Learning...a “Lexie” story (M/f)
Chapter two
(c) 2001 by Sampast
It had been several weeks since I had first gone to Mr. Rifler’s. Everyone noticed a change in me. Mr. Trent couldn’t believe I was the same kid. I guessed it was because my manners had changed considerably.
I overheard Mr. Trent say to Sandy, “Is that Lexie who put her dish away in the sink?”
I smiled as Sandy nodded. I had done it and no one had even told me to. Now how was that for change?
I was excited. It was Friday and Mr. Rifler would be picking me up soon. I still spent my weekdays at Sunrise Children’s Home. It was all he could do right now, what with his work and all. But I didn’t mind. I got the best of both worlds. I spent the weekdays with my friends and I didn’t have to change schools. And I spent my weekends at Mr. Rifler’s house.
I really liked it there. I had my own room and Mr. Rifler had bought me some toys to keep there. Also, he had repainted the room in peach. I didn’t want pink or yellow. We left the stars on the ceiling, though. I kind of liked how they glowed when the lights were off.
We were getting along really well, too. Sure, there were a lot of rules, but there were rules everywhere you went. I just had never followed any before. I guessed that’s why I never seemed to fit in anywhere.
The first few weekends, I spent a lot of time over Mr. Rifler’s lap. It was just ‘cuz I liked to do things my way and he liked things done a different way. I just had to learn that his way was the right way. The right way in his house, anyway. For example, I wasn’t supposed to jump over the couch to get to the living room.
“Lexie, come here!” Mr. Rifler had stated.
I looked over at him. Oh, now what? I thought.
“Yes, sir?” I asked as I approached him. At least I had gotten that down pat.
“Do we jump over furniture, Lexie?”
“Um, yeah, sometimes we do, when it’s in our way,” I said, momentarily forgetting the way I’m supposed to answer a question.
Mr. Rifler sighed. “Lexie, we do NOT jump over furniture, or climb on it in any way, unless we’re sitting on it. The correct answer was ‘no, sir’. I think you need to learn this rule.”
I suddenly knew what he meant by “learn” and I didn’t want any part of it. “No, sir, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again,” I said.
“Lexie!” he warned.
I looked at the floor. Might as well get used to the view. Mr. Rifler bent me over his lap and applied a dozen smacks to my rear. They hurt but not as much as they could have.
He stood me up and lifted my chin so that I was looking in his eyes. “I don’t like to have to do that, Lexie, but you must learn the rules. Now, do we jump over furniture, Lexie?”
“No, sir,” I said, through a few tears. I had tried not to cry. I don’t even think I was crying because of the spanking, but more likely because I had done something wrong.
I was afraid if I did too many wrong things, Mr. Rifler might take me back to Sunrise Children’s Home for good. I tried to be much better after that.
But then another day when I left my chocolate pudding bowl and spoon on the floor, Mr. Rifler looked at me. He pointed to it and said, “Do we leave our dirty dishes on the floor, Lexie?”
“Uh, no, sir?” I asked, bending down to pick them up.
Mr. Rifler smacked my hand away and grabbed it. He laid me over his lap and pulled down my pajama pants. I was startled; he had never done that before. I reached back and tried to pull them up but Mr. Rifler pushed my hand away.
Before I knew it, he had started spanking me over my panties. “You do not {Smack!} leave {Smack!} dirty {Smack!} dishes {Smack!} around the house, {Smack!} young lady. {Smack!} You pick {Smack!} them up {Smack!} and put them {Smack!} in the sink. {Smack!} Is that clear?” {Smack!} {Smack!}
My god, I think this man was really losing it. He’s freaking out over some dirty dishes? But owwwww, that hurt!
“I’m sorry, sir. I won’t do it again!” I found myself calling out. I even started to cry. He seemed to lessen up once the waterworks started.
And before I knew it, my spanking was over. Mr. Rifler stood me up and pulled my pajama pants back up. He dried my tears and hugged me. “Okay, good girl,” he said.
Boy, I just couldn’t figure adults out sometimes. They sure had dumb rules.
But I was learning, and Mr. Rifler said that was all that was important. I was getting used to the spankings. I still didn’t like them, but I kinda understood why they were necessary. I mean you don’t want a six year old running loose all over the place.
I looked and saw Mr. Rifler shaking hands with Mr. Trent. He smiled at me and I went to get my bag. I came galloping over a few minutes later. Mr. Rifler picked me up and swung me around. I gave him a big hug.
“Well, sir, I don’t know what you’re doing with Lexie, but she sure has changed a lot since you came along,” Mr. Trent said.
“She’s a great kid,” Mr. Rifler told him, reaching down to ruffle my hair. I smiled. Mr. Trent was surprised. I had never, I mean, NEVER allowed anyone to ruffle my hair like that before.
“Yeah, she is,” Mr. Trent said. I smiled again. I liked being talked about in a nice way. He reached down and hugged me. “Bye, Lexie. See you Sunday night. Be good.”
“I will, Mr. Trent,” I said. I hugged him back and then went with Mr. Rifler. I had already said goodbye to Jamie. She and I had been playing earlier in the evening.
In fact, Jamie wanted to jump on the couch but I said, “No way!”
“Why not?” Jamie had asked.
“Because I’m not allowed,” I told her.
“Allowed? What do you mean, not allowed? No one ever said we couldn’t. And even if they did, we’d do it anyway,” she said, standing up on the couch.
I looked around. Neither Sandy nor Mr. Trent was around. And certainly Mr. Rifler wasn’t there. I watched Jamie jumping up and down. I wanted to do it so badly. But I wasn’t sure I should.
“Come on, silly!” Jamie said, pulling me up onto the sofa with her. I finally relaxed and jumped with her. We were pretty far into it when Mr. Trent came by.
“Uh, girls, no, no,” he said.
We pouted and sat down. “That’s better,” he told us. “We don’t jump on furniture. It could be dangerous.”
“Yes, Mr. Trent,” Jamie said.
“Lexie? You okay?” Mr. Rifler asked.
I was brought back to the present by the sound of his voice. I realized we had pulled up in front of the house. “Oh, yeah, sorry, sir, just thinking, I guess.”
Mr. Rifler helped me out of the car, grabbed my bag, and led me to my room. “Can I help you with something?” he asked.
“No, I can unpack myself,” I said.
He stood watching me. “Really, I’ll do it, sir. You don’t have to worry about me.”
Mr. Rifler came into the room and sat down on the bed. “You seemed very far away in the car, Lexie. Is something wrong?”
I looked up at this man who I had known for only a short time. He looked so caring, so concerned. I was really getting attached to him. Which could only mean one thing for me. Anyone I had ever gotten attached to in my young life, had left me, or taken me back. Maybe it was better to leave now, and not get hurt.
“Uh, no, sir, I’m fine,” I said. I turned away from him, then, and started rearranging my clothes in the drawer. I tried to push away the tears that were falling down my face, but they just kept coming.
“Come here, dear,” Mr. Rifler said. I turned to look at him and he had his arms out to embrace me. Part of me wanted to run out the door and keep running and never look back. But it was the part of me that wanted to go into his arms and be held tight and never let go that won out.
I ran to him and climbed up into his lap and let him cuddle me. He held me for what seemed like a million years, but probably was only ten minutes.
Mr. Rifler took out his handkerchief and wiped at my tears. “There, there, sweetie, it’s okay. That’s a girl. You okay now, Lexie?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, Mr. Rifler, I’m all right now,” I said.
I tried to get out of his grip but he did not let go. This was good, because I didn’t really want to be let go of yet.
“Lexie? Don’t you think you calling me Mr. Rifler is too formal?”
I looked up into his face. “Uh, maybe, sir. Should I call you Mr. Sam?”
Mr. Rifler smiled. “How about Uncle Sam?”
I smiled now too. “I’d like that, sir, I mean, Uncle Sam.”
“Okay, now how about you tell me what you were so seriously thinking about on the way here in the car?”
I bit my lip. I did that sometimes when I was nervous. “Well, sir, I, uh, I did something that I don’t think you would approve of.”
“And you’re feeling guilty, Lexie?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why don’t you tell me what you did and see if I can make all the bad feelings go away?”
So I told him about jumping on the couch. He frowned as I told him. “So you knew this was a naughty thing and you did it anyway, Lexie?”
I nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“What do you think we should do about this?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“How can I help you feel less guilty?” Uncle Sam asked.
“Uh, I dunno, sir. I guess you should scold me,” I tried.
“Okay,” he said. He paused and then said, “Lexie, you know that jumping on the couch is a bad idea, don’t you?”
When I nodded, he continued, “And it could be very dangerous, don’t you think?”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
“Well, you’d better not do it anymore, is that understood, young lady?”
“Yes, Uncle Sam, I mean, sir,” I said.
“Do you feel better now, Lexie?” he asked.
I thought I would, but I didn’t. I shook my head. He looked down at me. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t feel forgiven yet, sir,” I told him truthfully.
I couldn’t believe what I was feeling. I could have gotten away with it if I had kept my mouth shut. Or I could have gotten by with just a scolding, but something inside me didn’t feel right.
Uncle Sam nodded then and put me down on the floor. He reached down, unsnapped my jeans and unzipped the zipper. He let them fall to the floor. “Step out, Lexie.”
I did as he told me, all the while staring up at his face. I couldn’t believe I had just almost asked for a spanking. What the hell was wrong with me?
