Naughty Irish Imp

Naughty Irish Imp

Thursday, February 20, 2014

How Many Times Do I Have to Tell You, Little Girl?



**Previously posted as 'Half Dozen Offenses' Parts 1-6. Here is the entire session in one cohesive post. Enjoy**

08/30/2013


Daddy's knock on the door startled me as it seemed to echo off the walls of the room. I quickly shuffled to the door and opened it just a crack, as I often do, and peered up and into the captivating eyes of my Daddy Dom. I smiled as I took a step back, opening the door fully to welcome him inside. He returned my warm smile, absolutely melting me. He has an amazing smile. His dark, expressive, chocolate-brown eyes seem to almost twinkle; his lips curve up into a smile, accentuating his dominant jaw line. My Daddy is incredibly attractive; I am a lucky little girl.


He closed the door behind him and reached out for me, his eyes not leaving mine from the moment they'd connected when I first cracked the door open. His large, powerful hands took me by my upper arms and pulled me to him, enveloping me in his strong arms. I wrapped my own arms securely around his waist and hugged him tightly. I could quite happily stay in his arms the entire day; he gives about the best hugs ever.


Dad took me by the shoulders and held me at arms length and stared down into my bright green eyes for several long moments before finally speaking to me. My stomach was in knots.


"Natalie Lynn, when was the last time I punished you? How long ago?" He asked firmly.


"August 2nd, Daddy. 28 days ago." I answered up to him as I searched his eyes.


"In just 28 days.......only 4 weeks.......28 days MY DAUGHTER has added 6 NEW OFFENSES to her punishment list??" He barked.


I shifted slightly from foot to foot, my fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of my shirt and my eyes danced around the room........from the floor, to the wall, to the dresser top, the bed, our shoes.......absolutely *anywhere* aside from my father's penetrating glare.


"LYNN!" He practically shouted, making me visibly jump. I knew immediately what he wanted......the exact thing I was trying to avoid......direct eye contact. My father's eyes are absolutely gorgeous, but when he is displeased with me.....when we are in scene.....when he is punishing me......they darken and become incredibly cold compared to their typical inviting warmth. Daddy always insists on eye contact when he is scolding me. Often times, he will remain completely quiet and allow his eyes to chastise me for my behavior for several minutes before adding the verbal accompaniment. Even "the look" from my Dom can bring me to tears.......long before he ever touches me.


I slowly raised my eyes up the length of his body, admiring my Daddy's towering frame, his broad shoulders, his muscular chest and arms, his thighs that I knew I'd soon be draped over, the "whipping belt" around his waist, his dominant jaw........all the way up to finally find their mark and once again engage his eyes directly.


"I asked you a question, little girl........do I need to repeat myself to you already?" He asked in a very low tone of voice, making my stomach drop. I shook my head no as I struggled to find my voice.


"No Sir, don't repeat yourself, I'm sorry. To answer your question, yes Sir, I have 6 new offenses in only 28 days." I meekly responded, my eyes studying his intently, seeking some hint of softening......it wasn't there.


Daddy glared at me another minute or so before abruptly reaching forward and yanking me into him by the waist of my jeans. He hastily unbuttoned my jeans as I stood frozen in a mixture of disbelief and embarrassment. Typically my father will instruct me to lower my pants (or raise my skirt, depending on my attire); he has rarely done it himself. Lowering my jeans is always embarrassing, but having your Dom do it *for you*........it's an entirely new level of shame. I felt so incredibly small and very, very naughty.


As soon as he had unbuttoned and unzipped them, his strong hands took hold of the waist and in one quick, fluid motion he yanked them down over my hips and the curve of my bottom, leaving them sitting at my knees. My breath hitched in the back of my throat as I stood there on my shaking knees in the center of the room, jeans at my knees, blushing furiously, fidgeting with my fingers.......soon to be spanked.......HARD!


Dad gave me one more piercing stare before leaving me standing alone in the center of the room as he walked over to the desk and snatched up my punishment list, quickly scanning the new offenses before discarding the sheet of paper back onto the desktop. I hung my head but my eyes intently followed his legs as he walked throughout the room, preparing to punish his naughty little girl.


He walked toward the dresser and unzipped his implement bag, retrieving an unknown implement. Then just as quickly, he approached me at a full stride and roughly encircled my upper arm in his large right hand, then immediately began dragging me along behind him as he crossed the room to the couch. Dad released my upper arm as he sat down on the couch. I stood nervously in front of him, my eyes locked on the floor. He quickly took hold of my wrist and pulled me down over his capable lap. I shifted and squirmed to get comfortable.......I knew I'd be here for a while. Daddy spaced his legs far enough apart that my own feet dangled off of the floor, rendering me helplessly upended over his knee. I placed my left hand around my father's ankle and held tightly to him, preparing for my spanking to begin........I adore the intimacy and closeness of the traditional OTK position........and holding onto my Daddy's ankle or calve while I am being punished is incredibly comforting to me.


I felt Daddy's fingertips on his left hand slide between the silk of my panties and my bare skin, then just as with my jeans before them, in one fluid motion he yanked them down to my knees, where they joined my jeans in a bunched up ball. I concentrated on trying to slow my breathing; my spanking hadn't even begun and already I was breathing as rapidly as I knew he would soon be swatting.


"So, darling daughter of mine, you had a re-certification exam to take at work this month, correct?" He asked as his strong hand slowly caressed my bared bottom.


"Yes Sir." I whimpered back to him over my shoulder. Every nerve ending in my body seemed to be overly sensitive. His gentle touch made me smile as I raised my hips to meet his caresses.


"Tell me, Natalie Lynn, when did you find out the date of this test and what material you'd be tested on?" Dad inquired.


"In May, Daddy." I answered, immediately biting my lip afterward knowing what my father's expectations of me academically and professionally include. I'd fallen really short of it this time and I knew I'd be punished good for this one. The thought left me nervously chewing the corner of my bottom lip as Dad continued to interrogate me.


