Molly - Chapter 2
by Breanna Carter
I caught Molly before she collapsed to the floor in tears. I’d never seen her act like so before. She was muttering things, something I couldn’t quite make out but I guessed as, “Oh my God she’s gone, she’s gone, she’s gone.” I held her tightly, petting her hair, trying to shush her crying. I was doing everything possible to calm her down.
“Shhh, Mollycakes. It’s okay babygirl. It’s okay, honey. Talk to me.”
She didn’t talk though, just stayed in my strong arms, face buried into my T-shirt. No longer did I yearn for my soft bed... I just wanted her to be the same happy person she was at the skating rink. “Bonkers, where’d she go?” I heard her mutter to a fat black and white cat that lay lazily in the chair next to us.
“Bonkers?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.
She nodded. “My dad. He liked that word.” She wiped some of the tears away with her arm and pet the cat with her hand. “My dad..” she muttered, almost setting off into tears again.
I put an arm around her shoulder. “Hey... it’s okay, babygirl. Listen, you can stay with me until your mom gets back.”
“She’ll be back soon,” she promised.
I wasn’t so sure though. “Then you won’t stay long. Come on, I’ll help you get your stuff.”
“It’s okay, Brian. Really. I’m okay.”
I gave her that look. “Molly Riana, what did I say?”
She rolled her eyes at me, that same adorable brattiness apparent once again. Surprisingly, I was relieved to see it.
“Come on,” I said, grabbing her hand and leading myself to the back of the house, hoping she’d lead the rest of the way because I had no idea where I was going. But there was no way I could leave her in that house alone... she seemed so scared.
We stopped by the kitchen on the way to her room and she let go of my hand, moving towards the island that sat in the middle of the kitchen. She fell to her knees and opened the cabinet, sniffling a little and moving some stuff around. I walked over to see what was up just in time to see her grab a bottle of vodka.
“Hey! What are you doing!” I nearly shouted.
“It’s almost gone,” she murmured. “Would you be mad if I drank the rest?”
I found myself staring at about four shots of vodka and a twelve year old red-headed girl with such pain in her eyes. “YES I would be mad!” I snapped, taking the bottle. “You’re too young to drink, Molly.”
She sighed. “But I need it.”
I gave her that look again. “Do you need another trip across my knee?”
She shook her head, biting her lower lip.
“That’s what I thought.”
She stood up and dusted her jeans off, wiping her eyes again because they were beginning to water. I replaced the bottle and followed her to the room in the very back -- her room.
I could tell it was her room before she even opened the door... There was a green four-leaf clover chalkboard on the door that said “Everything’s gonna be all right” which was a quote from one of Molly’s favorite songs... Lullaby by Shawn Mullins. I knew this because if she wasn’t begging us to play Irish music, she was begging for Shawn Mullins. She opened the door and I was amazed at how well her room fit her. I mean, sometimes you see people’s rooms and they’re really messy when they look like a neat freak. Or they have tons of stuffed animals when they look like a big tough guy. But Molly’s room... oh man, it was everything I’d expected it to be. Clothes were thrown around everywhere, no surprise there. She had lots of books, some of them novels for class, others about Irish heritage, and some normal teenager books. Green was everywhere. I was actually surprised her sheets weren’t green. But her blanket was. It was made of green four-leaf clovers. There were posters on the wall, and cd booklets from Flogging Molly (one of her favorite Irish bands) and Shawn Mullins. And finally, there was a picture on the mirror, about as high as Molly’s face would be when standing in front of it; It was Molly and a man, with red hair and a beard, his arm around her, both of them grinning wildly. I could tell it was her father. I could tell because they had matching smiles.
“That’s my dad,” she told me and I realized that she was observing me staring at the picture.
“I figured,” I said, smiling.
She stuffed some clothes into a green backpack with different patches on it.
“I like your quilt..” I said.
“Thanks. My grandma made it for me.”
I nodded, noticing that there was an empty bottle of Bailey’s on the dresser. I picked it up.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t drink that. I just thought it was cool because it was Irish Cream.”
“Oh,” I answered, sitting it back down. “Do you drink a lot, Molly?”
She shrugged. “Not a lot. But I learned it from my mom. She drinks all the time. I figure if she drinks her problems away, maybe mine will go away, too.”
I felt my heart breaking inside once again, shattering into tiny little pieces. How could she think something like that? She was only twelve! “But, Molly..” I began.
“I know, I know.. drinking is bad. I don’t want to hear it. Hear it everyday in Drug Ed.”
I sighed, shaking my head. “You’re too young to start drinking. You won’t have a liver by the time you hit thirty..”
“I don’t care,” she muttered under her breath, not intending for me to hear. I dropped it, though.. She was hurting and now wasn’t the time to lecture about not having a liver. But the time would come, I decided. “Ready?” she asked.
“Whenever you are.”
She led me out of her room, closing her door tightly, then petting Bonkers and telling him that she was going away for a while but would be back. “And I love you bunches and bunches and bunches, Bonkers. Don’t forget that, otay? I’ll always be here for you, no matter what... except today. But I’ll be back tonight, okay? When Mamakins comes back.” She kissed him on the top of the head, giving him a final pat and then walked away, tears in her eyes.
There were tears in my eyes, too.
I didn’t really say anything as we walked to the car, and I figured that Molly was feeling too down to really carry on a conversation with me. But once we plopped down inside, she began chattering like always.
“I’m so glad it’s autumn,” she said. “I love it. I love how blue the sky looks, and I like the clouds. It’s a really emo sky because the clouds are all spread out and stuff. Ya know?”
I nodded.
“In weather like this I like to listen to gothic music, like Opeth or something. They always remind me of cold gloomy weather, and trees peering over dark roads. My dad and I used to go to the fair every October. We used to ride all of the scary rides and eat sooo much cotton candy that it made us sick. You like cotton candy?”
“Yeah, it’s good.”
“I can’t eat cotton candy anymore without thinking about him. Everytime I eat it, I end up throwing up.”
I didn’t say anything.
“The fair used to be a lot of fun. He used to try to get me on the scary rides, but I wouldn’t do it. Mom didn’t like to ride anything. She used to just watch us and take pictures. She always wanted to go and see the exhibits. Those always bored me. But they made me go anyway. I liked seeing the animals, though. Once we were headed to the exhibits and I saw a giraffee and it was sooo cute I had to feed it some carrots, and I guess I forgot to tell them what I was doing and we got lost from each other and I sat by the giraffee forever until they came running to me and Mom was crying and Dad gave me a big hug and said that I’d worried them to death. I guess I was only six or seven. That was back when Mom cared about me, when she didn’t have to drink to sleep at night.”
I kept my gaze straight ahead for fear if I turned to her, I would be thrown into tears.
“Do you drink, Brian?” she asked.
“Not really, kiddo. Never really cared for the taste.”
“Have you ever gotten drunk?”
I hesitated. “Yeah, I have.”
“I haven’t. I think it’s nasty. Everytime I try to drink, I chicken out. I guess I’m scared to get drunk because I see what happens when Mom gets drunk.”
I nodded. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, let me tell ya. The first time I got drunk, I got so sick. I spent the night with my head in the toilet.”
“Wow,” she murmured, and I could feel her staring at me. “That doesn’t sound fun... Do you go to school?”
“Yeah. I’m in college. It’s my last year. I get out in December.”
“Hey, we should have a party at the skating rink when you get out.”
I chuckled. “No thanks, Mollycakes. I think I’ll pass on that one.”
“Awww, why? When I get out of school I want to have a party at the skating rink. It’s my favorite place ever. I like it because I can be stupid and happy all the time. I can do that at school, too, but sometimes I get in trouble. Sometimes I get too hyper when I’m away from home.”
“Why are ya so hyper?”
“Because at home all I do is lie around with Bonkers and read and listen to music. I have to let the energy out somewhere.”
“I guess so,” I said, except I don’t think I ever had as much energy as she.
“I play volleyball at school. And softball, too. Sometimes I take the bus to the batting cages. Sometimes I go outside and run around the block until I’m so tired I can’t run anymore. I like running, though. It helps me get to sleep at night.”
“That’s much healthier than drinking.”
“I know. But I can’t run as much anymore since I started smoking...” I felt her mouth drop and she covered it with her hand, because she knew she shouldn’t have said that.
I turned towards her. “MOLLY!” I said. “Smoking!” I resisted the urge to smack her upside the head.
“I didn’t mean that!” she said.
“Then what did you mean?”
“I meant that uhm, my mom smokes..”
“You will not smoke anymore, Molly, do you hear me?”
She folded her arms. “I can do whatever I want... besides, you’re not my dad or anything.”
“But I’m your friend and smoking is dangerous and I’m not going to let you hurt yourself like that. Mark my words, Molly -- If I catch you smoking, I’ll make sure you aren’t able to sit for a week, got it?”
She didn’t answer, just looked out the window. I didn’t like the uneasy silence, and was glad she finally broke it. “Look, it helps. It calms me down sometimes.”
“Bullshit,” I muttered, hoping she didn’t hear me, though I was sure she’d heard worse profanities than that, even said them. “If you need to calm down, go for a run, go to the batting cages. Don’t smoke. That’s as bad as your mom drinking her worries away.”
I pulled into the parking lot of my apartment complex.
“I want to go home,” Molly announced, a few tears forming in her eyes.
I sighed, regretting having blown up on her like that. “I know, Mollycakes,” I muttered, putting my arm around her. “I’m sorry for snapping at you like that... I just worry about you. My Mom died with lung cancer... she smoked two packs a day. I don’t want you to end up like that.”
She nodded, wiping one of the tears away.
“Come on, babe. Let’s go inside and get some sleep. You can sleep on my bed, okay?”
She shook her head gently. “It’s okay, I’ll sleep on the couch.”
I got out of the car then opened her door for her. She took my hand like a small child and allowed me to lead her to my tiny apartment. “Things aren’t clean, and I’m sorry about that..”
“It’s okay. My room is never clean.”
I had no trouble believing that. “It’s getting a little cold..”
“I’m glad,” she said, looking up at me with her shining blue eyes. Her hair was falling down from the pigtail braids. She was so adorable.
“Me too,” I told her, unlocking the door and letting it swing open.
“Geeze, if this is your idea of ‘not clean’ I’d hate to know what my room is,” she murmured, sitting her bag down on the couch.
I picked up the bag and shut the door. “Okay, so it’s not dirty, but it could use a little cleaning,” I told her as she let go of my hand to inspect a little.
“This is a nice place.”
“Thanks,” I said, motioning for her to follow. I opened the door to the bedroom. “You can sleep on my bed, okay? It’s clean and comfy and you’re the guest, I won’t allow you to sleep on the couch.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but instead eyed the bed and finally gave in. “Okay, but you have to take me home when I wake up. Deal?”
I grinned. “Deal.”
I handed her the backpack and she just sat it down next to the bed, kicking her shoes off and climbing on my bed. I pushed the cover back for her and tucked her in, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Sleep well, Mollycakes,” I whispered and she grinned, rolling over and almost instantly falling asleep.
I, on the other hand, did not instantly fall asleep when I made it back into the living room. It wasn’t because the couch wasn’t comfortable, because believe me, it was, and even more so due to the fact that I hadn’t slept all night. I was thinking... worried. About Molly. I wasn’t sure what exactly was going on. I mean, I knew Molly pretty well, but I guess I’d never known her as well as I thought I did. Obviously she was hiding some kind of hurt from me... from everyone. And was hiding it so well because none of us ever noticed it. She always seemed so happy that it was completely and totally heartbreaking to see those precious tears stream down her face. I just wanted to make it where Molly was happy all the time... where she didn’t have to think about smoking or drinking or anything to keep her happy. Where she didn’t have to put up with her mother’s drunkenness. I wondered if there was such a place.
I fell asleep contemplating whether or not to invite Molly to stay with me for a little while, a week or two. Maybe allow her mom enough time to get on rehab or something, anything, just so the poor kiddo wouldn’t have to deal with so much stress. But I never found an answer, because sleep found me first.
When I woke, the sun was nearly set and I had actually kind of forgotten what’d happened. I think what actually jogged my memory was the low murmur of Shawn Mullins playing in my kitchen. Shawn Mullins always reminded me of Molly, thus the first thing I thought about when I woke was Molly, then remembered that she was at my house and obviously awake. That’s when I noticed the aroma of frying bacon. Weird that I would hear the music before smelling the bacon.
I got up and stumbled towards the kitchen. There was Molly, green pajama pants and a tank top, hair in a ponytail, swaying to Shawn Mullins, singing with her eyes closed, frying bacon. It took her a couple of minutes to realize that I was behind her, but when she did, she nearly jumped three feet in the air.
“Oh! Hey!” she said. “Sorry, did I wake you up with my god-awful singing?”
I giggled. “Nope, didn’t even hear you singing. And what are you doing? You’re the guest and--”
“Relax. I like cooking. I hope you don’t mind?”
I raised my eyebrows. “I mean, it’s fine... but I could’ve bought you lunch instead.”
She shook her head. “Nah, I’d rather cook.”
I nodded, plopping down at the table.
“And you were sleeping sooo well!” she giggled. “Were talking in your sleep about some girl named Marissa!”
I looked at her. “Huh?”
“Yeah!! You have a girlfriend! Her name is Marissa!” she teased.
I knew my face was flaming red, even though I had no girlfriend named Marissa. “I think you were hearing things, Molly..”
She shook her head, getting some eggs out of the fridge. “Nope, sure wasn’t. I heard, ‘Oh! Marissa! Harder!’” she said then burst into laughter.
I couldn’t help but laugh as well. “I know you’re lying there,” I said, and thought about adding a smartass comment about it, but deciding against it since she was only twelve and I shouldn’t fill her head with nasty sex thoughts yet.
“You’re right, I was just kidding. Actually, she called and left a message on your machine... It woke me up a little while ago, she was just calling to see about when you were going to work on that project or whatever.”
I nodded. “That’s cool. But she’s not my girlfriend,” I said, finally deciding to defend myself.
“Uh huh, sure, whatever,” she said, rolling her eyes and putting the bacon and eggs onto a plate, then getting biscuits out of the oven.
“Geeze, girl... you went all out on cooking stuff..”
“No problem,” she said, handing me a plate and sitting down next to me. “But you have to cook dinner.”
“Cook dinner? It’s nearly six right now! What time do you expect to eat dinner?”
She shrugged, taking a bite of her biscuit.
“Besides, we both have to get on a normal sleeping schedule... we have to go back to school on Monday.”
“Blah, school.”
We ate in silence for a little while, though I did feel a little guilty about her cooking breakfast or dinner or whatever the hell it was for me. I felt kind of bad because she was up while I was sleeping. But I didn’t let it hang over me because she seemed happy.
“So what’s on the schedule for today?” she asked.
“Nothing. I have to go to work around eight to check on things and close, and then I guess I’ll come back and try to get my sleeping pattern right. What do you want to do?”
She shrugged. “I want to go to the rink and stuff... check on Bonkers...” she paused, looking into my eyes. “Do you think my mom came back?”
I bit my lower lip. “I don’t know, Mollycakes... Do you want to call her and see?”
She shook her head. “I have this feeling, Brian..” she began, pausing a moment to take a bite of bacon so she wouldn’t cry. “I have the feeling that she isn’t coming back.”
19 October 2004
12 October 2004
Story: Molly - Chapter 1
Molly - Chapter 1
by Breanna Carter
The only thing I didn’t like about October was the fact that I had to spend all night at the skating rink watching kids for twelve hours as they celebrated the fact that they got to bug someone other than their parents. It was something that we’d done for years, as long as I had been working their at least. We had five all-nights a year, one for New Years, Spring Break, the end of school, end of summer, and finally, one in October, which I never really was sure what the purpose was.
I was standing near the entrance, observing, seeing one of the girls that I knew all too well. In fact, if you’ve been in the skating rink longer than five minutes you knew her pretty well. Her name was Molly Riana Collins and she was the cutest twelve year old you’ve ever seen. She wore baggy jeans and small green T-shirts, had red hair in braided pig tails, freckles, and baby blue eyes that would tear up in a second with a pitiful look so she could get her way. She was popular amongst the preteens, and after meeting her you could tell why. She talked all the time, told wild stories that weren’t always true, but interesting to hear anyway. She was cute, yes, but there was more to her than that. She was different -- she smiled nearly all the time and prided herself on her Irish heritage. She wasn’t ashamed of her red hair or freckles like most girls were. You know, the preteen stage when you just want to fit in. Molly didn’t fit in at all.. and everyone still loved her.
“Come onnnnn, Bradleyyyy... play some Irish music!” she whined, giving him that adorable puppy look. Yep, that was Molly, green shirts and Irish music.
I couldn’t hear Brad’s reply, but I figured it was along the lines of “no” as I gaged her reaction of stomping her foot and poking her lip out in a pout. Defiant as she was, still adorable.
I took it upon myself to amble over there and see what was up. “Hey.. somethin’ wrong, Molly?”
“He won’t play any Irish music for me!” she pouted, baby blue eyes tearing up.
I shook my head, grinning. “Oh no... we’ll have to shut the whole thing down,” I teased.
“It’s not funny, Brian,” she whined. “I want Irish music! This stuff is crap!”
“Why not play some Irish music for the girl, Brad? Won’t hurt anything..” I could be such a softie sometimes.
He rolled his eyes at me. “Because they’re about to play the dice game and I don’t feel like changing the cd,” he answered.
“We can play the dice game to Irish music!”
“I don’t have any Irish music, Molly..”
One should never tell Molly that.. She pulled a cd case out of her jeans pocket. I was amazed that her pockets were so big, Brad was amazed that she actually owned an Irish cd. “I can fix that, Bradley,” she said, tears gone and grinning wildly.
Before Brad got the chance to say anything I noticed that she was carrying a 2-liter bottle of coke around, and it was strictly against skating-rink rules to have drinks out of the concession area. “Hey, hey... Mollycakes... you gotta put that coke up.”
She blushed. “I’m not drinkin’ any.. It’ll be okay, right?”
“No no no, I can’t let you have it out here. That’d be unfair. Just put it in the concession area and go drink some later. I’m sure no one will touch it.”
She was reluctant to let it go and I wondered why, but pushed the thought away. “But.. Brian..”
“But nothin’ Molly. Go,” I commanded, pointing towards the concession area.
She lowered her head, lip poked out again, and shuffled off, defeated.
I sighed and looked up at Brad. “If you don’t play the music for her, she’ll bug you all night,” I told him, patting the counter and walking off. Things were going well enough to where I could sit behind my desk and count money for a little while, easing my headache that I’d gotten from those screaming kids and loud music. That’s why I was the manager, because I was good at math and bad with kids. And soon I’d have my degree in engineering and I could get a real job that didn’t involve putting up with squalling brats. Only a couple of more months and I’d graduate from college..
I guess I’d been in there about an hour or two, counting money on and off, playing a little free cell, when I decided to check on things outside. I can only sit in front of a computer screen for so long. I wasn’t exactly prepared for the loud music... my office was so quiet.
The first thing I noticed when I walked into the rink was Molly. It’s not hard to notice her first.. she’s got bright red hair and was wearing a bright green T-shirt and is so hyper she never stays in one spot longer than a few seconds. The second thing I noticed was that she had that damn 2-liter coke bottle with her. I sighed and walked exasperatedly over towards her and her friends.
“Molly,” I said, clearing my throat, then looking at the coke bottle.
“Oohhhh, oops!” she said. “I’ll go put it back, Briansy.” She giggled upon calling me that. I rolled my eyes. “No biggie..” she said, then nearly tripped over one of the benches.
“Careful, Molly. You okay?”
“Yes! Fine!”
I raised my eyebrows. “Okay, but don’t bring the bottle out of the concession area again, got it? If you do the soda is mine and you’re sitting out.”
“Whatever, Briansy,” she giggled.
I rolled my eyes at her again and she stalked off.
“What’s up with Molly?” I asked the Brad.
“Nothing unusual... just her goofy self.”
“Did you play the Irish music for her?”
“Yes and now she keeps wanting me to play it again.”
“And..?”
“And I told her that I’d do it later, just not now.”
I shook my head. “Kids,” I muttered, running my fingers through my hair.
There was something different about Molly and her friends, though... I just couldn’t put my finger on it. But I pushed the thought away, listening to the people talking on my walkie-talkie. It was Shannon, a sixteen year old who does concessions, talking to Aimee, one of the skating patrollers. Conveniently, they were talking shit about me, knowing I could hear them. I got back on the walkie talkie and said some shit about them, laughing to myself as I walked back to my office.
