miscellaneous stories

“Like a Father”

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.