Uncle Sam then lifted me up and put me over his lap. When my bottom was high in the air, he raised his hand and brought it down. {SMACK!}
He did this maybe half a dozen times and then stood me up. He hugged me close to him and rocked me. Uncle Sam whispered in my ear, “I forgive you, Lexie. Do you feel better now?”
I nodded. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that the spanking barely hurt. That wasn’t the point. For some reason, I felt that I needed to earn Uncle Sam’s forgiveness this way. I would soon learn that forgiveness came in different ways.
The next day, Uncle Sam took me to a fair. It was held at a church near his house. It was one of those traveling fairs that set up booths with games and rides. I had gone last year with SCH. But this year, I was with Uncle Sam and I was very excited.
We had lots of fun there. Uncle Sam bought me this plastic bracelet thingie that got me into all the rides as many times as I wanted. He even rode the roller coaster with me. It was a little scary, but fun. I held his hand and screamed every time we went over a bump.
I also played lots of games. I didn’t win anything, though, but that was okay. Sometimes it’s fun just to play. Besides, I never won anything before, so why ruin a perfect record?
At one game, though, Uncle Sam won and he let me choose the prize. I chose a little striped stuffed zebra. He smiled as I clutched it to me. I had never had a teddy bear before and this was just as good as any old bear. I was going to sleep with it every night, especially at SCH when I couldn’t be with Uncle Sam. It would remind me of him. I even named the zebra, Zam.
After lunch, I saw this little train ride. It took you all around the grounds. Uncle Sam said he would watch me go around. He was too big for it, he said. I clutched Zam to me and got on the train.
Something happened. Around one curve, Zam flew out of my arms and fell into the bushes. I wasted no time unbuckling my seatbelt and jumping off the moving train.
“LEXIE!” I heard my name but I ignored it. But when I got off the side of the train, I scraped myself and fell into the bushes. They had thorns on them and I really tore my body up, but good.
I heard a lot of yelling, but all I could think of was Zam. I crawled through the bushes, crying and reaching around for the little stuffed zebra.
“There she is!” someone yelled.
I found Zam just in time, because the next thing I knew I was being scooped up. I was carried over to a bench. I looked up and there stood Uncle Sam. He wasn’t frowning like I thought he would be.
He reached down and looked me over. “Lexie? Are you all right? Where are you hurt?” He ran his fingers down my arms and legs and felt the cuts. I looked down too and saw lots of blood. I had gotten scraped up pretty bad. I started to cry and clutched tightly to Zam.
Later, after the fair’s nurse had washed me off and applied all the band-aids, we were told I was fine. Uncle Sam carried me out of the tent and over to a bench. “I’m glad you’re all right, Lexie, you scared me half to death. What were you thinking jumping off the train like that?”
“Zam fell, Uncle Sam. I had to get him,” I cried. I knew I was in big trouble, but I had to find my zebra. No one had ever given me anything before. No one had ever won a prize and let me keep it. Zam was the most important thing in the world to me, well, except for Uncle Sam.
Uncle Sam frowned. Here it comes, I thought. Here’s the big lecture. Then he would probably take me home and give me a spanking. He might even take down my panties like he’s warned me he would do if I was really naughty. Or maybe he’ll pull my pants down and spank me right here in the middle of the fair. I hoped he didn’t do that, though.
I looked up at him, waiting. But Uncle Sam didn’t do any of the things I had thought he might. He just picked me up and held me close to him. He rubbed my back and breathed very slowly. I pulled away and looked into his face.
“What’s wrong, Uncle Sam?” I asked.
“I’m just glad you’re all right, Lexie. You really worried me.”
“That’s it?” I asked. Did I say that aloud? What am I nuts? “Aren’t you gonna yell at me and spank me, Uncle Sam?”
“No, Lexie, I’m not. What you did was very stupid and dangerous, but I understand why you did it. You really scared me very much. I hope you won’t do that again. If something like this ever happens again, I want you to wait until the ride is over, and then tell someone. They would get it for you. Okay?”
I nodded. I mean I was speechless. I couldn’t believe I wasn’t getting a spanking. I guess I had really frightened Uncle Sam. So much so that he couldn’t even punish me.
“But do you forgive me?” I asked. Maybe he wasn’t going to punish me because he had decided that I was too much trouble to have around.
“Oh yes, baby, I forgive you,” he said. “I think all those cuts and band-aids are enough punishment for one evening.”
I guessed I was learning a lot about Uncle Sam. Not just how to listen to him and behave, but how he worked, and reacted to different things.
That night when Uncle Sam tucked me into bed, with Zam close beside me, he kissed my forehead and said, “I love you, Lexie.”
I wasn’t sure I heard him right. Did he just say he loved me? How’d he know? How’d he know I loved him too? Could I say it? I wasn’t sure if I could or not.
I reached up to hug him again. And then it just came out. “I love you, too, Uncle Sam.”
He hugged me tight to him and to myself I thought, “Please don’t ever leave me.”
The end.