I think I’d won three games of free cell and counted a pile of money when I actually heard something on the walkie talkie that was worth hearing... “Aimee, you see the girls with the coke bottle? One’s in a green shirt and the other in yellow and the other in her pajamas? Don’t let them on the floor... I think there’s alcohol or something in the coke bottle...”
I lifted my head to listen to the rest of the conversation.
“Yeah, I see them,” Aimee said. “What do I do, though..?” she asked.
I reached for the walkie talkie. “Aimee,” I said. “Escort the three girls to my office and bring the coke bottle with you, okay? Are they in the concession area with the bottle or no?”
There was a silence on the other line and finally, “no... definitely not in the concession area...”
I growled under my breath, trying to control my anger. “Bring them in here, Aimee, okay?”
“Okay..” she said softly. Having seen me mad a couple of times, Aimee had a good reason for not wanting to be anywhere near me at this time.
I was beyond mad, though. Firstly, it’s strictly prohibited to bring alcohol anywhere NEAR the premises of the skating rink, and secondly, I’d repetively told Molly to keep the damn soda in the concession area, so much that I was sick of hearing those two words. I loved the kid to death, but blatent disobedience was something that I wouldn’t tolerate, cute or not.
A few seconds after our talk on the walkie talkie, I heard a soft knock at the door. “Come in,” I ordered.
There was a moment’s hesitation, but the doorknob finally turned and the door crept open, revealing Aimee and the three culprits.
I held out my hand. “Molly, bring me the coke bottle,” I commanded.
She was still acting goofy, whether it be because she had a lot of alcohol or she was putting on a show for her friends, I wasn’t sure. Her two friends looked solemn, though, so I figured either Molly had drank most of the coke, or she was a good actress.
The red-haired twelve year old bounced towards me, braided pigtails bobbing with each step. “How ya doin’?” she asked, giggling.
“Not well,” I answered, grabbing the coke bottle. “Sit.”
She plopped down on the chair. I unscrewed the coke bottle and sniffed the substance inside. I could smell a slight hint of something, but there definitely wasn’t much in the bottle. That relieved me a little. Molly wasn’t totally shit-faced and that meant that she’d be able to be punished appropriately and maybe understand the seriousness of her actions.
“You two... tell me your involvement with this.”
The one in her pajamas looked at the other, and the other looked back. Then they both looked at me. “She told us there was vodka in there but we didn’t believe her and that’s why we drank it!” the one in her pajamas said quickly, in one breath.
I shook my head. “Alcohol is NOT allowed, young ladies, do you hear me? If someone ever tells you they have alcohol, don’t drink it! Next time tell one of us, got it?”
They both nodded.
“You’re too young to be drinking anyway,” I muttered, sighing and replacing the cap on the bottle. “Aimee, they’re both to sit out until I say otherwise.”
“Okay,” she answered.
“You may go.”
The three of them scurried off together, slamming the door shut behind them. I averted my glare to Molly. “Molly Riana Collins, what in the world is the problem!” I nearly shouted.
“Nothin’,” she said, still acting goofy.
“Nothing? What did I tell you about this coke bottle?”
She shrugged.
“What did I tell you, Molly!” I snapped.
She froze in her seat for a second. “N-not to bring it outside the concession area?” she said softly.
“How many times, Molly?”
“T-two..”
“And you STILL brought it outside of there, didn’t you?”
“Y-yes..” she stammered.
“And what’s this about bringing alcohol up here? I know you’ve been here enough to see that huge sign outside that says no drugs or cigarettes or alcohol is allowed on these premisis..”
She didn’t say anything, just hung her head.
“I could call the police for this.”
She looked up at me, eyes glazed over with tears, trying to pull that adorable puppy face that always got her what she wanted. I wasn’t going to let it effect me, though... I had to be strict with her or she’d never learn.
“I probably should call the police... or at least your mother..” I said. “But I’m not. I’m going to take care of this myself.”
She didn’t know what I meant, but she kept that same puppy look on her face.
I let my words sink in for a moment, hoping that she understood what I meant. I knew that she wanted me to think she was a little drunk, and that’s why she was acting like so, but I knew she wasn’t.. if anything she was only a little buzzed. And the punishment I had in mind, she’d be sober very very soon. “I’m going to spank you,” I told her.
Her mouth dropped, puppy face gone. “W-what?” she stammered. “Spank me? Can you do that?”
“Yes, I can,” I answered. “And I’m going to. I’m not going to tolerate this type of disobedience, Molly.”
She was still shocked over the word “spanking.” “But.. I’m sorry..”
“I don’t care. You’re still getting spanked.”
“But... I’m drunk!”
“No you’re not.”
“What about Hailey and Diana?”
“They didn’t bring the alcohol nor did they do something after I told them not to twice.”
“But...” she tried to think of another excuse, but gave up after a few minutes and put on the puppy face again. “Briannnn, spankings aren’t cool,” she whined.
“I know. I’m not going to tolerate this crap, though, Molly. You’re going to get spanked and that’s the end of it. Now you can prolong this and miss out on the all-night as long as you want, or we can get it over with, your choice.”
She looked so pitiful and defeated it was adorable. “I’m twelve! That’s too old to be spanked..” she finally concluded, hoping that would get her out of trouble.
Yeah right. “You can never be too old to be spanked. My cousin was spanked when she was seventeen for talking back to her father after staying out an hour past curfew.”
“She was too old to be spanked, too.”
“Nope. You’re getting spanked, you can’t say anything to convince me otherwise.” I knew I sounded like an asshole, but I had to be firm.
She finally gave up and slumped her shoulders forward, staring at the floor.
“Come here,” I ordered.
She chewed on her fingernail and walked somberly towards me. Whatever drunkenness she had previously had was all gone by this time. I lifted her chin so our eyes met. They were filled with tears, but this time they were true tears. She honestly feared the spanking I was going to give her, and that melted my heart to a point where I almost didn’t want to give it to her... But I couldn’t back down, I’d already promised it to her.
“Molly Riana... what am I going to do with you?”
She shrugged, lip quivering.
I hugged her gently. I felt like I’d known her my entire life, when in fact it’d only been about two years. That was enough, though. I loved the kid like a little sister. And I’d have to spank her like I would a little sister. “You are not to bring any alcohol or cigarettes or drugs to this skating rink, do you understand me? You better not have any of those things anyway, though.”
She nodded. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I thought everyone would think I was really cool if I had the stuff. I liked the way that Diana and Hailey envied me when they saw I had it. They liked the way I was adventerous... they wished they were like me.”
“I bet they wouldn’t envy you right now if they knew what was about to happen.”
“Probably not,” she admitted. “But still, Brian. You should’ve seen them. They loved me.”
“Molly, babe, they love you anyway. You don’t have to be bold and daring for them to love you... just yourself. They love you if you have alcohol or if you don’t.”
She shrugged. “It felt good anyway.”
“Well, tell me, was it worth it?”
She shook her head. “I feel bad for making you mad at me.”
“Not mad at you, just disappointed in you.”
“Same difference.”
“Not exactly,” I said, but dropped the subject. I allowed her to take a deep breath in so maybe she’d not be so nervous, and then I moved my hands to the button of her jeans. “I have to,” I told her when she whimpered like a little puppy who’d been kicked. “Else you wouldn’t be able to feel it.”
“Which is why I want them up,” she whined.
“Too bad,” I answered, tugging them down to the floor and lying her over my lap. I rubbed her back softly, trying to make her as comfortable as possible, which wouldn’t be very comfortable... I’d spanked my little sister before as well as some cousins, so I knew what I was doing, and I’d been in that position before myself, though I hated to admit it, so I knew how nerve-racking it could be, especially if it was something you weren’t used to.
I decided not to pull her panties down just yet... I’d give her a warm up first, since this was going to be a long trip over my knee. She’d done something that could have caused much more trouble than she did, and I was going to make this a memorable lesson for her.
I finished rubbing her back softly with my left hand, and positioned her, then gently lay my arm across her back to keep her from moving when the spanking began. “You okay?” I asked.
“I dunno..” she muttered.
I nodded and rested my right hand on her light green cotton panties. They were cute. Finally, I took a deep breath in then lifted my hand, feeling her body shivered because she knew what was coming, then landed it square in the middle of her bottom.
“Ahhhowwww,” she groaned.
I landed another mild smack in the same spot. “This defiance has to stop, Molly,” I lectured, delivering another smack and observing the fact that she jumped slightly after each smack. “I will not have you disobeying my orders,” I told her, “nor will I have you breaking any laws, got it?” I landed a few smacks between my words. “Aahhooowww, yess, Brian, I got it,” she groaned.
I knew that she hoped I wouldn’t get much harder than I was spanking... boy, was she in for a surprise. I wasn’t even giving half of what I was planning on.
“You could have gotten arrested, Mollycakes,” I told her, spanking again, a little harder than the previous smacks, and a little faster, too. “And permantely banned from the rink. That wouldn’t be fun, would it?” I asked, now covering more of her bottom, even the sitspots where the panties didn’t cover.
“Ouchiessss, Briannn, not fun, nooo, I’m sorryyy,” she whined.
I kept up a definite rhythm, spanking each cheek equally, as well as the sit spots every so often, until I noticed her bottom darkening through the panties, and her sit spots were a pinkish color. I landed a couple of harder smacks, causing squeals and kicks from her end, but her efforts to dodge spanks were futile and I just finished up and rested my hand gently on her warm bottom. “Not finished, Molly. I’m about to take your panties down,” I told her. It’s like when you go to the doctor’s office... it’s always better if you know what’s going to happen before it does.
She whined. “Briannn, I’ve had enough!” she pleaded.
“Not even close,” I answered, tugging them down much to her dismay. Oh, how red her bottom looked. As a fair-haired, fair-skinned young lady, she probably had the tendency to get red really quickly, and red is what she was. Her bottom almost matched her hair!
I started out with mild smacks, just as I had done earlier, but these smacks hurt a little more because Molly didn’t have the protection of the thin cotton panties. In no time, she was squirming like crazy and kicking and trying to move her hands back to block the smacks. “Hands away, Molly.” And when she kept trying to block I said, “I’m going to restrain them if you don’t stop,” then started spanking harder, watching as her bottom turned darker and darker. Her once very pale tiny bottom was now very red, the only thing not having been spanked enough was her sitspots, and I took it upon myself to concentrate solely on them for the last two minutes of the spanking. The poor child was already crying and carrying on, apologizing like crazy and blubbering words I could barely understand. But I wasn’t finished... enough of an impression hadn’t been made yet.
“I’m disappointed in you,” I scolded, still spanking her cheeks, “and if you ever do anything like this again, this will be a piece of cake compared to what you’ll get, understand?”
“Owwwwwwwwwyyesssssss... nooomooreeee!!!”
I smacked with nearly all I had two times on her cheeks, she screaming with each one, then I moved down to her sitspots and spanked them steadily for two minutes. I spanked hard and fast, concentrating only on the sit spots, to make sure she remembered this while she sat in time out for thirty minutes. She squealed, squirmed, yelped, howled that entire two minutes. Her pleas were broken off with sobs, her apologizes choked down by tears. I gave her a sharp smack to each thigh to send the lesson home, then stopped and lifted her.
Her blue eyes were filled with real tears, glossy, red and puffy from all the crying. She was muttering “ooowwww, it hurrrtttssss” and hopping up and down a little, rubbing her burning backside.
I looked at her, then leaned back in my chair. “Mollycakes, I’m disappointed in you, Young Lady, but you’re all forgiven now, okay?”
She nodded.
I helped her get her panties up, then her baggy jeans. “Come with me outside and you’re going to sit out for thirty minutes, no talking to anyone, just sitting there, got it?”
I knew she wanted to argue, but she refrained. I think I would have, too, given her condition.
I stood and pushed her gently in front of me, following her outside to the skating rink where everyone was too busy either sleeping, playing games, or skating to really pay much attention to us. I looked at my watch and noticed that the girls had probably been out there long enough, maybe not quite thirty minutes, maybe a little over, but they both looked very sorry for what they had done. I dismissed each of them with a lecture, then pointed to a spot on the hard floor and told Molly to sit until Aimee told her she could go, and she did as told, apologizing once again. I smiled.
“I know you’re sorry, kiddo. Just don’t let it happen again, okay?”
She nodded, sniffling and letting a few more tears stream down her face from being on that hard floor on such a sore bottom.
I ruffled her hair and noticed that Irish music was playing overhead. Perfect timing for Brad.
Shaking my head, I walked away, telling Aimee of Molly’s punishment. I decided to hang out for a while and hopped over the counter to where the skates sat on shelves for the kids to rent. Brad wasn’t far off in the DJ stand, bobbing his head to the Irish music and fiddling with a cd case. I tried to clear my head of everything, but it was so late. I desperately wished I had half as much energy as those kids. It was only 12:24 AM... I still had seven hours to go.
Actually, the seven hours passed quicker than I’d imagined they would. We didn’t have any trouble out of Molly the rest of the night, though she was back to her normal self after sitting on that hard floor for half an hour. She was hopping around the rink singing the Irish music, always participating in the races and games that were happening on the floor... Molly loved being the center of attention.
As seven o’clock approached, things died down a lot. Most of the kids conked out on the benches, not Molly, though, of course. She calmed down a lot, though, and helped Brad and me pick up the skates. I’d sent Shannon and Aimee home and closed down the concessions, deciding to monitor the rink myself, since nobody was skating anymore. When my watch read 7:00 AM, Molly begged us to let her be the one to wake everyone up, and I might have considered letting her get over the loud speaker, but Brad said no, and he’s not as much of a softie as I am.
“Okay, sleepyheads,” Brad roared over the speaker. “Everyone wake up... it’s seven o’clock.” The limp bodies began to stir and parents stood at the doorway to pick up their kids. Everyone grabbed their things and said goodbye to friends, walking sleepily into the bright sunlight.
Brad straightened up the skates and vaccumed the back part of the rink while I made sure that all the kids found their parents or whatever it was they were finding. I always enjoyed sending them back to bug their parents. “Mom not here yet, Mollycakes?” I asked, shivering in the cool morning air.
Molly wasn’t shivering, but had her hands stuffed in her pockets. Her braids were beginning to loosen. “Not yet,” she answered, not even looking in my direction.
I knew she was upset. Anybody gets upset when they tell someone a certain time to pick them up and twenty minutes later you’re still wating for them.
I stood next to her, watching as the last of the kids left. “You need to call her?” I asked.
She nodded, and I could tell that some tears were about to stream down her face. My heart, once again, broke into pieces for my Mollycakes. I handed her my cellphone and let her stalk away, punching the keypad furiously. I leaned against the brick wall and rested my head against it, closing my eyes for a moment. I took in the autumn breeze and relaxed, wishing I were at home in bed.
Molly stomped back to me, shoving the cell phone in my hand.
“She didn’t answer. Prolly on her way..”
I nodded. “Probably so. Probably her alarm didn’t go off or something,” I said.
She nodded.
But we waited and waited, and no cars pulled up, and none that even resembled her mother’s came down the street in front of the skating rink. At eight, we went inside to make sure everything was cleaned up.
“I’ll take you home,” I offered.
“I’m sure she’ll be here,” Molly assured me.
Brad asked no questions, just announced that everything was finished cleaning, and ready for me to check over. I only checked over because I had to. I think if something had been done wrong, I wouldn’t have even noticed. “Let’s lock up,” I told Brad, Molly still following, not speaking at all.
I closed the door, punching the alarm in and locking the door.
I turned towards Molly in time to see her wipe a few tears away. “Come on, kiddo, let’s go.”
She nodded softly, trying to hide the fact that she’d been crying. But I knew her better than that... or at least I thought I did.
I opened the door of my old pontiac for Molly, patting her back as she hopped in. She was so sad that it was almost enough to make me cry, too. I was sure that her mother had a good excuse, though... As sure as one could be...
But when we pulled into the driveway, no car was present, and when we entered the house, it was an empty shell.
by Breanna Carter
The only thing I didn’t like about October was the fact that I had to spend all night at the skating rink watching kids for twelve hours as they celebrated the fact that they got to bug someone other than their parents. It was something that we’d done for years, as long as I had been working their at least. We had five all-nights a year, one for New Years, Spring Break, the end of school, end of summer, and finally, one in October, which I never really was sure what the purpose was.
I was standing near the entrance, observing, seeing one of the girls that I knew all too well. In fact, if you’ve been in the skating rink longer than five minutes you knew her pretty well. Her name was Molly Riana Collins and she was the cutest twelve year old you’ve ever seen. She wore baggy jeans and small green T-shirts, had red hair in braided pig tails, freckles, and baby blue eyes that would tear up in a second with a pitiful look so she could get her way. She was popular amongst the preteens, and after meeting her you could tell why. She talked all the time, told wild stories that weren’t always true, but interesting to hear anyway. She was cute, yes, but there was more to her than that. She was different -- she smiled nearly all the time and prided herself on her Irish heritage. She wasn’t ashamed of her red hair or freckles like most girls were. You know, the preteen stage when you just want to fit in. Molly didn’t fit in at all.. and everyone still loved her.
“Come onnnnn, Bradleyyyy... play some Irish music!” she whined, giving him that adorable puppy look. Yep, that was Molly, green shirts and Irish music.
I couldn’t hear Brad’s reply, but I figured it was along the lines of “no” as I gaged her reaction of stomping her foot and poking her lip out in a pout. Defiant as she was, still adorable.
I took it upon myself to amble over there and see what was up. “Hey.. somethin’ wrong, Molly?”
“He won’t play any Irish music for me!” she pouted, baby blue eyes tearing up.
I shook my head, grinning. “Oh no... we’ll have to shut the whole thing down,” I teased.
“It’s not funny, Brian,” she whined. “I want Irish music! This stuff is crap!”
“Why not play some Irish music for the girl, Brad? Won’t hurt anything..” I could be such a softie sometimes.
He rolled his eyes at me. “Because they’re about to play the dice game and I don’t feel like changing the cd,” he answered.
“We can play the dice game to Irish music!”
“I don’t have any Irish music, Molly..”
One should never tell Molly that.. She pulled a cd case out of her jeans pocket. I was amazed that her pockets were so big, Brad was amazed that she actually owned an Irish cd. “I can fix that, Bradley,” she said, tears gone and grinning wildly.
Before Brad got the chance to say anything I noticed that she was carrying a 2-liter bottle of coke around, and it was strictly against skating-rink rules to have drinks out of the concession area. “Hey, hey... Mollycakes... you gotta put that coke up.”
She blushed. “I’m not drinkin’ any.. It’ll be okay, right?”
“No no no, I can’t let you have it out here. That’d be unfair. Just put it in the concession area and go drink some later. I’m sure no one will touch it.”
She was reluctant to let it go and I wondered why, but pushed the thought away. “But.. Brian..”
“But nothin’ Molly. Go,” I commanded, pointing towards the concession area.
She lowered her head, lip poked out again, and shuffled off, defeated.
I sighed and looked up at Brad. “If you don’t play the music for her, she’ll bug you all night,” I told him, patting the counter and walking off. Things were going well enough to where I could sit behind my desk and count money for a little while, easing my headache that I’d gotten from those screaming kids and loud music. That’s why I was the manager, because I was good at math and bad with kids. And soon I’d have my degree in engineering and I could get a real job that didn’t involve putting up with squalling brats. Only a couple of more months and I’d graduate from college..
I guess I’d been in there about an hour or two, counting money on and off, playing a little free cell, when I decided to check on things outside. I can only sit in front of a computer screen for so long. I wasn’t exactly prepared for the loud music... my office was so quiet.
The first thing I noticed when I walked into the rink was Molly. It’s not hard to notice her first.. she’s got bright red hair and was wearing a bright green T-shirt and is so hyper she never stays in one spot longer than a few seconds. The second thing I noticed was that she had that damn 2-liter coke bottle with her. I sighed and walked exasperatedly over towards her and her friends.
“Molly,” I said, clearing my throat, then looking at the coke bottle.
“Oohhhh, oops!” she said. “I’ll go put it back, Briansy.” She giggled upon calling me that. I rolled my eyes. “No biggie..” she said, then nearly tripped over one of the benches.
“Careful, Molly. You okay?”
“Yes! Fine!”
I raised my eyebrows. “Okay, but don’t bring the bottle out of the concession area again, got it? If you do the soda is mine and you’re sitting out.”
“Whatever, Briansy,” she giggled.
I rolled my eyes at her again and she stalked off.
“What’s up with Molly?” I asked the Brad.
“Nothing unusual... just her goofy self.”
“Did you play the Irish music for her?”
“Yes and now she keeps wanting me to play it again.”
“And..?”
“And I told her that I’d do it later, just not now.”
I shook my head. “Kids,” I muttered, running my fingers through my hair.
There was something different about Molly and her friends, though... I just couldn’t put my finger on it. But I pushed the thought away, listening to the people talking on my walkie-talkie. It was Shannon, a sixteen year old who does concessions, talking to Aimee, one of the skating patrollers. Conveniently, they were talking shit about me, knowing I could hear them. I got back on the walkie talkie and said some shit about them, laughing to myself as I walked back to my office.
I think I’d won three games of free cell and counted a pile of money when I actually heard something on the walkie talkie that was worth hearing... “Aimee, you see the girls with the coke bottle? One’s in a green shirt and the other in yellow and the other in her pajamas? Don’t let them on the floor... I think there’s alcohol or something in the coke bottle...”
I lifted my head to listen to the rest of the conversation.
“Yeah, I see them,” Aimee said. “What do I do, though..?” she asked.
I reached for the walkie talkie. “Aimee,” I said. “Escort the three girls to my office and bring the coke bottle with you, okay? Are they in the concession area with the bottle or no?”
There was a silence on the other line and finally, “no... definitely not in the concession area...”
I growled under my breath, trying to control my anger. “Bring them in here, Aimee, okay?”
“Okay..” she said softly. Having seen me mad a couple of times, Aimee had a good reason for not wanting to be anywhere near me at this time.
I was beyond mad, though. Firstly, it’s strictly prohibited to bring alcohol anywhere NEAR the premises of the skating rink, and secondly, I’d repetively told Molly to keep the damn soda in the concession area, so much that I was sick of hearing those two words. I loved the kid to death, but blatent disobedience was something that I wouldn’t tolerate, cute or not.
A few seconds after our talk on the walkie talkie, I heard a soft knock at the door. “Come in,” I ordered.
There was a moment’s hesitation, but the doorknob finally turned and the door crept open, revealing Aimee and the three culprits.
I held out my hand. “Molly, bring me the coke bottle,” I commanded.
She was still acting goofy, whether it be because she had a lot of alcohol or she was putting on a show for her friends, I wasn’t sure. Her two friends looked solemn, though, so I figured either Molly had drank most of the coke, or she was a good actress.
The red-haired twelve year old bounced towards me, braided pigtails bobbing with each step. “How ya doin’?” she asked, giggling.
“Not well,” I answered, grabbing the coke bottle. “Sit.”
She plopped down on the chair. I unscrewed the coke bottle and sniffed the substance inside. I could smell a slight hint of something, but there definitely wasn’t much in the bottle. That relieved me a little. Molly wasn’t totally shit-faced and that meant that she’d be able to be punished appropriately and maybe understand the seriousness of her actions.
“You two... tell me your involvement with this.”
The one in her pajamas looked at the other, and the other looked back. Then they both looked at me. “She told us there was vodka in there but we didn’t believe her and that’s why we drank it!” the one in her pajamas said quickly, in one breath.
I shook my head. “Alcohol is NOT allowed, young ladies, do you hear me? If someone ever tells you they have alcohol, don’t drink it! Next time tell one of us, got it?”
They both nodded.
“You’re too young to be drinking anyway,” I muttered, sighing and replacing the cap on the bottle. “Aimee, they’re both to sit out until I say otherwise.”
“Okay,” she answered.
“You may go.”
The three of them scurried off together, slamming the door shut behind them. I averted my glare to Molly. “Molly Riana Collins, what in the world is the problem!” I nearly shouted.
“Nothin’,” she said, still acting goofy.
“Nothing? What did I tell you about this coke bottle?”
She shrugged.
“What did I tell you, Molly!” I snapped.
She froze in her seat for a second. “N-not to bring it outside the concession area?” she said softly.
“How many times, Molly?”
“T-two..”
“And you STILL brought it outside of there, didn’t you?”
“Y-yes..” she stammered.
“And what’s this about bringing alcohol up here? I know you’ve been here enough to see that huge sign outside that says no drugs or cigarettes or alcohol is allowed on these premisis..”
She didn’t say anything, just hung her head.
“I could call the police for this.”
She looked up at me, eyes glazed over with tears, trying to pull that adorable puppy face that always got her what she wanted. I wasn’t going to let it effect me, though... I had to be strict with her or she’d never learn.
“I probably should call the police... or at least your mother..” I said. “But I’m not. I’m going to take care of this myself.”
She didn’t know what I meant, but she kept that same puppy look on her face.
I let my words sink in for a moment, hoping that she understood what I meant. I knew that she wanted me to think she was a little drunk, and that’s why she was acting like so, but I knew she wasn’t.. if anything she was only a little buzzed. And the punishment I had in mind, she’d be sober very very soon. “I’m going to spank you,” I told her.
Her mouth dropped, puppy face gone. “W-what?” she stammered. “Spank me? Can you do that?”
“Yes, I can,” I answered. “And I’m going to. I’m not going to tolerate this type of disobedience, Molly.”
She was still shocked over the word “spanking.” “But.. I’m sorry..”
“I don’t care. You’re still getting spanked.”
“But... I’m drunk!”
“No you’re not.”
“What about Hailey and Diana?”
“They didn’t bring the alcohol nor did they do something after I told them not to twice.”
“But...” she tried to think of another excuse, but gave up after a few minutes and put on the puppy face again. “Briannnn, spankings aren’t cool,” she whined.
“I know. I’m not going to tolerate this crap, though, Molly. You’re going to get spanked and that’s the end of it. Now you can prolong this and miss out on the all-night as long as you want, or we can get it over with, your choice.”
She looked so pitiful and defeated it was adorable. “I’m twelve! That’s too old to be spanked..” she finally concluded, hoping that would get her out of trouble.
Yeah right. “You can never be too old to be spanked. My cousin was spanked when she was seventeen for talking back to her father after staying out an hour past curfew.”
“She was too old to be spanked, too.”
“Nope. You’re getting spanked, you can’t say anything to convince me otherwise.” I knew I sounded like an asshole, but I had to be firm.
She finally gave up and slumped her shoulders forward, staring at the floor.
“Come here,” I ordered.
She chewed on her fingernail and walked somberly towards me. Whatever drunkenness she had previously had was all gone by this time. I lifted her chin so our eyes met. They were filled with tears, but this time they were true tears. She honestly feared the spanking I was going to give her, and that melted my heart to a point where I almost didn’t want to give it to her... But I couldn’t back down, I’d already promised it to her.
“Molly Riana... what am I going to do with you?”
She shrugged, lip quivering.
I hugged her gently. I felt like I’d known her my entire life, when in fact it’d only been about two years. That was enough, though. I loved the kid like a little sister. And I’d have to spank her like I would a little sister. “You are not to bring any alcohol or cigarettes or drugs to this skating rink, do you understand me? You better not have any of those things anyway, though.”
She nodded. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I thought everyone would think I was really cool if I had the stuff. I liked the way that Diana and Hailey envied me when they saw I had it. They liked the way I was adventerous... they wished they were like me.”
“I bet they wouldn’t envy you right now if they knew what was about to happen.”
“Probably not,” she admitted. “But still, Brian. You should’ve seen them. They loved me.”
“Molly, babe, they love you anyway. You don’t have to be bold and daring for them to love you... just yourself. They love you if you have alcohol or if you don’t.”
She shrugged. “It felt good anyway.”
“Well, tell me, was it worth it?”
She shook her head. “I feel bad for making you mad at me.”
“Not mad at you, just disappointed in you.”
“Same difference.”
“Not exactly,” I said, but dropped the subject. I allowed her to take a deep breath in so maybe she’d not be so nervous, and then I moved my hands to the button of her jeans. “I have to,” I told her when she whimpered like a little puppy who’d been kicked. “Else you wouldn’t be able to feel it.”
“Which is why I want them up,” she whined.
“Too bad,” I answered, tugging them down to the floor and lying her over my lap. I rubbed her back softly, trying to make her as comfortable as possible, which wouldn’t be very comfortable... I’d spanked my little sister before as well as some cousins, so I knew what I was doing, and I’d been in that position before myself, though I hated to admit it, so I knew how nerve-racking it could be, especially if it was something you weren’t used to.
I decided not to pull her panties down just yet... I’d give her a warm up first, since this was going to be a long trip over my knee. She’d done something that could have caused much more trouble than she did, and I was going to make this a memorable lesson for her.
I finished rubbing her back softly with my left hand, and positioned her, then gently lay my arm across her back to keep her from moving when the spanking began. “You okay?” I asked.
“I dunno..” she muttered.
I nodded and rested my right hand on her light green cotton panties. They were cute. Finally, I took a deep breath in then lifted my hand, feeling her body shivered because she knew what was coming, then landed it square in the middle of her bottom.
“Ahhhowwww,” she groaned.
I landed another mild smack in the same spot. “This defiance has to stop, Molly,” I lectured, delivering another smack and observing the fact that she jumped slightly after each smack. “I will not have you disobeying my orders,” I told her, “nor will I have you breaking any laws, got it?” I landed a few smacks between my words. “Aahhooowww, yess, Brian, I got it,” she groaned.
I knew that she hoped I wouldn’t get much harder than I was spanking... boy, was she in for a surprise. I wasn’t even giving half of what I was planning on.
“You could have gotten arrested, Mollycakes,” I told her, spanking again, a little harder than the previous smacks, and a little faster, too. “And permantely banned from the rink. That wouldn’t be fun, would it?” I asked, now covering more of her bottom, even the sitspots where the panties didn’t cover.
“Ouchiessss, Briannn, not fun, nooo, I’m sorryyy,” she whined.
I kept up a definite rhythm, spanking each cheek equally, as well as the sit spots every so often, until I noticed her bottom darkening through the panties, and her sit spots were a pinkish color. I landed a couple of harder smacks, causing squeals and kicks from her end, but her efforts to dodge spanks were futile and I just finished up and rested my hand gently on her warm bottom. “Not finished, Molly. I’m about to take your panties down,” I told her. It’s like when you go to the doctor’s office... it’s always better if you know what’s going to happen before it does.
She whined. “Briannn, I’ve had enough!” she pleaded.
“Not even close,” I answered, tugging them down much to her dismay. Oh, how red her bottom looked. As a fair-haired, fair-skinned young lady, she probably had the tendency to get red really quickly, and red is what she was. Her bottom almost matched her hair!
I started out with mild smacks, just as I had done earlier, but these smacks hurt a little more because Molly didn’t have the protection of the thin cotton panties. In no time, she was squirming like crazy and kicking and trying to move her hands back to block the smacks. “Hands away, Molly.” And when she kept trying to block I said, “I’m going to restrain them if you don’t stop,” then started spanking harder, watching as her bottom turned darker and darker. Her once very pale tiny bottom was now very red, the only thing not having been spanked enough was her sitspots, and I took it upon myself to concentrate solely on them for the last two minutes of the spanking. The poor child was already crying and carrying on, apologizing like crazy and blubbering words I could barely understand. But I wasn’t finished... enough of an impression hadn’t been made yet.
“I’m disappointed in you,” I scolded, still spanking her cheeks, “and if you ever do anything like this again, this will be a piece of cake compared to what you’ll get, understand?”
“Owwwwwwwwwyyesssssss... nooomooreeee!!!”
I smacked with nearly all I had two times on her cheeks, she screaming with each one, then I moved down to her sitspots and spanked them steadily for two minutes. I spanked hard and fast, concentrating only on the sit spots, to make sure she remembered this while she sat in time out for thirty minutes. She squealed, squirmed, yelped, howled that entire two minutes. Her pleas were broken off with sobs, her apologizes choked down by tears. I gave her a sharp smack to each thigh to send the lesson home, then stopped and lifted her.
Her blue eyes were filled with real tears, glossy, red and puffy from all the crying. She was muttering “ooowwww, it hurrrtttssss” and hopping up and down a little, rubbing her burning backside.
I looked at her, then leaned back in my chair. “Mollycakes, I’m disappointed in you, Young Lady, but you’re all forgiven now, okay?”
She nodded.
I helped her get her panties up, then her baggy jeans. “Come with me outside and you’re going to sit out for thirty minutes, no talking to anyone, just sitting there, got it?”
I knew she wanted to argue, but she refrained. I think I would have, too, given her condition.
I stood and pushed her gently in front of me, following her outside to the skating rink where everyone was too busy either sleeping, playing games, or skating to really pay much attention to us. I looked at my watch and noticed that the girls had probably been out there long enough, maybe not quite thirty minutes, maybe a little over, but they both looked very sorry for what they had done. I dismissed each of them with a lecture, then pointed to a spot on the hard floor and told Molly to sit until Aimee told her she could go, and she did as told, apologizing once again. I smiled.
“I know you’re sorry, kiddo. Just don’t let it happen again, okay?”
She nodded, sniffling and letting a few more tears stream down her face from being on that hard floor on such a sore bottom.
I ruffled her hair and noticed that Irish music was playing overhead. Perfect timing for Brad.
Shaking my head, I walked away, telling Aimee of Molly’s punishment. I decided to hang out for a while and hopped over the counter to where the skates sat on shelves for the kids to rent. Brad wasn’t far off in the DJ stand, bobbing his head to the Irish music and fiddling with a cd case. I tried to clear my head of everything, but it was so late. I desperately wished I had half as much energy as those kids. It was only 12:24 AM... I still had seven hours to go.
Actually, the seven hours passed quicker than I’d imagined they would. We didn’t have any trouble out of Molly the rest of the night, though she was back to her normal self after sitting on that hard floor for half an hour. She was hopping around the rink singing the Irish music, always participating in the races and games that were happening on the floor... Molly loved being the center of attention.
As seven o’clock approached, things died down a lot. Most of the kids conked out on the benches, not Molly, though, of course. She calmed down a lot, though, and helped Brad and me pick up the skates. I’d sent Shannon and Aimee home and closed down the concessions, deciding to monitor the rink myself, since nobody was skating anymore. When my watch read 7:00 AM, Molly begged us to let her be the one to wake everyone up, and I might have considered letting her get over the loud speaker, but Brad said no, and he’s not as much of a softie as I am.
“Okay, sleepyheads,” Brad roared over the speaker. “Everyone wake up... it’s seven o’clock.” The limp bodies began to stir and parents stood at the doorway to pick up their kids. Everyone grabbed their things and said goodbye to friends, walking sleepily into the bright sunlight.
Brad straightened up the skates and vaccumed the back part of the rink while I made sure that all the kids found their parents or whatever it was they were finding. I always enjoyed sending them back to bug their parents. “Mom not here yet, Mollycakes?” I asked, shivering in the cool morning air.
Molly wasn’t shivering, but had her hands stuffed in her pockets. Her braids were beginning to loosen. “Not yet,” she answered, not even looking in my direction.
I knew she was upset. Anybody gets upset when they tell someone a certain time to pick them up and twenty minutes later you’re still wating for them.
I stood next to her, watching as the last of the kids left. “You need to call her?” I asked.
She nodded, and I could tell that some tears were about to stream down her face. My heart, once again, broke into pieces for my Mollycakes. I handed her my cellphone and let her stalk away, punching the keypad furiously. I leaned against the brick wall and rested my head against it, closing my eyes for a moment. I took in the autumn breeze and relaxed, wishing I were at home in bed.
Molly stomped back to me, shoving the cell phone in my hand.
“She didn’t answer. Prolly on her way..”
I nodded. “Probably so. Probably her alarm didn’t go off or something,” I said.
She nodded.
But we waited and waited, and no cars pulled up, and none that even resembled her mother’s came down the street in front of the skating rink. At eight, we went inside to make sure everything was cleaned up.
“I’ll take you home,” I offered.
“I’m sure she’ll be here,” Molly assured me.
Brad asked no questions, just announced that everything was finished cleaning, and ready for me to check over. I only checked over because I had to. I think if something had been done wrong, I wouldn’t have even noticed. “Let’s lock up,” I told Brad, Molly still following, not speaking at all.
I closed the door, punching the alarm in and locking the door.
I turned towards Molly in time to see her wipe a few tears away. “Come on, kiddo, let’s go.”
She nodded softly, trying to hide the fact that she’d been crying. But I knew her better than that... or at least I thought I did.
I opened the door of my old pontiac for Molly, patting her back as she hopped in. She was so sad that it was almost enough to make me cry, too. I was sure that her mother had a good excuse, though... As sure as one could be...
But when we pulled into the driveway, no car was present, and when we entered the house, it was an empty shell.
08 October 2004
Story: Lizbeth's Adventure
Part of the Lizbeth series. Parts I & II joined. Lizbeth sneaks out to see her friend and gets caught by his father. She receives two spankings -- one from her friend's father, and one from hers.
Lizbeth's Adventure
by Breanna Carter
I hated it when Javier or someone had Friday night off because that meant Katrina had to work and I'd end up having to stay all night watching tv with a bunch of drunk Mexican men. It might be amusing sometimes, but usually I just ended up getting aggravated and going to my own house to watch tv by myself. At least when Katrina was around we could *do* something and I could get myself out of the house. But this particular Friday, I wasn't able to do anything.. because Papa was off in the daytime and Javier was off at night. So I spent all day at home and it was driving me crazy!
When I heard Katrina pull up to bring Papa home, I nearly died running down the steps. "Katrina! Katrina! Pleaseeee take me somewhere!" I begged.
Papa looked at me in utter confusion, then at Kat, then back at me and muttered, "what did you say?"
I told him that I'd asked if she could take me out and it was followed by a bunch of English curses and finally a, "No, Lizbeth. You need to stay home tonight and it's too late to be going out anyway."
"But Papa!" I whined, but he ignored me and just walked off.
I considered greatly just going with Kat anyway, but I didn't want to get her in trouble again.
"What's up, kiddo?" she said, ruffling my hair. "Haven't seen ya all day! I've missed ya!"
I grinned slightly. "Nothing, bored shitless."
"Heyyy, watch your mouth!" she teased. "Why so bored? Javier and the guys didn't have anything exciting planned for you today?"
I shook my head. "The only plans they had consisted of getting drunk... and that didn't include me."
"That's probably a good thing, though... I don't think your dad would've been too please had he come home to find you drunk."
"It's okay, beer is gross anyway."
She giggled. "I'd love to stay around for a while, but it's getting late and I'm exhausted. Pinche people.."
I loved it when she cursed in Spanish.
"Anyway, go on to sleep... I'll be over early in the morning and we'll do something fun. Make some spiffy plans, okies?"
I nodded. "See ya, Kat."
She sped off and I slowly ambled back up the stairs, opening the door to my own apartment, praying that Papa would take me *somewhere*. But he was dead asleep, and I knew that Kat was right about the mucho pinche people.
"Hey, Papa," I whispered, shaking him slightly.
He groaned.
"I'm going to go next door to watch tv, okay?"
He nodded and told me not to be back too late. I promised him that I wouldn't and tried to ease my thumping heart. I'd never been good at sneaking out or lying... even back in Mexico with my Mama. I tried to sneak out of the house once and made it clear across the yard before I heard her screaming my name and chasing after me with a wooden spoon. But now wasn't the good time to be thinking about that experience... because if it were Papa who caught me sneaking out, he'd be chasing me around with a leather belt, and that seemed much scarier than that wooden spoon..
So I decided I'd actually go over to Javier's place for a few minutes, just so if Papa asked about me being there, they could honestly say that I'd come over. He wouldn't take into consideration that they were drunk and probably wouldn't remember me being there anyway.
But of course, they were watching a soccer game and shouting profanities at the other team. It was actually quite amusing... tons of drunk Mexican men cursing at the tv. At least I thought it was funny. I don't even think they noticed I was there until I muttered, "Yeah, I think I'm going to go now..."
Then they all turned to me and Freddy started giggling. "Where you goin', chica?" he asked, in English.
"Home," I lied, turning my eyes away because I could never look someone straight in the eyes when lying to them.
"Ohhhh, I see," he chuckled. "Goin' home."
He knew I was lying.
"Well, be careful at home," he muttered softly, still speaking in English so no one else would hear. "There's a lot of crazy people out there."
I bit my lower lip. "The only crazy people I see are you guys in here," I said in Spanish, winking at Freddy, this time looking him straight in the eyes because *that* wasn't a lie.
Everyone laughed and I waved goodbye to them, saying goodnight.
My stomach turned inside of me. Freddy knew what was up... and that scared the hell out of me. Oh, so yeah, Freddy's a guy who moved in with Javier a few weeks after I'd moved in. Just so you know. He's awesome as hell... listens to heavy metal and has devil horns and a goatee, also speaks English (as you might have noticed). Drinks too much and smokes weed. Kat and Freddy get a long great. Probably because he and I are the only ones who she can actually talk to, but still. Freddy's a cool guy. And I didn't know if I could trust him not to tell Papa anything or not.
So I decided when going down the stairs, I'd duck a little to make sure that no one saw me escape. I don't think anyone did because as I passed the window they were still shouting profanities at the tv, probably already having forgotten that I had been there. As I hopped off the last step, I wiped my brow of the sweat and headed away from my house. I knew my destination... His name was Carlos and he was a fourteen-year old half-Mexican, half-American kid. He lived about two blocks from Papa's house and he was really nice and really cute. He spoke more English than Spanish and had met Kat enough times to pick up on her slang words and music, so he listened to different kinds of music and wore baggy jeans. How cool was it that I was hanging out with a fourteen year old?
I skipped down the road humming the fight song of one of the teams that had been on tv. I hated that damn fight song. Surprisingly, I wasn't scared... I mean, I feared Papa's wrath if he found what I was doing, but I wasn't scared that some weirdo drug dealer would take me and try to rape me. Besides, I'd learned on a movie that Kat and I watched together if you let the rapist know that you're HIV positive, they won't try to rape you. I wanted ask Kat what exactly HIV was, but I didn't want to seem as ignorant as I felt. But I figured if it worked in the movie, it'd work in real life. (The movie was Anarchist Cookbook or something and it was GOOD!) So I just ambled down the streets mumbling stuff about having HIV probably in too happy of a tone.
I finally made it to Carlos's house. He wasn't really expecting me, and I guess I should have called before I came barging in, and then I realized that his father was friends with mine, and that it'd be better if I kind of... you know... snuck in rather than knocking on the front door. I took a deep breath and paced myself, then walked over to the side of his house and peeped through the window. There he sat on his bed, watching the soccer game. Surprise. I tapped softly on the window and stood on my tiptoes so he could see more than just my eyes. I giggled when he jumped, then he realized it was just me and held his hand over his heart.
He came over to the window and opened it. "Chinga tu madre! You scared me shitless!" Now you see where I got that phrase from.
"Tsk tsk, dirty mouth, Carlos. Can I come in? I'm bored out of my mind and need to hang out for a little while."
He looked behind him then back at me. "Sure, but Pop's mad at me, so if we hear him coming in, you have to hide and quick! I'm half-grounded because I was messing around at the grocery store today with some potheads from down the street... and he swears he's told me before not to hang out with them... I just think he's losing his mind.."
I giggled. "Probably so."
The next problem was how I was going to actually get inside. See, the window was a little too high for me to just climb in, and I didn't have much upper body strength...
"What's been up, babe?" he asked, reaching a hand out to help me inside. He was sooo strong! And sexy, might I add.
"Nothing," I whispered, trying to climb up the wall and holding onto his hand and the window until I fell back down. He laughed at me then reached down and hauled me up from my armpits and threw me onto his bed.
I giggled a little, but he put his finger over his lips and said "shhhh" so I bit my lower lip to keep from laughing. He was sitting there in only blue-jean shorts and I thought that made him even sexier. I won't go into description on his muscles and such... you probably don't care to hear that.
"Watching the game?" I asked stupidly, hearing that damn fight song again.
"Hell yeah! This is a big game!" he nearly yelled, but put his hand over his mouth and started laughing again.
We lay there for a while watching the game, making fun of the people, and hearing his father shout profanities at the other team. And I guess it all started during a commercial when I poked him in the stomach and he squirmed and I thought it was so cute I had to do it again. And again I did it, and again, and again, until he got sick of it and started tickling me. I giggled as softly as I could, begging him to stop the tickling until he just.. kissed me. Right on the lips.
I kind of blinked after that, but I liked it. I'd never exactly kissed a guy before... you know... like that.
We just stared at each other for a moment, and then he brought his head back down and kissed me again, this time slipping his tongue through my lips and doing all this amazing stuff and my heart began pounding wildly... He stopped again to make sure I was okay, and this time I was the one to lean in and kiss him, attempting to slip my tongue through his lips... but we were interrupted..
Okay, I didn't even *hear* his father open the door. I was too busy concentrating on the kiss... What I heard was his father clearing his throat... and that's when I realized that we were being watched. Holyshit... you can't even imagine how far apart we jumped from each other, Carlos and I. You'd have thought the bed caught on fire.
"We were just... I..." he stammered.
"I was just leaving.." I muttered, wanting to make a quick leap out of the window but was stopped.
"Does your father know where you are, Young Lady?" he asked.
At this point I didn't know if it would be better to lie or not, so I stayed silent, thus implying that Papa had NO idea where I was.
"You stay in here, Carlos," he yelled, then turned to me. "You, come with me," he ordered.
I wasted no time in getting towards him and following him out of the room. He slammed the door shut and lead me to his own bedroom, where there were curtains on the windows and everything was a little girly and the bed was tall and big.
I guess he thought it better to yell at me in Spanish so no one could understand what he was saying.
"Just what exactly do you think you're doing?" he said.
"Uhm.. I was just... hanging out?"
"You call *that* hanging out?"
I nodded.
"No, Young Lady... hanging out is when you come over, knock on the door, I let you inside, and you and my son sit on the couch watching tv. It isn't sneaking in through the window at odd hours of the night and making out with him on his bed."
"I-.."
"I don't want to hear it Lizbeth. You're old enough to know better than to do what you did. I won't tolerate this in my house." With that he sat on the bed and then I remembered a silent agreement that Papa and all of his friends had with one another -- if one's child misbehaves in your house, it's okay to spank them. Shit... why hadn't I thought of that before? "Over my lap, Lizbeth," he commanded. "This is going to be nothing compared to what Carlos gets, just to let you know.." I quivered as I dropped myself over his lap, feeling smaller than ever. Papa was nothing in size compared to this guy... Meaning, Carlos's pop was a pretty big guy, not fat, but tall and very muscular... the thought of how my backside would feel was one thing I *didn't* want to think about.
He circled my waist with his arm to keep me steady across his lap. I clenched my fists and closed my eyes, only imagining how painful this would feel, even if it was over my thin pants.
And oh geeze... you'd think those pants would help it not seem as hard... Yeah right! He whacked my bottom for the first time and I thought I was going to die before he got finished with me. I yelped as loud as I could and kicked my legs, but it didn't phase him in the bit. He just landed one sharp smack after another, lecturing me that I was not to sneak into his house at night, much less make out with his son. I just apologized through my tears, assuring him that I wouldn't do any of it again, begging him to stop, both in English and Spanish because I didn't know if he could understand one from all the crying I was doing.
"And I'm sure your father will be glad to know what you've been up to tonight, huh, Lizbeth? Since clearly he has no idea you're not at home right now.."
"Nooooo, pleaseeee don't tell him!!"
He ended with a solid smack in the middle of my bottom and lifted me. "Get home, Lizbeth. And don't worry, your father will know about this.."
I sniffled and wiped the tears from my eyes, then rubbed my bottom a little and scurried out of the house, running all the way home so maybe he'd think I was at Javier's the whole time...
*****
I reached my house out of breath and nearly collapsed as I made it to the stairs. But I knew I only had a few stairs to climb, then I'd be in Javier's house. I stopped for a moment, catching my breath a bit, then hurried up the steps, peeking in the window to see only Freddy, lying in the dark watching tv. I tapped softly on the window, motioning for him to answer the door. He just nodded and I climbed the rest of the steps and went inside, instantly falling onto the couch.
"What's up, girl?" he asked, eyebrows raised.
I was shaking from fear and breathing heavily because I'd run so fast. "Nothing," I stammered.
He shook his head and leaned back on the couch. "Nothing bad, I hope? No drug dealers try to hurt you or anything?"
"No..." I began, considering lying again and telling him I hadn't been in the streets at all, but Freddy was a friend of mine, and at that point I needed a friend. Desperately hoping that he wouldn't lecture me, I said, "I went to see a friend and his dad found out and said he was going to call Papa... so I ran home hoping that he'd come over here to make sure I wasn't here and then find me and believe that I hadn't left.."
Freddy nodded slowly. "Wow," he muttered.
"Pleaseee.. can you tell Papa I was here all night?"
"You're better off not lying to him, Liz. He knows that you were gone, your friend and his dad are two witnesses... all you need on top of that is to lie to him and get yourself into more trouble."
I sighed. As much as I hated to admit it, Freddy was right. "Well, maybe he didn't really call Papa... maybe he was just trying to scare me."
Freddy smiled. "I hope so, for your sake."
We watched the tv for a little while, a silent agreement for me to stay over there until I calmed down a bit. I did feel better, though, after I talked to Freddy.. and I'm glad he didn't take the fatherly approach and start lecturing me. Hell, with my luck, he might have just turned me over his own knee and spanked me! But he didn't... just listened to me and gave me some advice. And that's what I needed.
It was 1:42 when I decided to go back home. I thanked him for helping me out and said goodnight, ambling slowly towards Papa's apartment. I could tell before I opened the door that he was sound asleep... because I could hear his snoring from outside. At least that would be the reason I would have a hard time going to sleep, and not because I'd gotten spanked twice in the same night. Rubbing my bottom softly, I opened the door as quietly as possible and went to my bed, stretching out and almost instantly falling asleep. There weren't many nights that I stayed up so late.
The next morning I had no idea what time it was when Papa got in the shower. All I knew was that it was dark outside, I was tired as hell from staying up so late and that Papa was a horrible singer!! (he always sings LOUDLY in the shower) I tried pulling the pillow over my head to drown out the singing, but it was useless, and by the time he was out of the shower, I was wide awake.
"Oh, good, you're up," he said, coming into the room clad in a pair of jeans and towel draped around his shoulder as he dried his hair with it. He sat down on the couch. "You know, Carlos's pop called last night... said you were over there, but I could have sworn you told me that you were going to Javier's house for a little while.."
I bit my tongue to keep from lying to him. Freddy had told me, lying would just make it worse. I had to listen to Freddy's advice. The truth was the answer. "I went to Javier's house... no intentions of going to Carlos's... but I was bored over there and wanted to hang out with someone my age and you were dead asleep!" So much for listening to Freddy's advice.
He shook his head. "Walking the streets that late at night is dangerous, Young Lady," Papa told me.
I put on my best puppy face and the tears began streaming down my face, remembering all to well the position I was about to take over his lap. No lie could get me out of the punishment I was about to encounter.
"I told you that you couldn't go anywhere but Javier's house and you did. That's blantant disrespect, Lizbeth, and I don't like it at all."
"I know, Papa. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking.."
"You're old enough to know better than to do what you did.." Hmmm, hadn't I heard that before? I didn't like being so old anymore! "You think it's okay to just leave the house whenever you want to?"
"No, Papa, I don't... I just.."
He interjected. "Too late, Lizbeth. Excuses won't work. I'm disappointed in you for disobeying me. Disappointed that you'd go wandering around at night by yourself. Do you understand how dangerous that is? There's plenty of prostitutes and drug addicts that wander around that that time of night... rapists..."
"But I have HIV!" I told him.
He blinked. "What?"
"I mean... I was going to tell a rapist that I had HIV and he wouldn't rape me!"
Papa gave me a weird look and shook it off. I wish I'd known what HIV was in Spanish, that way he wouldn't look at me so funny. "I doubt it'd have worked, Lizbeth.."
"But I saw it in a movie."
"That's just a movie, it's not real life. And anyway, you're getting off the subject. It's not safe to wander around at night, whether you're telling someone you have HIV or not. Kids get hurt on the streets, okay? It is VERY dangerous, Lizbeth. There's crazy people around here, and I don't want you to get hurt, you understand?"
"Yes, Papa."
"So you understand why I'm going to spank you."
I groaned, still feeling the pain in my bottom from the night before. "Papa... I learned my lesson already.."
"Not well enough, Young Lady."
"Pleaseee, Papa... I don't want a spanking.." I begged.
"I know you don't want it, and I didn't want you to go out last night, but you did anyway."
"But I won't do it again."
"No, you won't. Because you're getting a spanking."
The tears began streaming down my face again. "Please, Poppy.." I pleaded.
"Come here, Lizbeth."
I just kept crying, not having the strength in my legs to take those few steps towards him.
"Lizbeth, I'm going to give you to the count of three..."
"Papa... please don't spank me... I'll be good.."
"One.." he began, and I took those fateful steps, somewhere finding the physical strength and letting it lead me.
He looked at me in the eyes, wiping some of the tears away. "Lizbeth, you're my baby girl. Don't do this to me... don't make me worry like so. If I hadn't heard you sneak into Javier's place last night I'd have been wandering around the neighborhood all night looking for you."
"I'm sorry, Poppy," I whispered.
"I know, baby. I know you are. And I know that you know you deserve this spanking, right?"
I bit my lower lip and nodded, knowing that this nod would seal my fate, and I'd be over his lap bawling my eyes out in a few minutes.
He hugged me tightly, then tugged my pajama pants down and helped me over his lap. Only a few hours ago had I been in this very position, only a different Papa, a different house... It felt so much better being my own Papa, though. Even though it didn't feel good at all.
I felt my panties being lowered to my knees and I quivered slightly and bit my lip again. "Please, Papa... not too hard.."
He didn't answer, just rested his warm hand on my bottom. I closed my eyes. "Lizbeth, you will not sneak out of the house again, do you understand me?" he lectured, lifting his hand and giving each of my cheeks a solid smack.
"Owww! Owwww! Yes, Papa!" I answered.
"You will not wander the streets at night, *SMACK SMACK*, and you won't sneak into someone else's house, *SMACK SMACK*, understand? *SMACK SMACK!*"
"Yesssss," I cried.
He kept up the rhythm, alternating cheeks, which was nice and predictable. It didn't help the fact that he was spanking with nearly all of his strength and my bottom was on fire.
"Owwwwwwww, Poppyyyy... pleaseeeee," I begged. "Pleaseeee stopppp."
"No, honey," he answered, now concentrating on the sit spots. "You disobeyed me and I'm teaching you a lesson, Lizbeth. I'm far from finished."
That sentence made me cry even more... maybe I was even howling a bit. I was crying so hard that everything was blurry and all I could concentrate on was the rapid fire being inflicted upon my aching bottom. I kicked as best as could, squirmed a little to dodge smacks (was futile), and clasped my hands together with my face buried into them. "Popppyyyy," I cried, "I'm sssooorrrrrryyyy!!"
"I know, Lizbeth." But he kept the spanking, occasionally hitting the sitspots, and even hitting my thighs a couple of times. He even started spanking *harder* which I didn't know was possible at the time.
I began choking on my tears... "P-leasee... I w-on't d-do it-t again!" I sobbed. "I'll be g-good!"
I couldn't feel his heart breaking with my pleas. "I'm sorry, baby. I have to do this."
Even though I was bobbing up and down and kicking with all my might, I knew he was right -- he did have to do this. I deserved it, as much as I hated to admit it.
My sobs increased as the spanking neared its end. I finally held onto the couch and buried my face into the cusions, not squirming anymore, not kicking, just crying. He took this time to give me a final smack, covering my entire bum, and then resting his hand there. "Oh, Lizbeth. You're my babygirl and I love you so much."
"I love you, too, Poppy!" I cried, feeling like a six year old.
I felt him take a deep breath in and then move his hand, and that's when I realized that it wasn't over...
"I'm sorry baby. Just a little spanking with the hairbrush and I'll be finished," He told me.
"Poppppyyyyy, pleaseee nooo!" I cried, lifting my head and looking at him in the eyes. I didn't notice the tears that he had in his own eyes, only the hairbrush that he had in his hand that I hadn't realized had been lying on the couch the whole time.
He gently pushed me back down, only to make me cry harder as I buried my head again in the already tear-stained cushion.
The first whack with the hairbrush was nearly deafening... a loud crack as like that of one car running into another (and you know this if you've ever been in a car accident). The screamed that followed that first blow was just as loud, probably louder. The noise echoed through the house, probably waking up Papa's roommates, if they hadn't already been awake. "Pleaseeee, Poppyyyy... no moreeee," I begged, trying to catch my breath.
But it didn't work. He crashed that damn hairbrush down on my backside a dozen times, and by the time he was finished, I was a baby, bawling and shaking to no end, trying to apologize but not having the strength.
"Shhh, Lizbeth, honey. I'm finished down," Papa said, rubbing my back.
I choked out a few apologies but he just scooped me in his arms.
"I love you, baby," he said.
"Me too, Poppy," I blubbered, burying my head into his chest, smelling the cologne and using that as well as his warm embrace to comfort me past tears. He held me tightly, rubbing my back and talking to me in a soothing voice until I was all cried out and only sniffling.
"Te amo mucho, mucho, mucho!" he said (sorry, that was too cute to put in English).
I smiled, sniffling and wiping away the last of my tears and letting him kiss my forehead. "I love you lots, too, Papa," I answered.
"Why not have a shower and then we can have a talk, okay?"
I raised my eyebrows. "A talk? I thought.."
"No, not that kind of talk," he said, tickling me.
I giggled and sniffled again. "Okies!" I said, stealing one of Kat's words.
He rolled his eyes, but I got some clothes and went on my way..
I took a warm shower, letting the hot water soothe me as I ran my fingers through my hair, using one of Papa's roommates' shampoo. The man had gorgeous hair and I figured it was all in the shampoo, so I took it upon myself to use it every so often. And today was one of those days. And besides, Kat would be coming soon and we'd be doing something fun, so I'd have to look "spiffy."
I finished my shower and dried off, dressing in my baggy jeans (because anything else would have hurt!) and a T-shirt. I brushed my teeth and stretched out a bit, seeing the sky lighting up outside. Papa must've gotten up super early! I wobbled outside to where Papa sat on the couch watching tv, noting that the roommates were snoring again so at least they wouldn't hear *this* talk. I think at the time I had some kind of idea what it might be about, but didn't want to admit it.
Papa was now fully dressed, ready for work. "Sit down, honey," he said, patting the floor in front of him. "I'll braid your hair like I used to."
I gave him a look as if saying, yeah right, like I can sit down after *that*, but I sat down anyway, wincing terribly when my bottom made contact with the hard floor. Papa brushed my wet hair softly, running his smooth fingers through it and nearly putting me to sleep. I had always loved it when Papa did my hair... he was always more gentle than Mama. Surprising, seeing as his spankings were *way* worse than hers were.
I could tell he was uncomfortable when he cleared his throat. That, if anything, should have given me the hint of what he wanted to talk about. "Lizbeth," he said, voice almost cracking as he sat the brush down and began braiding, "what exactly... were you and Carlos... doing?"
I looked up at him, causing him to stop braiding for a second. "What do you mean?"
He took a deep breath. "I mean, when I talked to Carlos's father, he said that the two of you were lying on the bed kissing..."
"Oh.." I said, then blushed. *Now* I knew why Papa was uncomfortable! I was, too! "We, er... were."
"And..?"
"And that's... all."
He began braiding my hair again, making me feel a little more comfortable, but still uneasy. "Lizbeth, you know about sex, right?"
My heart thumped wildly... were we *really* having this conversation? I hesitated, but answered: "Yes, Papa."
"Do you have any questions?"
Questions! Why would I put myself through the torture and embarassment of asking questions! "No, Papa.."
"Okay, well... if you ever do, you can ask me, or Mama, or even Kat, okay? And one of us will answer.."
"Yes, Papa," I answered, wishing the conversation would be over.
"And I want you to know to be careful... you're too young to be getting into that kind of stuff yet. Carlos is a bit older than you and might want to try some stuff that you needn't try. You know?"
"Yes, I know, Papa," I said, blushing.
"A kiss is okay, but make sure that's as far as it goes."
"Okay."
"And when you are ready to go farther than that, make sure that you use some kind of protection... because I don't expect you to tell me or Mama, but I expect you to be smart about it. You don't want to end up with a disease or a baby.."
"A disease?" I asked, stupidly. "I could get a disease from that?"
"Well, sure, baby," he said, and I could feel him relaxing a bit. "There's a number of them.. called STDs. Most of them are curable, but some aren't, like AIDS and herpes.. But even the ones that are curable aren't any good. And if you ever have a problem with something you might think is an STD, you need to tell someone right away, okay? Some of them can make you go blind if you don't deal with it in time, and some can make you never be able to have kids.."
I knew within the next couple of weeks I'd think *something* was an STD, just because he mentioned it. "That isn't good, Papa... how would I know if it was an STD or not?"
"You'd have to go to the doctor.."
Ew, I hated doctors.. "But how --"
We were interrupted by a knock at the door and I think we were both relieved. Papa finished braiding my hair and put a rubber band in it, then answered it. There was Kat, standing in the doorway, very sleepy. "Hey," she mumbled, smiling weakly.
I giggled and lept up. "Hey, Kat! Spiffy plans for the day?" I asked.
She smiled and nodded. "Sure, kiddo."
Papa kissed my forehead and gave me a big hug. "We can talk later, okay? Think about any questions you might have and ask them... or you can ask Kat, okay?"
"Okay, Papa. See you later! Love you!"
"Yeah, yeah!" Katrina said, all giddy. "Hasta luego, te amo, too!!"
She loved it when she understood what we said.
We just giggled at her and Papa ruffled her hair, telling us that he loved us and all that stuff. I invited Kat inside to sleep a while, but she didn't want to. She had a spiffy day planned and couldn't wait to get started, even if she was sleepy. First thing on our agenda -- coffee shop :)
Lizbeth's Adventure
by Breanna Carter
I hated it when Javier or someone had Friday night off because that meant Katrina had to work and I'd end up having to stay all night watching tv with a bunch of drunk Mexican men. It might be amusing sometimes, but usually I just ended up getting aggravated and going to my own house to watch tv by myself. At least when Katrina was around we could *do* something and I could get myself out of the house. But this particular Friday, I wasn't able to do anything.. because Papa was off in the daytime and Javier was off at night. So I spent all day at home and it was driving me crazy!
When I heard Katrina pull up to bring Papa home, I nearly died running down the steps. "Katrina! Katrina! Pleaseeee take me somewhere!" I begged.
Papa looked at me in utter confusion, then at Kat, then back at me and muttered, "what did you say?"
I told him that I'd asked if she could take me out and it was followed by a bunch of English curses and finally a, "No, Lizbeth. You need to stay home tonight and it's too late to be going out anyway."
"But Papa!" I whined, but he ignored me and just walked off.
I considered greatly just going with Kat anyway, but I didn't want to get her in trouble again.
"What's up, kiddo?" she said, ruffling my hair. "Haven't seen ya all day! I've missed ya!"
I grinned slightly. "Nothing, bored shitless."
"Heyyy, watch your mouth!" she teased. "Why so bored? Javier and the guys didn't have anything exciting planned for you today?"
I shook my head. "The only plans they had consisted of getting drunk... and that didn't include me."
"That's probably a good thing, though... I don't think your dad would've been too please had he come home to find you drunk."
"It's okay, beer is gross anyway."
She giggled. "I'd love to stay around for a while, but it's getting late and I'm exhausted. Pinche people.."
I loved it when she cursed in Spanish.
"Anyway, go on to sleep... I'll be over early in the morning and we'll do something fun. Make some spiffy plans, okies?"
I nodded. "See ya, Kat."
She sped off and I slowly ambled back up the stairs, opening the door to my own apartment, praying that Papa would take me *somewhere*. But he was dead asleep, and I knew that Kat was right about the mucho pinche people.
"Hey, Papa," I whispered, shaking him slightly.
He groaned.
"I'm going to go next door to watch tv, okay?"
He nodded and told me not to be back too late. I promised him that I wouldn't and tried to ease my thumping heart. I'd never been good at sneaking out or lying... even back in Mexico with my Mama. I tried to sneak out of the house once and made it clear across the yard before I heard her screaming my name and chasing after me with a wooden spoon. But now wasn't the good time to be thinking about that experience... because if it were Papa who caught me sneaking out, he'd be chasing me around with a leather belt, and that seemed much scarier than that wooden spoon..
So I decided I'd actually go over to Javier's place for a few minutes, just so if Papa asked about me being there, they could honestly say that I'd come over. He wouldn't take into consideration that they were drunk and probably wouldn't remember me being there anyway.
But of course, they were watching a soccer game and shouting profanities at the other team. It was actually quite amusing... tons of drunk Mexican men cursing at the tv. At least I thought it was funny. I don't even think they noticed I was there until I muttered, "Yeah, I think I'm going to go now..."
Then they all turned to me and Freddy started giggling. "Where you goin', chica?" he asked, in English.
"Home," I lied, turning my eyes away because I could never look someone straight in the eyes when lying to them.
"Ohhhh, I see," he chuckled. "Goin' home."
He knew I was lying.
"Well, be careful at home," he muttered softly, still speaking in English so no one else would hear. "There's a lot of crazy people out there."
I bit my lower lip. "The only crazy people I see are you guys in here," I said in Spanish, winking at Freddy, this time looking him straight in the eyes because *that* wasn't a lie.
Everyone laughed and I waved goodbye to them, saying goodnight.
My stomach turned inside of me. Freddy knew what was up... and that scared the hell out of me. Oh, so yeah, Freddy's a guy who moved in with Javier a few weeks after I'd moved in. Just so you know. He's awesome as hell... listens to heavy metal and has devil horns and a goatee, also speaks English (as you might have noticed). Drinks too much and smokes weed. Kat and Freddy get a long great. Probably because he and I are the only ones who she can actually talk to, but still. Freddy's a cool guy. And I didn't know if I could trust him not to tell Papa anything or not.
So I decided when going down the stairs, I'd duck a little to make sure that no one saw me escape. I don't think anyone did because as I passed the window they were still shouting profanities at the tv, probably already having forgotten that I had been there. As I hopped off the last step, I wiped my brow of the sweat and headed away from my house. I knew my destination... His name was Carlos and he was a fourteen-year old half-Mexican, half-American kid. He lived about two blocks from Papa's house and he was really nice and really cute. He spoke more English than Spanish and had met Kat enough times to pick up on her slang words and music, so he listened to different kinds of music and wore baggy jeans. How cool was it that I was hanging out with a fourteen year old?
I skipped down the road humming the fight song of one of the teams that had been on tv. I hated that damn fight song. Surprisingly, I wasn't scared... I mean, I feared Papa's wrath if he found what I was doing, but I wasn't scared that some weirdo drug dealer would take me and try to rape me. Besides, I'd learned on a movie that Kat and I watched together if you let the rapist know that you're HIV positive, they won't try to rape you. I wanted ask Kat what exactly HIV was, but I didn't want to seem as ignorant as I felt. But I figured if it worked in the movie, it'd work in real life. (The movie was Anarchist Cookbook or something and it was GOOD!) So I just ambled down the streets mumbling stuff about having HIV probably in too happy of a tone.
I finally made it to Carlos's house. He wasn't really expecting me, and I guess I should have called before I came barging in, and then I realized that his father was friends with mine, and that it'd be better if I kind of... you know... snuck in rather than knocking on the front door. I took a deep breath and paced myself, then walked over to the side of his house and peeped through the window. There he sat on his bed, watching the soccer game. Surprise. I tapped softly on the window and stood on my tiptoes so he could see more than just my eyes. I giggled when he jumped, then he realized it was just me and held his hand over his heart.
He came over to the window and opened it. "Chinga tu madre! You scared me shitless!" Now you see where I got that phrase from.
"Tsk tsk, dirty mouth, Carlos. Can I come in? I'm bored out of my mind and need to hang out for a little while."
He looked behind him then back at me. "Sure, but Pop's mad at me, so if we hear him coming in, you have to hide and quick! I'm half-grounded because I was messing around at the grocery store today with some potheads from down the street... and he swears he's told me before not to hang out with them... I just think he's losing his mind.."
I giggled. "Probably so."
The next problem was how I was going to actually get inside. See, the window was a little too high for me to just climb in, and I didn't have much upper body strength...
"What's been up, babe?" he asked, reaching a hand out to help me inside. He was sooo strong! And sexy, might I add.
"Nothing," I whispered, trying to climb up the wall and holding onto his hand and the window until I fell back down. He laughed at me then reached down and hauled me up from my armpits and threw me onto his bed.
I giggled a little, but he put his finger over his lips and said "shhhh" so I bit my lower lip to keep from laughing. He was sitting there in only blue-jean shorts and I thought that made him even sexier. I won't go into description on his muscles and such... you probably don't care to hear that.
"Watching the game?" I asked stupidly, hearing that damn fight song again.
"Hell yeah! This is a big game!" he nearly yelled, but put his hand over his mouth and started laughing again.
We lay there for a while watching the game, making fun of the people, and hearing his father shout profanities at the other team. And I guess it all started during a commercial when I poked him in the stomach and he squirmed and I thought it was so cute I had to do it again. And again I did it, and again, and again, until he got sick of it and started tickling me. I giggled as softly as I could, begging him to stop the tickling until he just.. kissed me. Right on the lips.
I kind of blinked after that, but I liked it. I'd never exactly kissed a guy before... you know... like that.
We just stared at each other for a moment, and then he brought his head back down and kissed me again, this time slipping his tongue through my lips and doing all this amazing stuff and my heart began pounding wildly... He stopped again to make sure I was okay, and this time I was the one to lean in and kiss him, attempting to slip my tongue through his lips... but we were interrupted..
Okay, I didn't even *hear* his father open the door. I was too busy concentrating on the kiss... What I heard was his father clearing his throat... and that's when I realized that we were being watched. Holyshit... you can't even imagine how far apart we jumped from each other, Carlos and I. You'd have thought the bed caught on fire.
"We were just... I..." he stammered.
"I was just leaving.." I muttered, wanting to make a quick leap out of the window but was stopped.
"Does your father know where you are, Young Lady?" he asked.
At this point I didn't know if it would be better to lie or not, so I stayed silent, thus implying that Papa had NO idea where I was.
"You stay in here, Carlos," he yelled, then turned to me. "You, come with me," he ordered.
I wasted no time in getting towards him and following him out of the room. He slammed the door shut and lead me to his own bedroom, where there were curtains on the windows and everything was a little girly and the bed was tall and big.
I guess he thought it better to yell at me in Spanish so no one could understand what he was saying.
"Just what exactly do you think you're doing?" he said.
"Uhm.. I was just... hanging out?"
"You call *that* hanging out?"
I nodded.
"No, Young Lady... hanging out is when you come over, knock on the door, I let you inside, and you and my son sit on the couch watching tv. It isn't sneaking in through the window at odd hours of the night and making out with him on his bed."
"I-.."
"I don't want to hear it Lizbeth. You're old enough to know better than to do what you did. I won't tolerate this in my house." With that he sat on the bed and then I remembered a silent agreement that Papa and all of his friends had with one another -- if one's child misbehaves in your house, it's okay to spank them. Shit... why hadn't I thought of that before? "Over my lap, Lizbeth," he commanded. "This is going to be nothing compared to what Carlos gets, just to let you know.." I quivered as I dropped myself over his lap, feeling smaller than ever. Papa was nothing in size compared to this guy... Meaning, Carlos's pop was a pretty big guy, not fat, but tall and very muscular... the thought of how my backside would feel was one thing I *didn't* want to think about.
He circled my waist with his arm to keep me steady across his lap. I clenched my fists and closed my eyes, only imagining how painful this would feel, even if it was over my thin pants.
And oh geeze... you'd think those pants would help it not seem as hard... Yeah right! He whacked my bottom for the first time and I thought I was going to die before he got finished with me. I yelped as loud as I could and kicked my legs, but it didn't phase him in the bit. He just landed one sharp smack after another, lecturing me that I was not to sneak into his house at night, much less make out with his son. I just apologized through my tears, assuring him that I wouldn't do any of it again, begging him to stop, both in English and Spanish because I didn't know if he could understand one from all the crying I was doing.
"And I'm sure your father will be glad to know what you've been up to tonight, huh, Lizbeth? Since clearly he has no idea you're not at home right now.."
"Nooooo, pleaseeee don't tell him!!"
He ended with a solid smack in the middle of my bottom and lifted me. "Get home, Lizbeth. And don't worry, your father will know about this.."
I sniffled and wiped the tears from my eyes, then rubbed my bottom a little and scurried out of the house, running all the way home so maybe he'd think I was at Javier's the whole time...
*****
I reached my house out of breath and nearly collapsed as I made it to the stairs. But I knew I only had a few stairs to climb, then I'd be in Javier's house. I stopped for a moment, catching my breath a bit, then hurried up the steps, peeking in the window to see only Freddy, lying in the dark watching tv. I tapped softly on the window, motioning for him to answer the door. He just nodded and I climbed the rest of the steps and went inside, instantly falling onto the couch.
"What's up, girl?" he asked, eyebrows raised.
I was shaking from fear and breathing heavily because I'd run so fast. "Nothing," I stammered.
He shook his head and leaned back on the couch. "Nothing bad, I hope? No drug dealers try to hurt you or anything?"
"No..." I began, considering lying again and telling him I hadn't been in the streets at all, but Freddy was a friend of mine, and at that point I needed a friend. Desperately hoping that he wouldn't lecture me, I said, "I went to see a friend and his dad found out and said he was going to call Papa... so I ran home hoping that he'd come over here to make sure I wasn't here and then find me and believe that I hadn't left.."
Freddy nodded slowly. "Wow," he muttered.
"Pleaseee.. can you tell Papa I was here all night?"
"You're better off not lying to him, Liz. He knows that you were gone, your friend and his dad are two witnesses... all you need on top of that is to lie to him and get yourself into more trouble."
I sighed. As much as I hated to admit it, Freddy was right. "Well, maybe he didn't really call Papa... maybe he was just trying to scare me."
Freddy smiled. "I hope so, for your sake."
We watched the tv for a little while, a silent agreement for me to stay over there until I calmed down a bit. I did feel better, though, after I talked to Freddy.. and I'm glad he didn't take the fatherly approach and start lecturing me. Hell, with my luck, he might have just turned me over his own knee and spanked me! But he didn't... just listened to me and gave me some advice. And that's what I needed.
It was 1:42 when I decided to go back home. I thanked him for helping me out and said goodnight, ambling slowly towards Papa's apartment. I could tell before I opened the door that he was sound asleep... because I could hear his snoring from outside. At least that would be the reason I would have a hard time going to sleep, and not because I'd gotten spanked twice in the same night. Rubbing my bottom softly, I opened the door as quietly as possible and went to my bed, stretching out and almost instantly falling asleep. There weren't many nights that I stayed up so late.
The next morning I had no idea what time it was when Papa got in the shower. All I knew was that it was dark outside, I was tired as hell from staying up so late and that Papa was a horrible singer!! (he always sings LOUDLY in the shower) I tried pulling the pillow over my head to drown out the singing, but it was useless, and by the time he was out of the shower, I was wide awake.
"Oh, good, you're up," he said, coming into the room clad in a pair of jeans and towel draped around his shoulder as he dried his hair with it. He sat down on the couch. "You know, Carlos's pop called last night... said you were over there, but I could have sworn you told me that you were going to Javier's house for a little while.."
I bit my tongue to keep from lying to him. Freddy had told me, lying would just make it worse. I had to listen to Freddy's advice. The truth was the answer. "I went to Javier's house... no intentions of going to Carlos's... but I was bored over there and wanted to hang out with someone my age and you were dead asleep!" So much for listening to Freddy's advice.
He shook his head. "Walking the streets that late at night is dangerous, Young Lady," Papa told me.
I put on my best puppy face and the tears began streaming down my face, remembering all to well the position I was about to take over his lap. No lie could get me out of the punishment I was about to encounter.
"I told you that you couldn't go anywhere but Javier's house and you did. That's blantant disrespect, Lizbeth, and I don't like it at all."
"I know, Papa. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking.."
"You're old enough to know better than to do what you did.." Hmmm, hadn't I heard that before? I didn't like being so old anymore! "You think it's okay to just leave the house whenever you want to?"
"No, Papa, I don't... I just.."
He interjected. "Too late, Lizbeth. Excuses won't work. I'm disappointed in you for disobeying me. Disappointed that you'd go wandering around at night by yourself. Do you understand how dangerous that is? There's plenty of prostitutes and drug addicts that wander around that that time of night... rapists..."
"But I have HIV!" I told him.
He blinked. "What?"
"I mean... I was going to tell a rapist that I had HIV and he wouldn't rape me!"
Papa gave me a weird look and shook it off. I wish I'd known what HIV was in Spanish, that way he wouldn't look at me so funny. "I doubt it'd have worked, Lizbeth.."
"But I saw it in a movie."
"That's just a movie, it's not real life. And anyway, you're getting off the subject. It's not safe to wander around at night, whether you're telling someone you have HIV or not. Kids get hurt on the streets, okay? It is VERY dangerous, Lizbeth. There's crazy people around here, and I don't want you to get hurt, you understand?"
"Yes, Papa."
"So you understand why I'm going to spank you."
I groaned, still feeling the pain in my bottom from the night before. "Papa... I learned my lesson already.."
"Not well enough, Young Lady."
"Pleaseee, Papa... I don't want a spanking.." I begged.
"I know you don't want it, and I didn't want you to go out last night, but you did anyway."
"But I won't do it again."
"No, you won't. Because you're getting a spanking."
The tears began streaming down my face again. "Please, Poppy.." I pleaded.
"Come here, Lizbeth."
I just kept crying, not having the strength in my legs to take those few steps towards him.
"Lizbeth, I'm going to give you to the count of three..."
"Papa... please don't spank me... I'll be good.."
"One.." he began, and I took those fateful steps, somewhere finding the physical strength and letting it lead me.
He looked at me in the eyes, wiping some of the tears away. "Lizbeth, you're my baby girl. Don't do this to me... don't make me worry like so. If I hadn't heard you sneak into Javier's place last night I'd have been wandering around the neighborhood all night looking for you."
"I'm sorry, Poppy," I whispered.
"I know, baby. I know you are. And I know that you know you deserve this spanking, right?"
I bit my lower lip and nodded, knowing that this nod would seal my fate, and I'd be over his lap bawling my eyes out in a few minutes.
He hugged me tightly, then tugged my pajama pants down and helped me over his lap. Only a few hours ago had I been in this very position, only a different Papa, a different house... It felt so much better being my own Papa, though. Even though it didn't feel good at all.
I felt my panties being lowered to my knees and I quivered slightly and bit my lip again. "Please, Papa... not too hard.."
He didn't answer, just rested his warm hand on my bottom. I closed my eyes. "Lizbeth, you will not sneak out of the house again, do you understand me?" he lectured, lifting his hand and giving each of my cheeks a solid smack.
"Owww! Owwww! Yes, Papa!" I answered.
"You will not wander the streets at night, *SMACK SMACK*, and you won't sneak into someone else's house, *SMACK SMACK*, understand? *SMACK SMACK!*"
"Yesssss," I cried.
He kept up the rhythm, alternating cheeks, which was nice and predictable. It didn't help the fact that he was spanking with nearly all of his strength and my bottom was on fire.
"Owwwwwwww, Poppyyyy... pleaseeeee," I begged. "Pleaseeee stopppp."
"No, honey," he answered, now concentrating on the sit spots. "You disobeyed me and I'm teaching you a lesson, Lizbeth. I'm far from finished."
That sentence made me cry even more... maybe I was even howling a bit. I was crying so hard that everything was blurry and all I could concentrate on was the rapid fire being inflicted upon my aching bottom. I kicked as best as could, squirmed a little to dodge smacks (was futile), and clasped my hands together with my face buried into them. "Popppyyyy," I cried, "I'm sssooorrrrrryyyy!!"
"I know, Lizbeth." But he kept the spanking, occasionally hitting the sitspots, and even hitting my thighs a couple of times. He even started spanking *harder* which I didn't know was possible at the time.
I began choking on my tears... "P-leasee... I w-on't d-do it-t again!" I sobbed. "I'll be g-good!"
I couldn't feel his heart breaking with my pleas. "I'm sorry, baby. I have to do this."
Even though I was bobbing up and down and kicking with all my might, I knew he was right -- he did have to do this. I deserved it, as much as I hated to admit it.
My sobs increased as the spanking neared its end. I finally held onto the couch and buried my face into the cusions, not squirming anymore, not kicking, just crying. He took this time to give me a final smack, covering my entire bum, and then resting his hand there. "Oh, Lizbeth. You're my babygirl and I love you so much."
"I love you, too, Poppy!" I cried, feeling like a six year old.
I felt him take a deep breath in and then move his hand, and that's when I realized that it wasn't over...
"I'm sorry baby. Just a little spanking with the hairbrush and I'll be finished," He told me.
"Poppppyyyyy, pleaseee nooo!" I cried, lifting my head and looking at him in the eyes. I didn't notice the tears that he had in his own eyes, only the hairbrush that he had in his hand that I hadn't realized had been lying on the couch the whole time.
He gently pushed me back down, only to make me cry harder as I buried my head again in the already tear-stained cushion.
The first whack with the hairbrush was nearly deafening... a loud crack as like that of one car running into another (and you know this if you've ever been in a car accident). The screamed that followed that first blow was just as loud, probably louder. The noise echoed through the house, probably waking up Papa's roommates, if they hadn't already been awake. "Pleaseeee, Poppyyyy... no moreeee," I begged, trying to catch my breath.
But it didn't work. He crashed that damn hairbrush down on my backside a dozen times, and by the time he was finished, I was a baby, bawling and shaking to no end, trying to apologize but not having the strength.
"Shhh, Lizbeth, honey. I'm finished down," Papa said, rubbing my back.
I choked out a few apologies but he just scooped me in his arms.
"I love you, baby," he said.
"Me too, Poppy," I blubbered, burying my head into his chest, smelling the cologne and using that as well as his warm embrace to comfort me past tears. He held me tightly, rubbing my back and talking to me in a soothing voice until I was all cried out and only sniffling.
"Te amo mucho, mucho, mucho!" he said (sorry, that was too cute to put in English).
I smiled, sniffling and wiping away the last of my tears and letting him kiss my forehead. "I love you lots, too, Papa," I answered.
"Why not have a shower and then we can have a talk, okay?"
I raised my eyebrows. "A talk? I thought.."
"No, not that kind of talk," he said, tickling me.
I giggled and sniffled again. "Okies!" I said, stealing one of Kat's words.
He rolled his eyes, but I got some clothes and went on my way..
I took a warm shower, letting the hot water soothe me as I ran my fingers through my hair, using one of Papa's roommates' shampoo. The man had gorgeous hair and I figured it was all in the shampoo, so I took it upon myself to use it every so often. And today was one of those days. And besides, Kat would be coming soon and we'd be doing something fun, so I'd have to look "spiffy."
I finished my shower and dried off, dressing in my baggy jeans (because anything else would have hurt!) and a T-shirt. I brushed my teeth and stretched out a bit, seeing the sky lighting up outside. Papa must've gotten up super early! I wobbled outside to where Papa sat on the couch watching tv, noting that the roommates were snoring again so at least they wouldn't hear *this* talk. I think at the time I had some kind of idea what it might be about, but didn't want to admit it.
Papa was now fully dressed, ready for work. "Sit down, honey," he said, patting the floor in front of him. "I'll braid your hair like I used to."
I gave him a look as if saying, yeah right, like I can sit down after *that*, but I sat down anyway, wincing terribly when my bottom made contact with the hard floor. Papa brushed my wet hair softly, running his smooth fingers through it and nearly putting me to sleep. I had always loved it when Papa did my hair... he was always more gentle than Mama. Surprising, seeing as his spankings were *way* worse than hers were.
I could tell he was uncomfortable when he cleared his throat. That, if anything, should have given me the hint of what he wanted to talk about. "Lizbeth," he said, voice almost cracking as he sat the brush down and began braiding, "what exactly... were you and Carlos... doing?"
I looked up at him, causing him to stop braiding for a second. "What do you mean?"
He took a deep breath. "I mean, when I talked to Carlos's father, he said that the two of you were lying on the bed kissing..."
"Oh.." I said, then blushed. *Now* I knew why Papa was uncomfortable! I was, too! "We, er... were."
"And..?"
"And that's... all."
He began braiding my hair again, making me feel a little more comfortable, but still uneasy. "Lizbeth, you know about sex, right?"
My heart thumped wildly... were we *really* having this conversation? I hesitated, but answered: "Yes, Papa."
"Do you have any questions?"
Questions! Why would I put myself through the torture and embarassment of asking questions! "No, Papa.."
"Okay, well... if you ever do, you can ask me, or Mama, or even Kat, okay? And one of us will answer.."
"Yes, Papa," I answered, wishing the conversation would be over.
"And I want you to know to be careful... you're too young to be getting into that kind of stuff yet. Carlos is a bit older than you and might want to try some stuff that you needn't try. You know?"
"Yes, I know, Papa," I said, blushing.
"A kiss is okay, but make sure that's as far as it goes."
"Okay."
"And when you are ready to go farther than that, make sure that you use some kind of protection... because I don't expect you to tell me or Mama, but I expect you to be smart about it. You don't want to end up with a disease or a baby.."
"A disease?" I asked, stupidly. "I could get a disease from that?"
"Well, sure, baby," he said, and I could feel him relaxing a bit. "There's a number of them.. called STDs. Most of them are curable, but some aren't, like AIDS and herpes.. But even the ones that are curable aren't any good. And if you ever have a problem with something you might think is an STD, you need to tell someone right away, okay? Some of them can make you go blind if you don't deal with it in time, and some can make you never be able to have kids.."
I knew within the next couple of weeks I'd think *something* was an STD, just because he mentioned it. "That isn't good, Papa... how would I know if it was an STD or not?"
"You'd have to go to the doctor.."
Ew, I hated doctors.. "But how --"
We were interrupted by a knock at the door and I think we were both relieved. Papa finished braiding my hair and put a rubber band in it, then answered it. There was Kat, standing in the doorway, very sleepy. "Hey," she mumbled, smiling weakly.
I giggled and lept up. "Hey, Kat! Spiffy plans for the day?" I asked.
She smiled and nodded. "Sure, kiddo."
Papa kissed my forehead and gave me a big hug. "We can talk later, okay? Think about any questions you might have and ask them... or you can ask Kat, okay?"
"Okay, Papa. See you later! Love you!"
"Yeah, yeah!" Katrina said, all giddy. "Hasta luego, te amo, too!!"
She loved it when she understood what we said.
We just giggled at her and Papa ruffled her hair, telling us that he loved us and all that stuff. I invited Kat inside to sleep a while, but she didn't want to. She had a spiffy day planned and couldn't wait to get started, even if she was sleepy. First thing on our agenda -- coffee shop :)
07 October 2004
Story: Raven's Black Tears
Misc story. Involves self-injury. Please read the disclaimer below.
Before I go on, I want to post a disclaimer. So here it goes: The author of this story in NO WAY believes in the NONconsensual spanking of teenagers with psychological problems. If you are a parent or friend and think that someone you know is cutting, don’t spank them, please. As a cutter and friend of many cutters, I know that sometimes this isn’t the right answer. But *sometimes* it is, depending on the situation. I wrote this story because I know there are cutters in this group who probably would wish this happened to them, or just want to read about a situation they can relate to. And once again I want to say that if anyone needs a friend, you can message me :) Please do not read this story if the idea of cutting bothers you, or if the idea of a consensual spanking of a cutter bothers you. Thanks! And enjoy the story.
Raven's Black Tears
by Breanna Carter
There was a pounding on the door of my apartment. My parents were gone and I wasn’t expecting anyone, so I was hesitant to answer it.. that is, until I looked out the peephole and saw my best friend, Raven, standing there, arms folded and black makeup smeared around her eyes. I hurridly opened the door in a panic. Oh no, I thought... what had happened?
We were both sixteen and had known each other since junior high. We were both the psycho outcasts, but while she was thin and pale, dressing herself in baggy black jeans and black mesh long-sleeved shirts with long black hair and black makeup, I was chunky and wore baggy jeans and T-shirts, no makeup. She was the stereotypical goth girl, and I the stereotypical grunge girl.
“What is it?” I asked, pulling her inside.
She was still crying, black tears streaming down her pale cheeks. I couldn’t stand to see her blue eyes mixed with red. “Everything,” she mumbled, crumbling into my arms.
I held her there, letting her sob in my embrace as I stroked her hair gently and tried to talk to her in a soothing voice, trying to tell her that everything was going to be okay, even if I didn’t believe it myself.
I don’t know how long we stood there, but she finally let go and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her long sleeved shirt. I noticed that she was holding the sleeve down with her hand and immediately knew what happened. That’s when I turned from a worried to angry... or not so much angry, but just hurt.
“Raven!” I yelled, slamming the door shut.
She jumped. “I’m sorry!” she blubbered, still sniffling.
“Lift up your sleeve,” I ordered.
She shook her head, sniffling, keeping a firm hold on the shirt to make sure it covered her wrists.
“I’m going to give you to the count of three, Young Lady,” I warned, casting her an evil glare.
She sniffled again. “Please, Jamie...” she begged. “I had to do it.”
“You don’t *have* to do anything. I know things can be hard sometimes, but there are other ways to take out your frustrations than cutting yourself!”
“I’m sorry... it was an impulsive reaction.”
“And you know what my impulsive reaction is..”
“Nooo... come on... please. I’m sorry.”
I shook my head at her. “You were sorry *last* time, and the time before that, and the time before that. This cutting has to stop!”
“I know, I know... but..”
“Listen, you asked me to help you out with this problem, and I know that’s why you’re here... and I’m not going to back down on my word. And anyway, I’ve told you thousands of times that there are better ways to deal with your stress... you can call me and we can go running, or you can do situps, or even sleep! Anything but cutting!”
“I... I know.. but I wasn’t thinking about that... It just hurt so much.”
I sighed closing my eyes and rubbing my temples, trying to think. I took a deep breath in to steady my shakey hands. Oh, I knew so well how she felt... I had my own scars to prove it. Being sixteen could be so hard... with parents always in your hair and siblings never leaving you alone and the stress of stupid schoolwork... Oh yes, I knew so well. But we had an agreement... anytime either of us cut ourselves, the other would spank her. And I knew I had to do it, no matter how much it hurt me.
I opened my eyes. “I know it hurts, Raven..” I muttered, seeing her slumped down on the couch showing really poor posture, part of that self-esteem problem that we shared. “But we have to build each other up... we’re going to be happy one day, okay? But you can’t cut yourself. We had an agreement... I have to spank you,” I said, trying to be the stronger one.
She nodded slightly. “I’m such a fuckup,” she exclaimed.
“Noooo, you’re not,” I argued. “And if you ever say that again, I’m going to get my dad’s belt.”
She wiped her eyes again, still sniffling.
“Let me see the cuts, Raven.”
She looked at me with that tear-stained face and nearly broke my heart. Hesitantly, she lifted the sleeve, rolling it all the way up her forearm. Yes, I was a cutter, but I still nearly passed out when I saw the damage done to her arm. I fell to my knees, burying my face in my hands, trying to supress the tears.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
I tried to breathe, tried to tell myself that she was okay, that she hadn’t hurt herself too badly, but the image of those wounds kept passing through my head. I took her hands in mine and pictured her sitting in the corner alone, weeping like a small child and slashing herself with a tiny razorblade... and I let the tears silently stream down my face, some of them falling into my hands, some falling into hers.
“I didn’t want to hurt you this much,” she said, again in a whisper, and I could tell that she was crying as well.
“I care about you so much,” I whispered back, not knowing if she could hear me or not. And we stayed that way for a couple of minutes until I could regain myself and do my duty as best friend... even if I didn’t want to do it. I looked up into her eyes, now having glossy eyes of my own to share with hers. “Raven, you can’t do this to yourself. It’s no good,” I said.
She nodded softly, a black tear trickling down her cheek.
I stood shakily and wiped my eyes. I’d only spanked my best friend once before, and she’d spanked me three times before. I knew exactly what she’d have done to me had I cut myself that badly, and knew that’s what she was expecting of me. It was hard trying to be the strong one.
I kissed her forehead. “Okay, baby. Go get my hairbrush. It’s in my room on the dresser.”
She gulped. “B-but... Jamie..” she whispered. “I--”
I cut her off. “Now, young lady.”
She stood from the couch and ambled towards my bedroom. My hands were freezing because I was so nervous. I sat down on the couch and closed my eyes, remembering how my Mexican friends always said “take it easy” in such a way that would calm me down. That’s what I was trying to do, take it easy. It was hard to breathe, but with each deep breath I took, my heart stopped pounding so wildly, and by the time Raven appeared in front of me, plastic hairbrush in hand, I was calm enough to do my duty.
“Okay,” I said, retrieving the hairbrush from her. I sat up straight on the couch. “Pants down, over my lap,” I ordered.
She nodded slowly and whimpered, but did as told. Seconds later, my best friend was over my lap in only a shirt and a pair of black silky panties, with her pants around her ankles. I positioned her as best as I could and placed my cold hand on her bottom. I could feel her body quiver slightly.
“Raven, baby, I love you,” I said. “But you have to stop hurting yourself, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I know how much stuff hurts sometimes, but you have to be strong. And if you really want pain to take your mind off of it, you can call me, okay? This is much safer than cutting... no infections... you can’t die from me spanking you.”
She nodded again, and I could tell she was very uneasy.
I wanted to let the lesson sink in, though, and I thought she could possibly benefit from lying over my lap as long as possible, so I lectured some more. “Cutting is very dangerous,” I told her, as if she didn’t know. “And not only is it dangerous, but if your parents found out, then you’d be sent to the crazy house, and no friend of mine is going to the crazy house, right?”
She nodded again.
I lifted my hand up and popped her panty-clad bottom, causing her to squeal a bit. But this was just the beginning.
“You are not to cut yourself, ever, do you hear me?”
“Yes,” she groaned.
I lifted my hand and popped her backside again, this time on the other cheek.
“What will you do next time instead of cutting yourself?” I asked.
“I’ll call you or go running around outside.”
“Good,” I answered, then tugged her panties down to mid-thigh.
She groaned upon me doing so, but I interrupted that groan by smacking her bottom, this time with a little more emphasis than the times before, so I could make sure she knew I meant business.
“Ahhhoww.. that hurt, Jamie..” she whined.
“*That* hurt? Wait til I use this hairbrush..” I answered, then smacked again, and again, and again, covering her tiny bottom and the sit-spots. She squirmed and squealed after each smack, but I didn’t let up any. In fact, I spanked harder as time went on, leaving pink splotches on her burning rear. But I was far from over.
“Jamie... pleaseee.. I’ve learned my lesson,” she begged, and I noticed her gripping onto the couch cushion.
“And what lesson is that?” I asked, still spanking, this time concentrating only on sit-spots and thighs.
“Oooooowwwwwww... not to cut!” she yelped
“It’s not a matter of cutting,” I explained, not letting up on the spanking, even though my hand was beginning to hurt and I was ready to use the hairbrush. It wasn’t time yet... I had to make sure the spanking was thorough and she wouldn’t forget it for a while. “It’s a matter of dealing with things better... and letting go.” I kept the rhythm up. “Stuff is hard, I know, but you’re stronger than that. And you gotta stop letting little things bother you so much. Just let go...” I had no idea if she knew what I was talking about or not. “And letting go is a lot easier than cutting it away,” I added, landing two really hard smacks to her sit spots then resting it on her bottom. I can say this much -- my hand wasn’t cold anymore.
I felt the warmth in her bottom with my left hand... yes, it had been a good enough warm up... I could tell by the redness in her backside and the warmth I felt while touching it.
I reached for the oval hairbrush that sat on the coffee table and looked at her. She was still gripping onto the couch cushion and I noticed her biting her lower lip. She was crying slightly.
I rested the hairbrush on her bottom. “Oh Raven... you’re so much stronger than that... you’ve been through hell and back... you can handle it. You don’t need a razorblade to help you get through everything.”
“I know,” she whimpered.
I lifted up the hairbrush and crashed it down on the middle of her red bottom.
“Ahhhhhhhooooowwwwiiiieeee!” she yelped, letting go of the cushion to try and protect her poor bottom.
“Nu huh,” I said. “Hands away.”
She moved them back to the cushion. “But that hurt!” she squealed.
“Good. And you’ll think about this next time you think about cutting? And by the way, I want your razorblade. I don’t know where the hell you got it, but we’re going to get rid of it, understand?” I asked then let her have another hard smack in the very same spot.
“Oooooowwwwwwww!” she howled. “Okayyy.”
“Good girl,” I said, then finished my work with the hairbrush. I lifted it and smacked it, increasing speed and strength as the spanking continued, making sure that I covered every area that needed to be covered, including her sitspots and thighs. I noticed her squirming increase with the more spanks that rained down on her now very red bottom, and then the struggles died down and her sobs increased, and I knew she’d had enough. I dropped the brush down on the couch and scooped my poor friend into my arms, being careful not to touch her throbbing bottom.
She was wailing apologies as she lay there, face buried into my chest. I just stroked her hair and rocked her back and forth like a baby, holding her tightly then singing to her in a soft voice.
We stayed like that all night, she falling asleep in my arms. I had to wake her about nine because my father would be home soon, and I knew he’d be frightened if he saw my half-naked best friend lying in my arms like that. I kissed her forehead gently and patted her bottom, then gave her one final hug. “No more cutting,” I ordered as she handed me a tiny razorblade that she had in her pocket.
“No more,” she replied.
Before I go on, I want to post a disclaimer. So here it goes: The author of this story in NO WAY believes in the NONconsensual spanking of teenagers with psychological problems. If you are a parent or friend and think that someone you know is cutting, don’t spank them, please. As a cutter and friend of many cutters, I know that sometimes this isn’t the right answer. But *sometimes* it is, depending on the situation. I wrote this story because I know there are cutters in this group who probably would wish this happened to them, or just want to read about a situation they can relate to. And once again I want to say that if anyone needs a friend, you can message me :) Please do not read this story if the idea of cutting bothers you, or if the idea of a consensual spanking of a cutter bothers you. Thanks! And enjoy the story.
Raven's Black Tears
by Breanna Carter
There was a pounding on the door of my apartment. My parents were gone and I wasn’t expecting anyone, so I was hesitant to answer it.. that is, until I looked out the peephole and saw my best friend, Raven, standing there, arms folded and black makeup smeared around her eyes. I hurridly opened the door in a panic. Oh no, I thought... what had happened?
We were both sixteen and had known each other since junior high. We were both the psycho outcasts, but while she was thin and pale, dressing herself in baggy black jeans and black mesh long-sleeved shirts with long black hair and black makeup, I was chunky and wore baggy jeans and T-shirts, no makeup. She was the stereotypical goth girl, and I the stereotypical grunge girl.
“What is it?” I asked, pulling her inside.
She was still crying, black tears streaming down her pale cheeks. I couldn’t stand to see her blue eyes mixed with red. “Everything,” she mumbled, crumbling into my arms.
I held her there, letting her sob in my embrace as I stroked her hair gently and tried to talk to her in a soothing voice, trying to tell her that everything was going to be okay, even if I didn’t believe it myself.
I don’t know how long we stood there, but she finally let go and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her long sleeved shirt. I noticed that she was holding the sleeve down with her hand and immediately knew what happened. That’s when I turned from a worried to angry... or not so much angry, but just hurt.
“Raven!” I yelled, slamming the door shut.
She jumped. “I’m sorry!” she blubbered, still sniffling.
“Lift up your sleeve,” I ordered.
She shook her head, sniffling, keeping a firm hold on the shirt to make sure it covered her wrists.
“I’m going to give you to the count of three, Young Lady,” I warned, casting her an evil glare.
She sniffled again. “Please, Jamie...” she begged. “I had to do it.”
“You don’t *have* to do anything. I know things can be hard sometimes, but there are other ways to take out your frustrations than cutting yourself!”
“I’m sorry... it was an impulsive reaction.”
“And you know what my impulsive reaction is..”
“Nooo... come on... please. I’m sorry.”
I shook my head at her. “You were sorry *last* time, and the time before that, and the time before that. This cutting has to stop!”
“I know, I know... but..”
“Listen, you asked me to help you out with this problem, and I know that’s why you’re here... and I’m not going to back down on my word. And anyway, I’ve told you thousands of times that there are better ways to deal with your stress... you can call me and we can go running, or you can do situps, or even sleep! Anything but cutting!”
“I... I know.. but I wasn’t thinking about that... It just hurt so much.”
I sighed closing my eyes and rubbing my temples, trying to think. I took a deep breath in to steady my shakey hands. Oh, I knew so well how she felt... I had my own scars to prove it. Being sixteen could be so hard... with parents always in your hair and siblings never leaving you alone and the stress of stupid schoolwork... Oh yes, I knew so well. But we had an agreement... anytime either of us cut ourselves, the other would spank her. And I knew I had to do it, no matter how much it hurt me.
I opened my eyes. “I know it hurts, Raven..” I muttered, seeing her slumped down on the couch showing really poor posture, part of that self-esteem problem that we shared. “But we have to build each other up... we’re going to be happy one day, okay? But you can’t cut yourself. We had an agreement... I have to spank you,” I said, trying to be the stronger one.
She nodded slightly. “I’m such a fuckup,” she exclaimed.
“Noooo, you’re not,” I argued. “And if you ever say that again, I’m going to get my dad’s belt.”
She wiped her eyes again, still sniffling.
“Let me see the cuts, Raven.”
She looked at me with that tear-stained face and nearly broke my heart. Hesitantly, she lifted the sleeve, rolling it all the way up her forearm. Yes, I was a cutter, but I still nearly passed out when I saw the damage done to her arm. I fell to my knees, burying my face in my hands, trying to supress the tears.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
I tried to breathe, tried to tell myself that she was okay, that she hadn’t hurt herself too badly, but the image of those wounds kept passing through my head. I took her hands in mine and pictured her sitting in the corner alone, weeping like a small child and slashing herself with a tiny razorblade... and I let the tears silently stream down my face, some of them falling into my hands, some falling into hers.
“I didn’t want to hurt you this much,” she said, again in a whisper, and I could tell that she was crying as well.
“I care about you so much,” I whispered back, not knowing if she could hear me or not. And we stayed that way for a couple of minutes until I could regain myself and do my duty as best friend... even if I didn’t want to do it. I looked up into her eyes, now having glossy eyes of my own to share with hers. “Raven, you can’t do this to yourself. It’s no good,” I said.
She nodded softly, a black tear trickling down her cheek.
I stood shakily and wiped my eyes. I’d only spanked my best friend once before, and she’d spanked me three times before. I knew exactly what she’d have done to me had I cut myself that badly, and knew that’s what she was expecting of me. It was hard trying to be the strong one.
I kissed her forehead. “Okay, baby. Go get my hairbrush. It’s in my room on the dresser.”
She gulped. “B-but... Jamie..” she whispered. “I--”
I cut her off. “Now, young lady.”
She stood from the couch and ambled towards my bedroom. My hands were freezing because I was so nervous. I sat down on the couch and closed my eyes, remembering how my Mexican friends always said “take it easy” in such a way that would calm me down. That’s what I was trying to do, take it easy. It was hard to breathe, but with each deep breath I took, my heart stopped pounding so wildly, and by the time Raven appeared in front of me, plastic hairbrush in hand, I was calm enough to do my duty.
“Okay,” I said, retrieving the hairbrush from her. I sat up straight on the couch. “Pants down, over my lap,” I ordered.
She nodded slowly and whimpered, but did as told. Seconds later, my best friend was over my lap in only a shirt and a pair of black silky panties, with her pants around her ankles. I positioned her as best as I could and placed my cold hand on her bottom. I could feel her body quiver slightly.
“Raven, baby, I love you,” I said. “But you have to stop hurting yourself, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I know how much stuff hurts sometimes, but you have to be strong. And if you really want pain to take your mind off of it, you can call me, okay? This is much safer than cutting... no infections... you can’t die from me spanking you.”
She nodded again, and I could tell she was very uneasy.
I wanted to let the lesson sink in, though, and I thought she could possibly benefit from lying over my lap as long as possible, so I lectured some more. “Cutting is very dangerous,” I told her, as if she didn’t know. “And not only is it dangerous, but if your parents found out, then you’d be sent to the crazy house, and no friend of mine is going to the crazy house, right?”
She nodded again.
I lifted my hand up and popped her panty-clad bottom, causing her to squeal a bit. But this was just the beginning.
“You are not to cut yourself, ever, do you hear me?”
“Yes,” she groaned.
I lifted my hand and popped her backside again, this time on the other cheek.
“What will you do next time instead of cutting yourself?” I asked.
“I’ll call you or go running around outside.”
“Good,” I answered, then tugged her panties down to mid-thigh.
She groaned upon me doing so, but I interrupted that groan by smacking her bottom, this time with a little more emphasis than the times before, so I could make sure she knew I meant business.
“Ahhhoww.. that hurt, Jamie..” she whined.
“*That* hurt? Wait til I use this hairbrush..” I answered, then smacked again, and again, and again, covering her tiny bottom and the sit-spots. She squirmed and squealed after each smack, but I didn’t let up any. In fact, I spanked harder as time went on, leaving pink splotches on her burning rear. But I was far from over.
“Jamie... pleaseee.. I’ve learned my lesson,” she begged, and I noticed her gripping onto the couch cushion.
“And what lesson is that?” I asked, still spanking, this time concentrating only on sit-spots and thighs.
“Oooooowwwwwww... not to cut!” she yelped
“It’s not a matter of cutting,” I explained, not letting up on the spanking, even though my hand was beginning to hurt and I was ready to use the hairbrush. It wasn’t time yet... I had to make sure the spanking was thorough and she wouldn’t forget it for a while. “It’s a matter of dealing with things better... and letting go.” I kept the rhythm up. “Stuff is hard, I know, but you’re stronger than that. And you gotta stop letting little things bother you so much. Just let go...” I had no idea if she knew what I was talking about or not. “And letting go is a lot easier than cutting it away,” I added, landing two really hard smacks to her sit spots then resting it on her bottom. I can say this much -- my hand wasn’t cold anymore.
I felt the warmth in her bottom with my left hand... yes, it had been a good enough warm up... I could tell by the redness in her backside and the warmth I felt while touching it.
I reached for the oval hairbrush that sat on the coffee table and looked at her. She was still gripping onto the couch cushion and I noticed her biting her lower lip. She was crying slightly.
I rested the hairbrush on her bottom. “Oh Raven... you’re so much stronger than that... you’ve been through hell and back... you can handle it. You don’t need a razorblade to help you get through everything.”
“I know,” she whimpered.
I lifted up the hairbrush and crashed it down on the middle of her red bottom.
“Ahhhhhhhooooowwwwiiiieeee!” she yelped, letting go of the cushion to try and protect her poor bottom.
“Nu huh,” I said. “Hands away.”
She moved them back to the cushion. “But that hurt!” she squealed.
“Good. And you’ll think about this next time you think about cutting? And by the way, I want your razorblade. I don’t know where the hell you got it, but we’re going to get rid of it, understand?” I asked then let her have another hard smack in the very same spot.
“Oooooowwwwwwww!” she howled. “Okayyy.”
“Good girl,” I said, then finished my work with the hairbrush. I lifted it and smacked it, increasing speed and strength as the spanking continued, making sure that I covered every area that needed to be covered, including her sitspots and thighs. I noticed her squirming increase with the more spanks that rained down on her now very red bottom, and then the struggles died down and her sobs increased, and I knew she’d had enough. I dropped the brush down on the couch and scooped my poor friend into my arms, being careful not to touch her throbbing bottom.
She was wailing apologies as she lay there, face buried into my chest. I just stroked her hair and rocked her back and forth like a baby, holding her tightly then singing to her in a soft voice.
We stayed like that all night, she falling asleep in my arms. I had to wake her about nine because my father would be home soon, and I knew he’d be frightened if he saw my half-naked best friend lying in my arms like that. I kissed her forehead gently and patted her bottom, then gave her one final hug. “No more cutting,” I ordered as she handed me a tiny razorblade that she had in her pocket.
“No more,” she replied.
25 September 2004
Story: Like a Father
Misc story. Autumn is curious about spanking, especially with her classmate, Robert. When he catches her getting an attitude with her mom, he leaves us wondering if he is also curious about it :)
Like a Father
by Breanna Carter
Robert was the type of guy that I could imagine being a good father. I guess that’s a weird thing to say, seeing as I imagined him being a good father when he was no older than eighteen, and I no older than fifteen. It *was* weird in a way, though. He seemed like he’d be a stereotypical father... one who wears a nice suit to work and comes home, kisses his wife who is making dinner as she tells him of the “stunt” his daughter pulled earlier that evening. I can remember always watching tv shows where a mother would say, “wait until your father gets home.” He was that type of father... the type that would sigh as he heard of the mischeif, then nod and proceed to go to his daughter’s room, loosening his tie and running his fingers through his air. And then his daughter would promise to be good and never do anything so stupid again, but he would shake his head and tell her that she promised last time and this time, she was getting a spanking...
And this was usually when my teacher would cut off my daydream by asking me to answer some question in which I never had an idea of the answer. And I’d look nervously around the room praying that no one knew what I was daydreaming about. Then I’d mutter the wrong answer and doodle in my spiral notebook.
Robert was a nice guy. I met him on my first day of high school. It was one of those days that only freshman went to school so they could be lost together and no seniors would try to sell them elevator passes until after they figured out that there were no elevators. Of course, they still had some upper classmen there, juniors and seniors who were in National Honor Society or the student council, or whatever. And as I wandered around on that first day of school, paying more attention to my schedule than the crowded hallway, I ran into him. Literally.
“Uh... s-sorry...” I stammered.
He smiled, wearing a nice button-up shirt and tie. “It’s fine. Can I help you find something?”
It took me a minute to realize that he’d said something to me. I guess I was just amazed that someone with such authority would be so nice to me... or maybe I was just weird. “Oh, uh, yeah.” I looked down at my schedule, my heart thumping. First day of high school and I already had a crush on someone... pathetic, huh? “Psychology.”
“Heyyy, I have psych with you,” he said. “Come on, I’ll show you where it is.”
I studied him as we walked down the hallway. He was an attractive guy, tall, atheletic-looking, blondish spikey hair and dark eyes. At the time I couldn’t put my finger on what it was that was different about him though. Maybe the clothing made him look like he had more authority, or maybe the way he walked, or the way he talked. I don’t know. But there was something about him that caught my attention, and it wasn’t just the fact that he was good-looking.
So I spent my whole freshman year sitting across the room from him in psychology, then overheard him talking to a friend one day about taking debate the next year, so guess who signed up for debate? Yes, me. Luckily, he signed up for that class, else I’d have been screwed.
By the time my sophomore year rolled around, Robert and I were acquaintances, I guess. We acknowledged each other in the hallway (which was awesome to me, because not many upper classmen talked to freshmen), sometimes carried on conversations in class (mostly consisting of me asking what some words meant), and he actually convinced me to run for a position on student council, which somehow I managed to get elected for.
As you can imagine, I got more than I bargained for... in more ways than once. Debate was a lot of work, as was student council. I had to go to meetings about once a week and listen to Robert ramble on and on about different things we needed to do, events we needed to sponsor, fund raisers we needed to participate in... and I guess that’s when I realized that he’d make a good father. And even morely, that’s when I realized that it’d be interesting if he were my father and I was that daughter who promised never to do something so stupid again. And that thought alone scared me, because it seemed weird to imagine someone I went to school with as a father... someone I was attracted to, nonetheless. So I pushed the thought away and didn’t think of it again until one rainy evening in December.
We had been assigned a midterm debate. See, in the class we hadn’t really done any real debates yet, the first semester was basically just learning how to debate, and preparing speeches. So when our teacher announced that our first debate would be due as a midterm, it literally scared the hell out of me. I had no idea where to even start... mainly because I didn’t pay much attention in class. But like I said, Robert was in that class with me, and I was very lucky to have him there. I was even luckier that we’d become closer to being friends rather than acquaintances, and he offered to be my partner in the debate. So Robert and I took one side of the debate, and an opposing team took the other side. The problem with Robert, though, is that he’s a little too conservative for his own good, so I was stuck debating pro-life for abortion when that wasn’t exactly how I felt. But I didn’t argue. I figured Robert could do all the work and I could just nod and smile like I always did in class.
As you probably guessed, I was wrong. I ended up having to do tons of work, reading all sorts of different books. We worked all during class on our debate, he telling me what he’d read in a book the night before, and me listening, and then he asking what I learned and I kind of shrugging (because I hadn’t read the book) and saying “oh, basically the same thing.” He caught onto what I was doing, though, and told me I needed to actually start doing the work, because he wasn’t going to fail this debate because of me. And he wasn’t really nice about it when he said it. So I ended up spending all night reading books about abortion, learning both sides of the debate, and taking notes, and then the next day I’d come to class and we’d discuss it, getting in a few debates of our own, seeing as I saw both sides of the argument, and he didn’t. Or maybe I just felt like he didn’t.
We actually did a good job gathering information for the assignment. We were finished way before most of the people in the class. But gathering the info was easy.. the hard part was actually writing the debates and making sure we knew everything. And seeing as we did such a great job gathering the information, we had plenty of class time to get our debates written.
“Hey, you’ve done really great, Autumn,” Robert said the day before the debate was due. The bell rang, interrupting us halfway through our practice of the debate.
I bit my lower lip. “This isn’t cool.. I’m not ready... I don’t want to do this,” I whined.
“Relax,” he said, standing and putting a hand on my shoulder. “You’ll do fine.”
I raised my eyebrows in doubt.
“Fine. How about I come over this evening after school? About 5:30ish?” he asked.
My heart skipped a beat. True, he’d come over to my house a couple of times to work on the debate, and yes, we’d been alone in my room, so nothing was new to me, but my heart still skipped a beat everytime I thought about it... and the possibility of maybe confessing that I wanted him to spank me and he actually doing it. But that was all just a dream anyway... there’d be no way I’d tell him anything. “Y-yeah... you can come over,” I said, grabbing my books.
“Good deal. See you about 5:30?”
I nodded.
“Later, Autumn. And relax!”
I smiled, watching him back out the door and talk to some of his senior friends. He was dressed nicely like always, a blue oxford shirt and a black tie, black pants, and his shirt was tucked in and I could see the gold from his belt buckle shining from the light. I pushed away the thoughts of him unbuckling his belt... nothing would ever happen, and I’d have to accept that and move on.
The day went by so slowly. Every class seemed twice as long and my busride home even longer. When I finally made it home, only my mom was home. Not unusual. My parents had been divorced since I was a kid and the only other person who might have been home would have been my older sister. And my mom was a nurse, so she’d be leaving about the time that Robert got there, and I’d have the house to myself. She, unlike many parents, trusted me not to do anything. And she was also the type of mom that would rather me experiment safely than unsafely... so she gave me tons of advice on how to notice if something was up, how to use condoms, and even said if I needed it to get birth control, she wouldn’t mind. Most girls thought it was pretty cool how my mom was, and sometimes so did I... but I wasn’t quite ready to experiment with that yet anyway. And she knew that. So everything was peachy.
“Hey, kiddo,” Mom said, stirring up something for dinner, dressed in her scrubs.
“Hey, Mom. Robert’s coming over again tonight... we’re finishing up our debate.”
She sighed. “I wish you’d have told me sooner.”
“It’s no big deal, Mom... besides, I didn’t know until today.”
She shook her head. “This house is a mess... there’s dirty clothes everywhere and dirty dishes and nobody will help me around here.”
My turn to sigh. “Mom, he doesn’t care..”
“I care!” she said. “You girls don’t even pick up after yourselves and you’re old enough now to where I shouldn’t have to tell you.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me, Autumn.”
“Well stop yelling at me! I’m sorry for not being perfect!”
“Don’t even pull that crap. You know that’s not what I said.”
“Whatever,” I spat, turning around.
“I’m not finished talking to you,” she ordered, and when I didn’t turn around, she grabbed my upper arm.
“Let go,” I yelled, and when she didn’t, I pushed her off of me, harder than I had imagined because she slammed into the stove. And then all was silent.
I admit that I felt bad for doing it... letting my anger control my actions. It’s one of those bad things you always hear about and claim that you never do it. But I knew I did it, and probably a little too often.
“I’m sorry..” I muttered, trying to smooth over what had just happened. Didn’t work.
“Go to your room,” she commanded.
“Mom... I said I’m...”
“I don’t care. Go to your room. I’ll send Robert in when he gets here.”
I felt a pit in my stomach. My heart started pounding against my chest... Something wasn’t right with this picture.
I turned around and shuffled to my room in silence as if I’d been defeated. I didn’t realize that I actually had been defeated until I got to my room... and then I realized that I was having the same feelings as those girls on tv when their mother sent them to their room and told them to wait until their father got home. Except nobody was coming home for me, I’d just have to wait in there forever.. Or maybe even my mom would come in and do something. I didn’t like the guilty feeling I had in my stomach...
I plopped down on my bed and stared at the ceiling. I counted the tiles, counted the spots, even got bored enough to start counting the lines in my wall. The only sound I could hear was the ticking of my clock and my mother washing dishes. I looked at my digital clock and it was 5:15. Fifteen more minutes of waiting in this god-awful silence. I was too scared to turn the radio on... too scared to do anything more than just lie there, for fear that I would be in more trouble.
Five minutes of lying there seemed longer than any of my classes that day, or even all of my classes put together... but after those five minutes passed, I heard a knock, the clinging of dishes stop, and then the murmuring of low voices in the kitchen. I pictured my mother telling my father about how I’d shoved her into the stove. I imagined her showing him the bruise on her side and exclaiming that she doesn’t know what’s gotten into me but it has to stop. And I imagined my father loosening his tie and sighing, saying that he’d make sure nothing like that ever happened again. And then I heard the footsteps coming towards my room. My heart started pounding more and more and more... I was ready to plead for mercy... I was ready to beg that he not give me a spanking. The doorknob turned and I closed my eyes, fearing the look that I would get...
Then the door opened and I opened one eye, and upon seeing Robert, you’d think I’d have been calm. But there was something about him... something from the look in his eyes... I was far from being calm.
I heard my mom walking towards the living room then heard her open the front door and shut it. Next I heard her car start up and she drive off. And then I looked at Robert, still standing there in my doorway, hands on hips, tie loosened, wearing a serious expression. He wasn’t a happy camper.
“Hey, uh, Robert..” I muttered.
“Your mother told me what happened,” he said.
“Uh huh.”
He walked in, shutting the door behind him, then sat down on my bed, looking at me straight in the eyes. “Why did you do that, Autumn?”
“I.. I don’t know,” I stammered. “I guess I was just mad.”
“That’s not a good excuse, Young Lady.”
My heart jumped and the knot in my stomach grew tighter. “I know..”
“I’m extremely disappointed in you. You know better than to do what you did.”
“I know,” I muttered again, staring at the floor and twiddling my thumbs.
He moved his fingers towards my chin and lifted my face up, then stared into my eyes again. “Autumn, she is your mother... she takes care of you, feeds you, buys you new clothes... What would even *possess* you to do something like that? How could you get so upset over your mother asking you to help her out? She helps you out enough, right?”
I nodded. He definitely wasn’t helping me feel any better.
He sighed, letting go of my chin and running his fingers through his hair. “Autumn... I’m not going to put up with this. You’re fifteen years old and you need to respect your mom, okay?”
“Okay.”
With that statement, he nodded. “Okay then, stand up.”
I did as told, wondering where this was going, though somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew exactly where I was headed. It just felt weird, though...
He nodded again. “You’re getting a spanking, Autumn,” he told me.
My mouth dropped. “A... what?”
“A spanking.” He paused to let the idea sink into my head. All of a sudden I wasn’t a fifteen year old without a father who hadn’t been spanked in ten years... I was just the opposite... or that’s how I felt anyway. “Okay,” he said. “Pants down, Young Lady... and no hesitation or that’ll just make it worse.”
I gulped, moving my fingers towards the button of my pants. They stayed there for a minute, touching the button slightly, and finally I unbuttoned my jeans, then unzipped them, and then slid them down to the floor. My lower lip quivered. I was so anxious.
He motioned for me to get over his lap, and held onto my right arm as to guide me over. I guess I’d always known he was left-handed, but it seemed weird to be going over a lap from this side... I’d always envisioned the spankings from the other side.
I took a deep breath in, now facing the carpet. I remembered childishly how I’d been counting the tiles earlier, and wondered if now would be a good time to begin counting the dust in the carpet... but my thoughts were interrupted as I felt a warm hand resting on my backside. I breathed ever so slightly to try and steady my heart beat and hands... I was so nervous. “It’s going to be on the bare-bottom, Autumn,” he told me, and I felt his fingertips move towards my back.
I whined... “Does it have to be?”
“Yes,” he answered, and I could tell he was a bit nervous, too, but he never faultered... he steadily played his part as father.
I took another deep breath in, feeling him now begin to tug at my panties until they met my jeans at my ankles. I quivered again, biting my lower lip and trying to advert my attention elsewhere. It wasn’t working, and really didn’t work when he put his hand back on my bum. I shivered again.
