FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

---WARNING!!!---

This story contains scenes of spanking and extreme forms of discipline applied to a female cub. It is not for those seeking a light, simply sexual story, as it is intended for cub discipline fetishists and those seeking a young kangaroo in a severe parental situation. The severity does include the drawing of blood and the unorthodox.

It took some effort from Alisa's nervous mind to keep her lower lip from quivering, while she sat upon her hard, old school bus seat. Leaning forward, and her side up against the plexiglass window, her eyes looked down at a test she held in her paws. Not just any test either. The young girl was in the fifth grade, and the test was meant to recap several chapters of their history lessons. Elementary school or not, it had the weight of a high school exam when it came to her scores and markings; something very important to her father. A large, red letter was written in marker in an empty spot above the questions that hadn't even one answer beside them. The 'F' there was there, spelled a painful premonition to the child, as this was a mistake she would pay for dearly. If only she didn't speak out of turn, and just remained quiet, her test would not have been disqualified and be given a zero as a grade. Her father would ruler her paws for just a 'B', and make her write essays with her sore paws just to punish her and keep her mind sharp. The older, adult kangaroo, expected much from his daughter, and that she lives up to her potential. It left him severe in the area of discipline, and highly academically oriented. Her few rare 'C's resulted in such a paddling, she cried for an hour each time, lamenting her mistakes by rushing her study. What her father would do now, with such a horrible grade and academic failure, she was trying not to imagine. Surely he must have known already, thanks to her teacher likely calling him to report her behavioral misdeed, and the disqualification of her test.

In half a fit, the child shoved the paper into her backpack from where it came, zipping it closed and slumping back against the seat. Alisa was a quiet, smart, ten year old girl. Thanks to her father's strict discipline, somewhat stoic as well, taking her licks and swats as they came. Afterall, an 'A' meant daddy's joy, and a good footpaw rub or any other reward she may earn. The bad only came when she deserved it. Smart or not, she was still a fallible, young, tan furred kangaroo. Metal framed eyeglasses atop her muzzle, a golden sort of brown, and short hair that was only a shade or two darker then the rest of her fur. Pristine, unpierced roo ears, dainty footpaws, and no thicker, darker fur upon her smooth, puffy-lipped groin. She was just like any other girl her age, enjoying cartoons and stories, as long as all the pressure and expectations were ignored. Those toys could disappear at a moment's notice if she ever did the wrong thing, and she was afraid this might have been it. Each time the school bus grinded to a halt and that sharp puff of air from the brakes announced a stop, she was one step closer to home, and dealing with the disappointment of her parent.

Soon enough, Alisa's footpaws were trudging their way hesitantly up her home's driveway, keeping her gaze at the front door as if she was expecting it to fly open. Once in front of it, she heard no sound, and did not recieve any unwelcome greeting. Forced the timid roo to open the door by her own paw, as she peered inside while correcting her glasses. The frames secured to her ears and hugged her muzzle, while she pivoted her head around and stepped in as quietly as her kangaroo feet would allow. It did not seem right to sneak in her front door, but there wasn't anyone around that she could tell. A sinking, ill feeling developed in her belly as she slipped her backpack off of her shoulders and set it down slowly beside the door. Her father must have been waiting in his study already, expecting her to willingly step in and subject herself to what ever he had decided to be her punishment. Wringing her paws for some moments where she stood, Alisa, looked to her left at the desk nestled into the corner, beside the hallway that would take her to her fate. Upon it sat the ruler that so many times prior spanked her palms, and knuckles, to provide her an idea. It was not the easiest thing she had done, smart, stoic, repentant or not, but Alisa in her young wisdom decided it was a show of good faith to bring it to her father. Holding the wooden measuring tool in her paws, and feeling the tension in her torso from anticipation, there was nothing more to do but grab her failure of a test and bring it down to the study.

Paper and ruler both held in one paw, she only hoped behaving and showing willingness might spare her some of the more horrid punishments that were to come. Academics wasn't something she could avoid or skirt without harsh correction, and an 'F', much less a full-on 'zero' grade, would certainly have her father furious. The wooden door to the study was closed, and the last bastion between her and her dad. There was only one occasion in the past that she recieved a 'D' grade, and it was horrendusly painful, if not scary, and long. Such discipline was normal to her, but being stoic and acceptant only got you so far when your parent was harsh and creative. Today, she would not be getting any loving footpaw massage, or get a new toy. The lump in her chest had only one cure, and that was to face her parents.

The click of the door as she turned the knob and pushed it open lightly was almost enough to make the fur on the back of her neck stand on end. Leaning on the door frame, Alisa craned her head around the door, to find her father, a larger, masculine adult kangaroo, sitting behind his desk across from the doorway. Walls lined with books, it was a formal study, and the anger on his face seemed to fit in with the atmosphere of the room. Meeting his gaze, Alisa broke her silence as she gulped aloud and stepped into the room with the paper and ruler held at her lap's level. She knew she looked worried and upset, perhaps more then she normally would, but she wanted to portray guilt and seem sorry, as she closed the door and approached her father's desk. The older man, seeing the ruler in his daughter's paws, shook his head and didn't seem to accept the show of good faith.

"When your teacher warns the class that talking during a test would earn you a 'zero' grade, why would you have the utter foolishness to speak?", his heavy voice scolded as he demanded answers. Each motion of his arms and body in his chair changed the way the light shined off of his executive desk; different parts of his body blocking the light from the window behind himself. Standing before him, and accepting the harsh words into her soft ears, Alisa simply lowered her head as she slid both the ruler and the test onto the desk.

"An... Accident, sir", was all the girl could devise as a proper answer to the question in such time. She was not permitted to stall, as it was a rule to answer adults immediately when addressed. A tactic to teach the young kangaroo respect and dilligence, as well as rob her mind the time it would need to cook up lies or wordplay. She wasn't about to spend time thinking, only to get slapped upon the side of her muzzle. Though, with that in mind, Alisa did jump a bit and clench her eyes closed when her father smacked the desk, and slid the test across it's smooth, shiny surface with the wooden ruler in tow. Head still low, and eyes not daring to look up and show any signs besides complete repentance, her ears took over her senses. The rustle of paper alerted the roo that the large red 'F' on the test was being stared at. Fire growing inside her dad, strong enough that she could feel it impending, she took the moment of silence to prepare herself for one hell of a lecture.

"I brought the ruler father. I'm very sorry, I... can get my paddle too, if-", Alisa spoke as sincerely as her small voice could, with a note of sorrow and a plea for mercy embedded in her tone as she tried to break the silence and set things right, even if she had to willingly subject herself to another painful device. But, as it were, her father was not going to hear it, and broke into her offer with his commanding voice.

"Those are things I use on good girls who make mistakes! This, young lady, is an act of insubordination and defiance! I certainly have not raised a flier that would have her own academics sullied before she even takes a test to see what she has learned! Your teacher told me there would be cheating on this test, and your failure to heed her warning and face forward at all times resulted in the punishment I am about to administer. You will never bring insubordinate behavior, and failure, into my study ever again Alisa Foster!", came the words the smaller kangaroo expected, wincing with each snap of her father's voice above her from her smaller stature. The lecture was shorter then she guessed however, and more aggressive, which further noted her parent's mood and degree of disappointment. It scared her, and even upset her, but a ten year old could only be so stoic in the face of discipline, and being told essentially that her normal punishments would not be enough to teach her the lesson he wished to convey. A child's worst nightmare, when their disciplinarian and guardian delved into the depths to bring out something new and unexperienced. The adult kangaroo already had his first punishment lined up and ready, and was not going to hesitate in delivering what was merely a 'warm up' to ensure complete obedience.

