by Susan Thomas
I was in the school resource centre after school checking some work and found I was sitting next to Carl. Carl was a really nice quiet senior not disliked by anyone but equally he had no real friends. He was shy and hardworking and especially shy with girls. I noticed he was struggling with our English assignment on Shakespeare, something that I found easy. His strengths were math and science. I leaned over and spoke to him.
"Hi, Carl. I see you're having difficulty with that. I've done it already, would you like some help?"
If it is possible for a boy to blush more than he did I'd love to see it because it was amazing... more like a sunset than a face. He sort of stammered he would, and I helped him see what was required until he could proceed on his own. He mumbled his thanks. We worked on in silence for a while until I could see he was finished, and then I made him blush again.
"Carl, I wonder if you'd like to get a coffee or something at my house." He looked positively terrified, poor kid. "Don't worry, my mom's there and she won't stand any nonsense, but she is very hospitable. I have a suggestion to help us both."
He had a car as he lived a fair way from school so he took me back in his car. He didn't speak but gripped the wheel hard like I had a gun to his head. Mom was real welcoming, and she had the knack of putting him at his ease so he thawed out a bit, and with mom bustling around I put this proposal to him.
"Look, I see you find some things hard like English and I find math and physics hard. Why don't we coach each other? It would have to be here I think because mom wouldn't want me being alone with you in your house. Is that right, mom?"
Mom was very firm in agreeing. "I was a teenager once."
Carl protested he wasn't like that, but he wasn't too unhappy about coming here as his mom worked and he went home to an empty house. At first he only came about once a week but it didn't take long before he was there every night, and we worked steadily on our homework, helping each other as the need arose. It was generally assumed we were an item and Carl did nothing to correct that; he rather liked being thought of in that way though he knew it wasn't true. It was excellent camouflage for me but I did help Carl. I began teaching him how to relax with girls.
He certainly was shrewder than I thought. We were in his car one day going to my house when, without looking at me, he spoke. "You've got a boyfriend, haven't you?"
"What makes you think that?"
"There are certain days when you are all lit up inside. Seems like anticipation to me. Then there are other days when you glow and are all relaxed. You're like content on those days. So I ask myself why you are so secretive and I guess it is because he is an older guy, probably married. Just to say if you ever need help, count on me, and if he ever hurts you count on me to kill him."
I stared at him. It was just so matter of fact, not like a boy at all. I believed he would kill too. It was scary but also moving. I tapped his knee. "Pull over."
"Carl, you're right, I do have a boyfriend. He is someone I used to know once in the past. He is older but he is not married and he would never, ever hurt me. In fact he has already protected me once, and he would kill anyone who did hurt me. Our circumstances mean we have to be secret for a while longer, but when I leave school then we shall be open."
I leant over and kissed his cheek.
"But I love your wanting to help and protect. I'll not forget that."
He blushed of course but seemed pleased and drove to my house. We got out the car and went in, and I walked in to a whole load of trouble. Mom was fuming.
I always had chores to do. I had no problem with having chores, none at all. I did before my real parents got sick. "Aw mom," I'd whine, "do I have to?" Not afterwards though. I'd have done any chore, anything to have them well again. When I looked after myself I soon realized it was only self-defense to keep on top of things. If you want clean panties to put on you have to have done some washing... right? The thing was, I did all jobs in Karen time, when it suited me, but mom wanted them done in mom time because she wanted to slot them into her routines. Mom's ever-ready spanking hand whipping out to hit my butt with a wooden spoon or some such, had pretty well changed my attitude, but every now and then I forgot. I would have put the washing machine on after I had sorted the clothes. I just didn't.
"Karen," mom started right on the second I got in the door. I could feel Carl blushing behind me. "I told you to get that washing on before you went out. I needed to get ironing done."
"Oh sorry I..."
"How could you forget? I reminded you not once, but twice. Well now you get a different sort of reminder. Upstairs to your bedroom."
I couldn't look at Carl, but sighed and made my way upstairs. I could hear mom speaking to Carl. Offering him something to eat and drink probably. Carl was going to hear me getting spanked. Well that would give him a whole new insight into Karen, but I wasn't afraid he'd tell anyone. Carl simply wasn't like that.
I stood in my room waiting for mom. I don't really argue about getting spanked, maybe the odd token protest, but that's all, and now I felt bad. I really should have put the wash on; I simply forgot, but it was my chore. Mom came in holding the hairbrush. I hate getting spanked with the hairbrush, each swat is just so harsh.
"Come on Karen, I'm not spanking your clothes this time."
I might feel bad but had to beg a bit, I knew it was a waste of time, but a real teenager would, and anyway I had a reason with Carl downstairs.
"Aw Mom, please. I am sorry and Carl is downstairs... humiliating or..."
"Karen!"
That was warning enough, and I pulled my leggings and panties down, then when mom did a turnaround signal I bent over and put my hands on the bed. The next second that harsh sting ignited my right cheek and I yelped, but a second later and it was the left, and so we went on with my butt wriggling around from side to side, and the fierce sting of the hairbrush making me very sore. She spanked me seventeen times with that brush... no one individual spank was really laid on hard, but it doesn't have to be with a hairbrush, the sting is quite enough.
