Sunday, July 19, 2009

Never Think Never

If someone had asked me a few weeks ago, I’d have said I can’t wait to turn 16 or 18 or even 21. Now, though, I’m re-thinking that eagerness to get older. Instead I’m thinking it would be a lot better to just grow-up a little. Just the fact that I’m thinking that tells me I must have done some of the latter in the last few weeks. More than any of that, my faith in karma has been resurrected. Yes, sometimes life is more fair than I could I ever hope for.
I suppose it all began the day after Christmas. My know-it-all, get-away-with-it-all, sister was having a grand argument with Daddy over how she was going to spend New Year’s Eve. Our family has a bit of a tradition with the holidays and a big part of that is we spend it together as a family. So, while my sister was adamant about wanting to spend the night with her friends at a party, Daddy was equally adamant about her spending it with us.
“Come on Dad! I am old enough to vote I ought to be able to attend a modest New Year’s party.” Michelle had whined sounding more like a little kid begging for a new doll than a nineteen year old adult of supposed maturity.
“Mickey, it seems like we go through this every year anymore. The answer is still no. If you want to invite a friend over for the night I don’t have a problem with that, but you are not going to abandon your family.” Daddy had replied with a hint of annoyance creeping into his usual even tone although he still used his favored pet name for her.
“I’m not abandoning my family, it’s just one night. Every year I have to miss one of the best parties to stay home and what? Play a few stupid kiddy games and watch the ball drop in Times Square on TV an hour after it already happened? I doubt anyone would notice if I wasn’t here!” Michelle ranted back at Dad still whining, but now with noticeable sarcasm mingled into her tone.
“I’ve already told you no. This isn’t a negotiation, Michelle. I ask very little of you through the year and if for no other reason, you will spend New Year’s Eve here at home because I’m asking you to. Unless you’d like to test just how far you can push me, this conversation is over.” Dad had countered her tirade without effort and his even and commanding tone had returned despite the obvious annoyance and disappointment in his face.
“What’s the point in being an adult when nobody treats you like one?” Michelle asked the ceiling waving her hands in a motion of dismissal to Daddy before storming off to her bedroom and slamming her door.
Daddy had started to follow her down the hall with what was clearly anger in his eyes, but as usual when it comes to my sister, he stopped short and did nothing. Their argument had taken place in the living room and my brother Mark had been with me in the dining room which is directly adjacent to the living room. We had been working on my Math homework, well I was working on it and Mark was doing his best to explain the basic concepts of Algebra which I was struggling with. The scene in the next room had of course interrupted our efforts and after a few minutes of trying to ignore it we had surrendered and eavesdropped on the final parts.
When Daddy walked away after defeating his impulse to follow Michelle, Mark and I shared a knowing look. No words were necessary, but we both knew without any doubt that had we behaved anything like our older sister either one of us would have been sporting a sore backside at the very least. For me the reality of that difference resonated right then because it had not been so many weeks since a similar incident had ended with me squealing over Daddy’s knee and then spending a very long two weeks being grounded. The words, “It’s not fair!” don’t even begin to do justice to how I was feeling.
Needless to say my concentration for complex math equations was permanently destroyed for the day. Mark realized just that within a few minutes and suggested we adjourn for the day. I hastily agreed and after clearing away my books, I went and sulked in my room. Having only the company of my gloomy thoughts for the rest of the afternoon, it was no surprise that by dinner time I was in a soured mood. It took only a single word of warning from Daddy to clear that up, but it also seeded more dark thoughts as my older sister managed to avoid even those gentle reprimands despite her fake pleasantries at that same dinner.
The days between then and New Year’s Eve passed without further incident. I got over my frustrations and spent less time thinking about Michelle and more time thinking about me. Mark got me over my mental block on Algebraic equations and with nearly a full week before school started again, I had all my homework completed; a first for me. Michelle had of course been skulking around the house and complaining to Mark or I whenever she could about how unfair it was that we always had to spend New Year’s Eve together. Of course we both agreed with “unfair” but our context was slightly different. Still I mostly ignored her as I had come to realize Mark was a better role model for me anyway.
