Texting cometh before the spanking

“So Mom, did you guys win!” Becky asked her parents immediately upon their arrival home from court.

“Yes dear. The company is going to cover your father’s medical costs and we were awarded a hundred thousand for his lost wages.”

“YES! YES! YES! The bastards deserve to pay!” the girl cheered as she preformed a little dance around the living room.

“Becky, you can’t tell anyone about it though. There’s a confidentiality agreement preventing us from saying anything,” her father said as he moved slowly towards the couch. The non-opiate pain killers he was taking since the last surgery made him drowsy most of the time. The doctor had told him these pain killers were better than the hydrocodeine derived pills, since they were not as physically addictive.

“Oh, I won’t Daddy,” Becky said, before taking off upstairs to her room.

“UR rents are paying? OMG!” Cindy messaged Becky.

“Ya, dad won suit against his old job and now they R rich,” Becky messaged.

“U lucky biatch!” Cindy responded. “How much?”

“like 100k” Becky messaged.

“Damn.”

“Yea, McGarretts paying for Europe!”

“EV1 will be jealous!!!!” Cindy messaged.

Becky smiled at the message. Cindy was one of the two friends could scrape together enough money to make the summer trip across Europe. All the rest of her friends at college had to work all summer, just to be able to pay for food and books during their term. The news that she was basically vacationing in Europe on someone else’s money would kill them, especially her rival, Tricia. She just had to make sure everyone knew.

She made a few flicks of her finger across the iPhone screen then typed “Rent’s won case so now going to Europe on McGarrett’s dime! HA!” into the status message box and hit post. Instantly, her 1,427 followers received the tweet.

“You Biatch! I saw UR tweet!” Cindy messaged a couple of moments later.

“Good! Hope Tricia sees it 2!” Becky responded.

“Shes goin die!”

—-

Becky ran down the stairs at the sound of the doorbell. Her new hiking boots were supposed to be arriving from Amazon today and couldn’t wait to try them on. Opening the door she say the oddest looking delivery man ever. The man standing on the porch was in his mid-thirties and wore a sports jacket over jeans instead of the typical uniform.

“Is this the residence of Christopher Jones?” the man at the door asked.

“Yea, why?” Becky responded with a bit of lip, annoyed he wasn’t there to deliver her boots.

“May I speak with him,” the man said politely. “I have a deliver for Mr. Jones.”

“I’m Chris Jones,” Becky’s father said, coming up behind her. “What is this about?”

The man pulled out thick white envelope and handed it to her father before saying, “you have been served.” The man then turned and walked down the sidewalk to his car.

“What’s that?” Becky asked her father.

Chris tore open the envelope while balancing on his crutches. He quickly scanned the top page of the enclosed papers. “Ah, I am being sued for breach of contract by McGarrett Industries,” he said rather puzzled. He hadn’t had any contact with his former employer since the lawsuit ended 8 months ago. How could he have breached some contract when he didn’t work for them any longer?

—-

“… Mr. Jones, that does not negate the fact that you disclosed the terms of the settlement to a third-party.”

“But Becky is my daughter and it wasn’t intentional!” Chris pleaded with the well dress attorney across the table from him.

James Fastner gently waved his hand in the direction of his senior corporate counsel, silencing the response from the older man to his left. “Mr. Jones, other than the money you intended on spending on your daughter’s study abroad trip, do you have any of the settlement left?”

“Just a little bit. We used most of it to pay off debt and our house so that we could get by on my wife’s salary.” Chris conceded. It wasn’t probably a smart negotiating tactic, though coming to McGarrett without a lawyer wasn’t smart either.

“And did you feel the original settlement was fair?”

“Yes, it was very generous sir.” Chris answered.

“And do you agree that your daughter broke the terms of the settlement and therefore she should be punished?” Mr Fastner asked.

“Ah,” Chris stumbled with the answer. They had clear-cut proof of his daughter breaking the confidentiality agreement, though the CEO’s tone was laced with empathy. “yes sir.”

“Fine. I will withdrawal the suit if your daughter is punished adequately for her utter lack of respect and complete disregard for rules.”

“Oh, thank you sir!” Chris said.

“Thank you,” Becky’s mother added, reaching for Mr. Fastner’s hand.

“She is definitely not going to Europe, and she’ll work here all summer as unpaid intern, and” Chris started making promises on behalf of his daughter who was still more interested in her phone than the conversation occurring in front of her.

“Ah, no that will not be necessary. We are a manufacturing company and I doubt your daughter has even basic skills that could be put to use here. No, she should still study abroad. That is an education unlike anything you can receive in the states. I think your daughter needs a more old fashioned lesson. Something that will break through her self-entitled brat persona.”

“What, she is not” Becky’s mom started to protest, though Mr. Fastner simply nodded towards the girl on her mother’s left.

“When was the last time you lighted a fire in her behind?” Mr. Fastner asked.

“We push our daughter to excel in her classes all the time.” Mrs. Jones answered.

“No, I do not push her,” James paused to make sure he had their full attention. “I mean spank her.”

“WHAT!” Mrs Jones cried out indignation. Becky’s mother started to stand up as stammered, “I…we…HOW DARE YOU!” She felt she had to say something, but she just could not come up with the words.

Chris looked down towards the table while lightly rubbing above his brow.

“Honey, sit down.” The tone of Chris’ voice surprised his wife into obedience more than anything else.

“Mr. Fastner, what do you believe would be an adequate punishment for Becky’s actions?”

“If she was my daughter, I’d have taken a strap to her bottom and made sure she understood the gravity of the situation.”

Chris thought back to his childhood and the few trips he’d taken with his father out to the woodshed. Back then was a different time, but the lessons still resonated with him today. Doing such to his own princess would kill him, but it was probably for the best. They certainty could not repay the money and maybe she would learn something. “Fair enough, I will do it this evening.”

“Mr. Jones, I believe you are an honorable man, and will attempt to follow through with your word. I, however, do not have such faith in your wife and daughter that such punishment will be completed.” James glanced at his watch to verify the timing of the events running through his head. “After we get done here, you and your wife will take your daughter home and do what ever you fell appropriate. At 7:00 pm this evening I will come by and witness you spanking of her. Does that sound reasonable?”

Chris let out a long sigh before saying “Yes.”

“Do you have an old belt or some other piece of leather which work as a strap?”

“Yes, I have something in mind.”

“Good, then I hope our problem will be resolved this evening.” James stood up and walked out of the conference room without saying another word. Mr and Mrs Jones stole a tepid look at each other as their daughter continued playing with her phone, completely unaware of the deal her parents had just struck.

Becky paced her room as the anxiety overwhelmed her. Her mind was a mess of the questions, anxiety and outright fears. She thought about the ridiculousness of the whole situation and how stupid she was by blabbing to Cindy about the settlement. Cindy had the biggest mouth of all her friends, and she knew telling her would quickly lap her entire circle. And it had been great to see the look on Tricia’s face the next day. Her frenemy hadn’t been able to look at her since then. It had been awesome.

But was it worth it? Would getting spanked be worth making Tricia insane with jealously?

“Daddy won’t let that evil man hurt me,” Becky told herself as she looked in the mirror. She practice making puppy-dog eyes and acting as innocent as possible.

—-

Mr. Fastner stood at the door holding a black leather attache case. He could feel his nerves start to get to him as he waited. The tension had been building since the Jones had left his office this afternoon. Numerous times he had to remind himself this was the right thing to do, even if not most legal option to the situation. The naive girl would learn a valuable lesson and that is more important than the money he had told his general counsel, president and himself.