"Get over here", he then ordered sternly, with a point of his right paw towards the ground, on his left, after a pause from his daugher while she stood and cowered. She didn't mean to suddenly go timid, but Alisa felt her legs tremble at the thought of her father stepping her punishments up even further. The child's bare footpaws stepped their way around the fancy wooden desk, with her head still down and her right paw nervously clutching her left arm. Alisa looked more innocent and powerless then usual, and she was a cub who had learned to stay still for her paddlings with no restraint at all. Her eyes did not yet glisten, even if they were sullen. Not looking up at her father ended up being a mistake, as the adult grasped her right arm and pulled it from her left with a yank thade made the girl stumble on her roo feet. Ending up right in front of her father and his swiveling office chair, his arm held her own as tight as a vice, and it hurt being pulled forward like that. Looking up right away, Alisa tried not to pull away out of instinct, and corrected her glasses with her free paw from the jolt of being pulled and restrained. Above, her father didn't look the least bit sympethetic, and clearly wouldn't stand for any dawdling, or her self-pity, looking down at the floor and shuffling as she walked. His eyes spelled that anger, but the look on his muzzle upset her more, as she noticed him sort of frowning. The disappointment she could see, was a biting truth that made her feel even more sorry, and look down at the floor again. Not being the kind of cub to scream, kick, and plea, she simply fell more silent, despite knowing something was about to hurt. Very badly. Child's intuition.

Looking down at Alisa's face... that sad expression, and her metal glasses that hugged up to her floppy ears and made her look so sweet. Her father expected her to give everything her all, and perform up to her own standards. When she didn't do what he knew she was capable of, he punished the cub, and imposed strict rules. What she had done, beckoned his wrath, as the parent swore Alisa would never again do this to herself. The two, parent and child, grew tenser while the older roo reached up with his left paw and graspsed something tucked behind his ear. What he took into his fingers made Alisa much more nervous, as the light from the window beside them made the needle he held twinkle. A simple, sharp, shiny, pin-like needle never looked so threatening. Slightly thick, for holding, with a strong, pointed tip. In another pull from his right arm, Alisa was forced to shift her weight to her right footpaw a moment, and the adult's paw slid to her right wrist. Squeezing more, Alisa changed her look to one of discomfort, and the pressure made her muscles and tendons loosten up her fist to open her fingers.

"Open up your paw. Palm and fingers flat, and stay still", Alisa was told to comply with, making the rock in her chest heavier by the second. Keeping her green eyes on the needle her father held, her right paw trembled as she opened it as directed. She held her paw in the same manner as if she was going to place it down on her desk for a rulering, but the grip on her wrist, and fingers digging into her tendon to keep her restrained, made her keep it open like this in mid-air. The tip of the needle gleamed as the sun bounced off it a moment, showing that it was very sharp indeed. Alisa's footpaws fidgeted against the carpet below and her breathing became more shallow as her chest constricted and her body fought every urge to try and tug free of her father's hold and flee.

Above her still paw, small and young, loomed the needle that her father seemed to move around teasingly. The tip of the sharp tool hovered above her fingers, going down the row from one to the other. Her eyes focused on the needle, and even then, she could tell that her father's own eyes were watching her every expression and eye-movement. Waiting for his change to strike and catch her off guard, to do what, she was afraid to find out. In the end, it was Alisa's childlike anticipation that threw her off. A simple shudder of her eyes as they lost focus for only a brief second, provided her father the first opportunity he sought. A quick, fluid motion of his larger paw, the sharp needle between his fingers darted downward and pricked his daughter's index fingertip. Needle breaking skin with ease, it cut down right into the soft, sensitive portion of the girl's fingertip, right in the center, to blaze a strong pain up to the roo's mind. As soon as it occured, Alisa yelped out surprisingly quietly, and her right arm jerked backwards, as she instinctively tried to protect her paw and close it. Her dad's hold on her arm, and squeeze to her tendon, prevented either as a bead of red blood appeared where the needle made it's mark. In her tan fur, it domed perfectly over the tiny hole.

"I said to be still", her ears heard above, while the pain rang through her mind. It was instant, and hurt badly, but had less lingering effect then a spanking. What it had on her, was a fear factor. This was by no means a normal punishment for anyone of any age, and being afraid of needles made the idea of having her fingertips pricked at random even worse. Even so, lower lip quivering, Alisa tried so hard to keep focused on the needle, following it with her eyes.

"Look up Alisa!", she was then ordered harshly, with a slight tug to her left arm. As told, her head turned upwards and looked up to again see that angry face. It was too clear that her father didn't want her to watch the needle and anticipate his movement, and had to look away from her paw. From her new angle, she could see that his arm was still moving, as if the needle was jumping from finger to finger, to make the ordeal that much more heart pumping. Before she could make a single sound, a brisk jerk of his paw cleanly pricked the side of her thumb's fingertip, breaking the skin to some in sideways. The young kangaroo flier made another pained sound from her muzzle, again giving a tug away from the needle, that was quickly corrected with her father's other paw tugging right back. She had no way to avoid the needle, and her eyes were certain to look up right away and not be caught deviating from orders. As soon as she could, Alisa felt the need to speak over the blaring noise inside her mind from the pain.

"Pa'pa, please!", she nearly cried, eyes beginning to water from the fright and punishment. Her glasses weren't sitting right on her ears again, and she couldn't correct them in her current state. A plea for forgiveness would not be answered by the parent, until his paw again thrusted the needle into yet another finger. This time, the needle was able to be pricked deeper, and into the poor cub's middle finger, towards the tip of it, just above the soft portion beneath her fur. The sudden nature of the prick, and it's depth, drew a bead of blood much quicker, and incited a cry from Alisa. Her head snapped to her right side, eyes clenched, while she squeeled and squirmed; arms, legs, and all. It was a series of "Ow!"s and teary sounds as her fingertip's nerves all screamed their impulses up to her brain, and did not cease as fast as the first two. That one broke her pain tolerance, bringing tears to her eyes as her fingers trembled, trying to close against the brusing squeeze of her father's paw.

"We haven't even started yet! We're going to your room after this, and I want to hear more about this 'accident'!", she recieved back from the masculine voice as it snapped back at her. In the heat of things, Alisa hadn't even realised her father didn't go through his usual interrogation. Forcing her to detail her mistake or misdoing, so he could spank her or give her cheek a crisp but light smack when she said something he didn't like hearing.

With yet another gruff sound from the older male's throat, he dragged the needle threateningly across the palm of Alisa's paw to make sure she was not about to look down, as her head slowly came back around. It wouldn't stay that way long, as she almost immediately snapped it back to the right, opening her maw to let out a sharp cry. The merciless prick of the needle broke into the fingertips of her ring and baby finger within less then a second of eachother, piercing the skin into soft, nerve laiden flesh more roughly then the previous jabs. Awkward angling and quick motion made the needle 'snap' out of the hole it made, rather then pull free smoothly, which made it that much more painful. Poor Alisa jumped on her footpaws as a little flier would, stoic or not, fighting more strongly to free her right paw, or at least close it. Her fingertips were all bloody from her efforts, as the beads of red smeared into her fur. Despite her endorphin fueled strength, her thumb was bared enough for her father to cruely retaliate, positioning the needle just right to prick into it again when she would not be aware. Alisa's howl turned to a fussy, tantrum-like cry as her footpaws stamped against the ground from the fright of it all. Each one of her fingers stung, and throbbed sharply, and the little roo began to sob softly as she slowed down and tried hard to regain some composure as she felt the grip on her arm loostening.

Eyes closed for some time, Alisa began to realise that there were no more sudden pricks of the needle biting into her little fingers. Sputtering her current sob, she sniffled and opened her eyes to see through the brief blur of her tears to look up. Her father's look of disappointment still reigned strongly, and he was only staring, perhaps just to make sure she was suffering. Yeah, she could assure him of that. Alisa's heart pounded, and the pain that skittered and blazed up her arm from her paw was intense, even now as the tiny wounds lingered. The two stared at one another without a word, with only the younger roo's tearful sounds filling their ears. Alisa again though, was forced to curl her toes in horrid anticipation as her father's paw slid lower and took her paw into his own, prying her index finger from the fist her paw was balled into. The tip of it looked bloody, and the fur around the needle-prick messy.

Peering through the slits of her nearly closed eye lids, shaking from the treatment she was forced to endure, the cruelty and memory inscribing message her father was conveying felt to her heart as if it was reaching it's climax. It took all her restraint to keep her left paw at her side, tightly clutching the waist of her slacks till the fabric curled in her unschathed fingers, covering them protectively. Slow, drawn out motions of the tainted needle trailed around the end of her finger, around her claw. The little ebony nail protected soft skin; her dad's target, as it seemed, with the tip being wormed painfully under her claw while her finger was viced in his paw. Whimperish sounds escaped the kangaroo's muzzle as she anticipated the moment and she breathed quickly, too scared of the hurt to worry with why her daddy was doing this to her.

