Reforming Little Anya

by Rose St. Andrews

  “Drive? I—ouch—no, I never learned. I mean—eep—I live in New York. Who—ow—needs a car there? Drew, could you at least try to avoid some of the potholes?”

  He grinned. “Honey, it’s a dirt road. There’s not much I can do. Think of it this way: It’s an incentive for you to get the paving done first on the project.”

  “I’ll be sure to tell the contractor,” she said, grimacing.

  “Good idea. Anyway, it’s important for you to know how to drive. So, starting tomorrow, you’re learning.”

  “What? But, Drew, I’ve got a resort to build, and the girls to take care of. I don’t have time to—”

  “Young lady, do not go there. You have just as many hours in the day as Shakespeare, Einstein, and Madam Curie—to name only three. If they had time to achieve greatness, you can squeeze in some driving lessons.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said softly, knowing he was right.

  Finally, only ten hours later (well, it felt that long), they arrived at the job site. Jessica was out of the car before Drew had even put it in park. Gathered there, standing next to a small trailer that was being positioned on the site, was her team. There was the GC (general contractor), the engineer, and the architect. Introductions followed, and then they headed inside the trailer. It was a typical job site trailer: a couple of small offices off a modest main room, a very small bathroom, and a good-sized conference room. Also inside was the GC’s staff: a secretary and two assistants.

  They moved to the conference room, and the meeting started. Jessica politely declined the offer of coffee—not wanting to add to her already sore ass—and they laid out the conceptual plans. She had to stand for the entire meeting, but no one seemed to find it strange.

  At least she hoped that was the case.

  Later, driving home, she again winced at each bump, albeit not quite as vocally as the trip out. The huge plans were spread out across her lap, and she was marking things up with her red Sharpie, even as she mumbled to herself.

  “Sweetie, I have to say, you did great. All of them were impressed, and you were a true leader. I couldn’t be more proud of you if I was your real dad.”

  She smiled up at him. “Thanks, darling. But I’m concerned as to whether or not we can get this built in a year.”

  “Well, you’ve got the full survey, and Kelly got the prelim approval. Those are big steps forward.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t know if the engineer can get us full plans in a month. That’s a tall order.”

  “Well, don’t stress about it. Let it go. We’ll go home, I’ll make us lunch, and then you can Skype with Kelly and give her an update.”

  “Okay. Hey, that reminds me, how about letting me do some of the cooking?”

  “You, Miss I-have-Pizza-Hut-on-speed-dial? What are you going to make, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?”

  “Oh, ha-ha,” she shot back. “I’ll have you know, I’ve been taking cooking lessons for a while now, and I’m pretty good.”

  “Really? Okay, tell you what, you make dinner tonight. You do well, we’ll set up a schedule whereby we’ll share the cooking.”

  “Great!”

  “I’m a little surprised. I mean, you complained about driving lessons saying you didn’t have time, and now you want to cook. What’s the deal?”

  “Well… I… uhm… I was remembering some of my antics in the kitchen, back when we were dating. I thought maybe I should make amends.”

  “You mean by a method other than a spanking?”

  Jessica cocked her head at him. “I didn’t even think of that, but it’s a good point. Can we do that?”

  “Ohhh, okay, sure. After all, you’re already facing plenty of bottom-warmings for your other infractions.”

  She positively beamed with joy, and returned her attention to her plans and notes.

  Oh, this is going to be an interesting life!

  Chapter Fifteen

  Thus was established the pattern of their lives. Every morning, Jessica got her temperature taken and another spanking as payment for another of her pranks or antics. Their days were spent on a number of projects. There was the resort, which Jessica worried over constantly, her driving lessons, which she did well with, and the girls and the home. She proved herself a capable cook, so she was able to contribute more at home. Every night Drew bathed her and often gave her an enema. She still complained, but she accepted them. Then came bed, her bottle, getting burped, and her naughty spanking—as she and Drew called it. That always led to incredibly hot sex!

  Drew also worked in plenty of down time to help ease her stresses, and give them some fun. He did not let her work seven days a week. It was important that they relax on the weekend, and so they did. Sometimes they took a trip to Prague or another city, and other times they went off in the countryside and found something fun to do. Most times they went as a couple, but quite often they passed as father and daughter—especially when they went out of town. After all, they didn’t want anyone in the village mistaking her for Anya! Jessica found it fun to pass for a little girl. In the right outfit, she was easily taken for a girl of twelve, and thus she got to relax and be the little girl she was denied.