Chris opened the door and ushered Mr. Fastner inside. James felt a current of electricity flowing through the small living room. It took him back two decades, when he was in his first managerial position, walking into the small dank conference room where two well seasoned  line workers sat waiting for him. It was the first time he had ever fired an employee, and probably one of the hardest tasks he had ever done in business. Both men had more years at the company than he had had on earth, but it didn’t change the fact they were caught clocking out for one another and the company had cut staff by 10 percent or risk bankruptcy. Looking back, Mr. Fastner found the situation ironic, since two years later he lead the effort to put the same company into Chapter 11 and now used it as the cornerstone of his small empire.

Mr. Fastner placed his brief case on his lap and flicked the latches allowing the top to spring open. He looked inside, glanced up at the three Jones’ sitting on the couch then back into the case. Reaching under the top folder, he withdrew the second folder of legal documents. “He are the terms by which the lawsuit will be dropped against you for breach of contract.” He handed the folder across the coffee table to Chris and paused to give the father a moment to start reading the cover page. “In there, it explains that Becky has been punished for breaking the confidentiality agreement and that she will put any funds that she gets because of the settlement to good use in making her a good and productive member of society. Please read through it and there is a spot for all three of you to initial at the bottom of each page and to sign at the end.”

James sat back as watched Chris read through the first page before handing it to his wife. The entire agreement was a mere six pages, unusually short for one of his contracts. His attorney did not think any such agreement would hold up in court, so the length was merely to impart some fear into the Jones than actually create a legally binding agreement.

“Now, Mr. Jones, the settlement was 88 thousand, correct?” James asked once Chris passed the last page to his wife.

“Yes, sir. Well plus the medical costs.” Chris answered.

“OK, then it seems only fair she receives 88 swats with the belt. One swat per thousand dollars,” James said with a deadpan expression. He had given Becky’s punishment some thought after the Jones had left this afternoon, and believed he had come up with a fair punishment which would make a strong impact on the self-entitled girl. A skilled negotiator, this opening request was intended to create a particular reaction from each member of the Jones family.

“WHAT!” Becky cried out. “88! That is totally unfair!” She stomped her foot like a naughty kid. “I won’t do it!” Becky crossed her arms as she shook her head, tossing her dirty blonde pony tail back and forth.

“OK, then I will have to withdrawal the offer of dropping the lawsuit.”

“Please, Mr. Fastner, 88 is a lot. Please, how about 20 instead.” Mrs. Jones interjected.

“20 swats across her jeans is whole inadequate for the seriousness of her actions,” Mr Fastner countered.

“Ah, what about 20 across her panties?” Mrs. Jones said.

“50 across her panties.”

“20 and on my bare bottom” Becky countered. This was exactly want James was looking for, consent by Becky to her punishment.

“22 on your bare bottom will be adequate.”

“Deal!” Becky said holding out her hand like she had just won a heated negotiation.

Mr. Fastner smirked slightly when he saw the prideful smile spread across Becky’s face. “Girl, don’t you know that pride cometh before the fall,” he said in his head as he extended his hand to accept the “deal.”

Once James and Becky shook hands, and awkward silence filled the room. Everyone knew what was next, through no one wanted to say anything. James wanted one of Becky’s parents to take charge of the situation while the Jones were not quite sure how Mr. Fastner wanted to main event to proceed.

James started to slowly open his mouth when Mrs. Jones blurted out, “Becky why don’t you go over the back of the couch?”

“Yes, yes,” Chris responded rather awkwardly and he stood up. All three Jones scurried to take their positions for the next stage. Becky moved behind the couch and knelt slightly as she undid the button on her jeans. Keeping low and facing the back of the couch, she lowered her jeans and panties together to mid-thigh, then slowly curled over the back of the couch until she was fully inverted.

Mr. Fastner stayed seated in his chair opposite the couch as he watched the amusing show. Becky clearly did not want to show anything more than necessary while Mr. Jones did not want to see his daughter either. James predicted everyone would see more of Becky than she desired before the evening was over.

Chris pulled the doubled over belt back, over his shoulder and brought it soundly down onto his daughter’s bottom. He had tried to make it look like it was hard, but place only a mild level of force behind the swat. He didn’t really want to hurt her, but felt obliged to carry out his duty, especially since Mr. Fastner was watching.

CRACK! “AAHHH!” Becky screeched as the whipped across her bottom. She wiggled her hips about while trying to reach her hands back to protect her bottom.

“Becky, now,” Chris reprimanded his daughter quietly, believing her reaction was more acting than legitimate distress.

CRACK! “AAHHH!” Becky screamed as her hands once again shot to console her bottom.

A mixture of annoyance and embarrassment built within Mr. Jones. First she had shot off her mouth about the settlement, then she had been completely disrespectful to Mr. Fastner, now she was refusing to own up to her mistakes and take the punishment like an adult. He pulled her left wrist upwards, into the small of back and whipped the belt down into it’s target.

CRACK! “AAHHH!” Becky screeched again. Her father didn’t allow her much time to react, instead repeat the hard swat again and again.

The sudden ferocity broke Becky’s comprehension of the situation. She still felt the pain building in her bottom with each successive blow, through she no longer felt the need to fight it. Around halfway, her lungs gave out and she could no longer even vocally protest. Each new swat was simply punctuated her sobs with a grunt. The whole situation overcame her quickly after that, freeing her mind from her body and letting it drift through oblivion.

Becky didn’t consciously recognized the end of the spanking, or her mother helping her up. The first real event to break was her mother’s voice yelling her name as she danced around half-naked, rubbing her bottom. When reality came crashing back, all she could do was shriek in embarrassment, pull her jeans and panties up towards her hips and take off for her room.

Becky immediately dropped her jeans and panties once the door was locked. Arching her head over her shoulder she admired the damage to her bottom. Even through the tear hazed eyes, she make out angry red bands crisscrossing her formerly snow white skin. Becky could only think of one thing, she NEVER wanted that to happen again. And it definitely wasn’t worth making Tricia jealous. Her jeans and panties remained at the door as she collapsed into bed to cry.

Mr. Fastner and the Jones spoke briefly after Becky left. Once James had left, the Jones stayed in the living room and talked over the new offer Mr. Fastner had made. It was mighty tempting, through they were concerned whether Becky would agree to the terms. They were severe, through probably not unwarranted. They agreed to wait, and see the effect this experience had on their daughter before even bringing up the idea to her.

Crying ain’t going to fix anythin – Conclusion

This is the conclusion to Crying ain’t going to fix anythin. This part of the story contains a scene which some may find slightly disgusting. The essence of this entire story, including the slightly disgusting part was related to me by a friend after we had a couple too many shots of rum. If you read the first part, you probably guess what is coming. I just wanted to forewarn my readers.

I never knew I could blush as much as I did leaving my dorm room. Couldn’t bare to look anyone in the face, instead focusing on back of mom’s shoes as we traversed the path to the car. I could feel whispers behind my back as we passed my floor mates. “Look at the naughty girl,” “Ah, the little girl got a spankin'”, and similar phrases filled my ears. I was too embarrassed to look up and see if anyone was actually saying anything.

Mom had been luck and found a parking spot in the visitor’s section in front of the dorm.

“Owe” I winced when my tender backside pressed against the leather seat. The stingy sensation was being reignited by the hot leather. I pressed my arms straight down, lifting myself slightly off the seat to provide some relief to the sting.