“You will not disrespect your mother, Young Lady, do you understand me?”
“Yes,” I groaned.
“Yes *what*,” he replied, sending a sharp smack to my rear.
“Oooowwwwww!!!” I squealed. That had really hurt!
“I expect a ‘yes, sir’ out of you, Autumn,” he told me, landing another smack.
“Ahhhhhooooowwwww,” I whined. “Y-yesss sirrrr... bbbut it hurtss!”
“Oh, this is just the beginning,” he told me, and lifted his strong hand again, the paraded it down on my already throbbing backside, hitting again and again and again... and all the time I tried to think that I deserved this, and that I actually kind of wanted it, but it hurt sooo much more than I’d imagined it ever hurting.
I was impressed with myself for being so tolerable of the pain being inflicted upon me. Of course, this was when he wasn’t giving it his all, but I *thought* he was at the time. The most I did was whine, no pleading or begging, no crying... nothing, just a little whining and complaining. But *then* he took it upon himself to pick up the pace and spank harder and faster... and *that* is when I wasn’t so tolerable. It started out with just me whining, and then I started trying to block the spanks, only to have my hands restrained behind my back, and then I started pleading -- “Pleaseeeeeeee Roberttttt... I’m sorry!! That.. hurrtss!” I begged. But he didn’t let up... just kept spanking... perhaps even harder than before. And after he wouldn’t stop, and my pleading didn’t help, and the whining didn’t help, and my hands were restrained, I felt like a small child and began feeling totally embarrassed for having myself lying over his lap like that... And I began crying. It started out small, a loud whine and a few tears trickling down my cheeks, and he just spanked harder, then started scolding to drive his point home.
“You will not cock an attitude with your mother,” he scolded, smacking inbetween words for emphasis, “you will not hit or shove her, and you will help around the house. Is that understood, Autumn?” he asked, spanking my sitspots with full force.
“Ooooowwwwwiiiieeeeeeee yeesssssss, ssssirrrr!!” I squealed, the tears now streaming down as fast as they could.
“I am very disappointed in you for acting this way. You are fifteen years old and know that it’s not okay to do what you did today.”
“I knowwwwww,” I cried.
He spanked me a dozen more times on each sit spot, making sure that I was full out crying, and then stopped. I felt him sigh and let go of my hands, and they immediately flew to my face to catch my tears that were falling to the carpet. He rubbed my backside softly for a minute, then lifted me up. Any modesty that I’d previously had was all forgotten as I stood there in front of him, face buried in hands. He moved my hands away and looked into my puffy red eyes. “Autumn.. please don’t do this again, okay?”
I nodded.
“Because I will spank you again if I ever find out that you pull a stunt like this, okay?”
I nodded again.
He smiled slightly and hugged me, rubbing my back. After he let go, I pulled my panties up, still crying, then pulled my pants up, and it hurt like crazy. But he wouldn’t let me rest. He said we had to get finished doing the stuff for debate, then I could do the rest of my homework, then I could do some chores, and *then* I could rest.
So I worked all day with a sore backside, but I got everything done and he was pleased with me. He finally decided to go home about ten that night. “You did well today... our debate is going to be fine, you got everything else done, your mom’ll be pleased... I’m proud of you,” he said, standing near the door.
I smiled as I studied him... that same tall guy, tie loosened, belt buckle still gleaming. “Thanks.”
He patted my bottom slightly then kissed my forehead. “See you tomorrow.”
I figured it would be weird, seeing him after that... after what he’d seen of me... or rather, what he’d done to me. But it really wasn’t awkward at all. It actually made our friendship stronger, and that was really awesome.
I can’t honestly say that I never got spanked again... by Robert, even... but that’s another story :)
As for my mom... I have no idea what she and Robert talked about or whether she even knew what he planned to do... but I was definitely more respectful after that, and she asked no questions. It’s probably better that way.
Like a Father
by Breanna Carter
Robert was the type of guy that I could imagine being a good father. I guess that’s a weird thing to say, seeing as I imagined him being a good father when he was no older than eighteen, and I no older than fifteen. It *was* weird in a way, though. He seemed like he’d be a stereotypical father... one who wears a nice suit to work and comes home, kisses his wife who is making dinner as she tells him of the “stunt” his daughter pulled earlier that evening. I can remember always watching tv shows where a mother would say, “wait until your father gets home.” He was that type of father... the type that would sigh as he heard of the mischeif, then nod and proceed to go to his daughter’s room, loosening his tie and running his fingers through his air. And then his daughter would promise to be good and never do anything so stupid again, but he would shake his head and tell her that she promised last time and this time, she was getting a spanking...
And this was usually when my teacher would cut off my daydream by asking me to answer some question in which I never had an idea of the answer. And I’d look nervously around the room praying that no one knew what I was daydreaming about. Then I’d mutter the wrong answer and doodle in my spiral notebook.
Robert was a nice guy. I met him on my first day of high school. It was one of those days that only freshman went to school so they could be lost together and no seniors would try to sell them elevator passes until after they figured out that there were no elevators. Of course, they still had some upper classmen there, juniors and seniors who were in National Honor Society or the student council, or whatever. And as I wandered around on that first day of school, paying more attention to my schedule than the crowded hallway, I ran into him. Literally.
“Uh... s-sorry...” I stammered.
He smiled, wearing a nice button-up shirt and tie. “It’s fine. Can I help you find something?”
It took me a minute to realize that he’d said something to me. I guess I was just amazed that someone with such authority would be so nice to me... or maybe I was just weird. “Oh, uh, yeah.” I looked down at my schedule, my heart thumping. First day of high school and I already had a crush on someone... pathetic, huh? “Psychology.”
“Heyyy, I have psych with you,” he said. “Come on, I’ll show you where it is.”
I studied him as we walked down the hallway. He was an attractive guy, tall, atheletic-looking, blondish spikey hair and dark eyes. At the time I couldn’t put my finger on what it was that was different about him though. Maybe the clothing made him look like he had more authority, or maybe the way he walked, or the way he talked. I don’t know. But there was something about him that caught my attention, and it wasn’t just the fact that he was good-looking.
So I spent my whole freshman year sitting across the room from him in psychology, then overheard him talking to a friend one day about taking debate the next year, so guess who signed up for debate? Yes, me. Luckily, he signed up for that class, else I’d have been screwed.
By the time my sophomore year rolled around, Robert and I were acquaintances, I guess. We acknowledged each other in the hallway (which was awesome to me, because not many upper classmen talked to freshmen), sometimes carried on conversations in class (mostly consisting of me asking what some words meant), and he actually convinced me to run for a position on student council, which somehow I managed to get elected for.
As you can imagine, I got more than I bargained for... in more ways than once. Debate was a lot of work, as was student council. I had to go to meetings about once a week and listen to Robert ramble on and on about different things we needed to do, events we needed to sponsor, fund raisers we needed to participate in... and I guess that’s when I realized that he’d make a good father. And even morely, that’s when I realized that it’d be interesting if he were my father and I was that daughter who promised never to do something so stupid again. And that thought alone scared me, because it seemed weird to imagine someone I went to school with as a father... someone I was attracted to, nonetheless. So I pushed the thought away and didn’t think of it again until one rainy evening in December.
We had been assigned a midterm debate. See, in the class we hadn’t really done any real debates yet, the first semester was basically just learning how to debate, and preparing speeches. So when our teacher announced that our first debate would be due as a midterm, it literally scared the hell out of me. I had no idea where to even start... mainly because I didn’t pay much attention in class. But like I said, Robert was in that class with me, and I was very lucky to have him there. I was even luckier that we’d become closer to being friends rather than acquaintances, and he offered to be my partner in the debate. So Robert and I took one side of the debate, and an opposing team took the other side. The problem with Robert, though, is that he’s a little too conservative for his own good, so I was stuck debating pro-life for abortion when that wasn’t exactly how I felt. But I didn’t argue. I figured Robert could do all the work and I could just nod and smile like I always did in class.
As you probably guessed, I was wrong. I ended up having to do tons of work, reading all sorts of different books. We worked all during class on our debate, he telling me what he’d read in a book the night before, and me listening, and then he asking what I learned and I kind of shrugging (because I hadn’t read the book) and saying “oh, basically the same thing.” He caught onto what I was doing, though, and told me I needed to actually start doing the work, because he wasn’t going to fail this debate because of me. And he wasn’t really nice about it when he said it. So I ended up spending all night reading books about abortion, learning both sides of the debate, and taking notes, and then the next day I’d come to class and we’d discuss it, getting in a few debates of our own, seeing as I saw both sides of the argument, and he didn’t. Or maybe I just felt like he didn’t.
We actually did a good job gathering information for the assignment. We were finished way before most of the people in the class. But gathering the info was easy.. the hard part was actually writing the debates and making sure we knew everything. And seeing as we did such a great job gathering the information, we had plenty of class time to get our debates written.
“Hey, you’ve done really great, Autumn,” Robert said the day before the debate was due. The bell rang, interrupting us halfway through our practice of the debate.
I bit my lower lip. “This isn’t cool.. I’m not ready... I don’t want to do this,” I whined.
“Relax,” he said, standing and putting a hand on my shoulder. “You’ll do fine.”
I raised my eyebrows in doubt.
“Fine. How about I come over this evening after school? About 5:30ish?” he asked.
My heart skipped a beat. True, he’d come over to my house a couple of times to work on the debate, and yes, we’d been alone in my room, so nothing was new to me, but my heart still skipped a beat everytime I thought about it... and the possibility of maybe confessing that I wanted him to spank me and he actually doing it. But that was all just a dream anyway... there’d be no way I’d tell him anything. “Y-yeah... you can come over,” I said, grabbing my books.
“Good deal. See you about 5:30?”
I nodded.
“Later, Autumn. And relax!”
I smiled, watching him back out the door and talk to some of his senior friends. He was dressed nicely like always, a blue oxford shirt and a black tie, black pants, and his shirt was tucked in and I could see the gold from his belt buckle shining from the light. I pushed away the thoughts of him unbuckling his belt... nothing would ever happen, and I’d have to accept that and move on.
The day went by so slowly. Every class seemed twice as long and my busride home even longer. When I finally made it home, only my mom was home. Not unusual. My parents had been divorced since I was a kid and the only other person who might have been home would have been my older sister. And my mom was a nurse, so she’d be leaving about the time that Robert got there, and I’d have the house to myself. She, unlike many parents, trusted me not to do anything. And she was also the type of mom that would rather me experiment safely than unsafely... so she gave me tons of advice on how to notice if something was up, how to use condoms, and even said if I needed it to get birth control, she wouldn’t mind. Most girls thought it was pretty cool how my mom was, and sometimes so did I... but I wasn’t quite ready to experiment with that yet anyway. And she knew that. So everything was peachy.
“Hey, kiddo,” Mom said, stirring up something for dinner, dressed in her scrubs.
“Hey, Mom. Robert’s coming over again tonight... we’re finishing up our debate.”
She sighed. “I wish you’d have told me sooner.”
“It’s no big deal, Mom... besides, I didn’t know until today.”
She shook her head. “This house is a mess... there’s dirty clothes everywhere and dirty dishes and nobody will help me around here.”
My turn to sigh. “Mom, he doesn’t care..”
“I care!” she said. “You girls don’t even pick up after yourselves and you’re old enough now to where I shouldn’t have to tell you.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me, Autumn.”
“Well stop yelling at me! I’m sorry for not being perfect!”
“Don’t even pull that crap. You know that’s not what I said.”
“Whatever,” I spat, turning around.
“I’m not finished talking to you,” she ordered, and when I didn’t turn around, she grabbed my upper arm.
“Let go,” I yelled, and when she didn’t, I pushed her off of me, harder than I had imagined because she slammed into the stove. And then all was silent.
I admit that I felt bad for doing it... letting my anger control my actions. It’s one of those bad things you always hear about and claim that you never do it. But I knew I did it, and probably a little too often.
“I’m sorry..” I muttered, trying to smooth over what had just happened. Didn’t work.
“Go to your room,” she commanded.
“Mom... I said I’m...”
“I don’t care. Go to your room. I’ll send Robert in when he gets here.”
I felt a pit in my stomach. My heart started pounding against my chest... Something wasn’t right with this picture.
I turned around and shuffled to my room in silence as if I’d been defeated. I didn’t realize that I actually had been defeated until I got to my room... and then I realized that I was having the same feelings as those girls on tv when their mother sent them to their room and told them to wait until their father got home. Except nobody was coming home for me, I’d just have to wait in there forever.. Or maybe even my mom would come in and do something. I didn’t like the guilty feeling I had in my stomach...
I plopped down on my bed and stared at the ceiling. I counted the tiles, counted the spots, even got bored enough to start counting the lines in my wall. The only sound I could hear was the ticking of my clock and my mother washing dishes. I looked at my digital clock and it was 5:15. Fifteen more minutes of waiting in this god-awful silence. I was too scared to turn the radio on... too scared to do anything more than just lie there, for fear that I would be in more trouble.
Five minutes of lying there seemed longer than any of my classes that day, or even all of my classes put together... but after those five minutes passed, I heard a knock, the clinging of dishes stop, and then the murmuring of low voices in the kitchen. I pictured my mother telling my father about how I’d shoved her into the stove. I imagined her showing him the bruise on her side and exclaiming that she doesn’t know what’s gotten into me but it has to stop. And I imagined my father loosening his tie and sighing, saying that he’d make sure nothing like that ever happened again. And then I heard the footsteps coming towards my room. My heart started pounding more and more and more... I was ready to plead for mercy... I was ready to beg that he not give me a spanking. The doorknob turned and I closed my eyes, fearing the look that I would get...
Then the door opened and I opened one eye, and upon seeing Robert, you’d think I’d have been calm. But there was something about him... something from the look in his eyes... I was far from being calm.
I heard my mom walking towards the living room then heard her open the front door and shut it. Next I heard her car start up and she drive off. And then I looked at Robert, still standing there in my doorway, hands on hips, tie loosened, wearing a serious expression. He wasn’t a happy camper.
“Hey, uh, Robert..” I muttered.
“Your mother told me what happened,” he said.
“Uh huh.”
He walked in, shutting the door behind him, then sat down on my bed, looking at me straight in the eyes. “Why did you do that, Autumn?”
“I.. I don’t know,” I stammered. “I guess I was just mad.”
“That’s not a good excuse, Young Lady.”
My heart jumped and the knot in my stomach grew tighter. “I know..”
“I’m extremely disappointed in you. You know better than to do what you did.”
“I know,” I muttered again, staring at the floor and twiddling my thumbs.
He moved his fingers towards my chin and lifted my face up, then stared into my eyes again. “Autumn, she is your mother... she takes care of you, feeds you, buys you new clothes... What would even *possess* you to do something like that? How could you get so upset over your mother asking you to help her out? She helps you out enough, right?”
I nodded. He definitely wasn’t helping me feel any better.
He sighed, letting go of my chin and running his fingers through his hair. “Autumn... I’m not going to put up with this. You’re fifteen years old and you need to respect your mom, okay?”
“Okay.”
With that statement, he nodded. “Okay then, stand up.”
I did as told, wondering where this was going, though somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew exactly where I was headed. It just felt weird, though...
He nodded again. “You’re getting a spanking, Autumn,” he told me.
My mouth dropped. “A... what?”
“A spanking.” He paused to let the idea sink into my head. All of a sudden I wasn’t a fifteen year old without a father who hadn’t been spanked in ten years... I was just the opposite... or that’s how I felt anyway. “Okay,” he said. “Pants down, Young Lady... and no hesitation or that’ll just make it worse.”
I gulped, moving my fingers towards the button of my pants. They stayed there for a minute, touching the button slightly, and finally I unbuttoned my jeans, then unzipped them, and then slid them down to the floor. My lower lip quivered. I was so anxious.
He motioned for me to get over his lap, and held onto my right arm as to guide me over. I guess I’d always known he was left-handed, but it seemed weird to be going over a lap from this side... I’d always envisioned the spankings from the other side.
I took a deep breath in, now facing the carpet. I remembered childishly how I’d been counting the tiles earlier, and wondered if now would be a good time to begin counting the dust in the carpet... but my thoughts were interrupted as I felt a warm hand resting on my backside. I breathed ever so slightly to try and steady my heart beat and hands... I was so nervous. “It’s going to be on the bare-bottom, Autumn,” he told me, and I felt his fingertips move towards my back.
I whined... “Does it have to be?”
“Yes,” he answered, and I could tell he was a bit nervous, too, but he never faultered... he steadily played his part as father.
I took another deep breath in, feeling him now begin to tug at my panties until they met my jeans at my ankles. I quivered again, biting my lower lip and trying to advert my attention elsewhere. It wasn’t working, and really didn’t work when he put his hand back on my bum. I shivered again.
“You will not disrespect your mother, Young Lady, do you understand me?”
“Yes,” I groaned.
“Yes *what*,” he replied, sending a sharp smack to my rear.
“Oooowwwwww!!!” I squealed. That had really hurt!
“I expect a ‘yes, sir’ out of you, Autumn,” he told me, landing another smack.
“Ahhhhhooooowwwww,” I whined. “Y-yesss sirrrr... bbbut it hurtss!”
“Oh, this is just the beginning,” he told me, and lifted his strong hand again, the paraded it down on my already throbbing backside, hitting again and again and again... and all the time I tried to think that I deserved this, and that I actually kind of wanted it, but it hurt sooo much more than I’d imagined it ever hurting.
I was impressed with myself for being so tolerable of the pain being inflicted upon me. Of course, this was when he wasn’t giving it his all, but I *thought* he was at the time. The most I did was whine, no pleading or begging, no crying... nothing, just a little whining and complaining. But *then* he took it upon himself to pick up the pace and spank harder and faster... and *that* is when I wasn’t so tolerable. It started out with just me whining, and then I started trying to block the spanks, only to have my hands restrained behind my back, and then I started pleading -- “Pleaseeeeeeee Roberttttt... I’m sorry!! That.. hurrtss!” I begged. But he didn’t let up... just kept spanking... perhaps even harder than before. And after he wouldn’t stop, and my pleading didn’t help, and the whining didn’t help, and my hands were restrained, I felt like a small child and began feeling totally embarrassed for having myself lying over his lap like that... And I began crying. It started out small, a loud whine and a few tears trickling down my cheeks, and he just spanked harder, then started scolding to drive his point home.
“You will not cock an attitude with your mother,” he scolded, smacking inbetween words for emphasis, “you will not hit or shove her, and you will help around the house. Is that understood, Autumn?” he asked, spanking my sitspots with full force.
“Ooooowwwwwiiiieeeeeeee yeesssssss, ssssirrrr!!” I squealed, the tears now streaming down as fast as they could.
“I am very disappointed in you for acting this way. You are fifteen years old and know that it’s not okay to do what you did today.”
“I knowwwwww,” I cried.
He spanked me a dozen more times on each sit spot, making sure that I was full out crying, and then stopped. I felt him sigh and let go of my hands, and they immediately flew to my face to catch my tears that were falling to the carpet. He rubbed my backside softly for a minute, then lifted me up. Any modesty that I’d previously had was all forgotten as I stood there in front of him, face buried in hands. He moved my hands away and looked into my puffy red eyes. “Autumn.. please don’t do this again, okay?”
I nodded.
“Because I will spank you again if I ever find out that you pull a stunt like this, okay?”
I nodded again.
He smiled slightly and hugged me, rubbing my back. After he let go, I pulled my panties up, still crying, then pulled my pants up, and it hurt like crazy. But he wouldn’t let me rest. He said we had to get finished doing the stuff for debate, then I could do the rest of my homework, then I could do some chores, and *then* I could rest.
So I worked all day with a sore backside, but I got everything done and he was pleased with me. He finally decided to go home about ten that night. “You did well today... our debate is going to be fine, you got everything else done, your mom’ll be pleased... I’m proud of you,” he said, standing near the door.
I smiled as I studied him... that same tall guy, tie loosened, belt buckle still gleaming. “Thanks.”
He patted my bottom slightly then kissed my forehead. “See you tomorrow.”
I figured it would be weird, seeing him after that... after what he’d seen of me... or rather, what he’d done to me. But it really wasn’t awkward at all. It actually made our friendship stronger, and that was really awesome.
I can’t honestly say that I never got spanked again... by Robert, even... but that’s another story :)
As for my mom... I have no idea what she and Robert talked about or whether she even knew what he planned to do... but I was definitely more respectful after that, and she asked no questions. It’s probably better that way.
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