And with that - another prick.

The needle's steady tip, with a small bolt of force from the larger kangaroo's paw, forced the needle under his daughter's claw. The point pierced skin, making a cut as it wedged itself under the girl's nail. Sinking the object down below her flesh, the cut became a harsh little hole as it pushed in and promptly was forced out by the sudden withdraw of Alisa's arm. Once the mark was made, the parent released his charge's paw, which allowed the sharply crying Alisa to fling her wounded paw to her muzzle. Her index finger went right into her muzzle, as the child suckled on it to relieve the heavy pain. Out onto her tongue, she bled from beneath her claw, leaving a metalic taste and making the prick-wounds sting further. That much wasn't her intention, but bringing it to her muzzle and cradling her hurt was all too instinctive for her to let go, while her glasses hung lower on her muzzle then normal thanks to a bit of thrashing she had done on her feet once she was let go. Alisa's right arm shook, with the needle still in her father's paw no longer gleaming in the sunlight from the window as it once was. Blood residue on the tip made the light dull, and the sound it made as it clattered against the wooden desk was not audible over young Alisa's teary, self-pittying woes. Keeping her finger in her mouth, she seemed so shrunken, right down to her spirit while the roo nursed her fingertips. This was the reaction the parent was looking for, but there was no rest for the weary. There was still work to be done.

"Quit your fussing Alisa. I bet you will think twice before potentially bringing another 'F' into my household again, and the bleeding will take no more then a few moments to stop. If you thought that was a lot worse then your ruler, then I can do your other paw as well. Will I need to?", her father's stern voice spoke, adding orders and threats both to his words while he crossed his arms in his seat. Naturally, Alisa was prompt to remove her paw from her muzzle and reply up to her father. Her eyes were watery, and her words shaky - those bloodied fingertips of her right paw being held away from her clothing so she would not stain them.

"No sir!", Alisa nearly cried out, but had enough composure to keep it smooth and respectful. It was not the young flier's first encounter with harsh forms of discipline, so she had experience in being stoic, acceptant, and keeping her mind straight. This one though, admitably threw her well off. Each prick to her fingertips made her arm tug, as if to pull away. If she ever made such a motion during, say, a paddling, the whole spanking would start over from the beginning. It was a bittersweet thankfulness that her father had the decency to allow her reactions to the needle's torment.

"Off to your room. Strip bare, and I'll be in shortly", was the only further order she was given. So short, yet it meant something so much longer. That tense wait for him to arrive and punish her further, the spanking, and... to strip bare? She was paddled with her underwear on almost every time. Never was she asked to take her shirt off either. This was embarassing and poor news indeed, as the ten year old had to give up her modesty very unwillingly. The order in itself made the girl stare down at the floor and hesitate before giving a nod and taking her leave. With her right paw held in her left, fingers throbbing and coursing with aching pain, she used her un-pricked paw to open the door and head down the hallway to her own room to prepare herself. Footpaws carrying her to her room with haste, she stopped only once she reached the end of her bed to sit down and rest, with a couple of disappointed and choked blubbers as her head fell into her paws. Sitting there in sorrow, bottom hugging into the soft mattress below her cleanly made bed, her paws only shifted enough to take off her glasses and wipe her eyes while she hung her head and sulked. Once her eyes were wiped by the back of her right paw, fingers curled awkwardly from the tingling sort of hurt they were enduring even after the fact, she turned the paw around to look at the wounds without her glasses. Because of that, she kept the paw close to her eyes, examining each little hole she could see through her thin, stained tan fur. Already they were ceasing their bleeding, aside from the harsh one she recieved beneath the claw of her index finger. Bits of blood seaped from beneath the nail and further coated the fur of her fingertip, reminding her of just how hard all of her body's muscles clenched up when the pain blasted up her arm.

Despite feeling tense and tired from her session of fright and parental posturing, her room with it's clean white walls and her colorful belongings was to be the place for her real discipline, and session of correction. Her 'My Little Pony' poster of Admiral Ponyton beside her desk, pink trinkets and starship collection upon her dresser, her own reflection in her wall mirror; all things out of place, when she thought of what could happen to her once her father arrived to find her naked and waiting obediently. Nude... she had forgotten his sudden order in her clouded state of mind. Taking the bottom of her shirt into her paws, using mostly her left since her fingertips still hurt upon her right, Alisa pulled the t-shirt over her head, which made her have to correct her glasses once more. Being the kind of girl whom tried to stay quiet in such situations, the kangaroo made not a sound or sigh while she stood up to complete what she was directed. Fumbling with the button of her slacks with her left paw, and the velcro tab of her underwear, it took nothing more then a tug from her thumbs to slide the garments down her firm, adolescent roo hips and legs, to be stepped out of and be left on the floor in a small heap. Her panties sat inside her pants, pink and lacy as a young lady would wear, the girl figured, dainty and clean as she was required to maintain. Modesty stripped from her body, her head turned slowly towards her left to see herself in the mirror while she sat back down upon the end of her bed and tucked her paws into her bare lap. It felt foreign to be bare when not taking a shower, much less to see herself that way in the less then private confines of her bedroom with her door wide open. Alisa was too distracted and concearned with being a 'trooper' and obeying to save her hide, that she didn't feel the heat of her own blush upon the sides of her muzzle.

Alisa was growing up to be a fine student and daughter, over all. At the ripe age of ten, she didn't look as she used to, back when daddy's punishments were slightly lighter, but the expectations were just as stringent. His large, strong paw spanked her beneath the tail before she even knew how to speak, or so she's been told. Her parent's belief in corporal punishment was heavy, but it wasn't anything the girl even knew to hold against them. Granted she found the needle to be unorthodox, and it hurt horribly, but so did her ruler in a less severe sense. The ruler though, didn't allow her to smear blood upon her hip and inner thigh, where it resided to rest and heal, tucked deep in her lap against her feminine parts for the soothing warmth the pocket made.

Overall, her body was in between the time of puberty and innocence at her current age and development. Her chest was not as perfectly flat as it was only a few years back, with it now outlining where her breasts would be in a couple year's time in the form of undeveloped humps. Legs and rear still with some bits of babyfat here and there, still had a certain tone to them, being a kangaroo. Then, a bit more between her legs, the cub's vagina, tucked up against the soft bedding beneath her, was a little bigger then it used to be. No longer the tightly clenched, fatty lipped and tiny oriface it once was, it now looked like an appropriate flower. The lips losing their babyfat with time, and the individual parts of her slit growing to prepare for puberty, it now looked as it should, with bits of pink occationally peering from between protective skin and fur. Her clitoris mostly, which noted her budding maturity between those chubby flaps of soft skin and labia. It was all unbeknownst to her, not having been given "the talk" yet. All she had was a brief lesson during school, which she was surprised her parents did not pull her from, since there were no grades or marks to be gained. The only thing her mom and dad would tell her would be to "not touch it". Was the only times her mother would pick up her ruler herself, and apply it with force, despite Alisa's intentions being nothing beyond innocent. A simple scratch, or correction of her panties, or even losing track of a paw in her lap, similar to how she was sitting now. Now that was something she couldn't help but find unfair since she didn't understand it, especially as sore her paw would be afterwards. Even while bare, her body had but a sweet scent, right down to her kangaroo footpaws and private places from how dilligently she took care of herself and the rules she was forced to comply with.

In the end, her idle thoughts and worries were just in vain. Sitting there on the edge of the bed, it was not uncommon for her father to make her wait an hour or so anxiety would set in. Most of the time it would be enough to make a boy or girl cry from guilt or frustration, but Alisa fought to hold it back and keep herself together, as much as her footpaws fidgeted against eachother as her legs dangled from the end of the bed. Time ticked by and set the stage for her impending spanking, as she was too fearful for her own hide to move from her spot. Not to the bathroom, not to rince the blood from her right paw's fur - nowhere. She was smart enough to know this would be difficult to endure, even for her, and honestly, she already wanted to break down and cry. It wouldn't take much at this point. A clattering sort of rustle in her doorway made the roo lift her head and turn, leaving her paws right where they were. She looked as submissive as her father looked like he meant business. The sound she heard was a belt touching the doorframe, as it was held in a loop, ready to be used. A sudden wobble of Alisa's lower lip reminded her just how fragile she was feeling.