“Seat belt!?” Mom asked in her rhetorical, why haven’t you done something, kind of manner.

I glanced to my right, only to realize there would be no way to buckle the seat belt without removing one of my hands. I tried to tilt to my right and use my left hand pull the seat belt across my body, my clumsiness assisted me in leaning too far right and falling against the door. I ended up landing squarely on my smarting bottom. With an “Ouch!” I pulled the seat belt across my body and immediately tried to propel myself off my bottom again.

“Enough of that!” Mom scolded, slapping away my hands from getting between my bottom and the seat.

“Grrr” I growled under my breath. I am so glad Mom didn’t hear me, or at least didn’t care, because if she had, I’m sure I would have taken another trip over her lap.

The ride home seemed to take forever, yet was over in an instant, all at the same time. The first half I spent trying to relieve some of the smarting in my bottom, which never really occurred. During the second half my mind started wandering. I thought about what Dad would say, then my friends. My friends would probably be supportive. My Grandma Rosselin though would be so disappointed. I was her first grandchild to go to college, and now I had screwed that up royally. Well, Dad and Grandpa had both went to college, but that was West Point, and she was so happy that I got into a non-military college.

We were about a block from home when mom pulled off the road into the corner drug store. I didn’t even realize we had stopped until mom broke me from my thoughts. “You can stay here. I’ll only be a minute,” she said getting out.

I had been to this particular drug store a thousand times, but this time it seemed different. Foreign almost. I had been at school for three months, but sitting in the car, watching the people go in and out of the store. The kids seemed younger, the adults didn’t seem so old and even though my hometown is quite small, I didn’t recognize a single person. Had everything changed suddenly, or was it just that I had started to change?

Mom returned a few minutes later, a white plastic bag poking out of her purse. I knew what was in the bag, but I didn’t have the courage to ask.

Upon arriving at home, Mom sent me to my room. I hadn’t been sent to my room in a decade, though there has been many times when I have willingly went to my room to avoid getting in further trouble. I felt soo juvenile being sent to my room without supper like a naughty little kid. The saving grace was having some time alone. Mom had said that Dad wouldn’t be back from training exercises until morning, so I had a little bit of a reprieve.

Collapsing onto my bed, for some reason I thought back to British history class on Thursday when the professor was discussion Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn. I wondered if she felt like I did the night before her execution. I dreaded tomorrow’s events, though I accepted the fact I could not change my future now.

I thought getting spanked in front of my floor-mates was embarrassing, but it couldn’t compare to my morning. Mom woke me early in the morning and dragged me to the bathroom. I was still picking the eye crusties from crying myself to sleep when she instructed me to sit on the toilet with my legs spread.

“What!” I asked. I know how to use the bathroom and have been doing it for years without supervision.

“Sit and spread your legs wide, now!” Mom commanded. Instinct, and probably a healthy dose of fear, caused me to follow her instructions without any further protest. I sat down on the toilet and was reminded of yesterday’s bathroom experience.

“Com’on, get your panties down,” Mom seemed annoyed. I had through I was following instructions, but stood up a little to tug my panties down from beneath my night shirt down to my ankles. I completed the slightly awkward task while keeping my nightshirt low around my waist. “Pull that up,” Mom said, waving a white stick at my shirt.

I gave a little pout, which Mom did not like. She simply grabbed the hem of my shirt with her free hand and yanked it up to my neck then thrust the white stick below my crotch. I now recognized it was a pregnancy test. “Mom, I can do it.” I tried to protest, reaching for her lower hand.

“Now stop it! Just pee slowly, I want to make sure you did it correctly!” Mom reprimanded.

I am sure I turned every shade of red imaginable, but I couldn’t bring myself to relieve myself while my mom watched. Using the bathroom was an utter private event. She might have saw me naked hundreds of times, but doing that was beyond embarrassing. My bladder may have been full, but this was too much.

“Com’on pee, or do you need a reminder?” Mom asked.

I think the mention of a “reminder” with the hairbrush scared me more than anything, because I started peeing within a moment. I covered my face as the urine kept coming and coming. I was slightly concerned my cheeks were going to catch on fire.

At some point I finished and Mom withdrew the test. I didn’t uncover my face until she said something. “Did you take a pregnancy test earlier?”

“Yes,” I mumbled, lowering my hands.

“And did it show two lines like this?” Mom asked, holding the test in front of my face. I could smell the acidic stench of urine as it neared my face. There was one line in the left circle and one line the in right circle, just like the test I had taken.

“Yes, two lines, I told you I’m pregnant,” I muttered, looking away.

“That’s ONE line, the line in the right circle means it worked! Didn’t you read the instructions?” Mom asked.

“Yea….hmmm…kinda. It said 2 lines was pregnant,” I protested.

“Two lines in the RESULTS CIRCLE!” Mom said with a long, drawn-out sigh. “Well, get yourself cleaned up. Breakfast will be ready in fifteen minutes. I already told your father last night, and he said he would be home by 9 this morning. I’ll let you give him the good news.” Mom left be sitting on the toilet.

I was relieved at my mistake, though the discussion with Dad scared the hell out of me. I always felt so protected and special when he was around, expect when I was in trouble. He has this amazing ability to turn on and off his inner Colonel. Growing up I had seen him treat me like a princess one moment then turn around and ripe into a Private or 2nd Lieutenant and immediately treating me like a princess. Though when I was naughty, he would turn on his inner Colonel until after my sentence was executed. Then I was back to being his little princess, no matter how old I was.

There are three words that can shake anyone to their core, especially when said in a stern voice by their parent. When dad slowly, started his lecture with my full name, I knew I was doomed. He was going to tan my hide and tan it well. I might as well just get up, drop my PJs and panties and bend over the desk. It would save him the breath of the lecture. Even though I knew it was inevitable, I couldn’t bare to actually move.

“…well, do you have anything to say for yourself?” Dad ended all his lectures with that statement.

It was now my turn to confess all I thought he knew and beg for mercy. He already knew everything so all I really could do was beg for mercy. Something deep down inside me said I didn’t deserve his mercy though. I had screwed up royally and deserved anything and everything he thought appropriate. So with a little hesitation I replied, “No sir.”

There was a long pause before he began again. “Being an adult has new responsibilities, including setting one’s own expectations and consequences.” He said.

This was new, I thought. I looked up from playing with my fingernails to find Dad seated in the other chair, leaning towards me as he spoke. I couldn’t remember him ever sitting down during one of my lectures. Well, I could never remember us both sitting down during one of this lectures.

“Is getting pregnant before being married one of your expectations for yourself?” he asked.

“No, sir.”

“And what is an appropriate consequence for getting yourself into a situation where that expectation could not be meet?”

I knew the answer I wanted to say and it wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear. I didn’t want to risk making him any more mad at me and went with the answer he wanted. “A spanking, sir.”

“And so have you been appropriately punished for your actions?” he asked.

There was something different in his voice this time. It was as if he was sincerely asking for my thoughts rather than going through an exercise. I bit my lower lip for a moment while I contemplating risking the affirmative response.

“Hu sweetie?” Dad urged gently.

He only ever referred to me as sweetie when he was trying to be comforting, not angry. This gave me enough hope to risk the affirmative response. “Yes sir.” I answered meekly.

“Are you sure? The spanking your mother gave you was adequate for the promiscuity, the unprotected sex, the inattention to details when reading the test?” Dad added.