  Many afternoons were spent doing what she’d never done before: reveling in the simple joys of childhood. And did she have fun! She did all the things she never got to do as a little girl. Of course, sometimes she overdid it, and paid the price. When she made mud pies in the yard, Drew hosed her down and spanked her on the wet seat of her little play shorts. When she tried her hands at finger painting, she got paint all over Drew’s study. Not only did she get the hairbrush for that, but she had to scrub down the whole room.

  The intervening months were both glorious and difficult for Jessica. Working behind the scenes, she saw to it that the home was renovated and improved, the girls got new beds, better heat and utilities, and a van big enough to carry all of them. What amazed Jessica was how little money it actually took to do all of it. She got the company’s donation to the home boosted, but it represented only a 0.1% cut in profits for their division. Yet it was ten times more money for the home!

  She also took care of Iva. There were music lessons and a scholarship to a conservatory in Prague so she might live up to her full potential, and make proper use of her talent. Jessica also hit upon a brilliant idea for the home: their bread and butter. There was no doubt both were truly great, she loved them, and she lined up distribution in the U.S. and across Europe to help the home make more money.

  However, the subject of money got her in trouble one day, about three months into their new relationship. She was standing in the corner of Drew’s study, her nose pressed hard into the wall. She knew he was up to something behind her, she just didn’t know what. He was moving around the room, she could hear him, but she didn’t dare turn.

  It’d only earn her extra.

  “All right, little girl, turn around, and come over here.”

  She turned, and saw him standing next to the desk. He had a very large paddle in his hands, and it was quite thick!

  Oh, this is going to be bad.

  Cringing, she moved to stand before him, and felt about three feet tall and five years old.

  “Yes, sir,” she squeaked.

  “Now, do you want to tell me why you’re about to get this paddling?”

  “Daddyyyy, please, not that huge paddle. It’s too big. It’ll break my little bones.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, where I’m going to apply this, you have more than adequate padding. Now, answer the question,” he ordered.

  “Because… because I took money from your wallet.”

  “Because you stole money,” he corrected.

  “Yes, sir. But, it’s not fair, my allowance isn’t enough.”

  Drew frowned. “Oh, really? Little one, you have more than enough money to buy anything you need at the village, go out for lunch, take the staff for a drink, or anything else you might want to do. It’s only Tuesday, how could you need more?”
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br />   Jessica lowered her head and kind of made swirls in the carpet with the tip of her right shoe. “Ahhh, well…”

  “Jessica Alban, what did you spend your money on?” he demanded, his eyes narrowing.

  She swallowed hard. “I… sort of got a new outfit.”

  “Clothes? You’ve got a closet bursting with ‘big girl’ things, and you just got a new ensemble what, a week ago?”

  “I know, but this one was so—”

  “I don’t want to hear it!” he snapped, and pointed at the desk with the paddle. “Bend over, elbows on the desk.”

  Jessica shivered, but did as she was told, and now truly wished she’d worn long pants. As it was summer, she was in her snug little Daisy Dukes and a cute top. She almost shot straight up in the air when he tapped her with the paddle. Shutting her eyes, she grit her teeth, and braced for the first blow. She didn’t have to wait long. The paddle left her jeans-clad bottom, the air moved behind her, the floor creaked slightly as Drew shifted his weight, and—

  Crack! Jessica gasped and lurched forward, stars dancing before her eyes.

  Holy shit, that was intense.

  Whack! The second blow landed, and she howled. By the fourth whack, she snapped to attention, and her hands flew to cover her poor behind.

  “Nooo, Daddy, it’s too much!” she begged.

  “Jessica, you get back in position right now, or I add two more.”

  She was back down in a heartbeat. Before she could offer an apology or beg for mercy, the next smack painted a new red rectangle across her poor flesh. As a penalty for breaking position, she got it across the tops of her thighs.

  Arrgg, what a horrid sting! That thing is the worst!

  “Sorry, so sorry, never do again!” she wailed.

  “Sure, now you’re sorry, now that you got caught,” he scolded, landing another smack. “Tell me this: Have you ever stolen from me before?”

  “Ouch! No, Daddy, no, I promise,” she replied, her eyes filling with tears.

  “Ah-huh. Well, here’s the problem, little girl, as you’re a thief, how do I know I can trust what you say? Don’t you understand, Jessica, this isn’t about the money, it’s about trust.”