It was at the dinner table on New Year’s Eve when the world was first shattered. I can’t say for certain who at the table was more surprised as the events unfolded, but it was a memorable night for everyone. I guess Daddy had just had enough and that was that. I have known for ages that sulking at the dinner table is not a good idea. I thought all of us knew that. I thought Michelle was beyond reproach from Daddy. I thought a lot of things that I now know better.
Identifying the exact moment when Michelle pushed too far is impossible. It might have been when she slammed her bedroom door those few days before or maybe it was the way she cracked the spoon just a little too hard against her dinner plate, emptying it of mashed potatoes. Perhaps it was the way she rolled her eyes when Daddy asked what games we wanted to play after dinner or could it have been the sarcastic, “oh goody” when Mark suggested Clue®. Whichever it was, it was the ultimate insult, the straw that broke the camel’s back, the final harmonic chord that shattered our world.
Daddy glared at her through cold, harsh, black eyes. His face was drawn tight and his jaw trembled ever so slightly with what I imagine to be barely contained rage. Michelle didn’t notice at first, to be fair I don’t think any of us noticed at first. When Daddy spoke his voice was low and brusque and filled with a myriad of emotion I can only pretend to comprehend.
“Michelle Samantha Taylor!” Daddy paused allowing the weight of her full name to hang in the air with its unspoken significance. My eyes were glued to my sister as I watched her face blanche.
“Y-yes , sir.” Came the meek reply from my sister’s now quivering lips. Her eyes were focused only on Daddy with a pleading I was all too familiar with. This time there was nothing left to save her and surely as I always knew it to be a wasted attempt for myself, I knew it to be for Michelle this time, finally, she was no longer beyond reproach.
If I was a mature sister, I would have felt compassion for her. If I was wiser, I might have thought about how it could be me sitting in her place. True to myself though, I was neither. I sat forward on the edge of my chair, anticipating the climax of what I knew was coming. My breath caught short in my throat and I sat silent and willing to turn blue waiting for the inevitable justice to be served upon what I could only see as my more than deserving older sister. Am I evil to have felt like gloating?
“I have given you every opportunity. I have allowed you to stretch my patience to the breaking point and still you can not find the decency to give me just this one night of peace. Apparently I’m expecting too much for my nineteen year old daughter to behave like a respectable adult. I have obviously been far too lenient with you. Well, I’ve got news for you young lady, it ends tonight, right now. You want to sulk and pout and talk back like a little girl, then I’ll treat you just like one. Go and hide your face in the corner so the rest of us can finish our meal in peace.” Daddy didn’t shout but his voice was loud, his tone commanding and his expression was unflinching.
“Dad, I-I’m sorry. I wanted to be somewhere else tonight, I don’t--” Michelle was clearly trying to wheedle her way out of what she should have known was the inevitable consequences of her behavior.
Dad would have none of it though and he interrupted her excuses and made himself very clear. “Did I just tell you to go stand in the corner or was that my imagination?”
“Y-yes, sir.” Was all Michelle could manage as she choked back what I’m sure was real tears of remorse.
I should be ashamed to admit, I was overjoyed to watch my older sibling walk silently with her head down to stand in the corner. I have often stood in that solitary spot, so I know all too well the emotions and thoughts running their course. First there is simple embarrassment as you know everyone not only can see you but in fact they are all watching as you assume the customary position with your nose touching the corner your hands raised to rest on top of your head with your trembling fingers interlaced. Then time begins to slow down until it eventually does no more than crawl at a fraction of a snail’s pace. Your arms begin to feel unnaturally heavy, your back starts to ache, your nose begins to itch, and of course your eyes water. Time ticks by at an ever slower rate and your muscles begin to twitch and you imagine the eyes of your siblings focused only on you. It’s as though you can feel the eyes piercing your back and then every little noise feeds your over-sensitized imagination and before long the whole world seems to be staring at your back and saying with one collective voice, “look at the naughty little girl standing in the corner”. Your thoughts finally start to wander and you begin to surmise the extent of the trouble you are in and at the same time you yearn for the time in this hollow place to be over no matter what horrors shall follow.