Even the comforting, sincere tone couldn’t convince me to lie. I still felt guilty for the whole episode and if I had truly been punished adequately, I wouldn’t feel guilty, would I? The guilt felt horrible, not as bad as a spanking, but bed enough. And when would it go away? Even though saying no would mean another trip over the knee, it hopefully would get rid of this guilty feeling. “No sir,” I admitted.

“And therefore what should happen?”

“I should be spanked again.”

“OK, prepare yourself then.”

Dad had never put it quite like that before, though this entire line of questioning had been different. I stood up and first looked at his lap, then the desk and finally the space behind us. All three were valid options and he hadn’t stated which one. Over his lap always made me feel childish though the desk seemed like an equally juvenile position. Touching my toes would hurt worst than the other two, but seemed the most adult option. I am an adult and I am taking an adult punishment, so there really was only one choice.

I took three steps towards the back wall, so that I was well clear of any furniture. I contemplated leaving my PJs or panties up, but either seemed wrong. I closed my eyes, hooked my thumbs under my panty waistline and lowered both garments together. I stayed inverted and grasped my ankles to wait for the incoming pain.

Dad’s belt drew tears from me on the first stroke. It stung me to my core, yet I felt relieved at the same time. Cliche or not, but it felt as if each swat was lifting the weight of the world off my shoulders. I had read of the trials by fire of different cultures, and how this physically painful events could bring spiritual enlightenment, though I had never believed them until that moment. This spanking would become my trial by fire into adulthood.

Afterwards the normal hugs and cuddling on Daddy’s lap occurred. It had been a long time since I had felt like his little girl instead of a headstrong teenager taking on the world alone.

I wish I could say that was the last spanking I ever got. I’ve had a few more trips over Mom’s knee or Dad’s desk, though each of them has been at my prompting, rather that of my parents’. I swear Mom almost fainted the first time I came back from college and presented her my hairbrush before confessing to a bunch of things and draping myself over her lap. I know she thought I was crazy, but she carried out her motherly duty.

In the back of a cop car

You drove right past
That no trespassing sign
We sat on the tailgate
And watched the planes take off

I thought we had all night
There was no need to rush
That’s when those cops
Came pulling up
And I thought
Man, ain’t this some shit

My daddy’s gonna kill me
But if I survive tonight
I wouldn’t change one thing
Baby, yeah
I know it sounds crazy

But there was something bout the way
The blue lights were shining
Bringing out the freedom in your eyes
I was too busy watching you
Going wild child
To be worried about going to jail
You were thinking that
Running for it
Would make a good story
I was thinking you were crazy as hell
And I was so innocent
But you were stealing my heart
I fell in love in the back of a cop car

Man, they weren’t playing
They sure threw those cuffs on quick
I tried to sweet talk ’em
They didn’t fall for it
But you did
You were on the left
I was on the right
You knew I didn’t smoke
When I asked him for a light
And you laughed
He got mad and slammed the door

Daddy’s gonna kill me
But if I survive tonight
I wouldn’t change one thing
Baby, yeah
I know it sounds crazy

But there was something bout the way
The blue lights were shining
Bringing out the freedom in your eyes
I was too busy watching you
Going wild child
To be worried about law school
You were thinking that
Loving on me
Would make a good story
I was thinking we were crazy as hell
Harvard wouldn’t wait
And daddy wouldn’t understand
I fell in love in the back of a cop car

Side by side
And locked in tight
They were taking their time
But we didn’t mind
We talked
And we laughed
We sat real close
By the time they let us go
I was already gone

Daddy didn’t understand what I saw
Those blue lights were still flashing
When they dropped me off
He was too busy seeing your tattoos
And the cop car
To be worried about my showing that belt
I was thinking that
Running for it
Would make a good story
I was thinking this was hurting like hell
And I wasn’t so innocent
But daddy was stripping my bottom
For I fell in love in the back of a cop car

New Years Recollections and Resolutions, Part I

This story is a standalone continuation of the Three Ghosts of Halloween. The characters are the same, through it should enjoyable without having read the other story.

“Deck the halls with bows of Holli, Fa La La!…” I hummed along to the music of Jingle Bells as I dug around in my closet looking for something to wear tonight. I don’t know why tune was still in my head, being that Christmas was a week ago. I guess I was just in a festive mood. Tonight was New Year’s Eve and it was time to get my party on. Since becoming an adult, I had become to prefer the New Years celebrations to those of Christmas. Christmas is great and all, but it is a time for family, while New Year’s is a time for friends. The later is just less stressful for me.

I pull the bottom pair of jeans from the stack then give them a good shake. These were my best pair of skinny jeans and I prayed I could still squeeze into them after the holiday food frenzy. I took a deep break as the waist neared to top of my thighs. Releasing my breath, I pulled the jeans up and gave a slight hop. When I landed the waist had cleared by hips and settle into their natural place. I quickly zipped them up before attempting to breath again. I was quite amazed at how easy they went on. Maybe I hadn’t gained as much weight as I had thought.

Next up was a cute top. The first couple options I pulled from the hangers were too “worky” or “cluby.” I wanted something that had an understated sexiness to it. Part of tonight’s fun was going to be teasing Adam all night long before we christened the New Year our special way. I turned around and started on the other side when I pulled out a black cashmere sweater with a mild V-neck. Just the thing get his motor going.

I pulled the sweater over my head and adjusted the front to show a fair amount of cleavage. I moved over to the full length mirror to admire my outfit, “Damn I look hot!” I ran a hand down my body, smoothing out a couple of wrinkles. “Why hadn’t I wore this combo more this winter?” Like a tidal wave, the events surrounding my last wearing of this sweater came back.

I snuck the bags through the backdoor, hoping Adam wasn’t home yet. I had left before him, but I wasn’t sure where he was going, so he could be back already. It would wreck the surprise if he saw his Christmas presents before Christmas. Also, I might have spent a little bit more than I had intended, but the deals were so good.

I tip-toed through our house, like a teenager trying to sneak in after curfew. I had to bump into everything in my path and squeaked every floorboard I could on my way to the master bedroom. I was sure I had made it when I opened the bedroom door only to have the same outcome as most teenagers, being caught.

“Ah, you got home,” Adam said from behind the glow of his laptop. In the low light, I wouldn’t make out much, but he looked a little annoyed from here. “Put away the gifts then we need to have a talk.”

“But..but..but…” I tried defending myself against the unknown accusation.

The next few minutes were a blur. Adam quickly informed me that he knew exactly how much I had spent, and that it was considerably more than we had agreed to spend jointly. Like a thousand dollars more. And that any purchases made for myself would be returned in the morning, plus, he was going to implement our post-Halloween agreement. The next thing I really remember was being face down over his lap as he went to work on my butt. I was squealing from his hand within a minute. When tears started to come he stopped, and began scolding me about my poor spending habits. I have to admit this wasn’t the first time I had spent a little bit too much.

“Ok, stand up,” Adam commanded. I was half expecting him to continue for another 10 minutes of stingy spanks, but he had asked me to get up, like my spanking was all over.

I eased myself off his lap, and immediately started to rub the sting out of my bottom. I barely touched my bottom before he took my wrists and held them together in front of my pussy. “Hey!”

“Not yet, your spanking is even close to being over,” Adam chided as he got up, holding my wrists together with one hand. “I think this is much too serious for a hand spanking.” My heart sank at those words. After the Halloween incident, I had gotten this great idea to look up adult spankings online and spent most of the weekend learning all about the subject as well as domestic discipline and a couple things I wish I could unlearn. The masterful part of my idea was the Discipline Agreement I wrote up and presented to Adam at dinner on Sunday. It basically said he could spank me anytime I was naughty and anyway he deemed appropriate. The thorough fool I am, I provided him examples of misbehaviors and appropriate punishments.

