You can hear me read this story and others on my youtube channel! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jehKZTK7sSg
She had been naughty that day.
Not excessively so. It was trivial things, really. A little bit of back chatting here, the odd curse word there… In all fairness, her behavior wasn’t that terrible, but it was enough to make that line of disapproval appear on Daddy’s forehead. She knew that when he got that look, she was in trouble. It wouldn’t be now, no, Daddy was a man who appreciated routine. It would occur at night time.
He marched her up the stairs at a little after eight pm. She had been lying face down on the living room rug, scribbling intently at her colouring book when she heard the clock chime from down the passage.
“Vanessa.” Spoke Daddy, after the clock had finished.
She didn’t answer. She was deep in thought, deciding what colour to clothe the princess in. She had almost selected the brightest orange in her box of crayons before Daddy ahem’d softly from where he sat. She looked over at him.
“Vanessa. Its bath time.” He said.
She knew exactly what he meant by that, so she hesitated. Frankly she was in no mood to go over his knee, and the princess desperately needed an orange ballgown.
“Daddy…” She said with a whine. “I needa finish colouring.”
“Need?” He asked, looking at her with that same look of withering patience. “This isn’t about need.”
“Yes it is, I need-“
“I’m not going to ask you again.” He said bluntly, placing the ribbon back inside the book he’d been reading. “Its bath time, Vanessa. Upstairs, now.”
She made a face and regarded her colouring book. She made a show, then, of placing the crayons she’d been using back into their proper spaces, as slow as she possibly could. She could feel his eyes boring holes into her as she rose with the utmost grace and placed her things onto the shelf where they belonged. He had risen by now and was shadowing her walk to the stairs. He gave her backside a sharp smack as they began their ascent to the second floor.
Bath time was always quiet on naughty days.
By the time they reached the top of the stairs, her brat act was beginning to wane. By the time she’d been led to the bathroom and Daddy had begun to fill the tub, she had begun to realize exactly how displeased her Daddy was. She had snuck a glance at his face during the walk to the bathroom, and that line was still creasing his forehead, his lips pursed in the same way. Her little fits of disobedience had made him cross. Very cross. By the time he’d removed her dress and diaper, the brat in her was all but gone. In the brats place stood a very nervous little girl, who quivered with the cold and with trepidation.
“In.” He said with the tone he reserved for these very situations, and gestured towards the water. As she dipped her toe into the water and gradually sank her body into the warmth, she watched Daddy gather her bath time toys, the boat, several ducks and a scuba diving Barbie, and put them in the high cupboard.
She really shouldn’t have been surprised. As mentioned before, her Daddy was a man of routine, and it was the same one depending on her behavior for the day. When she was naughty, the routine started much earlier, at 8. She wasn’t permitted any toys as she was bathed, and she wasn’t granted any extra time to soak amongst the bubbles. In fact, more often than not on naughty days, the bubbles were omitted altogether, so all she could do was sit as he washed her in complete silence.
On good days, the experience was completely different. On good days, he always allowed her an hour or two of extra play before her bedtime routine even began. Then she would climb the stairs quite cheerfully when instructed to. Daddy would run the bath and undress her, but it would involve a sly tickle and much giggling on her part. A playful swat to the behind would get her into the tub, and she would create an elaborate adventure with her toys, transforming Barbie into some form of naked pirate who battled duck-krakens and cruised the high seas. Then he’d help her out and dry her off, more tickles and giggling. A lot of the time she was near-exhausted by this point, and he’d carry her to the nursery while her eyelids threatened to close. He’d dress her, diaper her, and get her settled on his lap with her favourite storybook and a bottle. Oftentimes, she’d fall asleep in his lap and wake up much later, already having been tucked into her crib.
Things were much more different on naughty days. The one thing that made all the difference to her, was the expression on Daddy’s face. On good days, he smiled. He smiled and played and was happy.
On naughty days, like today, all she saw was that line on his forehead and his disappointed he looked as he helped her out of the tub. That was usually when she looked at her toes, feeling very chagrined indeed.
Daddy took her hand and led her to the nursery.