I shouldn’t have been gleeful. I shouldn’t have been smiling. I shouldn’t have been imagining her kicking and screaming over Daddy’s knee. I shouldn’t have hoped for it to happen. I should have had compassion. I should have been a better sister. I should have been. Watching her stand silently there though, I took pleasure in every twitch of muscle as Michelle undoubtedly yearned to disappear into the white walls. I couldn’t help the smile that crept onto my face and I looked away from her to hide my shame finally, but not out of sympathy, it was only an instinctive choice. It would be best if Daddy didn’t see the smirk of my lips, the glow of justice soon to be served in my eyes.
Finishing the meal was no easy chore. Daddy had fallen silent and even he seemed uninterested in the meal in front of him. It was Mark who braved the silence and ended it. My brother, my ally, my friend, he always seemed to know just the right thing to do and in this case say. When I grow-up, I hope I’m a lot like him.
“Well Dad, do you still want to play games after dinner?” Mark asked with just the right tone and inflection to avoid sounding smug. The question on its surface was innocent enough, but after a momentary glance into Mark’s eyes I saw the same glint that I knew was in my own. Then I realized just what the real question he had asked was and I sat in silent amazement at my brother’s cleverness. And it seemed Daddy was taking too long to answer and I realized then that the unspoken question was as unanswered in his mind as it was in ours.
It was at this moment I began to understand, growing-up and getting older aren’t the same thing. Mark, calm, cool, collected, would never behave in a fashion resembling Michelle’s of late. He wasn’t older and he wasn’t more mature, but he was more grown-up, and perhaps more importantly, more respectful. He like me recognized that Michelle was long overdue for some parental discipline but unlike me he didn’t advocate it out of a sense of injustice or revenge, he advocated because he knew she needed it. For Mark it was about Michelle, for me it was about me. I didn’t understand all that at the time but it is when I began to.
When Daddy finally responded to Mark’s question it was clear he had considered the options to him and what consequences would follow. I wasn’t able to discern the answer to the unspoken question hovering in the room around us all and I wonder if either Mark or Michelle were able to. His response was simply, “We’re not going to let Michelle’s behavior problems ruin the evening.”
It was a fair response from him and one that had been used with each of us in that very corner at some point in time in the not-so-distant past. I suppose from a certain perspective that might have boded unwell for my older sibling, but Daddy was rarely predictable when it came to such statements. It could mean that he was satisfied to have her enjoy the spectacular view of the corner for the evening or it could be that spanking was in the near future for her, one that would undoubtedly hurt but not be long or involving enough to spoil the activities for the evening. I was aware it was even possible he might think it punishment for her to have to happily join the evenings fun and games despite a sore bottom and wounded pride which begged for privacy or at the very least pouting.
The remainder of the dinner meal seemed to stretch long even to me and I dare not imagine what incredible length it must have seemed to Michelle. For me it was the anticipation of what I hoped would follow the meal. I dreamed of seeing my big sister cast down from the pedestal which Daddy had placed her upon. I fantasized that she might never return to that special place in his eyes and that I might have the chance, however fleeting, to occupy that special place in his heart where I would know beyond any doubt that his love for me would transcend any wrong, any failing. Such was the way of their relation and my jealousy of it was driving my hopes high while Michelle suffered in silence.
Eternity did come to an end. The table was cleared and the dishes cleaned. Mark snagged me by the arm saying, “Come on let’s pick out the first game for the night.” His grip was tight enough that I knew something was up and he wasn’t going to take no for answer. So, despite my reluctance to leave Michelle and Daddy alone, a result of selfish fear that I might miss something, I went quietly with him down the hallway.
“What’s up?” I asked Mark when I was reasonable sure we were out of earshot.
“You need to lighten up on Michelle.” Mark replied with his steely, black eyes reminding me too much of Daddy.
“Why?” I asked allowing as much annoyance as I could muster to creep into my tone.