I was spun around and escorted over to the decorative chair we kept in corner of our room. Adam must have pulled it away from the wall, because when he popped me up onto it so I was kneeling, facing the back, I had plenty of room to hold on to the back without bumping my head into the wall. I closed my eyes, waiting for want additional punishment he had in store for me.

I heard it before it’s fiery touch exploded across my bottom. He was using my white leather belt and not holding anything back. In a split second I regretted ever agreeing to be spanked as a second stroke came back. Adam followed my directions exactly, giving me just over dozen horrible strokes while ignoring my pleas for mercy. I was a crying mess when his hug surrounded me and carried me to bed.

“Honey! Where is the bottle of champagne?” Adam’s call from downstairs broke me from my revile. I blinked a couple of times, before noticing in the mirror my hand was rubbing a phantom throb from my bottom. I blushed slightly as I hurried downstairs to find the champagne for him. I had no intention of repeating the Black Friday incident tonight. How could I? We were just going over to our friends for drinks and some games.

It took me only a minute to gather up the champagne, deserts and couple of games we were taking over to Rick and Brittney’s. Once Adam helped me in to my new winter coat, a Christmas present from him, we were off to walk the block and a half to our friend’s house. I had contemplated asking Adam to drive, but the crisp winter’s air felt refreshing. It was quite romantic actually, gazing up at the stars as I held onto my man’s arm. The old fashion light posts lit our path while gentle breezes tried to tickle beneath my pea coat. I felt like I was living in the middle of a romantic movie.

After a brief greeting, Rick took Adam downstairs to show of his new toys. I heard something about XBox before I lost all interest in their conversation. Boys and their toys; things I’ll never understand.

“Do you think we’ll see the guys before midnight?” I asked Brittney as she led the way to the kitchen.

“Yea, the fridge is almost empty in the bar down there. I give them an hour before they come looking for food or beer.”

I chuckled as added, “They can have all the beer.”

“You know it girl. I got big bottle of Jose Silver so we can make margaritas. Let the men have their beer!” Brittney responded, pulling 1.75L bottle of tequila from the counter next to the fridge.

“Margaritas, yikes!” I thought. It tastes so good, and makes me get so bad. I took a quick glance around the counters, looking for some alternative. Anything other than tequila. Wine? Vodka? Whiskey? Nothing was present, and I doubted the fridge would offer anything other than beer. What to do? What should I do? What will I do? Brittney had never seen me after a couple shots of tequila. I actually hadn’t had tequila since that bonfire party Adam dragged me to a couple months after we started dating.

—-

“Hey Babe, what a shot?” Adam asked as he pour some cheap off-brand, tequila into plastic shot glasses.

“Sure!” I grabbed the pink cup and held it high while Rick took a blue one and Adam took a neon yellow.

“Cheers!” I said tapping the guy’s cups then tossed back the shot. The tequila burned in all the good ways. First my throat warmed to its embrace, then a couple gentle tinges in my stomach before I could feel it coursing through my veins. All of a sudden I felt extra alive.

I grabbed the bottle of tequila and poured out another round. I threw mine back before the guys had their plastic cups in the air. The second one was better than the first. The third was even better. We ran out of tequila on the third and Adam volunteered to go get more, and some much needed chasers.

The music felt so good at that moment I just had to dance.

I placed a knee on the edge of the table and tried to propel myself onto it, but my lack of balance was sending me backwards. Luckily, some gentleman saw my problem and provide a little help, and with big hand planted firmly on my ass, I was standing on the table. I let the music do its thing, guiding my hips to the beat as I raised my hands above my head.

Eventually the rock song ended and was replaced by a more upbeat song, “Opps I did it again!” Brittney’s music video shot through my mind, as if it was a personal challenge. I could show her sexy. That little Disney star didn’t know sexy if it was looking her in the face. I closed my eyes as my hips popped with the beat.

My pleated skirt joined my hips, swaying to and fro as the hem danced it’s way up my thighs. The cool night air seeping into the previously clammy confides invigorated me. I just started to increase my gyrations when the song ended and a new, quicker beat song started. For a moment, I was tempted to get down. The singular repetition of snare and bass was sapping my energy. Tequila convinced me to give it a try, and I began putting out my left leg an tapping along with the beat. Two measures later the guitar joined in and recognized the song.

“Sweat Baby! Sweat Baby!” the lyrics blasted from the speakers, encouraging me pantomime the story being portrayed. ” Imitated brushing sweet from my brow, will keeping my hips swaying with the beat. “Put your hands, down my pants, and I bet you’ll feel nuts!” I slipped my right hand down the front of my skirt while making a mock surprise face and cover my mouth with my left hand.

“Come on, get down from there!” Adam yelled over the music. I swept my hand around to brush him off, but depth perception had left my vision at least a shot ago. My hand missed him by two feet and instead getting him to move back, provided him with an anchor to hold me.

“No..” I continued to sway along with the beat which by now only existed in my head. “Let maaa danccce!”

“Hey!” came a collective protest from every guy around. Adam ignored them all, and swept his left arm around my knees and hoisted me into his arms. I squealed in surprise and started wiggling about, trying to free myself. It was at that moment I realized a real problem with dating a linebacker; he is expected to physically stop men three times my size out on the field. I have no chance of escaping his grip if he doesn’t want to let me go. And I am fine with that fact.

Adam took only a couple of steps before gently setting my feet upon the ground. He had thoughtfully assumed I would not like gravity at that moment and set me next to the wall. I held onto the wall until the floor decided to quit titling and stay still. I was then able to look at Adam in the eye, and tell he was quite upset.

“Awe, don’t you like me dancing sexy?” I purred as I ran a finger down his chest.

“Not like some 2-dollar whore!” Adam snapped.

“I am not some whore!” I responded, trying to stand upright. The alcohol was having an effect on my balance, but I knew I could overcome it.

“What you were doing up there sure looked like it!”

“Fuck you!” I waved my right index finger about before landing it on his chest. “If you like it, you can find another girl!” I gave a slight push, turned and walked off to find a guy who liked my dancing. I have no idea how I walked away, but somehow accomplished it.

Consequences for the spoiled brats

This story begins with Just Your Everyday Spoiled Brat Party. I recommend you read it first.

Becky had yet to leave her room since she got home from the police station. She didn’t really want to face her father, nor did she really fell like walking much. There was also the grounding issue. The housekeeper had delivered her meals and with her in-suite bathroom, she didn’t need to leave. She just laid on her stomach and watched TV all day, plotting her revenge on Gwen. Gossip Girl and One Tree Hill was providing her some spectacular inspiration.

Monday arrived and so did the anticipation of her mother’s arrival. She had only had a very brief conversation with her Mom on Sunday, which ended with that awful phrase “we will discuss this when I get home!” Becky knew full-well that the discussion would be one sided, with her doing very little of the talking.

“Ms. Rebecca, your father left this note for you.” their housekeeper told Becky when she brought up her breakfast.

“Thank you, Maria.” Becky said, taking the note and egg-white omelet. She closed the door then sat the tray on her desk before picking up the note. It was probably some more punishment or something, she thought.

“Becky, I have some errands for you to run for my office. You are to go straight to city hall and straight home when you get done. NO WHERE ELSE. Your keys are on the kitchen counter. Call me from the house phone when you get home. I’m going to pick up Mom from the airport and we’ll be home around 8 ~Dad.”

It could have been worst, she thought. At least she gets to leave the house, even if it is to go play page-girl. Normally, she would have preferred the law firm to city hall, so she could flirt with the cute associates, but today was not a flirty day. Today felt more like a pouting, sulky type of day. Sulking around the city hall didn’t sound like much fun though. She would have rather went to the beach, the mall or even the gym than city hall.

Becky plopped down onto her desk chair and instantly remembered why the beach would be a bad idea. Her bottom still ached and probably looked worst than it felt. Not a good combination with a string bikini. No matter, she would not be going anywhere she wanted to until college started next week. Maybe….

Becky reread the note twice more before the loophole hit her. Dad had required her to call when she got home so he’d know she went straight home, but he didn’t say anything about calling before she left. A quick glance at her alarm clock and a few simple estimates for traffic, getting ready and such told her that she would might have an extra hour, if she was quick. An hour at the mall was risky, and the good one wasn’t on the way to city hall. The gym, on the other hand was on the way, and she could get in a nice workout in an hour.

Becky scarfed down the omelet before stuffing a dressier outfit in her duffel bag and changing into yoga pants and a t-shirt. A light windbreaker and she was off. She referred to it as a gym, but The Club, as her parents and fellow members referred to it, was far from an ordinary gym. It really a private club with dinning rooms, a bar, and meeting rooms in addition to the standard gym and spa facilities.

An uptempo Becky rounded the privacy corner to find the locker room quite empty. It was 10 o’clock on a Monday morning, so it wasn’t too surprising to find the gym sparsely populated. She started to make her way down the rows of lockers when another woman crossed from the bathroom area into the locker alcoves.

It took Becky a moment to recognize the brunette. “Really?” she thought. “That bitch is at MY gym!” She took off in a huff to confront the cause of so much pain this weekend. She turned into the locker set where the girl had disappeared and stopped dead in her tracks. It was obvious that Becky had not been seen as the girl was bending over, fishing something out of the bottom of her locker, completely oblivious to her watcher. Becky let her jaw drop as she took in the sight before her.

The girl was wearing only bikini panties and a sports bra. In her current, inverted position, the panties had rode up into a slight wedgie, exposing the lower half of her cheeks. The lower half of her cheeks was had shocked Becky. Against the light pinkish brown background, a black and blue bruise marred the center of each cheek.

Becky let out a slight gasp. The girl had not heard Becky enter the locker room, and was consequently startled by the sound behind her. The brunette straightened up and turned around to come face-to-face with her rival. Upon seeing Becky, Gwen’s mood soured considerably.

“What?!” Gwen snapped. “Say whatever you are going to. I’m in no mood for your bitchiness right now.”

“I…ah…didn’t think..” Becky felt herself for a lost of words, a rare occurrence when dealing with people her own age. All the hatred she had for this girl seemed to disappear in a moment, and she didn’t understand why.

“Whatever, go tell all your friends that poor little Gwen is still spanked.” Gwen spewed her resentment at Becky finding out her secret.

“I..ah.. I didn’t think you still got it. I know back then, but now?” Becky said.

“Whatever,” Gwen dismissed turning back to her locker and the task of getting dressed. She wanted out of here and Becky’s sight as soon as possible.

“Gwen,” Becky placed a hand on her shoulder, turning the brunette around. “I’m not going to tell anyone. I promise.”

“Sure you won’t.”

“I won’t, because I know what it’s like.”

“Yea, yea, I remember that incident with my Mom’s car. But this isn’t the same. You don’t understand.”

Becky pursed her lips for a moment. This had most definitely not been part of her planned revenge on Gwen. Maybe she wasn’t all evil. They had been friends once. Fine she would show Gwen how she understood.

“Look,” Becky set down her bag then turned to her left side. Hooking her right thumb under the waistbands of her yoga pants and panties, she pulled the both down, revealing her right cheek. Raised maroon and purple welts still decorated her bottom.

“Oh, my god!” Gwen gasped at the sight. Gwen had long-ago thought she was the only girl in Malibu still spanked by her parents.

“See, I know what’s it like.”

“I didn’t think anyone still got it.” Gwen responded, still starring.

“Me neither. But you look to got it worst than me.”

“It’s not as bad as it looks. Its a standard paddling response, yours though. Ouch.” Gwen commented, running her finger along one of the purple ridges.

“Ouch.” Becky jumped, letting her panties and pants snap back into place.

“Sorry. What made those welts?”

“Dad’s belt.”

Gwen cringed at the thought of a leather belt searing into her bottom. Her mother’s little paddle was painful, but the belt was a whole different level she never wanted to reach. “I bet your dad was pissed. I saw him enter the police station as I left.”

“Pissed would have been better. He gave me the silent treatment the whole way home, then lit into me at home. The belt was only the start of my punishment. I’m grounded and stuff too. Mom has refused to talk about it until she gets home tonight.”

Gwen offered a sympathetic frown. “At least you were clothed. The cops caught me in the pool and provided an orange jumpsuit. Mom made me take it off and my panties before going to town with that damn paddle.”

“She still uses that same paddle she used on us?” Becky asked.

“No, that one broke shortly afterwards. She replaced it with this oak one that looks like a small sorority paddle.”

“Yikes!”

“Yup. ‘Panties down, over my lap and apply soundly until she no longer kicks and screams,’ is my Mom’s motto.” Gwen recited.

“Mom is the same way. Tonight will be hell.” Becky said, as she eased herself onto the bench.

“You got another one coming also?” Gwen asked.

“Probably, Mom said we’d have a ‘discussion’ when she got home.”

“Ah.”

“Why? are you getting another one?” Becky asked,

“If I am lucky.” Gwen remarked, drawing a puzzled look from Becky. “I’m to get one every Friday and Sunday night until my community service is complete.”

“Community service?”

“Yea, I should thank you for that, actually your dad and Melanie’s. Everyone caught at the party got 100 hrs of community service in exchange for all charges being dropped. Your Dad didn’t tell you?” Gwen informed Becky.

“No….”

“Yea, they couldn’t be seen favoring their kids. Better than going to court. I’m starting my community service this afternoon to limit my dates with that blasted paddle.” Gwen didn’t mention the hour of naked corner-time that went along with her paddlings. Normal corner-time was humiliating enough, but since she had been caught in such an immodest state, her mother felt it appropriate to associate immodestly with her punishment.

“I guess community service is better than court.” Becky shrugged.

“It is surely better than a spanking.” Gwen smirked, drawing a smile from Becky.

Just Your Everyday Spoiled Brat Party

Boom! Boom! Boom! The over-sized speakers pumped the beat through the crowd. The song and lyrics didn’t matter, right now was just about the beat. A good, solid beat was at the core of any good party. Without a good beat, there was no dancing and without dancing, getting the attention of the hotty across the room was hard. Everyone at the party wanted attention, preferably from a sexy vixen like Becky.

Boom Boom Boom! Becky could feel the bass generating the spirit guiding her hips. Eyes closed and hands keeping her chestnut locks in the air, she was the image of sensuality.

“Becks! Everyone’s going in the pool!” Kim yelled into her friend’s ear before pulling her towards the deck.

Becky hadn’t realized how hot she had gotten dancing and felt she could use a break to cool off. She stumbled behind her friend as they weaved through crowd. The Patron shots were making her feel real good.