"Talk?... ", Alisa asked hesitantly, using a quieter, softer voice. Despite what talks meant, she would have rather deal with something more normal then be treated to something new. Smart, yet naive and innocent at her age, made the short whip tucked into the waist of her father's pants that much more nerve-racking.

"Yes. Lay down on your belly", the deep voice demanded, his free paw pointing harshly at her bed. Making Alisa wait an hour gave him plenty enough time to pre-plan the rest of his daughter's punishment. Alisa took her paws from her lap with the bit blood from her right paw dry in her fur, turning around and over till her tail pointed towards the sky and her whole body was upon her comfortable bed. Bare fur of her pelvis touching the fabric of her blanket was an odd feeling, much less the feeling of air flowing freely against her tailhole. It was a hard thing to do, knowing she was being stared at. Keeping her legs tightly closed to hide her slit from view was all but natural, as her thick, yet short adolescent kangaroo tail stood straight in the air. Hard steps around her kept the girl tense while she laid her head down, chin to the bed, as to not damage her eye-wear, even if it robbed her the ability to try and see behind herself. A stop of her dad's bare footpaws beside her provided a startle, as his paw pulled her glasses right off her muzzle, freeing them from her ears. The motion was quick and firm, but the glasses still came off easily without discomfort, leaving Alisa to pick her head back up and lift herself onto her elbows to look to her side. Didn't mean to show such weakness and seem scared, but she was used to such kind, gentle things from her father. Looking up through the corner of her eyes, through the blur her near-sightedness caused, she could see her dad place her glasses down upon her desk as he moved around the room again. Now she couldn't really see, and his demenor was making this harder. Slipping herself slowly back down into a flat laying position, chest back upon the bed for her little nipples to touch cold fabric, she burried her face in the bed and her paws to stiffle a sputtering cry. It was so quiet sounding, but her eyes had teared up badly and the quick, breathing-like shudders of her back showed she was gently sobbing, whether her face could be seen or not.

Large male paws took the smaller girl's ankles, roughly positioning both kangaroo footpaws side by side eachother. The tops of her feet pressed into the mattress a moment, but she left her feet perfectly side by side as her father had placed them. Since kangaroos had big, sensitive footpaws, with predisposition to recieving 'stimulation' by treating them to positive touch, her father was about to do quite the opposite. Each foot had a layer of thin tan fur and soft, almost smooth black paw-pads. One large one beneath her toes on the bulk of her footpaw, and a little round one for each of her three toes - center one set further ahead then the first. Warm to the touch and clean as a whistle, the two footpaw's curves accented her species right up to her strong, young ankles. Granted her footpaws were not as large as her father's, he still intended to spank them soundly into submission. The "talk" would not be normal either, he worked to ensure, while still adding a harsh traditional punishment that parents of their species often employed.

"Now, you will again hold perfectly still. You will also answer me clearly, or I won't accept your response", her father opened up first as his order, speaking as sternly as ever while giving the belt a sharp snap in his paws. The crack of the belt made his daughter wince, and her tail curl. "What was this so-called 'accident', Alisa?", he then inquried into, placing an emphisis on 'accident', as he heard his girl call it. Thus, their "talk" began, and Alisa was placed under the hot spotlight. With promptness being required when responding to an adult, she had to lift her head and begin speaking, without being able to stall and think about the question to devise a better worded response. Her voice cracked once she began speaking; Alisa knew her lack of a smoothly worded answer would guarantee her a lash, and speaking was as if she was signing her own fate.

"As the test started, I turned and spoke to the girl behind me... ", sounded guilty to even her own ears. A sudden woosh of air gave her enough time to flinch and squeeze her eyes and paws closed before the brown, leathery belt snapped across her two footpaws, wide enough to nail her soidly across both paw-pads and the fatty-like, thin flesh at the base of her roo toes. The swat of the belt to her feet seared a jolt of heat and stin into skin and muscle, causing her toes to curl and her soft crying to raise in volume for a moment as it came down in the form of a tiny, feminine squeel. Heat and sting lingering from the belt, the pain and uncomfortable warmth didn't dissapate as it would on other parts of her body.

"And? What about? Your reasoning for doing so, after being told such things would disqualify your test?", her father answered almost as quickly, huffing through his nostrils from the recoil of his arm following through the lash. He swung hard, and the wiggle of his daughter's bottom and young curvy roo form showed she certainly felt it. Behind his girl, he raised the belt again, ready to swing at the first mistake she made.

"I was talking to her before, a-and I told her I'd get back to her later-", was as far as Alisa got, before the belt again sliced the air with it's heavy displacement and snapped against her bare footpaws. Impact digging a stabbing blow to the thick, meaty arch and pad of her footpaws, while grazing her sensitive little toes, made her yelp aloud and her toes curl and tremble. Her feet burned, leaving her sobbing stronger.

"That could have just been done later. I'm giving you no leeway here, young lady. You know what you did was beyond foolish, and cost you a great deal", the parent spoke in a more serious, somber sort of tone. Though it sounded less angry, it cut into her heart a bit deeper then another snap at her would have, and made her tears continue without any attempt to supress them. Left paw covering the top of her muzzle, Alisa kept her eyes closed while she wept with pained vigor, laying bare under her father's eyes.

"I'm sorry! It was!", Alisa cried out tearily and sharply, sounding much more like a ten year old then she was trying to be before, referring to her acts being foolish. She knew it cost her a great deal, and more then just her grades. Look where she was now... she needed no reminder.

"This has to be the shortest talk you and I have had. There is so little to discuss, when you did something so nonsensical. I still want to know why you did it, Alisa Foster!", his voice continued in the same manner, till it turned into more of a snap at the end, noting his sheer infuration. A jingle of the belt's buckle gave Alisa heads up that it was being raised again, causing her back to arch as she accepted yet another clap of the belt's firey blaze across her defenseless footpaws. That one spanked clear into her toes, barely knicking her central pads, and felt as it someone just took a bat to flesh and bone. Lifting her head sharply, Alisa's muzzle opened in a howl as she screamed out a moment and curled her toes tight as she tensed up and trembled. Toes curled or not, her father yanked on the belt to control it's heavy recoil and brought it back up to the sky to fly once more. Ensuring he would miss her curled toes and spank the flat of her feet, the belt graced her toe claws and cracked into her pads, and all the thin tan fur and flesh behind them, going up towards her ankles. That caused the cub to writhe where she laid, shaking and crying aloud as she shifted her legs to rub the sides of her footpaws together.

"Still!", her ears heard firmly above her own tearful lamenting, as the salty, watery droplets flowed smoothly down her young fur to be wiped into her bed when she pressed her face to it to sob and fidget her body. But, as she had just been ordered, she steadied her footpaws back together, side by side, as they were, as hard as it was to not crawl away from the furious bite of the belt. Lifting her head slightly again, chin still to the bed, she tried to speak while sobbing, which broke up her words into something not all too understandable, even if she wasn't truely having a tantrum from the pain... yet. But, since her father didn't get the response he was looking for, the belt plowed it's firm, yet whippy structure back into her bruising, burning footpaws, right over her dainty sort of footpaw pads. The flier's left paw clenched her muzzle as she screamed into her bedding, footpaws kicking against the bed in agony, from the knee. Those tiny pounds against the mattress did not go un-noticed, as her dad began to spank his daughter right under the tail instead. It took nothing more then a repositioning of himself on his feet and a step up to the edge of the bed to lash the belt across her lil' roo rear, to treat it to the same blazing sting and punish her just as intended. He knew she wouldn't be able to stand so many lashes to her feet, being a kangaroo, and was already prepared to spank her with that belt. Snap; the belt lashed one after another, sounding like a harsh, exhaggerated slap against the girl's small bottom, painting rectangular lines of red beneath her fur, from the base of her tail and tiny tailhole, right down to the chubby young crease of her backside at the top of her thighs. One after another the belt made heavy impact that rippled through her bottom quite literally, as shockwaves across her skin were visible even to the naked eye. Paws trembling and tightly closed, the wounds upon her right paw cried out from being squeezed, just as Alisa herself cried aloud, muzzle open while her undertail was treated to her father's brand of correction that had quickly turned her butt red and welted after only a few lashes, and her father was climbing over ten of them - more then enough to make that once pink tailhole swollen and inflamed from the abuse.