“Because there is more to punishment than just retribution for wrong doing. Once someone is punished you have to forgive them, you have to show them that you love them.” Mark seemed to be lecturing me.
“It’s up to Daddy to forgive, he’s the one punishing her. When she takes punishment from me then I’ll forgive her.” I thought I was being smart.
“We are family, when Dad punishes he does it on behalf of the family and that means we all forgive. I know you have your own reasons for wanting to see her like this and she’s the cause of that not you, but it’s going to be up to you to set things right now by having some compassion and showing Michelle that you can still love her even after she’s been so wrong. I can’t really explain it better than that, just trust me here, if you don’t forgive her now, someday you’ll regret it.” Mark sunk his head just a notch and looked right into my eyes as he finished speaking. His expression was what convinced me though. The soft look in his eyes, the brotherly love on his face, the inescapable truth that he would never guide me wrong, it was written all over him and like no other person in the world, he made me feel ashamed of myself.
For the next two hours we played game after game. As usual, Daddy won most of them. His luck was legendary amongst family and friends and he was often told that he should pay a visit to Vegas, to which Daddy always replied, “That’s about when my luck would run out and just as it should.” I won a couple of games, but I sincerely suspect that Daddy and Mark conspired to let me. As we played, I thought a lot about what Mark had said in the hall. I was torn.
During the games themselves I thought little of Michelle, still standing in the corner. During the breaks between games I tried to convince myself that I felt sorry for her, I knew that I should. Inside me though, was a hell-spawn demon and it was crying out for justice and revenge. I wanted her kicking and screaming and bawling like a baby over Daddy’s lap with her fancy panties tangle up at her ankles while Daddy smacked her bottom until it was glow-in-the-dark red. Only then could I forgive, only then could I love or so I believed.
Daddy stretched back from the table after the latest game and glanced forebodingly at Michelle’s back. She had not of course been forced to stand rigidly with hands on head the entire time. Daddy had dismissed her briefly to the bathroom and had allowed her to stand with her arms at her sides upon her prompt return. Her shame was evident in her down trodden face and slumped shoulders. She allowed her usually perfect, long blonde hair to fall across her face and hide the pink blush of embarrassment which surely must have adorned her freckled cheeks. She was but a fallen angel, cast from her pedestal and favored no more.
“Much as I’d like to play another game, I’m afraid I must attend to your sister now. The year will soon be at a close and I don’t want it said I made my child wait until a new year for a spanking.” Daddy said to Mark and I.
“We understand Dad. Jenny and I can just play another game and maybe when you’re finished the two of you can join us. Then we can still ring in the new year as a family.” Mark replied without giving me a chance to speak.
“Thank you, Mark, Jenny, you both have made me very proud tonight.” Daddy smiled at us and it seemed he was even more reluctant to leave the table than the moment before.
“Michelle,” He paused making sure he had her attention, “Go and fetch the paddle and bring it to me in the living room.”
Michelle turned and left the corner without a single word. Her head was still down and partially hidden by her hair but I could tell her lip was quivering. She must have had tears in her eyes or maybe they were already falling down her cheeks. I know the shame of that walk all to well. Heading down the hall your walk deliberate, your choices are none, your future is written and there is no escape. The walk back with paddle in hand is equally daunting. The knowledge that the tool you carry will soon be used to punish your backside serves only to reinforce the sad reality that you alone are responsible for what is to come.
I wasn’t able to see the punishment, but the all too familiar sounds were enough to satisfy my needs. Daddy’s routine is anything but a routine. He seems to always take the time to customize the punishment for the offender and the offense. In this way no two spankings are ever quite the same, but it is more than that as well because for Daddy a punishment is usually more than just a spanking. I hardly noticed the card game I was playing with Mark as I listened closely for as much detail as I could get. I like to think Mark was as distracted as I was since he didn’t say anything to me.
“How long has it been?” Daddy asked.
“I don’t know.” Michelle replied, her voice so low I strained to hear.