The cool water looked to refreshing to Becky, she knew she just had to get in. She pulled the tank-top over her head before shimming off her shorts to reveal her make-shift bathing suit. The dark-blue lace bra and panty set attracted some hollers from the nearby guys, making Becky feel good about herself. She put a finger to her lips as she looked over her shoulder at a couple of the louder guys. A shy smile and she was feeling sexier than when she had been grinding in the mosh pit. She couldn’t blame them for wanting her, she knew she was drop dead gorgeous. High firm breast accentuated her flat tummy while her long tanned legs lead straight up to her full, and perk booty. She was a fuckin’ goddess, she thought as she took the three steps to the edge of the pool.

She was just about ready to gracefully slip into the water when saw Freddie in the middle of the pool. He is the son of some English lord, built like a GQ model and the target of Becky’s attention all summer long.

“Tonight he would be mine!” she thought as she flashed him her legendary bedroom eyes. No one had resisted them and Freddie would just be their next victim.

He smiled back when cat-calls from across the pool pulled Freddie’s attention away. Annoyed, Becky glance in the direction of the commotion to see Gwen standing at the edge of the pool. “That bitch!” Becky thought as she watched Gwen toss her bra aside then pop her hips from side to side as she made her way down the pool ladder.

Gwen and Becky had been rivals since freshman year of High School. Gwen had just moved from New York City and no problem fitting in among social elites of Malibu. Becky accepted Gwen into her clique and welcomed her. Gwen wasn’t as pretty, as wealthy or as smart as Becky, so Becky saw a new friend, not a rival. They became instant BFFs, until homecoming when Becky walked in on Gwen servicing the star middle linebacker, and Becky’s boyfriend, at half-time. One blowjob had created an epic six year rivalry. Becky had tried to play the slut card on Gwen, but a rumor about being a slut coupled with her innocent, girl-next door looks just attracted more attention from the guys.

Becky was not one to be outdone, and tonight was her night to rule. “I can do topless,” she thought to herself. Two fingers and her bra was flying towards a lounge chair. Her bravado earned her more catcalls and more general attention than her rival. She ate up the attention, even though it came from such an immoral reason, before she slipped into the water.

“Hey Freddie,” Becky said, taking hold of his right hand underwater and planting squarely on her bare breast.

Gwen saw his hand grasp the brunette’s breast in the blue mood lighting of the pool. She could do better than a little second base action.

Gwen whispered into Freddie’s left ear, instantly garnering his attention away from Becky. Gwen took a deep breath before slipping below the surface. In an instant she had his boxers down and engulfed him. Bubbles escaped her lips as she attempted her first underwater blowjob.

Becky didn’t realize want Gwen was doing until the mood lighting cycled back on, casting a red shadow over the exhibitionistic coupling. The initial shock of such a brazen act quickly gave way to pure anger. Becky took hold of the back of the girl’s head and shoved it downwards, forcing the hard shaft deep into her throat.

The unexpected invasion, mixed with her already hypoxic state, panicked Gwen. The gut shove sent Freddie sprawling backwards, off his feet and under the water. A moment later Gwen surfaced, gasping for air.

“Take a little too much?” Becky ridiculed. “He’s too much of a man for a little girl like you?” Gwen spurted a few more times.

“COPS! RUN!” a guy yelled running out of the house. Seconds later the entire yard erupted into anarchy. Police swarmed from the back gate and around the side of the house, cutting off all the exits to the walled compound. Underage teenagers were ditching beer filled cups while scurrying for any possible exit through the darkness. The party-goers had only a minute of semi-darkness before an officer found the switch to the security lights.

Becky’s tequila haze parted in an instant. Avoiding the police was her second highest priority; first she had to find her clothes. The only thing worst than being caught by the police at a party like this would be caught half-naked. She half-swam, half-wadded straight to the edge of the pool where she had entered. The security flood lights provided her more than enough light to see the lounge chairs where she had tossed her top clothes a mere fifteen minutes earlier. Poking her head over the edge, she quickly scanned the pool deck. Her bra and shorts were no where in sight, but she spotted her top only five yards away.

Coverage was only five yards away. Only fifteen feet. Only one hundred eighty inches. She only had to get past three cops and six drunks standing in her path.

“Come On! Out of the pool!” a darkly dressed man yelled at Becky from the deck.

“Oh fuck” she mumbled as a large hand reached down for her shoulder.

The next two hours were an agonizing slow whirlwind of events for Becky. The officer who caught her didn’t realize her state of undress until her wrists were firmly secured behind her back with a zip-tie. Having her arms pulled back, increased the prominence of her breasts. The male officer then then set her down next to her shirt while he found a female officer to assist in redressing the girl. Her shorts and bra couldn’t be quickly found so her top was just quickly pulled over her head and arms. Then into the back of a squad car with three other girls and off to station where she was booked, photographed and sent to a holding cell primarily full of half drunk girls from the party.

Becky was just starting to become sober when an officer called out her name. She had been bailed out and was to be released into her parents custody. Her father’s custody actually, since her mom was in New York for the week.

Her father didn’t say a word to her when Becky rounded the corner and told to wait a minute behind the counter. He didn’t need to say anything, his expression told her everything she needed to know. He was utterly disappointed, angry and hurt by his little girl all at the same time. It was the one look that always made her feel plain naughty. Like she was a bad girl, not a grown woman looking forward to her senior year of college.

“I’m sorry” Becky mumbled, staring downwards to avoid his glare.

“Everything is in order. She is released into your custody. Someone from the district attorney’s office will be in touch about any charges. Have a good night.” The desk sergeant told her father before pressing a button and releasing the half-door dividing Becky’s location from the lobby.

Becky looked up just long enough to see her father shake his head then turn for the door. She quickly made to follow him to the waiting car.

Becky was surprised to see her mother’s Land Rover in the parking lot. Her dad hated driving it, but she had taken his Mercedes to the party. Well, he had allowed her to take it to Kim’s, and it was now parked three blocks away from the party’s location. Hopefully it was still parked there, she thought.

Sixteen silent minutes later, Ivan pulled the SUV into their garage. Becky had not dared to speak out of fear of angering her father more. She had just stared at her lap, thinking about how foolish she had been. That tonight’s events might have permanently ruined her future. Her plans of going to law school and becoming a federal judge. All of it would be gone with her arrest record. Georgetown law wouldn’t accept a felon. She’d be lucky if she John Marshall accepted her now. Everything ruined over a dumb little party.

Her father getting out of the SUV broke her from the speculations. Becky’s attention refocused upon her nakedness and the enviable trip she would have to make past her father on the way to her room. For some reason her current tank-top and bikini panties felt considerably more revealing than even the string bikini’s she had worn this summer. The swimsuits had covered considerably less, so why did she feel so embarrassed right now?

She waited until he exited the garage before slipping out of the car and scampering, barefooted, over to the door. Peaking into the kitchen, she didn’t see anyone. “Hopefully everyone’s asleep” she mumbled as she tip toed onto the tiled floor. She had made to the back stairs when a gruff voice stopped her dead.

“You better be going straight to your room because we will be talking about tonight,” Ivan barked from behind her.

“Yes daddy,” she muttered before taking the slow walk up to her room, pouting the entire trip. She closed the door behind her though paid special attention not to lock it as was her habit. Waiting would make Daddy more upset. She sulked over to her bed. Sitting down, he realized she might as well put on some pjs while she waited. At least she wouldn’t be half naked while getting yelled at.

