Girl's (4 page)

Selecting the book of Mother Goose rhymes, Meg went to the windows. From one, she saw the front of the house, her car still parked where she had left it, a small tool shed tucked between two old maple trees well off to her right. From the other, she glimpsed the wide meadow clearing and partway into the back yard, where a small pond was currently being utilized by two mallard ducks. A step-stone walk trailed from the front porch, past the flowerbeds below her, and wrapped back around the opposite end of the cabin. And on the very corner between her two windows, grew an ancient oak tree, its massive, sprawling branches reaching up and around the house. One branch came so close that, if she crawled onto the windowsill and leaned out only a little, she could probably have climbed onto it. It had been a long time since she'd last climbed a tree. Meg was almost tempted to try.

Basking in the warmth of the afternoon sunshine, she sat on the windowsill and opened her book. Despite all her protests to the opposite, she was just stifling a sleepy yawn when she heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs.

Daddy.

Meg panicked. She dropped the Mother Goose book and scampered first to the closet to shut the door, then to the dresser to slam closed the drawers. As the footsteps reached the top of the stairs and started towards her door, she flung the toys back into the toy chest.

He was almost right outside her door.

The panic intensified. Abandoning the giraffe and Mother Goose where they'd been dropped, Meg scampered back to the crib. The rail bars were only an inch or two apart and too close for her to step between. She hopped, trying to get at least her tummy over the top so she could slide headfirst onto the mattress, but didn't jump high enough and dropped back to the floor. It was too late for a second attempt. Daddy had already reached her door, and he wasted no time in opening it.

Meg spun around, cringing into the side rail and thrusting back both hands to cover her bottom when he picked up the hairbrush from the dresser. He took one step toward her and Meg burst into tears.

"No spankin', Daddy, please!" she wailed as he took hold of her arm. But she didn't fight him, allowing herself to be lead back to the chair where he had so gently brushed her hair not fifteen minutes ago. When he sat down, she only cried harder. "I'll be good!"

"Unfortunately, baby girl, your interpretation of being good and mine don't seem to be matching very well."

With very little effort, he bent her over one knee, scissoring both her legs between his very strong thighs. He unbuttoned the corners of the drop-flap and, instead of just covering her bottom, Meg grabbed a hold of the cloth to keep it from being taken down.

"Move your hands."

She shook her head, crying.

He moved her hands for her, pinning them effortlessly at the small of her back. And then he took down the drop-seat, baring not only the pale swells of her bottom but the top four inches of her thighs as well.

"No!" She began to struggle wildly. "Daddy, don't spank! Wait! Please, Daddy! I-I can't do this! David, wait! Please wait!" She sobbed with relief when he stopped, his warm hand coming to rest on the back on one thigh. "Please, please don't spank me with that thing!"

Very calmly, he said, "We talked about this, Meg. We've talked about this for months. Do you remember, sweetheart, when I asked how you thought an attentive daddy should spank his little girl? You said over the knee because it was so intimate. I asked you with what, and you said his hand, his belt, and a wooden hairbrush. Do you remember why?"

Meg nodded, still crying but trying hard to pull herself back under control.

"Because those were the icons of loving, domestic discipline. I know you've never been spanked with either the belt or the brush, and I know you're a little frightened right now, but, beyond a sound spanking, I'm not going to hurt you."

"Your hand hurt so much," Meg sniffled. "The hairbrush is going to kill me. I can't take it, David. I can't!"

"Sweetheart," he said gently, sadly. "You don't have a choice. You'll have to trust that I won't take the punishment father than it needs to go, but it's going to happen all the same."

"No!" she wept. She tried to wiggle off his lap. But with her hands still held tight behind her, there was no getting up until he allowed it. "Please, no!"

"What's the rule, Meg?" he softly countered.

She stilled over his knee, gasping and hiccupping miserably. "D-Daddy's the boss."

"That's right. And I won't allow anything to harm you. Not even yourself. You drove all day yesterday and all morning today. You yourself admitted that the reason you weren't wearing your seatbelt was because you got out of the car to stretch your legs just down the road from here. I put you down to nap for a reason; I can see in your eyes how tired you are, even though you're excited. And I'm flattered that you want to stay up to be with me. But you need to trust that I know what's best for you. Right now, what's best for you is rest."

