dad could relax from work. Mom did not have to keep up standards for neighbors or the wives of Dad's business partners." Not knowing what else to say, she finally handed me a photograph. "It is a box of loose pictures."

The picture was of Cathy's mother. Her mother much younger, like early twenties. From the front seat of an old convertible, shiny new at the time, she was holding her shirt and bra up. Shaking off the initial surprise I looked again, it was definitely Donna and she was definitely flashing her breasts. Her breasts were very nice, full with erect puffy nipples. "She was very pretty," I said, after Cathy had pulled it from my fingers.

Responding to Cathy's sour look, I stated earnestly, "No, she really was very lovely. It is very obvious where you got your beauty and sexy looks. So, she was a bit wilder when younger. She really was, probably still is, I guess you know .a. a ..., she still is very pretty. Just more refined. Can't quite picture her like that now days."

With a smirk, Cathy handed me another picture. Donna was standing, topless, in the front seat of the 'vette we were driving. Her arms were up above her head, like she was on a rollercoaster, and her long blond hair was flying in the breeze. Briefly I considered that Ted had bought the car less than a year ago, secondly I wondered who took the picture as Ted was driving. Driving with a big smile on his face I might add. These thoughts I quickly moved past as I admired her beauty. In her early sixties or not, Donna looked great. Breasts still full, though looking closely I noticed the puffies of her youth were replaced with mother's nipple capping her darker areolas. My mother was definitely still a MILF.

"The box is full" Cathy stated with sadness in her voice. Handing me a picture of her mom, again topless, posing with a trucker beside one of my trucks. She reached for the picture much too quickly, well before I was done.

Cathy taking the picture back, had a tear rolling down her cheek. Opening my mouth to apologize for admiring her mother, she interrupted me; "I am so sorry. You have worked so hard, taken such good care of us. I am sorry about my family. I know with you being an orphan, you expected better of my family. I have always tried to be respectable for you; I will ask them not to embarrass you."

I could only respond with a chuckle. "Babe, we own a trucking company. Do you think my employees, the trucker in the picture minded. My customers do not care, as long as their product gets delivered on time. Kenworth will still sell me trucks. Hell, if they saw that picture of your mother by one of their trucks, they would probably give me a discount." As her face continued to be troubled, I tried to console her; "I am sure this came as a shock for you. Is this a shock? Are you okay?"

Again she offered a guilty apology; "No, I am so sorry. It is not a surprise. I figured out young that the trucks were not always blowing their horn at me. I figured out why mom liked to wear a skirt while driving. Oh, Gawd, do you realize I am wearing one now. I woke up from more than one of my road trip naps, usually due to a truck honking, to find mom's head on Dad's lap. It did not take a genius to figure out she was not asleep. I could hear the truckers on the C.B, they were very impressed." 

"I am sorry it bothered you so" I tried to console.

"It did not bother me at all." She responded. "When you graduated with your MBA, why do you think I suggested a trucking company? It was definitely dad's fetish. Mom certainly enjoyed it too. I am just sorry that I was not honest with you. I am not the good little proper wife you thought you married. Do you know that when mom and dad picked me up after my first year of college, we passed a truck and I was pretty sure that mom flashed him? And ... Honey, I flashed him my breasts out the back window. I also flashed, like ten of them, while cruising in Janet's VW in college."

As she refused to listen to me that I was not disappointed, that it actually turned me on, I simply put my arm around her. Pulling her close, we drove in silence. Seeing a rest area sign, I pulled in. Turning her head towards me and looking her in the eye, I told her "We are going to have a fun trip. Go in to the rest room, wash your face and come out relaxed, smiling and with your bra and panties in your purse." As she began to argue, I went around to her side of the car opening her door. I lifted up her short skirt, exposing her little white panties to the trucker walking by. Grasping their waistband, I pulled them off. 

Continuing to kneel in front of her, with her bare pussy open to whomever may stroll by, I began lecturing; "You will either go in and remove your bra, or I will remove it, taking your little sun dress off to get to it. I love your family. They do not disappoint me. In fact your mom and her pics make my cock hard. I have learned a lot from her and your father. With this trip, they and you, will be teaching me how to love the trucking industry which we are a part." 

With that, I opened the convertible roof. Sitting and waiting for Cathy, my mind swirled, I had no idea what to do. I somewhat ordered my wife to be sexy and have fun. How does one do that? I thought about thumbing through the box of pictures, but that seemed very intrusive. If I was to see any more pics of my sexy mother, Cathy would need to share them with me. Cathy would need to take the lead. Would she? She had gone into the rest area to remove her bra, but what would be her attitude on return? It did not seem too fun to drive four thousand miles with a crying or pissed off wife, even if she was braless and panty-less.

As Cathy emerged from the ladies room, it only took a glance to realize that my concerns were for not. Her hips had a swing that had earlier been missing. With nothing short of strutting she approached the car with bra in hand. Noticing a trucker admiring her gorgeous ass as he passed by her, she gave him a very sexy wink. Coming up to the car, she tossed her bra to me from at least six feet away. My hot wife passed by me with a command, "Grab the camera Big Boss Man" as she followed the driver towards his rig.

Catching up with them, camera in hand, it turns out "his rig" was one of mine. Proud that I was beginning to recognize some of the truck makes and models, it was one of last year's purchase of Peterbilts. Cathy, in full flirt mode, had him readily agreeing to pose for a picture. He rapped his arm around her, placing his hand firmly on her hip, as she struck a pose beside the company logo "Bossman Freight Hauling." While I was turning on the digital camera, adjusted the zoom, and allowed it to auto-focus, I watched through the lens; Cathy lifted her dress hem, handing it to the driver as if he was the one lifting it. This gave him and the camera a great shot of her pussy and neatly trimmed bush.

Taking his business card, promising to e-mail him a copy, she kissed him on the cheek. Her sultry swagger turned into what was close to a young girl's skip, taking my hand, leading me towards the 'vette and our exhibitionist road trip.

Family Tradition Ch. 02



Mr. Hayes noticed a distinct change in his daughter during her first visit home as a married woman. She was talkative, confident but most of all respectful. It seemed the timid, unsure girl he sent off to get married had faded into the strong, loving woman that he met with a bearhug on the front porch. Yes, getting married was the best thing to ever happen to this girl. 

As a good wife should, he noticed she stayed close to her husband and offered help when appropriate. When her mother came into the living room, she graciously offered her seat. A good thing, since her rear hadn't completely recovered from the whipping her husband gave her just two nights ago. 

She was the last to sit when dinner was served and made sure all had their fair share before she took her helping of corn, beef, biscuits and potatoes laid out for dinner. Her parents sat at either end of the table while her husband sat beside her. Beneath the table cloth they held hands warmly, an act that did not go unnoticed from either her mother or her father. 

Across from them sat Amanda, the youngest of the four daughters. She still lived at home and attended the local college during the day while helping manage the finances of the family farm whenever she had a spare moment. She was a bright girl, though increasingly antagonistic as she grew older. This frustrated her parents, especially her father, who couldn't discipline her as fervently as he once did when she was a child. Over the years her bottom had grown a resilience to his hand and hairbrush that grew stronger as her mouth and attitude only worsened. Though she did well in her classes, her parents were finding it more and more difficult to control her. It seemed that she, as women tend to do, was growing up and asserting herself. She would be leaving home to make her own life soon and this saddened them.

As always the dinner was a fabulous success and afterward the family sat around the table cleaning their plates of every last scrap. Travis thanked his mother and the women for preparing such a delectable meal and, resting his hand on his wife's knee, sighed contentedly. 

All seemed well until Mr. Hayes spoke to Amanda to ask if she had finished the paperwork for the bank. 

"I did but I still have to look it over once more to be certain," she replied. "I won't be here tomorrow night so I'll finish it before then."