I stood with my hands on my head and my butt smarting horribly, crying quietly which always makes me feel ridiculous, but I guess being spanked at any age is painful. After a while, mom let me take my hands down and pull up my clothes. I washed my face and we hugged and I said I was sorry and would try never to do it again... yeah, all the usual stuff but I did mean it. Then I had to go downstairs to face Carl who must have heard every smack and every yelp and cry. I was embarrassed, I have to tell you, but he was too, and he didn't really look at me when I came in.
Sitting at the kitchen table was hard as my butt stung and smarted, but I sat down and Carl put a hand on top of mine and squeezed it. I grinned at him. He was a nice boy that Carl.
---oOo---
One morning at school I began to feel ill. I was hot and dizzy, had a headache and felt distinctly sick. My teacher sent me to the nurse who said I ought to go home and she'd call my parents. I said that it was only a short distance and I'd walk, the fresh air would do me good. She wasn't sure, but I got my way and began the walk home. At first I did feel better, but even before I got back I started to feel real bad again.
When I got to the house I saw dad's car on the drive so I went straight round the back to the kitchen, thinking how good it would be to have them both fuss over me. I had really come to love all that after years of coping on my own. I got near the kitchen window and heard dad's voice.
"I thought we had talked about this before." It was calm and patient but sounded very stern.
Then mom sounding nervous and unhappy. "We did and I'm so sorry. I just... well I let you down. I'm sorry."
"What did I say I was going to do if there was a repeat?"
"Spank my bottom hard."
"Very well, go upstairs to the bedroom and get ready."
I heard a sob from mom and from dad a sigh and I quickly peeked in; he was taking a glass of water. When he finished he sighed again and went on up. I snuck into the kitchen a
nd sat down. I really wanted to go up to my room and lie down, but felt it would intrude. Soon the sounds of one of dad's hard hand spankings followed, and it was not long before mom began to make a noise. Knowing just how much his hand hurt I could sympathize, but was now feeling so sick I made my way towards the downstairs bathroom. I stood there fighting the sick feeling when the spanking stopped. There was some sort of talk I couldn't quite catch, and then the unmistakable sound of the belt striking mom's bottom and the sharp cry of pain that followed. Boy, she was really getting it today. Then I had to dash to the bathroom.
I felt terrible and was really ill in there and utterly unaware of anything else when suddenly I found mom with me. She was helping me and wiping my face and giving me stuff to rinse my mouth and then she and dad helped me upstairs. Mom undressed me and put me into bed with some pillows to partly prop me up.
"How long have you been in?" she asked the question softly.
I felt too rough for lies. "Got to the kitchen window just as you were being sent up for your spanking. I tried not to disturb you guys but I had to rush to the bathroom. Sorry about that."
Mom looked embarrassed and I asked, "What did you do?"
"Oh sorry, Karen. I don't want to say, just put it this way - I asked for it big time."
"You were getting a belt whipping was the last I heard. Is it done?"
Mom looked uncomfortable. "No, but you're ill..."
"Go on get it over with. I am OK at least for the moment. I'll probably fall asleep." She looked embarrassed. "Mom look, I understand. You see or hear all of mine. It's better to get it over with. Please yell all you want, it's easier if you do."
She went, looking worried, and I started to drift off but then the whipping began. I counted fifteen before it ended but I didn't know how many she'd got before they heard me throwing up. I lay there thinking about what Dave had said about me: "You are strong and strong-willed and you most definitely need someone to be stronger and keep you in order. You seem to have chosen to go back to such a life where you are just a minor and your strong strict parents do just that. One day you'll need a strong husband to do the same job." Was he right? Was I like mom and one day that would be me? With that thought, I fell asleep.
When I woke up it was late in the evening, and I felt much better. Dad came in fussing followed by mom, and they brought me something to drink, but we agreed no food until the morning. I lay propped up in bed, my mind wandering in a languid sort of way, and slowly it came to me what I wanted to do with my wealth.
Social services and child protection agencies around the world are beleaguered. The problems they must deal with are legion but their numbers and resources scarce. Oh sure, millions are spent but not in comparison with need. They are also undermined constantly by political correctness, reorganization, cost cutting, political interference and a hostile media. Ticking boxes and filling quotas can all too easily take precedence over the real needs of the child or the family (if there is one). They had been absolutely useless with me both before and after my parents died. Some were well-meaning and kind, but their protocols had painted an imaginary Karen and tried to deal with her. I resented the hell out of them.
I was going to create an organization that would not be bound by all that stuff and would put the child right at the centre. It would not take the place of social services but act to prevent problems wherever it could. Realistically, no fortune could help the world, and so I would start just in this town and work out the methods by which we would operate. Learn the trade, so to speak. Later, we could fundraise to spread further. Having made that decision, I fell asleep.
