VelaSona » Spanking By Daddy: Stepfather Puts Young Woman Over His Knee

Spanking By Daddy: Stepfather Puts Young Woman Over His Knee

Summary:
Chloe is sitting in the living room with her new stepfather Michael. The young woman provokes him and tests her limits. Until she crosses them at some point. Shortly afterwards, she is already wriggling bare-bottomed over his knee.

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Cheeky Woman Provokes Stepfather To Test Boundaries

I’m sitting on the soft gray sofa in the living room, legs tucked up, my bare feet crossed under my thighs. My phone rests in my hand, and I’m scrolling through social media, running my tongue over my braces.

The cool metal feels familiar, a small anchor in my mouth. I’m wearing my favorite sweatpants, gray and slightly baggy, and a tight white crop top that shows off my flat stomach.

My ponytail bounces as I tilt my head and stifle a giggle. I know I’m being naughty tonight. Maybe too naughty. But that’s what makes it fun.

My new boyfriend, Michael, sits in his leather armchair across the room. He’s wearing a black T-shirt that stretches over his broad shoulders and jeans that highlight his muscular legs.

His arms rest casually on the armrests, but his eyes—dark, piercing—watch me. He says nothing, flipping through a book, but I feel his gaze. It tingles on my skin, a mix of nervousness and excitement. I want his attention. I want to see how far I can push him.

“Daddy,” I say in a sugary-sweet voice, not looking up from my phone. “Can I borrow your car tomorrow? I’m meeting Sarah at the mall.” I know he’ll say no. He never lets me drive his car. But I ask anyway, just to tease him.

He looks up, slowly, deliberately. “No, Chloe,” he says calmly, his voice deep and firm. “You have your own car.” He lowers his head back to the book, as if the matter’s settled.


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I raise my eyebrows, chew on my lower lip, and tap loudly on my phone. “My car’s lame, though. Yours is way cooler.” I grin, shooting him a sidelong glance. My voice drips with provocation, sweet and cheeky at the same time.

“Chloe.” His tone stays calm, but there’s an edge that makes me pause. “Stop it.”

I pout, pushing out my lower lip. “What? I’m just telling the truth.” I giggle, lean back, and stretch out my legs, my toes nearly touching the coffee table. I know he hates it when I smudge the furniture with my feet.

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Firm Stepdad Bends Naughty Girl Over His Knee

He snaps the book shut. A soft but distinct sound. My eyes dart to him. He sits there, motionless, hands resting on his thighs. His jaw is tight, but his face remains calm. “Chloe,” he says, his voice vibrating with authority. “You’re testing me. That’s the second time tonight. Enough.”

My heart beats faster. A tingle stirs in my stomach, half fear, half excitement. I love how small I feel when he talks like that. So controlled, so commanding. I should stop. But I can’t. “Oh, come on,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Chill out, Michael. I’m just joking.”

That’s the moment something flashes in his eyes. He stands, slowly, like a predator preparing to strike. My breath catches, but I hold his gaze, even though my hands tremble slightly. He says nothing.


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He walks toward me, his steps measured, silent on the hardwood floor. I scoot back, pressing into the sofa cushions, but I’m still grinning, though my heart’s pounding like crazy.

Without warning, he grabs my wrist. His fingers are strong, warm, closing like a vice around my skin. I gasp, half surprised, half aroused. “Michael, what—” I start, but he doesn’t interrupt with words.

He pulls me up, sits on the sofa, and lays me across his knees in one fluid motion. My face burns with shame and excitement. I’m draped over his muscular thighs, my stomach pressed against his jeans, my hands instinctively clutching the sofa cushions.

“You don’t listen,” he says, his voice calm, almost casual, as if he’s talking about the weather. “We’re going to change that now.”

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Hard Smacks On Young Woman's Naughty Butt

Before I can say anything, I feel his hand at my hip. He grabs the waistband of my sweatpants and yanks them down with one tug. My thong follows, sliding to my thighs.

My butt is bare, the cool air brushing my skin. I squirm, half in protest, half in nervousness, but his left hand presses gently but firmly on my back, pinning me down. I can’t move. I feel small, helpless, exposed. And a part of me—a big part—loves it.

The first strike comes without warning. His palm hits my right cheek with a sharp, smacking sound. The pain jolts through me, a hot burn spreading across my skin.


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I gasp, my fingers digging into the sofa. He strikes precisely, with controlled force, showing he knows exactly what he’s doing. His hand is large, covering nearly my entire cheek, and the blow is firm but not brutal. It’s as if he’s punishing me but careful not to truly hurt me.

The second strike lands on my left cheek, just as sharp, just as precise. My skin tingles, grows hotter. I writhe, my legs twitching involuntarily, but his hand on my back holds me steady.

“Hold still,” he says, still calm, almost offhand. I bite my lip, trying not to whimper. The third strike hits the right side again, this time lower, where my cheek meets my thigh. The burn intensifies, spreading like fire. My braces clink slightly as I clench my teeth.

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Bare Butt Spanking For Naughty Stepdaughter (18)

He strikes rhythmically, alternating left and right, each blow a precise, controlled act. His palm hits the same spot before varying slightly, covering the entire surface of my butt.

The strikes aren’t frantic but steady, almost methodical. Each one produces a loud smack that echoes in the room, and I feel my skin redden, pulsing.

My breath quickens, my body a jumble of pain, shame, and a strange, hot arousal. I feel so small, so exposed, and yet there’s this tingle growing deep in my stomach.


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After maybe ten strikes, he pauses. His hand rests on my right cheek, warm and heavy. I breathe heavily, my face burning, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Chloe,” he says, his voice deep and calm. “I won’t tolerate this behavior. You’ll learn to behave.”

His hand begins to stroke, slowly, deliberately. His fingers glide over my heated skin, tracing the curve of my cheek. He strokes gently, almost tenderly, over the spots he just struck.

My skin is sensitive—each touch makes me shiver. His palm fits perfectly, cupping my cheek as he moves. He presses lightly, not hard, but enough to let the warmth of his hand seep into my skin.

His fingers wander lower, brushing the sensitive skin at the underside of my cheeks, where they meet my thighs. I feel my thighs tremble, a heat rising in me that has nothing to do with the burning of my skin.

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He continues stroking, his fingers moving in small circles, sometimes gentle, sometimes with slight pressure. My cheeks feel like they’re glowing, each touch intensifying the sensation.

His hand shifts to the other side, repeating the motions, stroking, pressing, exploring. I bite my lip, trying not to make a sound, but a soft whimper escapes. I feel so naked, so vulnerable, and yet there’s this strange, sweet arousal overwhelming me.

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Then, without warning, he strikes again. Three quick, hard blows that make me flinch. The smacks echo through the room, and I gasp loudly.

The pain is more intense now, my skin burning like fire. But he stops, just as suddenly as he started. His hand rests on my butt again, stroking once more, as if to soothe the burn.

“Enough,” he says finally. He pulls my thong and sweatpants up, the motion so matter-of-fact it’s as if he were merely tying my shoes. He lifts me off his lap, sets me on the sofa. My legs tremble, my face burns, and I don’t dare look at him.

He stands, picks up his book, and sits back in his armchair.

“Go to bed, Chloe,” he says, as if nothing happened. His voice is calm, almost kind. I nod silently, stand, and head upstairs, my cheeks burning with each step. In my room, I collapse onto my bed, my heart racing, and a part of me—a big part—knows I’ll try it again tomorrow.


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