Once there, he removed her towel, leaving her completely devoid of clothes and gestured to the corner. She gave him one last woeful look and walked over. He would never tell her how long she was to remain in this position, and this was the maddening part. She would stay there, perched on tenterhooks, fighting the urge to butt the wall with her forehead or sway from side to side to pass the time, and she would wait. She would wait for him to call “Ok,” and feel the instant regret when he finally did. Why did she always do this? She found herself thinking. Corner time was preferable to a sore bottom, so why was she always so impatient to be let out?
“Ok.” Said Daddy. “Come over here.”
She turned and shuffled over to where he sat on the bed. She noted the hairbrush beside him and winced immediately.
“Daddy…” She finally worked up the courage to speak, though her eyes remained on her shoes.
“Yes, Vanessa?” He responded.
“I…” She began, before realizing that she had prepared absolutely no defence. “I…” She trailed off again. “Please don’t spank me,” She begged. “I won’t do bad things anymore. I’ll be good, I promise.”
He held one finger up to request silence, and her eyes widened, though she obeyed. He took her hand, ready to guide her over his knee.
She whimpered softly and attempted to free herself. “Please, Daddy, don’t…”
As usual, her protests achieved absolutely nothing and soon she lay prostrate over Daddy’s lap, her flushed face hidden by a veil of her hair as she struggled to find a comfortable position. He allowed her to wiggle for a total of ten seconds before he curled his arm around her back, locking her in place. She feels him place his hand, very gently, on her bottom. It is now that she really begins to panic, and that feeling only grows when he begins to rub small circles over her exposed flesh.
“You know why this is happening.” He said.
“Yes, Daddy.” She said.
“Hmm?” He asked. “And why is that?” He begins to pat her bottom.
“A’cause I was naughty today.” She said.
“You were.” He agreed. “And what did you do?”
“Swear’d, and talked back…and dis’beyed you when you told me to go upstairs.”
The little scoldings, especially when in the position, never failed to make her feel her smallest. They also appeared to take away her ability to speak in complete sentences.
Again, he agrees. “Yes, you did. Do you have something you’d like to say to me?”
“S-Sorry.” She whispers.
“What was that, little girl? Speak up.”
“Iz… Sorry Daddy. Sorry I was n-naughty.”
“Good girl.” He says, and lifts his hand.
Afterwards, when her tears had ceased and her bottom was a dark pink, he helped her to stand, then hefted her onto the change table. She fussed when her weight settles onto her scorched bottom, but she calmed when the soft fabric of the diaper touched her skin. He rubbed the powder in and taped her up. He noteed that the cheeks on her face are also blushing a dark pink. Daddy selected a very plain pair of white plastic panties, the kind with a hidden chain and padlock around the waist, and the punishment sleeper, a garment that she had very mixed feelings about. On one hand, it is made of soft fleecy material that is perfect for the cooler weather, and it is light purple, which she loved; but on the other hand, once it goes on, it didn’t come off until Daddy said so. It had built in feet and mittens, so she was unable to use her hands. The zip ran up the back and was completed with a small padlock at the collar, so it was just about impossible to free herself from it.
Daddy fastened the lock and lifted her off the change table. He carried her over to the armchair in the corner, the one that is perfect for story time. He sat and settled her in his lap. She is reluctant to even look at him after a spanking, so she buried her face into his chest. It is an act of quiet submission, or silent apology.
Daddy cleared his throat. “Vanessa,” he said. “look at me.”
She snuck a glance upwards, and noticed, with relief, that the line on his forehead had disappeared.
“Daddy…” She said, as if greeting him for the first time, as if she had just been spanked by someone else entirely.
“I’m here, sweetheart. I’ve always been here.” He drew her close for a moment. “Do you understand why I had to spank you?” He asked, and she nodded, looking away. “Why’s that?”
“’Cause…” She mumbled. “Cause I kept doin’ naughty things.”
“Yes, you did. And what happens when you do bad things?”
She blushed, reluctant to say it.
“Vanessa.” Daddy said, warning.
“I get… I get my bottom spanked.”
“Yes, you do. Now, do you think I like having to do that to you?”
Here, she hesitates. “Sometimes I do… Sometimes, I get mad an’ think you like spankin’ me. But then I think that’s silly, an’ you wouldn’t wanna hurt me.”
“It is silly, baby. I don’t want to hurt you, but you needed it today, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Daddy.” She mumbled, and burrowed in closer. “I needed it.”
“Good girl.” And at last, he smiled. “I think its bedtime.” He said.