Not entirely pleased with this answer, he asked what was so important about tomorrow night.

"It's Billy's party dad. Remember I told you it's time for his annual blow out at his father's ranch?"

"You know I don't approve of him and the type of people he surrounds himself with. I thought I told you you couldn't go?" Travis saw her bite her lip and roll her eyes. Apparently Mr. Hayes saw it too. "You'll be staying home tomorrow with Travis, your sister and your parents. I expect you to listen and remember what I say next time."

Hands balled into fists, the girl left the room. The room was silent as everyone listened to her bound up the stairs. Though unsaid, everyone knew it was up to Mr. Hayes to do something. It's never been the way of this family to let a girl pout as she just did. 

Casually, to address the tension in the room, Mr. Hayes remarked, "Just let her get it out. Come tomorrow she'll know better and will be more obedient."

In fact, the opposite proved to be true. The next day Amanda slept late and missed her first class, though she managed to sneak out before anyone but her brother was aware of it. She did not return until late afternoon, having gotten dinner elsewhere. She retired to the den to watch television while the rest of the family chatted and enjoyed another large meal. 

Halfway through, Mr. Hayes called to his youngest daughter using both her first and middle names. When he called for her a second time she reluctantly appeared. "I'd like you to bring the rolls from the oven," he told her.

She looked over at the oven which sat just a little beyond her father's reach yet was across the room from her. Knowing better than to complain, she sighed and walked to the appliance, opened the door and retrieved the basket full of freshly cooked rolls nestled in a cloth napkin. Without a word, she plopped them down beside her father and turned to leave.

"and put the cake on the counter for desert," her father called after her.

With a slightly more animated step, she went to the refrigerator and took out the cake. She placed it on the countertop and looked at those seated around the table as they watched her. For a moment she had a vision of her scooping a fingerful of homemade chocolate frosting onto her finger and sucking it into her mouth but knew better. 

She didn't join them for the rest of the meal and turned off the television to read the newspaper. From the other room she heard pieces of their conversation, none of which interested her. The night neared to a close and she found herself drifting to sleep on the overstuffed sofa her mother got from her grandmother. When she awoke the house was almost completely dark. Slowly rising from her sleep, she made her way to the kitchen and found the chocolate cake inside the refrigerator. A great deal of it was missing from leaving almost half. She knew her father never missed a chance for seconds when it comes to her mom's chocolate cake and she regretted missing her portion by falling asleep. 

She happily cut a thick slice and placed it on a small plate. Skipping into the living room, she began eating, curling the blanket around her. 

Mr. Hayes awoke just before the sun rose, as is his custom and showered as the rest of the family slept peacefully. Dressed and ready for the day, he saw his youngest daughter still asleep on the living room sofa, a plate of crumbs and an uncleaned fork rested beside her. 

Standing beside her prone body, he called her name quietly. When she didn't answer he raised his voice. 

"AMANDA LYNN!" Her father called to her, causing her head to rise quickly. She had spent enough years in her family to know when her father was all business and to tread lightly. This was one of those times.

"You left a mess in the kitchen and you're quickly on your way to missing class again. I want you upstairs getting ready this instant!" She was on her way before he finished speaking. His hand slapped her bottom as she walked by, causing her to jump and wince in embarrassment and more than a little pain. 

Quickly jumping in the shower, she washed, dressed and collected her things. She was downstairs just as her father was finishing cleaning the kitchen. Seeing her ready to leave he admonished her, "You've got to change your attitude, young lady, if you want to keep leaving with your mother and me. You know I don't stand for such behavior from my daughters." She looked down at the ground, unable to deny that she had been acting badly. "And tonight I want you home no later than five," he continued. "You'll join the family for dinner. Your sister is leaving tomorrow and I want their last night with us to be enjoyable. After that, you'll spend the evening in your room going over the paperwork you've been putting off."

She listened to him speak, her cheeks turning red. "Ok."

"Do you understand me?" He asked.