“Too long I think considering your behavior these past few weeks. I had thought---. I had hoped, that we had gone beyond the need for this. You’ve been acting worse than a three year old. I don’t understand what has gotten into you. You want to explain this regression to me?” Daddy’s voice was filled with ups and downs as he spoke ending on a high question. I could hear clearly the mixture of disappointment and frustration undulating in his usual even tone. I wonder if it is like that when he scolds me. I’ve never noticed if it is.
“No, sir.” Michelle answered succinctly.
“No? You don’t have an explanation?” Daddy quizzed incredulously.
“I mean, I don’t know. I guess I don’t feel like you treat me like an adult.” Michelle responded with hesitation as though she expected a firestorm from the words she spoke.
“I have news for you Michelle, if you don’t feel like your being treated as an adult it’s more likely because you aren’t acting like one. I’ve reasoned with you, I’ve let your temper tantrums slide, I’ve let you treat your family like dirt and I’ve put up with all of it hoping you’d see your way through what ever phase it is your going through, but enough is enough.” Daddy paused and I could almost see him shaking his head in disbelief. “Treat you like an adult? Damn right I won’t treat you like an adult when you act like a spoiled brat! This is pointless isn’t it? Just get over my knee.”
I could hear a touch of anger had crept in to his voice as he ordered into position for spanking. I stretched my hearing listening for protests, but I heard nothing only silence. I waited for the first smack to echo through the house. I waited. I waited some more and there was only silence. I looked up at Mark for the first time since we were left alone and saw the same puzzlement on his face that I knew to be on my own.
“OVER MY KNEE NOW, YOUNG LADY!” Daddy’s voice boomed into the silence.
I knew then that Michelle had been protesting, perhaps even backing away, or trying to escape. I couldn’t help but feel some satisfaction at knowing my big sister was just as afraid of being spanked as I. The sound of Michelle choking back a sob punctuated the moment and then there was the unmistakable rustle of child going over Daddy’s knee.
The thunderous clap of the first spank from the horrid paddle soon followed. A moment of silence and then the next swat hit its mark. Slow, methodical, steady. Swat after swat landed. Michelle must have braced herself. She was keeping remarkably quiet, but it was a silly effort. Daddy would reduce her to bawling and begging as he always does. Daddy would make her sorry.
I counted fifteen of those thunderous spanks before I heard Michelle gasp out and begin to freely cry and sob. Five more swats and she began to plead for him to stop between sobs and swats. Finally, she was reduced to nothing but sobbing and any words she tried to get out became lost in the reckless breathing of heavy tears. The paddling continued and I lost count after twenty-five. Eventually though, and not too long, Daddy stopped his relentless swinging.
“Am I getting through?” Daddy asked.
After a long pause Michelle strained to reply, “Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”
“Are you going to behave now?”
“Yes, I’ll be a good girl. I swear.”
“Alright, stand up.” There was a soft rustle as I assumed she did as she was told. I imagine she was quickly trying to rub the sting out of her bottom just as I would do.
“Let’s talk now about what’s going on with you, okay?” Daddy asked my remorseful sister.
“Okay.”
“You’ve been skirting your chores. Why?” Daddy asked bluntly.
“I don’t know.” I could hear Daddy sigh as Michelle responded, undoubtedly shrugging her shoulders as she spoke.
“You’ve been answering back to me worse than ever. Why?”
“I don’t know.” Once again I heard Daddy sigh at the response.
“You’ve broken several commitments to both Mark and Jenny. Why?”
“I don’t know.” This time there was only silence but I could imagine the frustration that must have been on Daddy’s face.
“You’re attitude is rebellious and careless. Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“I see, is there anything about your behavior that you do know?”
There was only silence. I imagine Michelle was looking hard at the floor and Daddy was likely staring just as hard into her face. For myself I couldn’t believe how stupid Michelle was being. She may be ashamed of her reasons, but telling Daddy she doesn’t know is akin to asking for more punishment. What on Earth was she thinking?
“Fine, it has obviously been too long since you had a proper punishment, but don’t worry young lady I’ll correct that right now. Get undressed, clothes in a neat stack on the table and don’t even think of arguing.” Daddy’s voice was filled with frustration.