She whimpered. "Are-are you going to spank me hard?"

His hand stroked her bottom. "I'm sorry, baby girl, but yes. I am. This is for punishment, and that means it has to be hard. You've been argumentative and willful. You knew what you were doing was going to land you bottom-up over my knee, otherwise you wouldn't have tried so hard to hide your disobedience when you heard me coming."

She moaned, bowing her head almost to the floor.

"I am also not going to allow your little girl to hide behind the big girl every time she gets into trouble."

She began to cry all over again. "I'm sorry."

"I know. But it's disappointing that you would try. And it's not going to alter the outcome of this. What did I tell you last Friday when we talked about your coming here?"

"You said...you..." her voice faltered when she felt his hand leave her skin. It was replaced an instant later by the cool round head of the wooden hairbrush. "You said n-naughty girls get sp-spanked."

And he did. One quick snap of his wrist and Meg arched stiffly, shouting out in pain as that hairbrush lay smack after sharp, stinging smack all across her flanks. Her bottom bounced under the flattening impacts of the brush, as it quickly painted the blushing cheeks and the tender tops of her thighs a darker shade of scarlet. His hand kept hers pinned behind her back, well up and out of his way. The more she thrashed, the tighter his legs clamped over hers and the harder he spanked her.

Within a minute, her shouts had turned to wails of pleading and then to heart-wrenching sobs, but still he didn't stop spanking. Not until her entire bottom was a hot, cherry red and Meg had struggled herself into exhaustion.

Letting the brush fall to the floor, he held her face-down over his lap, letting her cry as much as she needed to while his hand rubbed her bottom gently, soothing away the pain. It was several long minutes before he pulled her upright so that he could hold her. Any fears that he had taken the punishment farther than she could bear evaporated when she curled herself tight against his chest, her hot bottom pressing over his groin as she drew up her legs, trying to squeeze all of her into his embrace. Clinging to his shoulders, she pressed her face to his neck and just cried

David rocked her, stroking her back and dropping kisses on her forehead until her ragged sobs had turned to hiccups, then to sniffles, and then only to the occasional sniffle. One at a time, her legs slipped out of his arms and, with gentle thuds, her feet dropped back onto the carpet. When he leaned back to look at her, he found that she had fallen asleep with her thumb in her mouth. Her other hand was lightly pressed to the side of one bright red and swollen hip.

Well, at least she was resting now. And this time, when he tucked her into bed there were no arguments.

* * * * *

She slept until three, which was when David once again climbed the stairs and went into her room. Though still lying on her stomach with the blanket tucked up to her chin, sometime during her nap she had pulled Bear into a one-armed embrace and her thumb was back in her mouth. Occasionally her soft lips would move around it as she suckled once or twice, then relaxed again.

David shook his head. What that thumb must be doing to her teeth...

"Wake up, baby girl." He reached into the crib, gently stroking her back, rubbing between her shoulders as he coaxed her back to wakefulness. "Come on, sweetheart. It's time to get up."

Her brows drew down over her closed eyes. She pulled Bear that much tighter against her body. But although it looked as though she might still be asleep, her mouth betrayed her-working that thumb in earnest now.

"Rise and shine." He rubbed her shoulders a little more firmly and peeled back the blanket.

The sound she made at the back of her throat was more like a growl than a groan.

Oh dear, he smiled. His baby woke up grumpy.

But she did awaken. In fact, she came back to a sleepy kind of awareness the instant he unbuttoned the drop-seat and once more took it down.

Bear spilled from her embrace when she snapped a hand back, palm up to ward off his blows, and wailed, "I'll be good!"

"Shh," he shushed as he moved her hand, pinning it back up and out of his way again. "It's all right, Meg."

"No more spankin', Daddy," she whimpered.