"Yes..."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, sir," she answered, aware of what he expected of her. A tear collected in her eye and she excused herself and went out the door before he noticed it. 

Not wanting to upset her father any more, she walked in the door at quarter to five. Her father was still outside and her sister and brother were not home. She went upstairs to her room, closed the door and planned to study until her mother called her for supper. She was immersed in her Business homework when she heard her father calling her from the bottom of the stairs. This time she answered him immediately.

"Would you come down here please?" he called to her.

Dropping her pen, she stood at the top of the stairs to face her father. "Yes, dad, what is it?"

"Come down the stairs, Amanda. We need to discuss your attitude."

She clenched her teeth, more upset at herself than at her father.

Her father kept a small study behind the living room where he wrote his letters, kept his paperwork and oftentimes read. It was a small room with a desk, chair, love seat, and coffee table. Bookshelves lined the walls and framed pictures of their family dating back generations were scattered around the room. It was off limits to the girls. She even heard her mother being chided for intruding the few times she dared enter without his permission. As he sat down, he told her to sit beside him.

Nervously she did, afraid to do anything but what he told her. 

"Amanda Lynn, you're my daughter and I love you more than you could ever know," he began, resting his hand on his daughter's knee. "I love having you home with your mother and me while you attend school and I'm always happy to have you helping me out with the farm." He sighed and looked away, breaking his gaze from her pale blue eyes. "As you've grown older, you seem to have become disobedient towards your elders, especially your mother and me. That is something I won't tolerate."

He saw her swallow nervously. Her knee shook slightly. She opened her mouth to speak but Mr. Hayes shushed her before she could begin. "Just listen to me for once, child. You're older, just turned nineteen last month, but you're far from a woman. Your behavior has shown you still have a bit of the impudent girl I thought we had left behind in grade school. I'm getting tired of your sass, your poor attitude and not obeying your mother and I."

She nodded, biting her lip and unable to look at him. 

"This morning I had to clean up the mess you made after waking you up when you overslept. On top of that, the cake your mother worked on attracted ants when you left it out. It had to be thrown away this morning, though it was barely even half eaten. Your mother worked hard on that cake and to just forget to put it away like that shows a lack of respect." He removed his large hand from her knee, "Stand up Amanda Lynn."

Nervously, like a newborn foal, she stood on shaky legs. "I had hoped you were mature enough that I wouldn't have to resort to such methods, but you've proven me wrong. You've been immature and disobedient, which is what I'd expect from a girl less than half your age." He reached for the button on her jeans as he spoke. "As I did when you were younger and which I should have continued doing, I'm going to spank you for your behavior." She instinctively reached for his hands as he unbuttoned her but pulled back before he could say anything. "I hope you will learn something from this so we don't have to make it a habit. Such a childish punishment is something left for little girls, not nineteen year olds."

He unzipped her pants, showing her white panties and brought her jeans down to her knees. With her hand in his, he helped her bend over his lap. He was pleased she didn't show more resistance; her willingness to go over displayed her desire to obey, though she was obviously afraid. It had been far too long since she had gotten a good, hard spanking and, while he didn't intend to make this one too harsh, he hoped she would remember how it made her feel. 

He gazed lovingly down at his daughter's panty-clad bottom and rested his hand beneath the bottom swell of her round cheeks. It was large, almost covering her whole bottom and stretched from one full buttock to the other. 

She sniffled, a tiny, sad sound, in anticipation of what her father had decreed. It had been years since her last spanking and she remembered vividly the shame of it; her bottom being bared, scolded like a child and spanked like a baby. No matter how old she was, or how much she tried to fight it, she always ended up crying, often sobbing more heavily than she would have believed. The entire act was unbearable, enough to make her cry at the mere thought. The years had made her father's hand seem worse than it was. It brought back memories of searing pain and slaps on her soft cheeks that made her cry out. She shook visibly on her father's lap. 

With a deep breath, Mr. Hayes raised his hand and watched for a moment as it hung in midair over his daughter's form. A moment later it descended and he watched as the quake of his slap rippled through the flesh of her bottom cheeks. She whined, more to release the built up tension, than from actual pain, and he placed his hand against her bottom once more. The cotton of her panties was stretched fully, leaving the impression of her young burgeoning bottom fighting to free itself. 

Another slap as his hand rose and descended and brought another squeal from the girl laying across his lap. Again and again his hand struck her bottom, bringing with it strong cracks that echoed in the small room. After a short while Amanda's squeals turned to sharp, tiny cries and soon after that, she began weeping. It wasn't noticeable at first, just small, barely visible tears that made their way slowly down her cheeks, but they were there. She did her best to hide them from her father out of pride, but if he had seen them, he most likely would have taken pity on his youngest child. 

The house was still with the spanks ringing out like gunshots through the nearly empty home. Mrs. Hayes napped in the other end of the building only waking up during the peak of the girl's punishment. The sound of spanking, while all too familiar to the older woman and not completely unpleasant, caused her to close her eyes with a feeling of respect for her husband. Though she at times disagreed with her husband's views on discipline, having been on the receiving end countless times herself, she did believe Amanda needed such treatment and was happy he was there to provide it.

By the time the spanking had finished, Mr. Hayes had long since acknowledged his daughter's tears and could feel the heat radiating from her flesh underneath his stinging hand. He kept one hand on her tender rear end and slowly stroked the small of his daughter's back. She was still crying softly though her cries had turned to low sobs. 

With his help the girl on his lap turned to face him. The sight of her tear swollen face and runny nose almost caused his heart to burst. Gathering her in his arms, he pulled her close and rocked her tightly as she lost herself in his embrace. Her hand was tiny against the worn flannel of his chambray workshirt. It smelled of topsoil and sweat- the scent of her father and one that lifted her spirits, reminding her of days spent playing in the fields on summer evenings. 

She was gone now. Little left of the cocky college student he'd addressed earlier that evening. All that remained was a vulnerable, needy girl that knew when it came down to it that her daddy would always be the authority in her life, no matter how much older she got or how big she became. She was always his little girl.

As he expected, she stilled and soon fell asleep, surrounded by the tender bristles of his stubble and the warm scent that brought her back. His arms clenched under her naked bottom and bare thighs and he picked her up and carried her to her bedroom. She made not a sound as he lay her spent body on the fresh, cool sheets of her bed. He watched her nuzzle her pillow peacefully as he layered her in quilts illuminated by the dying sunlight.

His job finished, he felt as if a weight had been lifted. He was proud of what he'd done and did exactly what any good father would do. It was with this sense of purpose that he'd entered his bedroom to find his wife awakened and up to her waist in blankets, her romance novel open and unread on the bed beside her. She looked at the opposite mirror, lost in thought, as he entered. 

For a moment, he stood watching her before he spoke. "You ok, dear?"

She shook her head as if surprised, "Oh, hmm? Y- yes honey. Just thinking is all."

"Of?" he asked, sitting on his side of the bed to remove his socks.

"Oh nothing," she answered quickly.

"Marie Anne, you think after more than twenty years of marriage I don't know you better than that? Now I know something's bothering you so you'd best tell me. There's no sense in keeping it bottled up. It won't help any."

She knew he was right but could only look down at her open hands, the cartoonish painting on the cover of her drug store novel and the soft texture of the blanket. Standing now, he unbuckled his belt, slipped it off and lay it across the rocking chair in the corner. Hearing the familiar sound of his belt slipping off, she looked up, hoping he wouldn't notice her interest. He looked down at her as he removed his faded jeans and climbed in next to her.

The bed was warm and he reached to turn off the light before pulling himself to his wife to hold her close. As he did, she folded in his arms and shook slightly. Kissing the top of her head he asked again what was wrong.

"Just heard you spanking Amanda, that's all."

"Yes," he admitted. "I had to. She's had it coming for a while."