"I see. And when did MY daughter begin studying or reviewing material?" He asked as he lightly skimmed my sensitive bottom with just his fingertips......sending chills up and down my spine.


"A day before the exam, Sir." I practically whispered and held my breath, anticipating a harsh swat.


"What is the standard I have set for all of your academics and professional exams, young lady?" Dad quizzed.


"That I do my best, Sir." I quickly replied.


"Correct. I don't expect perfection. In fact that is your own expectation and I have told you that is not reasonable. I set high standards for you because I know you can reach them. You're MY daughter. You're intelligent and you are and will continue to be successful in your chosen career if you continue to apply that intelligence, intuition AND discipline. Am I right?"  He asked.


"Yes Sir." I responded immediately and respectfully; hoping my Daddy could hear the genuine contrition in my voice.


"I expect YOUR BEST! You had plenty of time to study and prepare in advance to achieve YOUR BEST. But my cocky, over-confident and undisciplined little girl decided she knew everything and didn't need to review material until the day of her exam.........and what happened because of that, Natalie Lynn?" Dad demanded harshly, stopping his soothing caresses and simply resting his large, powerful hand on my unprotected, quivering bottom.


"I only got a 97%, Sir. I didn't refresh or review pharmacokinetics and because of that I couldn't recall the molecular weight of a commonly used medication for our department, Sir." I answered honestly, feeling a bit foolish for being so arrogant......and still angry at myself for blowing a perfect score by being overly confident.


"Exactly. That's unacceptable, young lady, and you know it. Had it been your best, I would have been thrilled with a 97%, but it wasn't your best and I knew that. You, in fact, confessed and asked to be punished for not getting a perfect grade. HOWEVER.....I denied your initial request.......I won't punish you for imperfection, because perfect is not where I set the bar for you......I expect YOUR BEST. I don't imagine many girls get their bottoms soundly spanked by their daddies for a 97%.......BUT YOU are *not* 'many girls'.......YOU ARE MY GIRL, MY DAUGHTER......and you will *always* get a good spanking when you refuse to do YOUR BEST! Got it, little girl?"  Daddy lectured, raising his voice at several points to emphasize his intended message.


"Yes Sir." I whimpered back at him as I turned to look up at him from over my shoulder. Our eyes again engaged one another's and he held my gaze for a couple moments, his frustration evident on his face......my remorse evident on mine.


SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!


A half dozen quick, harsh swats connected with my bare bottom and sit spots. I inhaled sharply and held tightly to his ankle. But literally as quickly as the hand spanking had begun, it ended. I felt Daddy lightly tapping a solid implement against my tender upper thighs. I again turned to look back over my shoulder as Daddy raised the implement up to meet my inquisitive little view. It was the Vermont Country Store Bath Brush!!! A wicked, evil thing. Solid maple wood, polished smooth on "the business side", with a ergonomic curved handle, and stiff bristles on the flip side. I *HATE* this implement. It is by far the worst of our brushes; this viscous brush packs FAR more of a punch than either of my wooden hairbrushes or even our oak bath brush.


I pouted up at my Daddy, searching his eyes for leniency, pleadingly begging with my own eyes for a longer hand spanking to warm my skin before this horrid brush was introduced. I was met with a determined, paternal glare that quite literally filled my emerald eyes with un-shed tears.


"You deserve this, Natalie Lynn. My expectations for MY DAUGHTER are clear. You failed to meet them, young lady. And now you're going to pay the price for that. Ask me to punish you." He insisted.


I sniffled and squirmed over my father's knee, still clinging tightly to his ankle. My bottom tingled in anticipation. I knew this spanking was going to hurt......A LOT. But, I also knew I had asked for it and I certainly did deserve it. I took a deep breath and obeyed my Daddy's order.


"Daddy please punish me, I didn't do my best and I let us both down. I deserve a good, hard spanking......please punish me, Sir?" I confidently asked.


My father smiled briefly at me, making me smile myself despite my pending fate. He took the bath brush in his left hand and tapped it against my thighs a couple times before raising it high up into the air at his shoulder level. I quickly turned away and tried to make myself as comfortable as possible as I dangle helplessly above the ground from my father's capable lap, my long red hair blanketing the floor beneath me, my heart racing, my hand securely wrapped around Dad's ankle............waiting...........


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"Owww Daddyyy I'm sorryyy." I whimpered back at him from over my shoulder. 


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The paddling ceased and Dad laid the brush on the small of my back and gently began to knead my pinkening skin. I savored his touch, closing my eyes and slowing my rapid breathing. He switched from firm massage to barely skimming the skin with his fingertips as I lay draped over his lap. 

"Going to study for the next exam?" He questioned. I smiled, knowing he couldn't see my face, amused at the irony of my father, the professor, spanking me for not studying. 

"Yes Sir." I answered softly. 

"Good girl. Now.....seeing as you spent the last 2 weeks amassing offenses, I plan to spend this entire afternoon blistering your naughty bottom.....minimal breaks. So.....my darling daughter......onto your next lesson." He said.

I sighed and turned my head to look back at him from over my shoulder. Our eyes engaged and I studied his, trying to guess which offense was next by the expression on his handsome face. He glared at me for a moment or two as I nervously chewed the corner of my bottom lip. 

"Next......our first repeat offense of the day. This one is an aspect of your most serious offense to be dealt with today, but warrants its own punishment. You were caught texting and driving earlier this week....that is your most serious offense; however, it is when you were caught that you committed the offense you're about to be paddled for now. Tell me, young lady, what it is I am referring to." Dad demanded. 

"I was mouthy to the cop who stopped me Daddy." I confessed in a hushed tone as I hung my head to escape his penetrating stare. 

"Bingo. You know it's wrong, You know why it's wrong. You know MY daughter is not allowed to be disrespectful to authority, particularly when that authority is correcting her ignorance. I am sick of repeating this lesson to you, Natalie Lynn. Do you hear me?" He barked harshly as he yanked my hair abruptly, again turning my face back to meet his gaze. 