Though suddenly, the lashes had stopped, but Alisa heard noise behind herself... brisk rustling. Her legs settled after a second or so to lay tensely against the bed, before a metalic jingle rang out in the roo's ears. As the final blow of the belting, her father took a page from his own childhood, from one of his own dire mistakes. Removing the belt from the loop he held it in, he held it so the belt buckle would be the business-end of the disciplinary tool. Like a firm punch, plus more, the metal buckle whacked harshly into the center of the adolescent kangaroo's bottom, between her two cheeks, to leave an explosion of pain and what was sure to be a deep bruise. The excessive blow made Alisa scream once more, but louder, and more shrill, as she for one of the rare times since early childhood, rolled over without being told. She flung her body onto her left side and darted her paws under her burning, aching tail, grasping the center of the belt buckle's impact. It throbbed and caused her such great pain, even she couldn't stand it. Little legs shaking, she squirmed and tried to rub at the bruise while her father did little more then cross his arms - belt still in his paw, as it was.

It had taken some time for his daughter to calm herself, crying so intensely. It was like watching her after a spanking from his paw, back when she was but a baby. All it took was a quick removal of her diaper, and two dozen swats to that tiny bottom to have her never wanting to do a bad thing again. Major rules and excessive discipline had always been his thing, but then again, he never did it without feeling like there was some cause. Alisa, after all, had many rewards to her name, and likely more of them then she did spankings or punishments. He permitted her a minute, but after that, it was time for her to get up.

"Up. Up Alisa", he commanded in a basic tone, with a basic command. Alisa's movements were slow, but she was able to slide herself from the bed, even if she was blubbering hard and still crying. Once her beaten footpaws touched the ground and her weight was placed, her knees looked to buckle, and her teeth showed for a moment while she whined and tried to keep her footing. Her feet had recieved a number, and with her paws covering her eyes, she was now sobbing and acting more like the cub she was. Poor flier couldn't take it anymore, and broke down into repentance and the silent plea for the punishment to end. Head down or not, her father was still going to speak to her, and get his answer.

"Now, I didn't understand you. Tell me again, why did you do it? Speak it clearly", he asked of her sternly, which was no easy request. All she wanted to do was scream for forgiveness and have an intense temper tantrum. It was much less then stoic, but the poor girl could barely stand. Naked and stripped of any shred of comfort, she wanted to kick and howl, screaming to 'stop'. Alisa was only ten, and under so much pressure, she couldn't help it. It was reality.

"I... I didn't!... I didn't think! A-accident!", Alisa spoke in teary, broken english, with that note of tantrum-like desperation. It was all her father needed to hear, before pointing to the empty corner of her room. It was kept empty for a reason, and as yet another rule.

"Stand in the corner. Not a peep, and I want your arms up the whole time!", the older male demanded, keeping his finger pointing at the corner to make sure his message got across to not mess with him and to keep herself straight. Now that the "talk" was over, her formal spanking came after. This wasn't over yet; he wouldn't allow it. Alisa made a frustrated, sad sort of sound through her crying as she walked awkwardly to her corner. Once there, and her footpaws were already howling and her paws wiped her eyes, and held her arms up and out, as her father commanded. Holding them out at her sides, her fists almost touched the two walls, and her muscles would quickly tire after all the stress she had been under. Hearing her father then leave the room, she still did not lower her arms. He'd know - he always did, and could check to see from her muscle tension if she really had been holding them out. He had been so harsh today... just as she figured if she ever dared bring home an 'F' to such an academically oriented and corporal punishment reliant family. Direct disobedience to her teacher was only the icing on that cake. Now she didn't know how long she would be in the corner, and thinking about her arms was already beginning to make them hurt, just like the weight on her footpaws was keeping her well in pain.

At least she had time to rest and calm herself. It took that duration to bring her tears down to a managable level while her backside and feet hurt as badly as they did. Paddles caused bruises all the time if enough swats were applied, but the metal belt buckle was something much more extreme and blunt then that. There was no 'slap' or stinging spank to it. That was a 'pound', or simply, a one swing 'beating'. The skin that was struck was a dark red, dotted with blood beneath the skin, and throbbed an intense pain. Licking her lips after nearly an hour brought a salty taste into her maw, as the tears soaked into the fur along her lips. Her arms were barely upright now, with them trembling from the strain, and keeping that pain fresh in her mind. The tears never really ceased, she just became much more quiet about them. But, the sound of footpaws approaching her room made the flier stand up straighter and steady her exhausted arms. The voice, was not one she expected.

"Keep in the corner, dear. Only me", was the softer, more feminine voice for her mother as the sound of her footpaws came closer behind her. Alisa breathed a sigh of relief silently through her nostrils, which oddly made her lower lip quiver once again. She was so tired and in such hurt, she couldn't hold herself to her standards. Being childish was all too easy when you were only ten, and feeling like she did.

"Momma, please let me put my arms down. I can't keep them up!... ", the girl whined aloud into the corner, pleaing to her mother for a reprieve. It was taking such strain, her muscles were feeling as if they were turning to rocks and tearing in two. Alisa didn't mean to make her begging sound so pathetic, or even tantrum-like, but again it was nothing she could help. Hearing a sympethetic sort of coo'ing behind herself, it seemed her mother knelt down from the height the sound came from. The feeling of a paw appeared on her right arm, feeling her her upper arm, down to her lower, with small squeezes and strokes.

"Yes. Place them in front of you, paws together at your lap", the motherly figure decided after a moment or two, taking her paw back and patting her daughter's hip. Alisa sniffled, letting down her arms slow, as it hurt to move them, but once down and in a state of rest, she nearly started sobbing again from the sheer relief. Now her arms simply burned.

"I'm really sorry. I won't let it happen again", Alisa said quietly and at a higher pitch from the teary nature of her voice, but her tone emphisized how much she meant it. To have her mother not asking her why she was naked and thouroughly welted beneath the tail, meant she must have known about what occured. While the younger girl took a deep breath, the older one hummed.

"I'd sure hope not. In fact, I came to add my own piece to your punishment. Another something to help you think twice, sweetie", her mother spoke so gently and motherly, even if it was such a harsh thing for Alisa's ears to endure. In fact, the girl squeeled out a sort of temper-y growl, stomping her left footpaw on the floor in frustration as her tears were prompt to revisit her eyes. The crying had her chest tight, and she wasn't prepared for another dose.

"All you have to do, is not move, and learn", she recieved with a light addition of firmness to her voice, just because of the tantrum response. Alisa's eyes squinted and her teeth bared while her face spoke of sad ache. Not knowing what was going on, she was again forced to rely on only her ears while she stared into the dull texture of the corner of her room.

The older female lifted a white, unmarked plastic bottle from the carpet that she had brought in with her, to unscrew it's cap with her gloved left paw. Cap falling harmlessly to the floor, she took a small, thin, yet folded white cloth into her paw that looked much like a white hankercheif. In seconds, she had poured a decent amount of clear fluid into the cloth; just enough to soak the center and let it flow outwards liberally. Silent in preparation, and silent in it's use - the punishment, like the needle from earlier, would be one to engrave the memory of heavy consequence into the young roo's mind. Mother eyeing her daughter's well belted rump, she peered down a bit lower to the crease that formed between her legs that her bottom appeared to flow into. In there was the 'flower' Alisa was forbidden to 'abuse', but the older female was going to abuse it in a much different way from what she spanked her daughter's paws for.