She gulped and looked up at him. Her eyes were so soft and loving. She constantly reminded him how much he loved her. Though he knew she could be so weak at times and needed him. "I know. I was going to suggest it even, but it scares me."

He knew this was the reason. "Why are you scared? You're not the one getting the spanking. You've done nothing wrong... or have you?" he teased. 

She pressed herself deeper into him and did her best to hide her nervousness. Her husband rubbed his hand down her back, finding her full bottom and palmed it. They both breathed deeply now and he could sense her arousal, smell it coming from her in waves. The hem of her nightgown went up and his rough hand slid easily between her soft, pale thighs. The spot of her sex was damp and his fingers became moistened. Freeing his cock from its entrapment, it prodded between her cheeks, seeking out the warmth of her body. Its heated tip kissed the bud of her sex, as if begging for entrance. With a quiet moan, her legs parted and, with a grunt of pleasure, his length traveled up inside her. 

Upstairs Amanda found herself awaking from a short nap. She was naked from the waist down and the quickly drying damp spot on her pillow reminded her how she got that way. Buttocks still sore from that evening, she slowly sat up and began dressing. The stiffness of her body made it difficult to slip into the tight skirt and even tighter top. She applied her makeup quickly and with little light. Her father may still suspect and she didn't want to be caught just because he noticed the crack of light under the door. Then, as quietly as she could manage, she pulled up the sash of her bedroom window, carefully climbed onto the ledge above the front step, dropped down and was gone.

Travis and Janice returned soon after and, with her door opened, Travis noticed his younger sister was not in her room though it was long past her bedtime. Concerned but certain her father was aware of the situation he retired to bed with his wife. 

Come morning he passed by her bedroom and saw it untouched from the night before. He grew worried and, when he saw his father reading the paper over a bowl of oatmeal and no sister in law to speak of, he grew even more concerned. Travis saw Mr. Hayes was upset and knew Amanda was most likely the cause of his concern. 

Eventually the youngest girl snuck in the back door. It was mid morning and she'd hoped to make it past her father without him noticing. Unbeknownst to her, he had been waiting in the kitchen, calmly reading the newspaper and drinking black coffee, awaiting her arrival. 

His response was expected: "Where have you been young lady?"

She stammered, unable to get out of it. She had been caught in the act and to lie would only get her deeper into trouble. Now she couldn't even tell the truth. Her voice failed her as she anticipated his reaction.




Family Tradition Ch. 02



"You skipped out to go to that party I specifically told you you were forbidden to go to." He growled, "Isn't that right, young lady?"

It was, she nodded. 

"And right after your spanking too. I thought we had discussed this then but I guess I was too soft on you." He was sad now, frustrated at his little girl for letting him down. "I'd best make sure you mind me from now on. No more disobeying your father to go get drunk with the town hoodlums. I'm going to raise you right if I have to whip your butt until the last Sunday!" His voice was raised now, almost bellowing and she stood in the doorway, shaking weakly. 

"Travis!" He yelled. "Get in here, son."

Her brother appeared at the bottom of the steps, unaware of the situation before him.

"Your little sister Amanda has taken it upon herself to directly disobey her father despite getting a good bottom warming just last night. I think it would do her well if you show her how you take care of her older sister when she goes against you. She needs the hand of a man that won't give her any leeway. She needs to cry and feel shamed for what she's done." He looked proudly at his son. "I think you're just the man to provide that."

The man must think a lot of him if he chooses him for such an act, thought Travis. Spanking was a tradition in this house and putting him in charge of spanking his youngest daughter said a lot for how the older man regarded him. Knowing he must live up to the task, he looked at Amanda. "You heard your father. Come with me. You know you asked for this."

Mortified that Travis not only knew of her spanking, but would be giving her her next one, she followed meekly. The young girl took his hand and followed him to the bottom of the stairs.

"The woodshed," offered her father.

"Daddy!"

"No backtalk, now girl. From the way you disobeyed me it couldn't be anything less." He spoke to Travis now. "I punish them in the woodshed out back when they've really got it coming. You'll find everything you need in there; leathers, a nice paddle and several good spots to keep her bent over." He looked sadly at his daughter. "It has everything a man needs to spank a naughty girl properly." 

She promised herself she wouldn't cry, at least before her punishment began but she felt her strength fading. Travis had to stop several times to allow her to regain her balance. She wished she had stayed home last night. A woodshed whipping was too much for her. It had been years since her last and she hadn't forgotten how much it hurt. Her backside felt scalded and she had trouble sitting for a week. All her friends teased her at school when she had trouble sitting at her desk. Even the teacher had given her a "just like a bad girl- serves her right" look. 

Travis was familiar with the woodshed. He'd been here often to store farm equipment and hay bales. It was the perfect place to do some woodworking. He'd even repaired the birdhouse here. It was a large area, almost as big as the barn and had the fresh scent of sawdust and old leather. As far as he knew, no girl had ever been brought out here since he had known the family. 

Amanda stood silently behind him as if hoped he would forget about her. He took her hand and directed her to a sturdy wooden railing about waist high. She was familiar with the spot and bent over without a word. She had a short skirt that rose to mid thigh when she bent. Travis lifted it and folded it along her back. There he saw she wore black panties bikini panties, something he knew her father wouldn't approve of. Knowing he would have to bare her, he tugged them down to her knees before he began. Her bottom showed the slowly fading spots of her earlier spanking. He could still make out a large handprint in the center of the girl's bottom, right on her crack. 

There was a strip of worn leather that hung from a nail on the wall. It was the length of his forearm and Travis was sure he knew what it was used for. He ran it through his hands for a moment, noticing the supple feel of the aged leather and how soft it felt. He knew it could bring out fire in a girl's bare butt. 

When he turned he saw Amanda shaking noticeably. The well shaped globes of her ass shook almost sexually and her thighs flexed in unison. He felt sympathy for her, this was very difficult for her and she'd made no attempt to put it off.

The feelings she had radiated from her as he placed his hand on the small of her back. She was afraid and a little upset about being in this position. Again she felt like a little girl but couldn't deny that this was uncalled for. She'd pushed her parents too far lately and her daddy had always been the type of man that kept his family in line.

Her ass, despite the telltale redness left by the spanking, was very pleasing to Travis. She was an athletic girl and her round ass was tight and full from exercise. One finger ran down the length of her crevice and he felt her open. 

Not wanting to delay her punishment any further, he raised the strap and, in the moment before it fell, he considered how heavy it felt in his hands. It landed then, sending a blaze of pain across her back side and leaving a thick band of redness that crossed her from hip to hip. She yelled out, a loud braying sound. Her body flared but she held fast to the rail, aware that to move from the lash would only incur further punishment. 

He paused for a moment, studying the reaction the girl had to the strap, as well as the mark left on her wide buttocks. Lifting his arm again, he drew the lash across his shoulder and slapped it down on her butt twice more, each time causing a loud crack that reverberated through the empty shed. She huffed and screamed out. Snuffling as tears began to flow. Travis didn't see them though he felt them. The strap was a powerful tool and he now knew why Mr. Hayes only reserved it for the most egregious of actions. His heart reached out to the girl. He knew the pain she was in must be terrible and felt sad that he was not even close to being finished. 

She was allowed time to catch her breath and he stood behind her, the leather resting over his shoulder as the girl collected her breath, sniffled and cried. Travis couldn't help but be aroused by the sight of her full hips bent over in such a position. He remembered his wife upstairs and promised to take her to bed as soon as he finished his task.

Behind them, Mr. Hayes slipped in quietly. He'd heard the familiar sound of Amanda's cries and knew he should be with her at such a time. He'd never allowed anyone to lay a finger on his youngest girl and, though he trusted the man that took his place, it still hurt him to see her punished so harshly. He admitted that she'd needed it and he couldn't bear to apply such a whipping to her. He was thankful that the younger man could, since he wouldn't do justice to such a punishment. She was getting what she'd deserved now and he'd know Travis would see it through, no matter how much she kicked and cried. 