“But Daddy!” Michelle exclaimed in protest. I was somewhat shocked myself, not at Daddy’s orders, but at Michelle’s sudden use of “Daddy” in place of her usual “Dad”.
“Apparently you either have a problem listening or doing as your told. I don’t really care which because I’m going to make sure you learn to do both tonight. One more unsolicited word out of your mouth and I will stick a bar of soap in it. Now get undressed and don’t make me repeat myself again!” Daddy interrupted any further complaint from Michelle as he spoke with a harshness he normally reserved for scolding me. I must interject that for once I wasn’t upset with having to share with my sister.
The living room fell very quiet for a moment and then there was the rustle of clothing being removed and folded. Soon I heard the distinctive sound of elastic snapping and a brief whimper from Michelle. I knew that all too clearly to be the sound that she had removed her final article, her bra, and she now stood in shame awaiting the next attack upon her already surrendered modesty.
“Bend over, hands flat on the table.” Daddy’s calm voice interrupted the breathless silence.
“Daddy please!, I’m sorry.” Michelle’s whiny voice answered back.
“Soap first then!” Daddy replied almost as though he had been silently hoping she would give him an excuse.
A moment later I caught my first glimpse of Michelle in her chastised state. My imagination had not quite done justice to the situation. She was naked from head to toe, even her jewelry was gone. Daddy had a firm hold of her left earlobe as he dragged her crying and protesting down the hallway toward the bathroom. Her butt was thoroughly reddened and showed the beginnings of horseshoe shaped bruises, one centered on each naked cheek.
Once they entered the bathroom I could no longer see again. The sound of water running in the sink bled out any conversation although from personal previous experiences there is rarely any conversation at that point anyway. How I would have loved to have seen my snotty sister’s face with the large bar of soap protruding from her lips. Better still perhaps, would have been the priceless expression as it was forcefully pushed in and out, lathering up suds on her tongue and filling her mouth with soapy drool that would shamefully drip from her quivering lips as tears spilled out of her disbelieving eyes.
The water stopped. Daddy’s voice was too quiet for me to make out the words, but I know without doubt he was scolding. Likely, Michelle was stood, hands on head, listening to her comeuppance served skillfully with words and shame. The bar of soap too, still protruding from her now sparkling clean mouth, would reinforce every word as each breath would provide the unpleasant reminder of the bars presence. It is these profound moments when one wishes for time to fly, that it creeps at its slowest pace and allows the scolding words to penetrate deep into the most personal of thoughts. These are the moments when the biggest lessons are learned, when even the most stubborn resistance falters and finally blame screams out its ugly name. Deafened as you might be, it is impossible then not to recognize the name as it is your very own.
The silence was broken, “Spit!” Daddy commanded.
Gagging and spitting sounds followed as expected. A half moment later Michelle was once again in full view being escorted up the hallway by earlobe. Her eyes were overflowing with tears and her usual expression of confidence was replaced by shyness. Her chin still showed evidence of the recent presence of soap and a single string of soapy slobber dripped down between her naked breasts.
As quickly as she had entered my view she was again gone from it. Into the living room they had gone again and this time the order to bend was followed by silence and then came the sound of paddle striking flesh. Michelle was sobbing from the start and began crying out soon after.
“Please stop!”
“No MORE!”
“I can’t TAKE it!”
“Daddy PLEASE!”
“I’ll BE GOOD!”
“I PROMISE!”
“DADDY”
“PLEASE”
“I’LL BE A GOOD GIRL”
And then it stopped. Michelle was no longer the proud and defiant woman. She was broken down, nothing more than a little girl with a spanked bottom. She was no better than me in this moment and I admit I rejoiced in the sound of her pleas and the rhythm of smacks falling despite them all. I should be ashamed, but I’m not.
“Stand up. Turn around and face me.”
“Don’t you dare rub, hands on your head young lady.”
“That’s right. No, don’t look at the ground, you look at me when I’m talking to you.”
“Now, let try this again, shall we? Why have you not been doing your chores?”
“I’ve had other things on my mind, I’m sorry. It won’t happen anymore.”