Last year I had just about made the Honor Roll which would have astonished my natural parents. In fact it astonished me. Now in this senior year I found I was on the High Honor Roll. I guess being the age I was it was really a form of cheating, but I was pleased and so were mom and dad. It is such a shame that they never had their own kids because they were just so supportive and took delight in everything I achieved, not because they claimed anything from it, but just generous delight.
Then we were almost at the end of the school year. I had to ask Carl if he would take me to the Senior Prom and he blushed so much he could have lit up a town, but he agreed. Mom really went to town for me and she even made the dress... I had no idea she was so talented, but it was beautiful. I've never really been big on all that dressing up, makeup and stuff, but I must admit I felt good when I saw myself in the mirror. When Carl came he looked amazing... so smart and very attentive. We made quite a couple I can tell you... the proof is in the photos.
Then it was graduation and suddenly my school days were over and I was standing outside the school with everyone else, and it felt very strange and odd. I never thought I would cry at such a moment but I did... dumb or what?
---oOo---
I started at the community college more confidently than I had the high school and kept up the pace of work. Mom and dad were real happy with the fact I had stayed with them, but they kept to our agreement and were strict. As much as I now disliked getting spanked I still got the odd one, but I had no regrets about my arrangement with them.
There was more freedom at the college than at school. Mom and I fell into a habit of doing the grocery shopping together. It sounds really dull, and before my parents were ill no way did I want to do that. It is only after they'd gone that I realized just how many opportunities I'd missed. I notice that so many teenagers seem to get isolated from their parents, but suddenly it can be too late and you can never get that time back again. Every moment should be precious.
I didn't make that mistake with mom. Even getting a coffee together was great. We talked about love, marriage, sex... you name it, including the disciplinary aspect of marriage. She opened up much more at that time, and I saw how really content she was with her marriage to dad. It isn't something that all men can handle, and Katerina's dad definitely hadn't, but I think most guys could do it if they just understood how and society didn't disapprove.
Introducing Dave was easy as his duties took him to the community college. Dave was of course twenty-eight, three years older than my real twenty-five but ten years older than my pretend eighteen. Mom and dad weren't happy with the ten-year gap, but Dave was good with them, and they did agree I was mature for my age. Gradually, they relaxed about it and when Dave, not being able to go to his own family and not being on duty, spent Christmas with us, they really got to like him.
It was just after Christmas that Dave proposed. I was surprised, I simply hadn't seen it coming; I knew he had always talked as if we would be married one day, but I hadn't thought so soon. I found I really wanted to marry him. Yes, OK, he was going to be the one in charge and I had no doubt he would spank me sometimes but... well I loved him, and I guess he was right, I did really want someone to take command of me. However, I was forced to explain for the first time the scale of my wealth.
"I don't want anything to do with that money," Dave said, he was quite fierce about it.
"Neither do I," I replied and explained the organization I wanted to set up. "I'm quite happy with a much simpler life, Dave."
"So, will you marry me?"
"On three conditions."
"And they are?"
"One you spank me when I get too impetuous or too stroppy."
He grinned. "No problem at all."
"Two, we have to live next door or close by to mom and dad. I know they're not my real parents but..."
"No problem... next?"
"Three, if ever you cheat on me I get to beat your brains out with a baseball bat."
He laughed and promised that he would hand me the bat if ever he was so stupid, and then asked, "So you will?"
"Yes."
Well mom and dad were not happy. I was too young, it was too soon, but Dave was good with them and very gradually they came around. We were married in church, and although it was a simple service it was traditional, and I even made the minister stick 'obey' into my vows. We b
ought the house opposite mom and dad, and I carried on at college while Dave carried on with his duties. It was lovely to be honest. Mom especially liked having a 'daughter' living opposite and Dave and dad got on like a house on fire in ways Dave had never got on with his real dad. What happened next was a shock to us all.
There was no intention to have a child for several years, but about six months after we were married I missed my monthly. I couldn't believe it; I'd been regular for years. I waited until the next was due but nothing, so I got one of those tests and couldn't believe the result so I went to the doctor. As it turned out there was no doubt, I was having a baby.
Dave was delighted, in fact he was so excited I had to calm him down and get him thinking practicalities. I wanted to finish the course, which was important to my plans, but didn't need to be in college all the time. However, I would need help with the baby some days or parts of days. I looked across the road fairly confidently but just with that niggle of doubt. Dave and I went over to break the news. Mom's screech of delight must have been heard clear across town. Dad cracked open a bottle of sparkling wine which of course I was not allowed to sample. This was one baby who would definitely get plenty of love.
I suppose one day I must tell the truth, but as Pontius Pilate said, "What is truth?" I am indeed older than I pretended to be but is that really the truth? What is true is that I was an unhappy orphan floundering around and they were a couple born to be parents but without a child. Whatever, the fact is that now I was a daughter once again and they were parents and about to be grandparents. Even Dave has a dad again. I went into this new identity for many reasons, some of which were plainly wrong, but a lot of good seems to have come of it. Perhaps my great uncle wasn't as daft as I thought.
Also by Susan Thomas...
Scenes of Domestic Discipline: Book 1
This first volume of stories by Susan Thomas, based around the common theme of domestic discipline, features the following stories:
