Tammy in Trouble

From: Koalabear ([email protected])

Tammy sat scrunched in one corner of the window seat in her small attic bedroom. She had her arms wrapped around her legs and her chin rested on her knees. She stared out at the waning spring day, looking anxiously down the tree lined street of her neighborhood. The seven year old was watching for her Daddy.

On any normal day, the window seat was her favorite indoor place to be, and this was her favorite time of the day. Waiting for her Daddy was another favorite thing, as she anticipated his arrival and delightful greeting. Tammy loved her father with all her small being, and her heart would fairly burst when she spied him coming up the walk from the garage. She would wait in her room, not moving from the window seat, as this was part of their weekday ritual.

She would listen for the side screen door to slam, and for the faint rumble of his greeting to Mom. There would be a brief delay, while Mom and Dad kissed and chatted, and then she would hear his tread on the stairs. She would look out the window, pretending she didn't know he was coming. Every fiber of her little body quivered with anticipation, and her tiny ears would be eagerly attuned to the sound of his approach. She would hold her breath in delicious excitement as she heard his soft knock on the door, and the faint squeak of the doorknob turning.

But this was not a normal day. Tammy was in big trouble! Her usual eager delight as the hour of five-thirty neared, was now tempered by fear. She knew that she was in for it, and now she dreaded her Daddy's imminent arrival.

Tammy had been confined to her room by Mommy, and the hours since coming home from school had at first passed very slowly. Time was running faster now that the hour of Daddy's return was very near. Tammy was almost afraid to look at her Mickey Mouse clock, knowing that Mickey's hands would be much closer to the hour of her doom. She imagined the hands whirling around the clock face, in a mad dance of the hours, going faster and faster.

A few seconds later she did glance at the clock, and sure enough, it was later than before. Mickey's short arm was at the number five, and his long arm pointed with a stark finality at four! Mickey's face seemed to take on an expression of infinite sadness. Only ten more minutes and then Daddy would be home!

Soon after arriving home, Daddy would hear Mommy's Terrible Tale of Tammy. He was not going to like Mommy's story, and Tammy was very sure that she was not going to like what her Daddy would do next! There was just no way around it, the next half-hour was going to be very unpleasant. Tammy knew with painful certainty that she was going to be spanked!

A tiny hot tear squeezed itself from one of Tammy's eyes, hung briefly on her cheek, and then trickled down to her chin. She was now starting to feel rather sorry for herself, and her bottom began to tremble and tingle in awful anticipation. Her body memory was reminding her buttocks of their impending future.

Suddenly she saw movement at the far end of the street. A car was turning into the avenue, and slowly approaching. Tammy held her breath, her heart in her throat, her mouth dry, and then exhaled noisily. It was not Daddy's blue sedan, she realized with relief, it was a dark green mini van that passed by. The street was empty again, and the trees cast long bars of shadow across the pavement.

Tammy couldn't resist another look at the Mickey Mouse clock. The long arm was almost touching the six! Like most kids, she was highly attuned to her parents' patterns, and she knew that her very punctual Daddy would be home any second now. When she turned and looked back out the window, Tammy saw that Daddy's automobile was halfway down the block!

Tammy's wait was almost over, but the next few minutes would stretch into an eternity as timeless as the great Sahara desert. Her small world was moving in super slow motion. Daddy's car seemed to be crawling at an almost imperceptible pace. Like some huge snail, it oozed toward her, and left no slime trail. When it finally turned into the driveway, almost a year later, Tammy dropped her head on her knobby knees and closed her eyes. She just could not watch the agonizingly slow advance any longer, and she felt her twitching behind continuing to count the hours until Daddy's arrival at her bedroom door.

The side screen door slammed with a bang, and Tammy jumped from the window seat, her eyes wide with fear. She turned left, then right, then turned in a questing circle, like some small cornered animal trying to escape. She could now hear the faint rumble of Daddy's voice as he shared his day with Mommy. She knew that her mother would soon tell Daddy the terrible events of this day, and that would seal Tammy's fate. She crossed the room quickly, and pressed one ear to the door, hoping to hear more of her parents discussion.

Unfortunately, what she did hear was Mommy's voice growing louder as she angrily related the events of the day. Daddy's voice got a bit louder too, as he questioned Mommy to clarify the details. The voices stopped, and then Tammy heard her father's firm tread on the stairs. She darted away from the door, turned, and then froze wide-eyed like a deer in headlights, as she heard the soft knock on the door and saw the knob begin to turn.