"Spread your legs apart a bit. You'll feel something down there", she decided it was fitting to warn, to prevent the smaller girl from jumping at the sudden personal contact. It was a strange order for Alisa to comply to, being that she never even took her panties off for punishments, much less bare her groin and her body's adolescent curves to her parent's eye. Sliding her footpaws to each respective side, nose still in the corner, the shag carpet irritated her spanked paw-pads only a little... but that was to be the least of Alisa's worries as her mother moved her roo tail aside with the back of her gloved paw and took the position she would need. Gently, she placed her index and middle finger of her right paw upon her girl's netherlips, towards the outside of them, to spread the two fingers and in turn, bare the pink feminine flesh within. What the girl herself felt, was a strange tingling from the touch, and air touching normally protected, moist labia. Chest heaving from wear and wait, the 'something' she was promised to feel suddenly touched her vagina, cold as ice. At first it was only the temperature that made her wince and jump only slightly, but as her mother held her young labia majora wide open, her fingertips protected from the fluid by her daughter's own chubby, thinly furred flesh, Alisa was able to realise the true form of what her mother was doing.

Slow and ever so lightly pressed strokes of the cloth to Alisa's inner lips, each part of her 'flower' being wiped individually by her mother's fingers beneath the soaked fabric, brought on a sensation that grew warmer, until only a second later, provided an agonizing chemical sting. The substance reacted to her mucous membranes and sensitive bare skin, as her legs reacted by locking up. Cloth being large enough to stroke her whole young slit in one pass, it was actually more severe to do it slowly, focusing on her labia minor first, on Alisa's left, with those horrible slow wipes, as if she was a baby being wiped clean by the soft touch of a diaper wipe. To Alisa, not only was it embarassing and foreign, it was uncomfortable to the point of sheer pain. The fluid burned her vagina intensely, but not as much like a fire. Her skin felt hot, stinging similar to if she had gotten shampoo in her eyes; that desperate want to cry aloud and wipe the sting away. Because of that, her small paws trembled against her pelvis in that little corner, fingers clutching at her soft, feminine shaped lap above her slit, just to grab a hold of something without her mother noticing she was moments away from kicking and yeowling. Even her ears could pick up those light, fabricy sounds of the cloth stroking so precisely and methodically between her slit-lips, sliding along those damp folds to wetten them further with the horrendus fliud. Pass after pass, still and silent aside from Alisa's heavy, fast breathing and sputtering sounds of enduring agony. A frustrating punishment, as her slit burned and stung more by the second, with all the slow stroking that was ensuring her skin would absorb the fluid. Massage from hell.

It wasn't at all a voluntary reaction, but being ten, the strands of fabric that made up the hankercheif cloth running back her nerve laiden genitalia, clitoris especially once her mother seemed to focus towards her front and the zenith of her vagina, the tiny nub stiffened and became lightly erect. Not going unnoticed by Alisa, it seemed to assist the stinging substance to flow around her clit and dip beneath her hood to resist and burn deeper. Little by little... her urethra hole, labia minora - those subtle young folds, and the hole that climbed up inside her body to serve as the future place of creation for her own cub, all soaked in more of the fluid. Alisa's tight, virgin passage accepted more of the stroking of the cloth with each firm press to it, sinking her mother's fingers a touch deeper each time, to get the fluid to more nerves and burn more places the flier could not reach. Face curling and eyes squinting tightly from the stinging burn, Alisa's awkward sounds and cries grew louder; her claws digging into the fur of her pelvis to crinkle the thin layer of young fur. Knees starting to bed, her sobbing strengthened after another gentle press of her mother's fingers that allowed the hankercheif to wipe past her passage a bit deeper; adding more pressure to the back of her vagina as the cloth pulled it back until it slipped free. With only a few more soft wipes from the mother to the naughty slit of her girl, from front back towards her tailhole, Alisa's knees began to buckle and shake as her back bent forward and she tried to keep standing as her throat abandoned the pained, sullen cries for desperate, muffled sobbing. Fur of her cheeks as moist from tears as her outer vagina was from the chemical, her mother took that as her que.

Ceasing the gentle wiping of her daughter's immature vagina and treating it to it's first dose of pain before any pleasure could be had, that latex gloved paw simply held the cloth up against the small slit as she withdrew her right paw's fingers. No longer needing to keep Alisa spread open, she just kept the cloth held firmly, pressing down upon her puffy lips and making cute creases in her fur from the upward motion of her vagina back towards her tail. The girl's cries softened, but continued, once her slit was allowed to rest and the negative stimulation of her pink flesh ended. Now it was just going to sit quietly, while she stood and accepted it. The burn scraped at the nerves of her slit, from clitoral hood down to the soft patch of skin just behind her vagina. The sting, skittering across her vaginal walls like her father's needle from earlier, made her bare body tremble and her tail curl downward - legs positioned oddly, and uncomfortably due to the agony her once private place was in. Alisa barely paid attention to her slit, at her mother's directive... w-why did this hurt so badly? Her blurry, near-sighted eyes sobbed out it's trickle of sorrow and sad frustration as her paws scraped at her firm adolescent pelvis, begging in silence to have the hankerchief taken from between her legs so she could fan the fire. The effort needed to hold still, was nearly as excruciating as the punishment itself, legs wavering, and footpaws scraping at the carpet. Stepping from one foot to the other, her claws and toes dragged through the shag with a rough sound. Despite her fidgeting, all her mother had to do was just keep her paw nestled between those two, proud kangaroo thighs, paw to her genitalia.

For Alisa, it was like forever. She wanted relief so badly, one second felt like five. Seething through her teeth and growling out very teary sounds, she lifted her right leg up, leaning into the corner. At the same time, it felt as if her mother was holding the hankercheif to her flower even firmer, simply folowing the angle her vagina was taking as the girl leaned into the corner and braced herself on her left shoulder. Furred roo ears picked up the soft sound of her mother soothingly 'shh'ing her, as the feeling of her mom's warm, ungloved right paw placed itself upon her hip and bottom, by her right cheek. Stroking using her thumb and the space between itself and her index finger, she ran her paw up and down Alisa's sore leg, trying to calm her daughter while she was disciplined. Her backside and leg were so curved, all her paw had to do was glide across those belt welts into the region of untouched skin. No matter how Alisa squirmed, the hankercheif stayed in place, until the older kangaroo felt it was time to stop. Many minutes had passed until that time, Alisa holding onto the wall by then, against orders, just to stay upright while her knees were nearly bent, squatting her little cunny upon the cloth pressed to it. Her mother took the cloth from between the pained barren of Alisa's groin, keeping it held in her gloved paw as she stood up, retreving the white bottle as she did. Once standing, she looked down at her daughter almost squatting in the corner, as she placed her paws to her eyes to rub them. Her baby roo looked so tired, and the pain she must have been in was clearly a lot. Humming, the mother took the bottom of her shirt and again knelt down, knee beside her girl's tail. Using the dry, thicker fabric, she reached under Alisa and wiped her slit more roughly then she was with the hankercheif, to remove any residual bits of the fluid, and to make it feel scratchy, as to not pleasure her daughter while cleaning her. Even during her old bathtime, her slit was usually washed with a small, prickly bristled brush, just for such reasons.

Panting from her muzzle, clutching again to relief, Alisa was certainly thankful. The rough rubbing between her lips was uncomfortable and irritating, but it did help. In the end though, she could still feel a bit of the sting and burn, and it would be some time for that to go away. Vaginal lips redder then the norm, the young kangaroo was surely paying for her mistake. It seemed that making errors earned correction, and such defiance like what she exibited, earned something more then that. Once the brisk wiping was done, her mother stood back up onto her footpaws, giving Alisa's hip a pat before she grabbed the white bottle again.

"I'll fetch your father, so he can spank you and send you to bed. Won't have to wait anymore", her mother spoke softly, tone suggesting that she was doing it out of mercy. In a way that was true, but telling a ten year old that their punishment was coming sooner, rather then later, still hit hard. And bed? No supper? She should have figured. "And stand up straight now. Be ready for your dad", she was then advised, noting that she was still in her awkward position. With a grunt, the smaller girl stood back up on her own two feet, breathing heavy, but slow now, nose still in the corner.

"S-sorry... ", was all Alisa could think of to say in her now raspy voice, as her mother's footfalls began to fade, and she left her room. The girl took the time to sniffle, and prepare herself mentally for another round of hurt which she hoped would be the last. Her entire body was in pain, in some why.

Her throat and chest were sore from her crying. Eyes reddened, bloodshot, and tired. Arms aching and torn, tensing painfully when moved. Her rear belted, footpaws still aching with a throb similar to what her right paw's fingers were doing. That, and every other muscle in her body was crying out for rest, especially after standing in the corner and her innocent slit being subjected to that caustic horror. She had been well swatted and bruised, with a lasting memory of her racing heart.

Though as she stood and regained her composure once more, there was already a figure in her doorway looking to complete business. At the beckon of his wife, Alisa's father stood ready, now that she was done with her own punishment. Seeing the naked, brilliant girl in the corner crying, just sort of reassured him how much she deserved this, in his own view. She had such potential, and was sweet to the letter, but what she had done was something down the wrong path. This, the harsh parents felt, was their saving their daughter. Held in his paw was his daughter's paddle, her name enscribed upon it's handle, with that small black whip still tucked in the waist of his pants to hang down his leg. The paddle was a two-thirds inch thick, finely sanded dark wood tool of spanking, while the whip was a semi-thick, tightly wrapped coil of cord with a rubber-like handle. All of it, meant to save his daughter and prevent this from ever occuring again.

"It's time. Step out of the corner, then kneel down against the wall to your right so I'll have room to work. Chest and belly against the wall, arms up above your head, palms to the wall as well. Kneel at a perfectly ninety degree angle - back straight, tail up", the man spoke from the doorway, paddle in his right paw as he began to walk in, adding his string of orders in detail. After everything that had happened to Alisa already, she didn't need to be told twice.

Taking a step backwards, she craned her head off over her right shoulder to see the blurry form of her father, and what looked to be perhaps her paddle in his right paw. Without her glasses, she couldn't tell, but never did she cease moving. Taking only two steps to her right, she reached down with her right paw and knelt down till it touched the floor, which she used to help steady herself while she took the position ordered. Scooting forward on her knees, she placed herself flat up against the wall, back feeling as straight as it could be, and reached up towards the sky with her arms. Tail raised, her tailhole was again feeling the open air quite easily, instead of being tucked away in the heat of her own body and the thick welt that was laid across the pucker earlier. It seemed that if it was pink and sensitive, personal and private, her parents had struck it with some sort of pain. Alisa though had barely had time to crawl into her position, quiet as a mouse, before her arms were grasped and pinned against the wall with her dad's left paw. Holding them, he tugged upwards, pulling her little roo body taut while readying the paddle in his other paw. Readying it meant yet another something out of the ordinary, that he wasn't going to alert his daughter of. He would get in as many pounding swings as he could, and keeping her without her glasses, and in the dark per his ideas, would assist him in that matter. In his strong, burly sort of paw, the paddle was held sideways. The business end of the paddle was now it's blunt edge, backed up by the weight of the paddle behind it.

It looked like Alisa was waiting for more words, or further order or direction, while facing the wall and allowing herself to be restrained. To her father, it was a perfect time to strike without warning. Reeling back the paddle slightly, edge of the paddle trained on his daughter's right thigh, he planned on leaving her bruised the simplest way possible. With a bolt of force from his right arm's muscles, the turned paddle cut the air without a sound of warning to alert the young roo, to impact her upper right thigh with strength. The harsh 'punch' to her right thigh shot Alisa's muzzle open, but before she could cry out, her arms jerked first, only to be held in place, and her body unable to move in her kneeling position against the wall. Immediately after the paddle shot it's blood vessel shattering blow into her toned, young leg, it was followed by another, to her left upper thigh, and yet another. Quickly and efficiently, the older male placed bruises and explosions of heavy pain right where he wanted them, beating his daughter's thighs. Each blow caused a near immediate bruise, and enough pain from the edge of the paddle to cause Alisa to scream. That scream never ceased, loud and strong as the paddle itself. The blunt force trauma to the backs of her legs, blast of pain crushing muscle and blood vessel into bone, lasted only seconds but was enough to beat her legs numb with a prickly, painful tingle going down into her feet. Taking a step further towards Alisa's side as soon as he could, her father had to use his footpaw to pin Alisa's legs down to stop any sort of squirming, as she dug her own knees harshly into the carpet while writing, howling, and bawling from the brief yet intense beating. Enough for her legs to be bruised for a week, and walking to be a chore today... fortunately, or unfortunately, she'd be spending all of it in bed anyway.

Her father only clutched her arms and pinned her lower legs, allowing the young flier to scream out her pain while she desperately tried to break free and rub the points of impact that began at the base of her rear, down towards her knees. The throbbing was massive, her head thrashing while she cried aloud, much more then she would normally. Admitably, the man couldn't expect her to be her normal, behaved and acceptant self after the level of discipline and cruel creativity she had already experienced. Naked and beaten, she had one final blast from the paddle to take, as he swung once more. Just as a nun would have back during the old days with the edge of the paddle, he drove it once, not too hard, but solidly, into the small of his cub's back. The edge of the paddle smacked into her side, causing her body to lean away from the place of impact out of instinct while she tried again to cry just as desperately. Coughing, after a minute, Alisa was gasping for air she had cried so hard, and still was, even if it's 'heat of the moment' intensity had faded some. Her legs were in agony, and her back... please let that be it. Let it be over. But, thanks to her vision, when she turned from the corner earlier at her father, she did not identify the whip he carried.

"Sweetie?", came the voice of Alisa's mother from the doorway again, though the girl's face was plastered to the wall in her crying fit, tears smeared against the smooth paint, and dripping off her muzzle. She couldn't see a thing going on behind her, and only wished to howl about how excessive that just was. Utterly agonizing.

"Yes dear?", she then heard over her cries again, head sliding down the wall an inch to smear cold tears against it, from pain and exhaustion. She didn't want to move her legs.

"Use this to keep her quiet. Just don't forget to put it back when you're done", came from that older female voice, while Alisa herself coughed and gasped for air to regain her thoughts and return to some sort of clarity. Body massing endorphins like mad, face a mess, and body battered, the once fighting young form fell limp in her father's solid pin. Not even able to see what they were speaking about, the first clue didn't come until something passed beneath her muzzle that smelled fragrant and flowery. Pushing her muzzle over to one side to place it against the wall instead of her forehead, her maw open as she cried and panted, it took little more then a shove from what was within his paw to slip it into her muzzle. A small, white bar of soap. Wet and lathered to a creamy consistancy, prepped by her mother no doubt when she had first started screaming. The older male scrubbed her muzzle only a second or two just to spread the bubbles of lather, before setting it in place and squeezing her muzzle lightly to sink her teeth into the bar. Obediently, and because she didn't have the will to spit it out, Alisa left the white bar inside of her muzzle, held gently and looking as fragile and childish as a baby. Thinking of her stripped maturity made her head dip lower against the wall, and her tail shift - front pressed hard against the solid wall as a simpler action to squirming.

Now silenced by the bar of soap, which she knew was her responcibility to not drop, it's familiar burn against her throat and assaulting taste and texture served to make matters only worse. Prepared for the final throw of her punishment, before she would be set free, her father pulled the small whip from his waist. The tool the sympathy-needing rooess had not seen, thanks to her imperfect eyes. Arms still held firm, and pulled tight, they recieved a fresh tug to ensure she was as taut as possible while her father tapped the whip against her back to give his child a frightening explaination of what was about to occur. All discipline well outside the realm of normal, but as per their beliefs, this is what Alisa deserved, and it would save her. His cub would only be her best if she tried, and worked hard. To the parents, it was all justified. For Alisa, it made her pupils dialate, and her soapy, juvenile face go blank. A whip... to her back? N-no! And with the soap in her maw, she couldn't beg. Alisa was doomed to accept it before she could rest, body wanting to tense up at each thought, but having difficulty since her arms were being pulled upwards on. Maybe a long time ago, these punishments would have been normal, but... she wasn't that bad, was she? The sheer frustration made the girl squeel a tiny cry around her soap, making a series of sobs as her body limpened and the whip behind her reeled back and took aim. In that instant of slow motion, forhead back up against the wall and unaware of the whip as it took flight towards her cubbish back, she wished for a pair of underwear. Some clothing around her roo hips, and her dignity back, so she could climb into bed and be at peace. It was like a panic-induced daydream, wishing for the normals and constants she was used to.