Travis laid a flurry of strokes against the girl's waiting bottom. He watched as the marks grew thicker, pink turning to red and the red turning scarlet. She was crying pitifully now and Travis, happy that he was finished, hung the leather strap on its place on the wall. 

Amanda cried, her sobs only broken by quick intakes of breath. It had been years since she felt this way, years since she cried so freely. The last time she had to was the last time her father took her to the woodshed, for swearing at him when they had relatives over.

Travis' hand felt warm and comforting on her marked posterior and she leaned into it, hoping for affection after the severe discipline. Mr. Hayes watched all this with interest and, when his son turned and saw the older man behind him, there was a paddle in his hand. With a nod he gave it to him. 

The wood felt heavy and the homemade leather binding on the handle felt soft against his palm. The paddle itself was almost as long as the strap and sanded down to a shiny texture. 

"Made it myself," said Mr. Hayes. "Carved it out of the tree the girls used to play under as children. One evening there was a thunderstorm. A bolt of lightning hit the oak and killed it. Took me all of two summer days to cut it down and haul it off, stump and all. I kept a bit for carving and firewood. That there is the deepest part of her, right from the center of her trunk."

Travis looked at it and felt as if he should be awed. It was impressive. When he swung it he could feel the weight drawing his arm forward. This could easily change a disobedient girls' attitude with only a few short swats.

"Time to finish the job," said his father. "You're almost done, son. Time to put the wood to her."

Travis said nothing but only nodded in agreement. Amanda's cries had eased only slightly and when he placed the flat of the paddle against her ravaged back end, they began anew. 

"Please no more," she begged. "Please Travis, my daddy doesn't spank me this hard. No more...please?"

Her words touched him and he considered it for a moment then remembered the older man behind him, urging him on. 

"Just stay still, sweetheart," he consoled her. "You need this and your father knows it." He swallowed, scared for the young girl. "I know it hurts but you've been punished this way before and know how to behave. Cry if you need to but stay in position and your paddling will be over soon. Be a good girl."

Paddling?! Just the sound of the word sent a shiver down her spine. 

The hand resting on her lower back did nothing to assuage the fear she had. A quick gust of wind the brushed her rump warned her of the paddle's impact that struck a moment later. She cried out as the force of the wood pushed her forward. With only the greatest measure of willpower did she cling to the railing, her fingernails digging into the wood as she held her position. 

She heard Travis breathing heavily as well though she failed to believe this was as difficult for him as it was for her. Tears spilled down her cheeks and she braced herself for the next swing. Two more landed and each brought out weak, high pitched wails that surprised even her. Her back end was tenderized, with bolts of sensation running through her delicate skin. She wanted to hang on but knew she couldn't. As the next strokes fell, she hung limply, her body relenting to the power of his paddling. 

She became unaware of all but her sobbing. The sound of the paddle striking her soft flesh became background noise and she seemed lost. Tears collected on her upper lips and ran down her chin. Spanking had always made her feel loved and cared for, and she was thankful her family chose to punish her in that way but she always hated it when it came time for it. She felt twelve again, being strapped and paddled for peeking at the boys swimming at the lake. She felt like she was nine, freshly naked from the tub being taken over her father's knee for splashing. 

The paddle fell still and, with the help of her father and brother, she was made to stand. Though her tears continued to run, her father had her look at her. The warmth in his eyes caused to her break down again and she fell into his waiting arms and sobbed openly on his shoulder. Travis knew his part was done and with a gentle pat on his sister in law's shoulder, he made his exit soundlessly. 

With her father's assent, Amanda was allowed to remain in the shed. At first she looked around and breathed deeply. The scent reminded her of childhood and the coziness made her happy. Finding a thick pile of hay, she reclined to a corner and, with her knees pulled to her chest, napped in the solitude of the shed.