The door opened, and Tammy's heart turned to stone when she saw her Daddy's face. The scowl was expected, but the sadness and disappointment she saw in her father's eyes broke the stone heart into a thousand tiny shards.

Tammy remained frozen in place as her Daddy approached. Unable to move or speak, she watched as the big man came closer. Looming over her, Daddy glared down at his small daughter, hands on hips, and fighting to stay calm.

"Well now, Tamara, just what do you have to say for yourself?"

Tammy couldn't speak. Her tongue was frozen to the roof of her mouth, and she could hardly breathe. Her father's use of her full name was a terrifying confirmation of her doom. Finally, after an interval of an eon, she managed to squeak out an almost imperceptible reply.

"Hello, Daddy....."

"What did you say, young lady, I can't hear you. Speak UP! I want an explanation for your behavior today!"

There was a silence as deep as an ocean trench. Tammy's hands crept down to the hem of her dress, and in an action born in the gene pool of all little girls in trouble, her fingers began to twist and wring the fabric. Her mind was crowded with a hundred simultaneous thoughts and emotions, which whirled round and round in her head. She could not have given a straight answer if asked her name. Any explanation of her earlier actions on this fateful day was out of the question.

The big man knelt down, his frowning countenance now at his daughter's eye level. Tammy's large blue eyes, now slightly teary, met his glare. His heart wanted to melt, but with iron will he steeled himself to what must be done.

"Tamara, I'm waiting, and not waiting very long! I want an answer, and I want it right NOW!"

Another eon flowed slowly by, and then Tammy finally blurted: "I'm sorry Daddy, I'm so sorry..."

"Yes, I'm sure you are sorry... now. But that does not help one bit, does it?"

"You disregarded our rules, you crossed the highway bridge on your bike, and went to the park alone, and you KNOW that you are NOT allowed to do that!"

"And as if disobedience is not enough, when Mommy asked you why you were late coming home from school you said that you had to stay after to help your teacher. That was a lie, wasn't it? You didn't think that Mommy would call your teacher to ask why you had to stay after and help, did you?"

"You didn't expect to meet Mrs. Wilson and Bobby in the park, did you? And you didn't expect that Mrs. Wilson would call Mommy right in the middle of your explanation for being late, did you? You see, young lady, the truth always comes out, no matter how much you try to hide it."

The silence stretched like a rubber band from the moon to the earth. Long beyond belief, and quivering with an inner tension, the silence was strained to the point of impossibility. It was snapped by Daddy's angry tones.

"You DISOBEYED Mommy and then you LIED when she confronted you with the truth. WHY DID YOU DO THAT, Tammy?"

There was still no response, as there was no answer that could be safely given to that impossible question. From the time humankind first used speech, children have never been able to answer such a question satisfactorily. They know innately that any answer will only compound their crime, and deepen the quicksand of parental anger and disappointment. The best and safest response is usually silence. To respond with 'I dunno' is a certain slideway to drowning in a deluge of further questions.

'Why did you do that?' is the question that can never be answered by any small child to any parent's satisfaction. Actions flow from the immediate thought of the moment. The question is a contradiction. It assumes a cunning plan and premeditation, not the dreamy here-now flow of consciousness of childhood.

Tammy knew instinctively that to answer with excuses or further lies would only increase her father's anger, and she imagined the quicksand bubbling up her nose and inexorably covering her eyes.

Stalling for time, and not yet ready for the difficult task ahead, her father continued the confrontation. "Do you have any excuse for what you did? Can you tell me why you disobeyed Mommy and Daddy?"

Tammy's only answer was a squeeze of tears, and a protruding lower lip. Daddy looked at her pouting, tear stained face, so beautiful in despair, and his heart began to melt again. He swallowed hard, trying to clear the lump in his throat, and realized he was not yet ready to do what he knew he must do. Loudly clearing his throat, he thought of a delaying question that would give him more time to prepare for the very unpleasant duty he must perform. He reached out to his daughter and placed his large hands on her shoulders.

"Tammy, Why do you keep doing these things?" No response.

"Do you like to have me spank you?"

Tammy shook her head in a vigorous negative. Daddy was almost ready now.

"Young lady, you are seven years old, almost eight, and you KNOW the difference between right and wrong. Your behavior today is absolutely unacceptable, and Mommy and I will not stand for it!"

Daddy had finally worked himself up to a state that would allow him to proceed. He knew that further interrogation was useless, and that it was time for action to begin. He stood up. Tammy immediately sensed that talk was past, and her hands slid behind her in a futile gesture of protection.