“What the hell do you think you were doing?” Ivan yelled as he barged into his daughter’s room. Becky dropped the pjs back into the drawer and turned to face her father for the tongue lashing she was sure to receive.

“I’m sorry Daddy,” was all Becky could say as Ivan ripped into her for her irresponsible, indecent, and reckless behavior. The lecture seemed to last forever, as Becky stood before her father, starring at the floor and occasionally offering apology when prompted.

“I seriously do not believe you want to be a lawyer and think my money for your tuition is being wasted. Well, I’m not wasting any more. You can figure out how to pay for your own tuition.”

“No daddy! Not college. I won’t be able to finish!” Becky pleaded.

“You should have thought about the potential consequences before you got drunk and stripped half naked!”

“I’m soo sorry. Anything else. Ground me, take away my car, spank me, anything but don’t cut off my tuition,” Becky cried.

His daughter’s large puppy dog eyes always got to him. This time it was enough to soothe some of his anger and allow consider the situation more rationally. Cutting off her tuition was drastic and would send a major point, but would damage her long-term success, and he did not want her becoming one of those Paris Hilton-esque daughters. The country club had too many already. She had to be punished though, and her three suggestions sounded like a great starting point.

“Fine! We’ll start with all three! Get on your bed while I get my belt!” Ivan storm out of the room, trying to demonstrate more anger than he actually felt.

Ivan returned to find Becky in the prescribed position, with her bare bottom pointing towards the ceiling and exemplified by a pair of pillows under her hips.

“You are grounded until further notice, which includes using your car to go anywhere except work. This spanking and the grounding is only part of your punishment, until your mother and I have a chance to talk. Understand me?”

“Yes daddy,” Becky already was starting to cry.

“Good!”

Ivan brought the belt down across the crowns of his daughter’s bottom. The force of the leather set the blood temporarily fleeing from a the white band on her bottom. Its return marred her behind with an angry redness and the accompanying burning sensation.

Over and over, Becky felt the leather paint her bottom its evil color. She couldn’t do anything but hold on and let the tears flow. “This was all Gwen’s fault, and she would pay!” Becky thought as the leather tore up her bottom. Stroke after stroke rained down until both cheeks were a deep maroon with splotches of purple.

“I hope this imparts the seriousness of your actions.” Ivan stated as he took a deep breath. “Now get to sleep, sweetie.”

Becky cried into her pillow for half an hour before getting up to check out the damage. She used only her desk lamp to light the darkened room, worried that the room light would draw unwanted attention. Her bottom looked exactly like it felt, painful. She was red from her tailbone to the top of her thighs, with the darkest coloring in the center. Ouch! she thought making her way back to bed. Gwen would pay royally for this and she knew exactly how.

I will never swear in front of kids again

“Grpph ah haagh hhesss” I grumbled. It was supposed to be “God I hate this!” but a bar of ivory can make it tough to talk. The egg timer says 7 more minutes. Seven more minutes of hell. Or is it seven more minutes until hell? Either way, I shouldn’t be using the word hell. It’s linguistic brethren is the reason I am in this predicament.

Click, Click, Click, the timer slowly counted down to zero. This it totally my fault, and oddly appropriate. I just wish it wasn’t so agonizingly long.

Click, Click, Click. Stop mocking me. I can see your little mechanical eyes looking up at me as you tick the seconds away. You are mocking me. I know I have been naughty, but you don’t have to tease me about it.

Click, Click, BEEP! BEEP! The wait is up. My mouthsoaping is finally over.

“Ok sweety, this can come out now.” I am told from behind. I open my jaw as wide as it will go so his large musclar hands can remove the bar of soap from my mouth.

I immediately spit out suds into the sink. I got to get this taste out of my mouth. I turn on the facuet only to have my reprieve cut short.

“You can rise once, and only once,” he commands, sitting the bar on the soap stand. It has my teeth marks in it! How shameful.

I bend over the sink and let a large gulp of water fill my mouth. Swish, swish, swish, spit! It is still there and I think I made the taste worst. I can taste it everywhere now! Yuck!

“Come on sweety, over the bed you go for your spanking.” He turns me around, away from the sink and the water needed to get rid of this awful taste and towards the bedroom, where the well worn leather belt lies on the bed.

The spanking; the second part of my punishment. Why do I have to get both, my mouth washed out with soap AND a spanking? I guess I do know better than to swear, especially in front of a two year old who repeated it. But why the belt? I hate the belt. It really hurts. That is the reason it is called a punishment; a very undesirable consequence for a particular action.

He has to lead me to the bed. My feet may work, but I just can’t do it on my own. Soon enought, my knees are touching the footboard and I am looking at the instrument of my correction. It is going to hurt. “Lower your panties and bend over,” I am told. His voice is stern with a dash of regret. I’ve always been a Daddy’s girl. Reluctantly, I follow his instructions. I press forward slightly, trying to hide my front as I roll the boyshorts over my derriere. I like derriere and tushy over the traditional bottom, butt or cruder ass. Bottom just makes me feel like a little girl while butt and ass are just to uneducated.

The first breeze of cool night air on my newly exposed skin sends shivers up my spine. I feel naked and vulerable even though I still have a camisole on and only my tushy is exposed. Bending forward only exgerates the feeling. He has to be staring at my tushy. Its full, though well toned contours. The footboard, pressing into my hips from below tilts it upwards, at the perfect angle. Why do I have to have a four poster princess bed? It is situations like this I regret throwing that tantrum in the furniture store. Though I spent sometime in this exact position that evening and numerous times since. Every time has been just as embarassing.

“I think a couple dozen is appropriate, what do you think?”

“Yes, Sire,” I grumble before burying my face in the blankets. It will start soon and I don’t want anyone else to hear me getting spanked. That would be even more embarrassing than this.

“Good,” is all he says. I hear the belt being lifted off the bed. I clench up every muscle and wait, and wait. The seconds seem like hours. Why can’t he just start already?

And then he does. CRACK! The first stroke takes my breath away before the sting even registers. And registers it does. A strip of fiery sting cuts across my derriere. It is so much more intense than I remember.

CRACK! CRACK! He gives me only enough time between strokes to register the pain, but not really react. It hurts, so much. So very much.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! I punch the bed a couple of times, trying to distract myself from the spanking.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! I give up any resolve of strength and let myself cry out in agony. Cries that fall onto the deft ears of my comforter.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! I try to kick the air but it just presses the footboard harder into my pelvis. The unrelenting fire keeps building.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Twisting and wiggling doesn’t help either. He just sets his left hand on the small of my back, pressing my pelvis firmly into the wood.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Every stroke hurts so much. I want it to stop now, but I know it won’t. I beg for mercy, though I doubt he even hears it.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! “Please stop, I’ll be good. I’ll never swear again. Please no more,” were the words I tried to cry out. Nothing inteligable escaped my lips or the blanket.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! I have nothing more. No more protests, no more cries of mercy. Just acceptance and sobbing. I was a naughty and I am being punished for it.

Just like that it ends. No more strips of fiery sting cuting across my derriere. No more pain, no more spanking, just forgiveness.

He helps me up and I immediately hug him, burrying my face into his burly shoulder, sobbing.

He just holds me, comforting his contrite girl. Stroking my hair and back as he tries to sooth away the discomfort. And it works. The guilt and anxiety are all gone. Everything is alright now. Everything except the burning sensation in my tushy.

“I’m sorry honey, I’ll never, sniff, swear in front of our kids again,” I murmur in my husband’s ear.

“I know, I know.”