"You are not to touch yourself when other people are home, son. What if it had been someone other than me who had walked in on you?”
I squirm away from the slaps, my still-hard dick rubbing against the rough denim of his jeans. “I’m sorry, Dad! I wasn’t thinking.”
"I know you weren’t. But I’m going to make sure you have a sore, red bottom to remind you next time."
The smacks are hard, fast, and steady. My hips buck up and down in rhythm with the pain. I can feel the warmth of his thigh. “Dad, please! It hurts! I don’t think I can take anymore!”
"That’s not your decision to make, is it? I’m the father, here, and I’m in charge. Of you, your little butt, and the fire inside it. When I say it should be bare and red and stinging, it is. Do you understand me?"
He spanks so fast that I can’t tell the individual swats apart. I can’t stop my hips pumping against his leg. I moan and shudder, my feet curling up in pleasure and pain and humiliation. One last hard smack, and cum shoots out of my dick, all over his lap.
"Y-yes, Dad," I sputter out. "I understand."