But daydreams only last so long. With a swing of the daddy kangaroo's arm and brisk flick of his wrist in the application, the ebony, tightly knotted cord that was just the right size for a cub of Alisa's age, made it's first impact. Making a crack sound and resembling closely to her father's belt with a higher, sharper pitch, the whip snapped against her upper back. The small whip smacked skin through fur, following through as it slid past the initial point of impact to be withdrawn by a pull of her father's arm. Initially, the lash of the whip against the meat of her shoulder and upper-right portion of her back stung intensely, as she would expect a spanking to be as it pulled her from her racing thoughts, but there was a second surgence of sensation and pain that was to follow the sting. Accompanying the heat that came with a swat of any kind, and that familiar sting, followed what could only be described as a dagger. It was not ache, plain sting; just pain, and heavy. In it's design, the whip welted and wounded her back, making a scrape-like cut with that particular impact, while the damaged skin cried out signals to her mind to mix different intensities of pain into one lash. Father's paw gripping Alisa's arms harder while her body twisted to the right in reaction to the pain, he held and continued.

Just out of a page of history for a boy on a navy vessel some hundred or so years ago, or a present day sadist pornography film, young Alisa Foster endured being bound by another's strength to have her will torn from her flesh. As the whip was small, it did not cut deep, but it still cut. Knowing well how to use the instrument of torture, her father swung at a quick pace, landing lash after lash, one after another. Through the room the snap of the whip rang out with the underlying sound of striking a hard, yet fleshy object. Swinging it almost like an angry child abuser with an extension cord, the true whip danced across her back, lashing and slicing lines beneath her fur. Short ones and long ones, into hard areas or meaty muscle - it all bled the same in the end. Each line was red through her fur from the bit of blood each cut drew, making the pain upon her back so intense Alisa could barely blink while the tears streamed down her sullen cheeks, fingers shaking and not balled up in fists above her father's larger paws.

Crack!, rang out again and again, the kangaroo nearly choking on soapsuds as she coughed to remove them from her airway and endure. Muzzle clenched so tightly to hold the soap, it felt as if her teeth were starting to get stuck, and her sounds of agony were so muffled by the slickened white cake. Her throat couldn't make as loud a sound as the whip, so her painful pleas of unintelligible lament were drowned out and lost. Striking true, the whip lashed against and cut unto her mid back, straight across her spine, with the next lashing into her lower left and side, as her father missed, slightly. Lower back just above the tail, upper back just below the neck, each shoulder. All the tender adolescent meat, recieving harsh lashes from such a cruel device, leaving thick painful welts in it's hot wake, and a cut along the center of each to further press his girl's discipline as the areas of red and bits of blood increased every moment the whip landed upon her young form again. Making sure to only lash what her clothing would cover, her back itself was a sure target no matter how much Alisa writhed or twisted away from the whip in her muffled agony.

To a cub of ten, female no less, the fear of having her back cut to pieces was a real one to her. It felt as if her entire back had been whipped, with it covered in a dozen or more whip lashes, as the pain flowed and the cuts throbbed as they stung and bled. There were always the ones that missed though, as the whip lashed awkwardly and made a duller sort of snap when it got her against the ribs on her right side, reaching towards her back not too far below her arm-pit. There was no way this was for her own good, as painful as it was.

There being no change to her father's lashing at any point, her limp sort of writhing persisted even after the whip stopped, and her father was no longer applying it to her back. Each cut hurting so great, it was hard for Alisa to tell he had stopped, aside from the sound of her own cries seeming louder. In it's harsh fury, the whip and it's applicator lashed the poor kangaroo's back twenty times. Each mark red through her tan fur, showing each line clearly as they had made her fur messy in the shape of the welt, as well as the blood soaking into her fur to outline each little wound. A simple lashing that left it's victim choking for air, back cut and beaten, and her throat scratchy from the degree of crying and screaming through the soap she had tried. Swallowing some of the soapy glop was only natural, but most of it was now on Alisa's muzzle and chest in the form of bubbly spittle. Eyes now glazed by her own tears, her body was entirely limp after some moments, with her sore arms held in the air only by her father. Will broken as well as her body it felt like, she cried, sobbing gently and weakly. Wasn't strong enough to keep up the screaming she did earlier, and with as many endorphins that were flooding her body, she felt wobbly and dazed in her numbing state. Allowing time to pass in silence, Alisa stayed right where she was placed, as it seemed minutes were passing. All she could hear behind herself while against the wall were shuffles she presumed were from her mother, as her father still held her arms.

Feeling a tug against the soap, Alisa opened her muzzle, pulling her teeth free of the bar as one of her parent's removed it from her maw as she looked down as the soap dripped down the wall, and herself. How... could her grades possibly be this important? She had never questioned it before, but as she kneeled on her aching knees from all the thrashing she tried to do, Alisa felt distrusted. That her parents didn't believe she could be a good person, without such extreme measures. Growing up around corporal punishment and being spanked even as a baby, even she believed in it, and knew she herself would spank her own cubs. Each one, she thought while up against that wall, feeling alone despite being surrounded and bare, would have their own paddle with their name on it, just as she did. All she couldn't figure was why they were so scared, or what made them feel the need to punish her this badly? Body racked with horrible pain, she didn't have any true answer. There was a great deal of conviction behind her parent's doings, but none her young mind could follow. Just as any ten year old would, Alisa questioned her parents, but only in silence. All she knew was she never wanted to bring an 'F' home again, especially under behavioral circumstances. Perhaps, that was why they did it, she then thought.

Leaving Alisa to cry at her own accord, her father just watched her and held her arms where they were, until it looked as if her back stopped bleeding. It was not much, but the lines all going different directions in messy ways could have stained his daughter's bedsheets. Once released, her arms fell to her sides, holding onto the wall as she panted and sobbed, sad and sorry. After so much pain, mostly sorry for herself. Alisa's mother examined her daughter's back for only a moment before nodding to her husband, whom then told his girl to get to bed. No supper, and she could not leave her room until morning. That always meant no bathroom. Without fanfare, or some sort of reward for enduring, her parents took their leave, and left Alisa to herself. Door open of course, since she wasn't allowed to close it, but still to herself.

Climbing to her footpaws, using the wall as a support, Alisa's lip wobbled as she trudged towards her bed. Peering to her right, she saw herself in the mirror, and red lines littered across her soft young back. Cheeks darker colored from being soaked, and her eyes red. She looked like hell, and wanted to kick something really hard out of personal anger, but her bruised legs hurt too badly. Though it wasn't fun at all, Alisa left her glasses where they were, climbing into the bed with care after turning off her lamp. The room was bright with the evening sun, but sleep and rest would help her recooperate. Could only sleep on her belly, reaching underneath herself to rub her still sore vagina from time to time, only when she knew it was safe to touch it and no one was near her door. Her fingers slid across the chubby bit of pinkened flesh, moving it around as she rubbed to soothe it, but only lightly. Not knowing anything about sexuality, her mother really had nothing to worry about anyway. Fur from her fingers, though stained a bit red from the needle earlier, soothed her feminine pedals. Any touch more intimate then that only stung from the residual effects of what ever her mother used. Cold and quiet in her bed, underneath her covers, still without her clothing, Alisa felt only a shread of her dignity return.

It was hard to be smart and mature, when reduced to a crying child. It broke down her spirit and self-confidence, to be more dilligent with her studies and work once more since her parents wouldn't let her get away with a thing. Sweetly scented body tucked beneath her blanket, Alisa wiped her eyes on her pillow from time to time, crying herself to sleep over the course of an hour of poor thoughts and boredom. She was exhausted enough to sleep as she wanted, leaking soapy spittle upon her pillow, to awake and return to life as per normal, with the lingering aches and pains of this day, in mind and body. Never again did she want to endure that again, disciplined from head to toe, literally. But, as it were to be, she wouldn't be an adult for quite some time, and life's adventures were only beginning. Things were about to look up.