“What other things have been on your mind? Do you think it’s fair to make the rest of us pick up the slack because your too self-involved to do your share?”
“No sir. I’m sorry.”
“So, what other things are so important and time consuming?”
“School and stuff.”
“Do we need to go back into the bathroom, because I sure as hell know a lie when I hear one.”
“No, sir. I thought I might have been pregnant.”
Mark and I gasped. The living room was silent. I’m pretty sure the world stopped spinning and time stood still for a good five minutes. There were no words to express the shock of her words and I can only imagine the look of terror that must have been upon my Daddy’s face. The long quiet was sign enough that even he was speechless at this admission.
“That explains a lot.” Mark muttered to himself and when I looked quizzically at him, he waved me off refusing any further details.
“That requires some explaining, young lady.”
“Could we talk more privately ?”
“Alright, go to your room. I’ll be there in a minute and you’d best be telling me the truth from here on out.”
“Yes, sir.”
Michelle was once again in my view. She walked stiffly down the hallway still naked and clearly sore. Her bare buttocks were beyond red. The bruises were just starting to appear and from personal experience I knew those would be fearsome by morning. She entered her room and closed the door.
Daddy followed her a couple minutes later after a long stop in the kitchen and several refills to his glass. As he went down the hall I couldn’t help but notice the paddle in his hand and the sharp slaps he made with it against his leg. The door opened and closed again, shutting Mark and I out and leaving us hungry for knowledge.
It was some time later and almost the New Year when they emerged from her room. I noted that Michelle was no longer crying. Daddy was clearly angry and even the severe spanking he had delivered to her had not abated his disappointment. Michelle was also still nude. This was not unusual for me, I was often without my clothes for the remainder of the day after having my bottom spanked, but for Michelle this had not happened to her in years.
“As you’ve no doubt noticed Michelle is being punished. Her behavior around this house has been intolerable and her outburst tonight only served to prove to me that I must take corrective action. From this point forward there will be zero tolerance for backtalk, rudeness, neglecting to do chores, or any other sort of bad behavior. I hope I am making it clear that there will be no exceptions to this rule. Michelle is further grounded for the next week and while I will not often employ this means in grounding she will remain without clothes for that week. Do not test me by further aggravating or teasing Michelle about her state or punishment. Am I understood?”
“Yes, sir.” Our three voices sounded together in perfect harmony.
From there we adjourned to the living room and switched on the television to watch the ball drop in Times Square. The New Year arrived and I welcomed it in. It would be a New Year indeed if Daddy keeps to his resolution of no longer allowing Michelle a free hand. Only time would tell, but I admit even there in the evidence of Daddy’s commitment, I was skeptical of any long term adherence.

6 comments:

  1. Wow its really a harsh punishment and i think it is not dicipline in fact it is abusing.Honestly i expected to see the father arrested for abusing his daughter at the end of the story but it didnt happen.However you create a good spanking story and

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  2. I really feel bad for Michele and i dont think she deserve that kind punishment.i am also disgusted with Michele sister for enjoying her agony.

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  3. I'd like to see a continuation of this story. I'm curious to know if the father kept up his promise in the new year, and since we are approaching a new year as well (in a little over a month) this would be an ideal time to post a continuation of this.

    While I feel that the punishment may have been a bit harsh (I don't think it's right for him to bruise her) I also feel that she completely earned that punishment, and while Mark was right when he was talking to his little sister I also feel that she was justified in her feelings of wanting Michelle to get her "comeuppance".

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  4. Wow! I know this is kinda cruel, but I think she deserved what she got. Her reveal that she thought she was pregnant is really interesting and I hope we learn more about that.

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  5. Doesn't dad want Michelle to grow up?

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  6. Great story! having grown up with a dad who wheeled a mean paddle, but who was super fair. She just what she deserved and needed. I got paddled when I was twelve for stealing a bicycle wheel, and I got the paddling of my life. I was bruised for two weeks, I never stole again, and that paddling made me a man. I lost my dad a few years ago, and I miss him so much. I deserved that spanking and I am so glad he gave it to me.

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