My breath hitched in the back of my throat. I nodded my head yes, unable to speak. My eyes stayed fixed onto his, and began to well with tears. I truly hate seeing this look on my Daddy's face. It's a mixture of irritation, concern and disappointment......I absolutely h-a-t-e it! Dad glared a minute more before releasing my hair from his firm grip and taking the bath brush back into his large left hand. I again hung my head and grasped his ankle tightly, preparing for another hard paddling. 

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A flurry of swats connected at an incredibly fast pace. Every inch of my bared bottom and thighs seemed to ignite. I struggled to stay still......I knew I deserved this spanking......but my determination flew right out the window and in a minute or two I was squirming and howling over my father's knee. He completely disregarded my efforts and continued to punish my tender skin.

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He aimed directly at my sit spots and let them have it. The harsh, unrelenting swats fell in a blur as I struggled and sobbed hanging over his lap. Hot, salty tears fell from my emerald eyes and onto the carpet beneath my face. I squeezed his ankle tightly and just cried as he paddled me furiously,

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"Up!" He barked harshly.

I slid off of his lap and flipped the long, red hair back out of my face as it stuck to the tear soaked flesh of my cheeks. I very cautiously glanced up at my father, sensing the irritation still clearly evident in his tone of voice. His eyes met mine and he narrowed his as his jaw clenched. I quickly lowered my eyes in a silent offering of my submission to him, truly sorry for what I had done.....even sorrier for letting him down. 

"Put your nose in that corner, little girl." He instructed.

I slowly began to slink over to the corner, trying not to trip over the jeans entangled at my knees and brushing the tears from my eyes.

"NOW!" Dad shouted, clearly not pleased with the pace at which I was following his command. 

My entire body jumped, as it does any time my father raises his voice at me. I quickly scurried to the corner and stood as closely to it as I could, wishing it would swallow me up. I stood there on my wobbly knees, running through the remaining offenses in my head and dreading the coming consequences that I'd earned myself. 

"While you're standing there mulling over your behavior, little girl......imagine how this new lexan paddle that Brandon bought for us is going to feel on your bare bottom......I am using it for your next offense." Dad warned in an almost mocking tone. 

My tears returned and were again slowly cascading down my cheeks and I nervously began fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. Lexan hurts!!! A LOT!!! That paddle was supposed to be used for a fun, playful spanking.....at least for the first time.....it was NOT supposed to be introduced during a punishment! I pouted unashamedly and continued my nervous fidgeting. 

As I stood there, my mind racing, I could feel my father's gorgeous brown eyes on my body.......I knew he was enjoying watching me squirm and panic. While I love his eyes on me, I was almost annoyed with it at the moment as I knew he was enjoying my unease......and despite my not wanting to give him the satisfaction, I simply could not stop fidgeting & nervously shifting from foot to foot as I thought of that damn lexan paddle. 

"Come here, young lady!" Daddy ordered. 

As badly as I wanted to stay put, I was soon walking over toward my father.......as if I were being carried, clearly not under my own power......my damn legs were traitors and willingly delivering me to this cruel fate!!

I stopped directly in front of my father and stood on my wobbling knees, my eyes downcast, my stomach churning at the thought of being punished with that damn lexan paddle. I had a lump in the back of my throat and my heart beat wildly inside of my chest. My bottom was sore.......so very sore from the hairbrush spankings I'd just received. I was sorry for my misbehavior.........and nervous about the next phase of my punishment. 

Standing there in front of him, my jeans and panties at my ankles, hair a disheveled mess, eyeliner streaked down my face, bottom burning.......I felt small......sorry, nervous and incredibly small. I often feel this way when my Daddy's taking me to task for my behavior; but each time, the overwhelming feeling seems to hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn't have to wait very long before he reached forward, taking me by the wrist firmly and pulling me down over his knees. 


"Daddy I'm sorry." I whispered back to him.


"I'm sure you are, young lady. Not as sorry as you will be when I'm through paddling your bare bottom." He replied.


The tone of his voice was marked with a hint of sadistic amusement at my distress. I had never been spanked with a lexan implement before this and my boyfriend had bought Daddy & I a small lexan paddle as a gift. The plan had been to use it the first time during a role play or good girl spanking......just because......to let me get acquainted with the thing. I have an incredibly high tolerance to pain and there are very few implements or punishments that I fear strictly based on the pain. But many of my spanko girlfriends have told me horror stories about lexan paddles and canes. Daddy knows this, we'd discussed it, and the tone of his voice made it evident that he was playing on that psychological trigger. 


"Now, little girl, the next offense we are going to discuss is your telling me.......not asking me, not offering, not suggesting........TELLING ME that I am not allowed to get information relevant to your behavior from your boyfriend, friends, family, colleagues, or others around you when it is pertinent. Tell me, Natalie Lynn, why I might have an issue with that, and why you're about to be paddled for it." Daddy demanded as he tapped the thick, smooth, cool lexan paddle against my throbbing thighs. 


"Because it's not my place to tell you what you are or are not allowed to do, Sir." I softly replied.


"That's the main issue I had, yes. However, there's more. You're mine, Natalie Lynn. You're my daughter. Things that effect my little girls' health or happiness are MY business. I'm not unreasonable, I don't micromanage, I don't spy on you or pry. But important things SHOULD be brought to my attention. And YOU, young lady, should have been the one to inform me of this. The fact that I had to hear it from someone else bothers me almost as much as your indignant attitude about my being told by Brandon. Clear?" Dad barked at me.


"Yes Sir." I managed to reply through my sniffles. 


"Good. Now that you 'get it', half of my job is done. All that is left is for me to punish you for it and leave a lasting impression on you of what happens when my little girl hides things from me and then has the audacity to give me attitude and tell me what I am or am not allowed to do. Fitting that Brandon got us this new paddle and I can use it for this particular offense, don't you think?" He asked as I shifted over his knee, trying to find a comfortable position, knowing I'd be here for a while. 