"No more spanking," he agreed. "I just want to check the damage. I tried not to leave bruises-stop squirming, Meg! Relax your bottom-looks like you've got two small ones anyway. Right here." His finger traced a small purplish patch on the underside of her left cheek, then drifted lower down to prize her bottom cheeks apart. He caressed a tender spot just below and to the right of her anus. "And interestingly enough, right here. I don't remember catching you there. That must have been when you were thrashing so hard."

"It hurt," she said, relaxing slightly when, instead of spanking, he stroked the backs of her thighs.

"It's supposed to."

"It still does. A little bit."

"That's because hairbrushes give good reminder spankings. The sting tends to last for a while. You're going to have a sore sit-upon probably until tomorrow, perhaps longer." Almost reluctantly, he withdrew his hand and refastened the seat of her pajamas. "Come here, baby."

Crawling up onto her knees, she reached for him and yawned as he lifted her from the crib.

"Do you want Bear?"

When she nodded, he reached back into the crib and handed her the teddy bear.

"What about comfort blankie?" he asked.

She nodded again, rubbing her eyes.

He handed that to her as well. Pausing just long enough to snag a pair of pull-up pants from her top dresser drawer, he carried her downstairs. "Do you need to go potty?"

When she nodded, he took her into the bathroom and put her down by the toilet. After taking her pajamas all the way off, he said, "Stay right here. I'll be back in a minute."

Leaving her to relieve herself in private, at least for this first time, he went to the kitchen. He poured a little orange juice into a child's two-handled sippy cup and screwed the lid down.

When he returned to the bathroom, Meg was standing up in front of the toilet and sleepily trying to pull her pajamas back up over her hips. She hadn't yet realized the sleeves had somehow gotten twisted behind her. Setting the cup on the sink, David helped to pull the pajamas back up over her arms, but then removed her leggings.

"Here." He knelt in front of her and held out the pull-up diaper. "Put your hands on my shoulders and step."

Though expecting an argument-or at the very least-a whimper of protest, David was surprised when she only leaned against him and clumsily, one foot at a time, stepped into the adult-sized pull-ups. She was still too sleepy and, as he replaced her leggings and zipped her back into her pajamas, he wondered how long it would be before she realized that her underwear was really toddler trainers.

When he took her thumb out of her mouth, she actually whined at him and he handed her the juice instead.

"What's this?" she mumbled.

"Orange juice."

"I don't want it." She put the cup back on the sink.

"Do you want water instead?" he asked.

"No."

"Then drink the juice." David promptly handed it back to her again and led her out to the living room.

They sat on the couch and he pulled her back against him. While she obediently sucked juice through the top of the plastic lid, he turned on the tv and switched the channel from news to Bugs Bunny cartoons. It took her nearly half an hour and a lot of prodding before she came awake enough to finish that one cup of juice. When he took the cup away from her, her thumb drifted towards her mouth and he put it back in her lap. Within minutes however, as the Coyote lost his battle of wits to the Roadrunner, David glanced down to find Meg sucking her thumb again anyway.

He got up and went into the kitchen, returning a few seconds later with a length of red ribbon, a safety pin and an adult-sized pacifier. Looping the ribbon through the white plastic handle, he pinned it to the front of her pajamas.

"No more thumb sucking, sweetheart. You're darling when you do it. In fact, I find you utterly adorable. But it'll put sores on your thumb and do awful things to your beautiful mouth if you keep it up. Here." He put the tip of the pacifier against her lips. "Open."

She tried to turn her head away.

"Meg," he warned. "Put the binky in your mouth. You'll be sucking your thumb otherwise, and we both know it."

She made a face, but opened her mouth when he again touched the flat round tip of the amber rubber to her bottom lip. As he eased it into her mouth, realizing how far back it was going, Meg sat up stiffly and grabbed his hand. He paused, waiting until she sheepishly let him go again, and he placed the whole thing well into her mouth. Meg sucked twice experimentally, then took it out of her mouth when he sat back down beside her.

"I don't like it."

"It may take a while to get used to."

"I don't wanna get used to it."

"If you suck your thumb, I'll spank you," David said bluntly. "It's that simple. I won't let you hurt yourself just because you want to be stubborn."