Daddy picked Tammy up and carried her over to the bed. He carefully seated himself, and stood Tammy between his knees. Holding her firmly with both hands encircling her tiny waist, he came to a decision.

"Tammy, this time your behavior has earned you a very serious punishment! Your disobedience and lying cannot be allowed to continue. This spanking is going to be different and much worse than any spanking you have ever had."

Tammy started to cry again. She had seen her girlfriend down the street get a whipping with a belt, and was now really frightened. Her Daddy had never used anything but his hand. He had always pulled up her dress and spanked her panties hard. She managed to stutter a question through her tears.

"Are... are you... gonna... whip me....... with.... with... your belt?'"

"No, Tammy, I am not going to use a belt, but I am going to take down your panties and spank your BARE LITTLE BOTTOM. That is going to be bad enough, and will really hurt! I don't like to do it, in fact I really hate doing this, but you have not learned your lesson from previous spankings. You obviously need a stronger lesson, and now young lady, YOU ARE GOING TO GET IT!"

Daddy had reached a stage where his upset and anger at Tammy's repeated naughty behavior, and especially her lying, had been transformed into righteous determination. He was now ready to spank her, and he reached under her dress and slid her panties down to her knees. She was quickly lifted, turned over his lap and carefully adjusted into position.

Tammy felt her dress being pulled up over her back, and then Daddy's large warm hand came to gentle rest on her little bottom, covering it completely. Daddy felt her small cheeks contract under his hand, and he patted them softly, as he bent over and spoke quietly into one perfect tiny ear.

"Do you understand why you are going to be spanked?"

A tremulous childish treble answered: "Cause I went to the park all by myself."

"And why was that wrong?"

"Cause I'm too little, and somebody bad might be there."

"That's right Tammy, but you haven't told me the two most important reasons for this spanking, and I want to be very sure that you understand what they are!"

"Please, please, Daddy, don't spank me, I promise to be good, and I won't ever go to the park myself again, I promise, an I won't ever, ever, ever, do any lies."

"Tamara, you know that's not the answer..."

Tammy wriggled and squirmed a bit on his big lap, and then her voice quavering, she made her peace with her Daddy and the impending punishment.

"I'm so sorry I said a lie to Mommy, and, and 'sobeyed, and went to the park"

Daddy patted her bottom again, and it was really a caress, one last expression of his gentle loving nature, before the spanking could begin. He bit his lip, placed his left hand firmly in the middle of his daughter's back, and raised his right hand to his shoulder. He looked down at her small rosy pale behind, and began.

****SLAP!**** The first spank was very loud in the small bedroom, and the echoes rang from the bright flowered walls. Tammy felt the first slap as a burst of fire on her bottom, and uttered a wail that rose in pitch with the next spank. By the fourth hard slap, she was reacting in the only way a seven year old being soundly spanked could react; with staccato, convulsive sobs. Her cries were punctuated with the loud smacks of her father's big palm as it covered her behind, and rose into the air only to flash down again and again.

Daddy had intended to give her at least forty good hard spanks, but his resolve wavered as he watched her small buttocks turning redder with each slap. A single hot tear squeezed itself from one of Daddy's eyes, hung briefly on his cheek, and then slowly zigzagged through his darkening beard. The tear hung suspended for a moment, then was dislodged by his arm movements. It fell to land on Tammy's bright red bottom, and was immediately covered by his hand.

The thirty-third slap was half-hearted, and thirty-four was just a pat. Daddy could not continue, and he lifted his sobbing daughter from his lap, and took her in his arms. Cradling her burning bottom with the hand that had just spanked it, he hugged her to him, and his big shoulders shook with emotion.

Tammy threw her arms around her Daddy, and held on tightly. She buried her face in his scratchy neck, and cried, her tears trickling down into his collar. The father and daughter clung to each other desperately, each wanting the other to offer absolution. It was a precious and timeless moment, as close and intimate as any couple after lovemaking, and would be remembered all their lives.

Tammy sat scrunched in one corner of the window seat in her small attic bedroom. She had her arms wrapped around her legs and her chin rested on her knees. She stared out at the grey and rainy day. Faint rumbles of thunder drummed in the distance. But to Tammy the view was glorious, as she stared anxiously down the wet and windswept tree lined street. The seven year old was watching for her Daddy, and her heart was singing.

Copyright 1997 by Koalabear ([email protected])

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