For God knows what reason, at that moment, a feeling of indignant stubborness came over me and I refused to respond.........simply because the response I wanted to utter would have gotten my ass beat far worse than I was already in for. Why, oh why, I get these thoughts and feelings when I'm laying bare bottomed, vulnerable, across my father's capable lap I will never know. You'd think after the first time it backfired, I'd suppress it.......but nope! Damn Irish roots. 


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Daddy peppered my upper thighs rapidly with that damn lexan paddle......HARD! I inhaled sharply. The sting was immediate and intense. My legs flailed behind me and my hands balled up into fists and beat the floor beneath my face in protest. 


"I asked you a question, little girl! It required an answer. You can maintain your tough girl facade and hold onto your pride, digging in your heels and refusing to answer me as long as you'd like.......I can stay here paddling your ass all day long if you'd like. But I warn you, your punishment for the offense doesn't begin until you answer me and you still have several other serious offenses to be punished for today. So while you contemplate how long you intend to continue this charade, remember that your ass is going to wear out long before my arm does." Dad scolded as he continued to paddle me mercilessly.


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"Owww Daddy.......please stop......I heard you, I'm sorry......pleassseeee." I squealed. 

Funny how quickly a naughty girl gives up the fight to remain stoic and stubborn when her daddy starts paddling her sore, upturned, bare bottom as she dangles over his knee like a 5 year old. 

"That's what I thought. I like this paddle. Highly effective. Now, this, young lady, is for your thinking you can tell me what I am allowed to do........and for not informing me of the issue yourself. Rule #1.....open and honest at all times......you know this. Withholding information simply because you know you wont like my response is NOT OKAY! We have covered this before. You've promised me kneeling in front of me with tears streaming down your face that you understood this and wouldn't omit again.......haven't you?" Dad implored. 

"Yes Sir." I whimpered back at him over my shoulder.

"And yet here we are again.......I am repeating myself again, and we both know how much I love doing that. Again you're being punished for withholding information......and this time we have the added offense of your topping from the bottom........that tells me that your previous punishments for the offense were not effective enough as a deterrent......so, young lady, it's my job to correct that and increase the severity of this punishment to ensure the lesson sinks into that hard, redhead of yours. Got it?" Dad lectured, his voice almost cold and detached, my cue that my usually warm, loving father was now absent from this scene and I was left in the hands and at the mercy of his inner sadist. 

"Yes Sir." I meekly mumbled as I securely wrapped my right hand around his ankle, a physical connection that during harsh punishments, makes me feel closer and more connected to my father. 

No further words were needed........and not one more was spoken. Dad just set about doing precisely what he had said he intended to do..........teach his naughty daughter a memorable lesson and make sure in sunk in.

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The intensity of the fire in my bottom is hard to describe. Lexan is a mean, mean material. It stung like hell. I struggled to remain in position as Daddy paddled my red, tender bottom.

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Daddy paddled hard and he paddled fast. The swats echoed off the wall, as did my intermittent squeals. I was crying openly at this point and clinging to his ankle with all of my hand strength as he punished my bottom long and hard.

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After several agonizing minutes of paddling my bottom, Dad changed his focus to my thighs and sit spots. My legs resumed their kicking and my squeals were more frequent. I reached my left hand back to try in vain to cover my poor abused thighs, but Daddy simply paused and took hold of my wrist tightly pinning it to the small of my back before resuming the punishment........making sure to swat even lower and harder on my tender thighs for my reaching back.

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I cried so hard I was nearly breathless. After what seemed an eternity, my legs fell still and my squeals dissipated. I lay limp over my father's lap, sobbing incoherently as he continued to teach me my lesson in the way in which we both know I learn best.

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The swats finally subsided and as I lay completely spent dangling from his knees, Daddy gently traced his fingertips across the smoldering skin of my bottom and thighs. I cried and closed my eyes, relishing in his gentle touch. He released my wrist and my arm fell to the floor beneath me and Daddy used his now free hand to entwine in my long, flowing, red hair. I could have stayed like this all day. For a few moments, I even forgot about the remaining most serious offenses for which I was to be punished today. All that existed in those few sweet moments were a naughty girl hanging over her strict father's lap as he soothed her punished skin and stroked her hair lovingly. My father loves my long, red hair and I love his large, strong hands entangled in it. Ahhh bliss. 

"Am I going to repeat this lesson again anytime soon, darling daughter of mine?" Daddy asked softly as he ran his fingers through the length of my hair. 

"No Sir." I simply, softly responded as I leaned my head into his hand. 

"Good girl." He replied. 

I smiled. I love hearing those words from my father. He let me lay over his knee and continued to gently rub and then firmly knead my now dark red bottom and run his other hand through my hair softly one minute, then firmly tug and tussle it the next. I was a happy little girl. 

But, eventually, having other issues to address, the tenderness evaporated and his strict, all-business demeanor returned. He harshly swatted my right thigh.

SLAP!

"Up." He ordered.

I quickly complied and rose to my feet, with the help of his strong, left arm. He immediately captured my teary, puffy, emerald eyes with his penetrating glare and held me captive for a minute or two before pointing to the corner. I lowered my eyes in a silent offering of submission and began walking to the corner, my hands slowly skimming my sore, burning bottom and thighs.

"Wait, no, come here." Dad instructed.

I turned, a bit confused and approached him slowly. He took me by my upper arm and walked me to the opposite corner, where a full length mirror hung. He placed me silently in the corner and then disappeared from the room, leaving me standing there with my reflection........a grown woman in the corner like a naughty little girl with her pants around her ankles, hair in disarray, makeup running in tear streaks down her face, eyes puffy from crying, her bottom and thighs red, hot and splotched with brush and paddle marks. I was embarrassed......though why I am not certain......it was only me.......and this is a normal part of my life......but I felt incredibly embarrassed standing there looking at myself and I lowered my eyes to the floor once more.

"Turn around and look at me, young lady." Daddy barked at me as he reentered the room.

I slowly turned and was suddenly staring at the towering frame of my gorgeous father as he pinned me to the corner with his body. My head spun and my stomach clenched. I love when he uses his own body to impose on my personal space........it's a subtle, unspoken form of his dominance that simply takes my breath away. 

Dad tucked his hand under my chin and raised my face to gain eye contact. He extended his other hand and in it was a soapy, wet, lathered bar of soap.

"Open.....NOW." Dad demanded.

I typically would protest or beg but the immediate raised volume of his voice and the look on his handsome face compelled me to comply. I slowly opened my mouth, fresh tears now spilling from my eyes and cascading down my cheeks. I truly hate having my mouth washed out with soap. It is embarrassing, humiliating.......I hate it.......and my father knows this. He placed the disgusting bar of soap into my mouth and ran it back and forth against the backs of my teeth a few good times before leaving it between my lips and ordering me to hold it in place. 

"Now face the corner. Eyes on the naughty little girl in that mirror, Natalie Lynn. As you may have guessed, the next REPEAT offense we are going to address is my beautiful, smart, witty daughter continuing to use profane language like a little girl who just learned the words. I'm not unreasonable and don't mind an occasional swear word used for emphasis, but you yet again have fallen back into cursing on a regular basis. I will NOT have my daughter sounding so vulgar and ignorant. You are intelligent enough to make your point without the additional 30 fuck's in a sentence! You take a good hard look at the girl in that mirror. I'm done tolerating this, Natalie Lynn. We're going back to a zero tolerance policy until you can prove to me that you are disciplined enough to use profanity in a limited and appropriate fashion. Every time you curse, you'll record it and this is exactly what you'll get the next time you see me. Am I clear?" Daddy lectured, only adding to my humiliation with every word he spoke. 

I nodded my head and held the soap firmly between my teeth as I mumbled, "Yes Sir." 

"You will keep that soap in your filthy mouth in that corner and when I pull you out to whip your ass good for it, don't you dare let that bar of soap fall from your mouth or you will be an even sorrier little girl. Do you understand me, young lady?" Dad warned.

"Yes Sir." I meekly replied through the soap and my constant sobs. 

I stood facing the mirror as I was instructed to do. The reflection made me sob harder. I choked on my sobs and the saliva pooling in my mouth as I tried not to swallow the horrible tasting soapy mess. This soap was deplorable. I had to fight not to gag. I hate soap!!!! YUCK! 

After what seemed hours, but was merely minutes, my father called me out of the corner and over to him so he could punish me for my constant cursing. 

"Come here, Lynn." Dad demanded.

I turned from the corner and as my eyes met my father's the look of disappointment on his face took my breath away and I immediately lowered my eyes......but as they fell down his body, I saw the mean, thick, brown leather belt dangling free from his left hand. My stomach turned an my tears continued as I slunk over to my father.......knowing he was about to take his designated 'whipping belt' to my sore, red bottom......and I'd somehow have to hold the soap in my mouth throughout the whipping. 

"Over the pillows, young lady. I want that bottom up nice and high. You deserve every bit of this whipping and I want a willing target." Dad instructed as he paced beside the bed, where he had stacked 3 pillows in the center to prop my hips up, allowing him unrestricted access to my bare, naughty bottom. 

I cautiously glanced up at Daddy as my hands skimmed my tender flesh on the tops of my thighs from my paddling. The soap in my mouth tasted absolutely horrible! Tears welled in my eyes, threatening to spill at any moment. Daddy met my gaze and narrowed his eyes at my own, causing me to instinctively drop my eyes back to the floor, yet again catching the sight of his designated whipping belt dangling free from his left hand just waiting to stripe my ass and thighs. 


"Yes Sir." I acquiesced and slowly crawled up onto the bed, elevating my hips over the stacked pillows and clutching the blankets in my fists tightly.


"I am disgusted with your recent language, Natalie Lynn. It's inexcusable. This is a behavior issue we spent damn near a year correcting and you'd made an enormous amount of progress and made me proud. Now, however, you seem to have reverted right back to a foul, gutter mouthed little girl. I won't allow MY daughter to sound like an ignorant, uneducated human being who believes 'fuck' is the best verb, noun, adjective or conjunction on the planet. Clear?" Dad scolded.


I sniffled and shook my head 'yes' in acknowledgement. Though he rarely accepts nods or shakes as an answer when I am being punished, he seemed to allow it this time. 


WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK 


The first half dozen swats from his belt fell in a rapid blur, catching me low on my already smoldering thighs. I clinched my fists tightly in the blanket and twisted my body from side to side trying to escape the volley of lashes as they continued to fall.


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Daddy typically whips me in the same methodic manner, pacing from one side of the bed to the other, applying a dozen or so swats each time, seconds between each so the sting sets in before a fresh one falls, deliberate, harsh. But today he didn't use this method; instead, he was whipping my bottom furiously with that viscous belt. Lash after lash bit into my aching flesh as I struggled to remain in position, the nasty soap pooling lathery saliva in my mouth, fresh tears streaming down my face. It hurt.


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My legs kicked the bed at close to the same tempo his belt was beating my naughty bottom. I cried softly into the blankets, careful not to drop the bar of soap from my mouth. Every few lashes, the tip of the belt would bite into the side of my hip causing me to squeal out and writhe. My father, as always, ignored my displeasure as he continued to take his out on my welted ass.

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"I'm sorryyyy." I whimpered.

"You will be, young lady, you will be." Daddy assured with a determined tone as he began raising the belt higher, now snapping down on my bare bottom & thighs from up over his shoulder. 

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Dad discarded his belt onto the head of the bed and roughly grabbed me by my upper arm, quite literally dragging me off of the bed as I tried not to trip over the jeans entangled at my ankles. He drug me across the room before yanking me down over his lap quickly and taking the bathbrush from the end table into his large, left hand and with his right, grasping a fistful of my long, red hair and abruptly jerking my tear-streaked face back to meet his penetrating stare. 

"I'm done with this, Natalie Lynn. Do you hear me? DONE!" Dad barked. 

My body jumped at his raised voice and I meekly replied with a "Yes Sir." as I choked on my sobs and the soapy mess in my mouth. I tried to maintain eye contact with him as I knew he expected, but his eyes bore a hole through me and the look of combined anger & disappointment was breaking my heart; before I knew it I was again lowering my eyes to escape his. His hand still wrapped in my hair, it was easy for him to again roughly yank my head back to regain the contact. It hurt and I flinched, but focused my swollen emerald orbs onto his gorgeous dark brown eyes as he continued to scold. 

"I give you leeway, plenty of leeway. I'm not at all unreasonable in this, little girl and you know it. I gave you an inch and you've AGAIN taken a mile. You 'slip' and swear in damn near every conversation we have which tells me that you're doing it even more frequently with others because if you can't even raise your guard enough to minimize unnecessary cursing with your father, then you sure as hell aren't doing it with anyone else. Am I right?" He asked as his eyes continued to chastise me on an even deeper level than his irritated tone of voice was. 

"Yes Sir." I cautiously answered, again, careful not to drop the soap from my mouth to avoid further punishment. 

"I'M DONE! YOU'RE DONE! NO MORE! MY DAUGHTER IS INTELLIGENT ENOUGH TO MAKE HER POINT WITHOUT SOUNDING LIKE SOME DAMN GUTTER TRASH!!!" Daddy yelled, mere inches from my face as he held his grip tight in my hair, refusing to let me lower my eyes. 

I cried harder and my body shook. I truly hate when my father raises my voice at me. He does it very seldomly which I suppose makes those rare occasions more effective, but it still breaks my little heart every single time. He glared at me only another minute or so before releasing his grip in my hair and wrapping his right arm securely around my waist, a cue to me that he intended to make this paddling intense. I held Dad's ankle tightly in my right hand and lay as still over his solid lap as I could, waiting for my deserved punishment. Dad shifted my weight onto his left leg primarily and then raised his right leg and put it over the backs of my legs......placing me in a leg lock many people use for OTK spanking.......but it is something my father has not ever before done with me. I suppose I'd always been curious about the position but now that it was a reality, I couldn't seem to shake off the added sense of dread and helplessness. I sobbed incoherently and held his ankle tightly as he picked the bathbrush up from the couch next to him and let loose on my upturned, unprotected bottom. 

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Daddy paddled me furiously. Adding layers of deep reddish purple ovals on top of the welts his belt had just left. I squeezed tight to his ankle with my right hand but instinctively tried to cover my burning bottom with my left. Dad released my wait and took my left wrist and firmly placed it on the small of my back without speaking even one word and then just as quickly returned to paddling me, focusing on my thighs and sit spots. 

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I cried hard and squeezed his ankle tightly. My legs instinctively attempted to kick behind me, but securely tucked beneath my father's leg it was a futile effort. 

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"Kneel here in front of me, young lady." Dad instructed. 

I slowly slid off of his lap and knelt at his feet crying inconsolably. My bottom and thighs felt as if they were literally on fire. Every tiny movement stretched the skin taut and made me wince. I fought not to reach back to sooth the burning flesh. My puffy green eyes were focused on the floor and my father's shoes. I sobbed and sniffled and tried to slow my breathing as I waited for him to address me. He allowed me several minutes to calm and compose myself as I knelt there in front of him. 

I love kneeling before my father. Aside from over or in his lap, it is my favorite place to be when I am with him. It calms me, centers me, humbles me. Kneeling in and of itself is a very powerful, profound position of submission......I imagine for that very reason, amongst others, it is a definite favorite for me. Actually, though I've been a spanko girl and involved in D/s relationships since college, my father is the *only* man before which I have knelt. I always feel incredibly small when I am on my knees at his feet, but it isn't a negative or degraded sort of small......it is a very soothing, loved, cherished, good sort of small......the sort of small I have always longed for, and now, finally found. 

"Look up at me." Daddy finally commanded in a soft, quiet tone of voice. 

I obeyed and my eyes found their way from the floor up to his handsome face. His eyes studied mine for a moment or two. He reached forward and swept the flowing, red hair from my face and tucked the tendrils behind my ears before placing his large left hand directly in front of my mouth. I immediately opened my clenched jaw and allowed the lathery bar of soap to fall into his waiting palm. 

"I've raised you better. I expect better. You should expect better. We are done with this issue. If it arises again, the whipping & paddling you just received will be nothing compared to what you'll endure at my hand. Have I made myself clear, little girl?" Dad warned, sincerity clinging to his every word. 

"Yes Sir." I quietly and simply replied. 

"Good." He acknowledged. 

"Daddy." I began. 

"Yes?" He questioned, his eyes holding my own captive as I began to tear up again. 

"I'm so sorry I've disappointed you with this again. So very sorry." I cried. 

As I went to lower my eyes away from his again, he reached forward tucking his hand beneath my chin and tilting my face back up to his as he spoke. 

"You, Natalie, are my daughter....my baby....my little girl. You rarely disappoint me. It is not you that I am disappointed in, it was your behavior. You messed up, I taught, I punished, you'll learn, I forgave and we move forward. We are fine. Clear?" He reassured as he lovingly ran his hands through my long hair. 

"Yes Sir. Thank you." I responded as I lay my head onto his lap, wrapping my arms tightly around his calves and gazing up at him in adoration. 

Daddy continued to softly run his fingers through my hair and tussle it as I simply stared up into his gorgeous eyes and smiled through my tears. He allowed me to stay there kneeling at his feet and basking in his affection for a few minutes longer before finally speaking again.

"You may go rinse your mouth out now and then I want you back on the bed, up over those pillows for our next lesson. Unfortunately for you, it is also a repeat and the most serious offense we are addressing today because it is a safety issue. What, my dear, is our next topic of discussion?" Daddy asked, his tone returning to that all-business tone that knots my stomach. 

"My texting while driving, Sir." I replied as I rose to my feet and lowered my eyes as they welled with fresh, unshed tears. 

"Correct. Now move, little girl. Rinse your mouth and get back in position. Now!" He barked at me. 

I quickly scurried off toward the bathroom to do as I was told. My bottom aching with every movement, my stomach knotted as I contemplated my coming punishment......by far the most serious offense of the day, meaning by far the most severe punishment I would receive. My mind raced through the options of implements. The thought of even a hand spanking on top of the serious paddlings & whipping I'd already received today seemed unbearable and I knew one thing for sure.........I would *not* be receiving simply a hand spanking. 

I quickly rinsed the soap from my mouth and slunk back into the room to again, face my father......this time, however, would be the most serious offense and also the most severe punishment. I'd dreaded this "discussion" almost from the moment I'd committed the offense. Daddy has repeated this lesson to me multiple times and it's a clear safety issue........my texting while driving. Big "no no."

When I returned to the room, my emerald eyes immediately locked on the heavy strap in my father's left hand. I felt sick. My bottom was already incredibly sore from the days' earlier punishments. I mindlessly twirled tendrils of my long, red hair around my right index finger and stood at the foot of the bed, stalling.....panicking.....sulking.

"Get on the bed, over the pillows, now, young lady." Daddy directed in a low, determined tone of voice that sent my heart racing within my chest.

I slowly crawled up onto the bed, laying propped up over the pillows, attempting to swallow the large lump that had appeared at the back of my throat....to no avail. I positioned my hips up high over the pillows, leaving my father more than ample access to his waiting target and I balled my fists tightly in the blankets at the top of the bed. I had barely laid my head on the backs of my arms when Daddy began whipping me, without lecture.

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I inhaled sharply as the first volley of searing swats took my breath away. This strap is a lot heavier than my father's belt and always makes a memorable impression. Though there are not necessarily any set arrangements reflecting the fact, typically my Daddy reserves the most intense implements, such as this strap, heavy paddle, rubber straps or cords for the worst offenses. And being that this is a multiple repeat and a direct safety issue......it falls into the "worst offenses" category.

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I clinched the blankets in my hands in a death grip and squealed into them. My legs kicked against the bed as my father picked up the pace and intensity of the strapping, aiming directly at my tender sit spots.

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The pain was intense and immediate. Though leather typically is more of a sharp sting versus a heavy, lingering sort.......this strap is the exact opposite. It impacts with the atypical sting of leather but sinks into more of a thuddy, throbbing pain as is typical with most wooden implements. Not at all a 'nice' implement. 

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I cried openly though softly as my father whipped me. Eventually the strap fell to the bed in front of my face and I felt the bed dip down as he sat beside me. My breathing was ragged and my stomach knotted. He gently began skimming his fingertips across the burning flesh, causing me to wince, as he spoke. 

"Why am I having to repeat this lesson to you again, Natalie Lynn?" He asked. 

"Because I'm impulsive and impatient, Sir." I replied through my sniffling and sobbing. 

"Both of those are accurate assessments, but you are also MINE. Am I right?" He questioned. 

"Yes Sir." I whimpered. 

"My little girl knows better than to disobey her father. My little girl knows better than to risk her safety and that of others for impatience. My little girl knows better than to make her daddy repeat himself to her about such serious issues. I am proud of you for admitting the lapse to me yourself, because I wouldn't have known otherwise and that tells me you realize it is a problem that still needs addressed, so for the confession, I am proud. However, even your honesty doesn't negate the seriousness. You understand that, correct?" He scolded and inquired. 

"Yes Sir." I quietly answered as I closed my eyes and savored his tender touch. 

"Good. I have very little tolerance for you putting my daughter in harms way, particularly over something as menial as a damn text message. Do you realize what you mean to me? To the rest of your family? Do you understand how many other people depend on you? How do you think we would feel if we lost you? Because you were being ignorant due to impatience? You know the answers to all of these questions, as do I. I'm sick of repeating this lesson to you, young lady. Clearly your last punishment for this wasn't sufficient, so yet again, we will step up the severity." He warned. 

I felt a warm liquid drop onto each cheek and thigh, followed quickly by his large hand massaging and kneading it into the skin. The firmer kneading caused me to flinch but the softer massaging felt amazing. I slowly began to dip into my subspace as I lay there, replaying his words, softly sobbing. 

Dad finally rose from the bed and walked to the desk, searching his implement bag before returning to the side of the bed and throwing my phone to me. 

"Text Lauren and tell her you're now getting your ass whipped for returning her texts while you were driving." He barked at me. 

I peered up at him, searching his face as he narrowed his eyes at me, quickly removing my hesitation. I immediately took the phone into my shaking hands and began to do as I was instructed when a sharp bite landed on my thighs. 

THWACK 

"Owww Daddy pleaseee......not the cord......pleaseee I can't take it." I pleaded as my hand instinctively tried to rub the sting out of my leg. 

"Shut your mouth! You deserve every single swat you get and you know it. What implements I use are not your decision to make. And you can and will take anything I say you will. Clear?" He harshly replied. 

Fresh tears cascaded down my cheeks as I finished the text and dropped my phone to the bed, again taking the balled up blankets into my hands. 

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I squealed into the backs of my forearms and cried hysterically as my father whipped me furiously with that damn cord. I knew I did in fact deserve this whipping, but that doesn't necessarily make it any easier to physically endure. 

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"Daddyyyy pleaseee, I'm sorryyyyy." I cried out to him. 

The whipping ceased for a moment and he tightly locked his fist in my hair and roughly jerked my head to the side as he knelt beside the bed, leaving us face to face. I instantaneously wanted to retract my gaze because his glare was truly penetrating. I *hate* this look. It is rare that I see it, but always equally heartbreaking. 

"I told you to shut your damn mouth. Do I need to repeat myself again, little girl?" He practically whispered, sending chills up my spine. 

"No Sir." I whimpered. 

He again roughly jerked my head, placing my face again on the backs of my arms as he stood and continued where he had left off. 

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From one side of the bed to the other, he paced, applying literally dozens of punishing lashes each time. The pain was incredible. The cord is always difficult to take, but applied to wet skin immediately following such harsh paddlings and strappings......it was certainly making an impression. 

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My legs fell still and stopped their flailing and I simply held tight to the blankets and cried softly, though uncontrollably. Each searing swat bit into my wet flesh like a thousand fire ants stinging my skin. I could literally feel each criss-crossing welt transform from the white impact to the angry red welt that would be with me for many days after. 

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The cord now joined the heavy leather strap at the head of the bed, mere inches from my face, soaked in my own tears. I glared at both of the horrid implements as if they were evil beings that had inflicted this punishment on their own.......oh, if looks could kill. 

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I hadn't even realized my father had retrieved another implement, until it was rapidly landing on my bared bottom and thighs. It was the last remaining implement to compose his trifecta of serious chastisement......his heaviest frat-style maple paddle. I had expended all of my energy and resistance long before now, so as he paddled, I simply lay still, propping my bottom up high over the pillows for him and submissively accepting every single swat without struggle or audible cries. 

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Daddy didn't paddle long, but it was certainly long enough. I couldn't even move without feeling the tightness in my skin as it stretched taut and elicited wincing from me. I lay completely spent over the pillows, my tears still consistently trailing down my face. I tried to slow my breathing and calm my crying, but felt an overwhelming tinge of guilt for again worrying my father and struggled for several moments to contain my muffled cries. 

"Ssshhhh." Daddy whispered beside my ear as he sat next to me on the bed and stroked my hair softly. I closed my eyes and pressed my head into his strong hand, relishing his touch, a smile slowly returning to my face. 

Daddy continued to run his strong hands through my hair as I sobbed into the blankets. I closed my eyes and savored his attentive touch. My bottom and thighs were so incredibly sore that moving seemed impossible....he had done a good job punishing his naughty little girl today. I slowed my sobs to mere sniffles and very slowly and gingerly slid across the bed toward my father.

As he sat on the side of the bed, I wrapped my body around him and laid my head in his lap, looking up into his gorgeous brown eyes through my puffy green orbs. He held my gaze and continued to stroke my hair, softly tucking it behind my ears and away from my tear-soaked face. He smiled down softly at me and I wrapped my arms tightly around his waist, hugging him and sobbing softly into his perfectly pressed Oxford shirt.

"Ssshhh." He whispered to me and his left hand cradled my head to his chest and he kissed my forehead. I held tight to him, listening to the soothing rhythmic beat of his heart, and thinking back through each of the offenses I was just punished for.

"Daddy..." I started to speak, my voice audibly shaking.

"Yes?" He replied.

"I....I think I set a pretty horrible example for Lauren.....the texting and driving thing. I get on her all the time for doing it. And then I did it....sort of hypocritical. It's dangerous and stupid and can wait and I know that.....I don't think she totally 'gets it', and texting her when she knew I was driving set a horrible example. Didn't it?" I sniffled as I looked up at him.

"Yes, it did and I'm glad you get that aspect of the offense." He answered, studying my emerald eyes intently.

"Daddy.....w-will you please s-spank me for that?" I asked, barely audibly and blushing furiously. My bottom and thighs throbbing and my mind shouting at me to shut my mouth.

Dad studied my eyes a minute or two before speaking at all. He smiled softly at me and rose from the bed, turning and extending his left arm to me, as he spoke.

"Come here."

I placed my, much smaller, hand in his and he closed his around it, tightly enveloping my hand inside of his and drawing me to my feet. He walked over to the couch and sat down, softly taking me back over his knees. I dropped my left arm and took hold of his ankle in my hand.

His large left hand softly skimmed the freshly marked skin on my punished bottom and thighs. Then he did something that I can't ever recall him doing with me before.......he placed his right on top of mine and allowed me to pull it to my face......he cradled my head in his free hand, his thumb softly rubbing back and forth, as he began to spank me.

SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT

He wasn't spanking me with even a third of his hand or arm strength, but after my previous punishments, it was more than enough and exactly what I had needed.

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He spanked slowly, methodically, evenly. Covering every inch of my tender bottom with peppering swats. He continued to cradle my face and I maintained my hold on his ankle in my left hand, and the back of his hand at my face with my right. I quite quickly and easily returned to my subspace as he continued to give me the spanking I had asked for.

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Daddy picked up the pace, but never the intensity. He would spank briskly for a half minute and then again slow to a more methodical pace. I didn't struggle or squirm, if anything I welcomed each swat. They stung, but were not unbearable and the way he was holding me simply made me melt. Fresh tears slowly trickled down my face and every so often Daddy's thumb would brush them away as he continued.

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"I'm sorry Daddy." I whispered back to him as I tilted my head in his hand to look back at him over my shoulder. He captured my gaze and held it.

"I know you are, baby." He spoke softly as he continued to swat my bottom.

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"I love you." I said as I pressed my face into his palm, kissing him softly, and then turning away from his gaze.

"I love you too." He said with a smile.

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After a few more volleys of hand swats, they subsided and were replaced with his gentle caresses. I closed my eyes, my face in his hand, and lingered in my subspace....content to do so and incredibly happy. 

We spent the next hour or so together talking, as we often do post-punishment, with me either laying over his knee or kneeling in front of him with my head in his lap. He soothed my burning skin, he stroked my hair, he rubbed my back and he held me close to him. I couldn't get enough of it and didn't want to let go when our afternoon turned to evening. But after another tight hug and firm swat to my bottom, he did have to go home to his other babies.....and I to mine.....with a sore and properly punished bottom, a cleaner mouth and a huge smile on my face. 

I adore my father, cherish our times together and am in love with being my Daddy's little girl.......even if he insists on whipping the naughty out of me. :) 


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