  Jessica gasped again, her eyes filling with tears, but not from the pain. Well, not entirely from the pain. No, it was like when she was at the home and she stole, she had destroyed the trust she’d built up with Viktor and Misha. With Drew, she had taken him for granted. He was her boyfriend, so she just assumed she could get away with anything with him.

  She was wrong, and the wound it caused her had her sobbing in no time. She lost count of the swats. Finally, she found herself cradled in his arms as he sat on the desk. Her ass throbbed with pure pain, and the tears flowed freely. Drew gently rocked her, handing her a new tissue as needed.

  “It’s over, little one, it’s over, and I truly hope I never have to use that paddle on you again.”

  “Me too,” she squeaked, sobbing. “I’m sorry, sir, so very, very sorry. I promise, never ever steal again.”

  “That’s a good promise, Jessica, but it remains to be seen if you can keep it.”

  She chewed her lip. “You… you don’t believe me?”

  “Well, I remain skeptical. I’m going to hope for the best, but you have to understand, baby, you’ve violated my trust. It’s going to take time to rebuild it.”

  That brought new tears, even as she nodded.

  “All right. Go to your room, you’re grounded for the rest of the day.”

  “Wha—Bu-but I have a staff meeting with the GC to go over the landscaping.”

  “Well, I guess it’s cancelled, unless you’d like to tell him about this little issue.”

  “Eeep! No, sir.”

  “I thought not. So, to your room, little girl, and stay there until dinnertime.”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied, clutching her burning backside.

  Oh, I won’t sit for days, and I’m sure I’ll be black and blue tomorrow. Yet, Drew was right to do it. I stole and destroyed his trust. Never again will I do either of those things.

  She was tempted to slip into her office and work until dinner, but she knew from painful experience that when she was sent to her room, she was sent to her room! So, instead, she passed the time coloring in one of her coloring books, and trying to ease the horrible sting in her ass. On that front, she failed, and was very glad when Drew called her down to dinner. Then she froze as she entered the kitchen when she realized what dinner meant: sitting in her chair.

  “Daddy, can I please stand to eat? Pleasseeee,” she whined.

  He didn’t answer, he merely picked her up and plopped her in her seat. She howled and squirmed in her seat, but she knew better than to stand up. As an additional punishment, the vegetable he’d made was corn, which she hated.

  “Naughty girls who steal have to sit to eat, and they also have to clean their plate,” he scolded, scooping up some of it.

  “Owwwiieee-oowwiieee-ow,” she yelped, and then frowned as he stuffed the food in her mouth. She chewed and swallowed, and made another foul face. “Daddyyyy, I hate this stuff!”

  “Jessica, you will eat—or else,” he snapped.

  She cringed, and started eating. Dinner was miserable, as were their after-dinner activities. She got dessert—ice cream—but he made her watch an educational DVD before bed, which was early. He bathed her, spared her the pain of an enema, gave her a bottle, but didn’t burp her, and then put her in one of her cute little nightshirts—a Dora the Explorer one. So, sex was out for tonight. Then he did something that made her smile.

  He picked up a jar of cold cream from the bathroom.

  Sitting on her bed, he patted his lap. “Okay, baby, I think you’ve been punished enough. Get on over, and I’ll give you some relief.”

  “Yes, sir,” she chirped, getting into position.

  Once she was over his lap, he slipped her loose-fitting nightie up, got some cream on his hand, and started to rub it in. She winced and grit her teeth, and tried hard to hold still, which wasn’t easy. He was applying it gently, but her poor ass was really battered!

  “I doubt you’re going to be able to sit tomorrow, sweetie, but this should help you heal quicker. I hope you’ve learned something from this painful lesson, little girl.”

  “Eeep—uhm—yes—yes, sir, I have. I really have. I promise, no stealing—never ever again,” she stammered out between grunts and groans.

  Once she was well covered in lotion, he helped her to bed—on her tummy, of course—tucked her in, and kissed her good night.

  “I love you, baby. Go to sleep, and wake up determined to start anew, okay?”

  “Yes, Daddy, and I love you too.”

  * * *

  Come the morning, Jessica found she was still very sore. Going to the bathroom was difficult—she just about peed faster than she’d ever done it in her life—and the temperature-taking was miserable. One good thing was that she’d finally gotten beyond those horrible morning spankings. Still, she yelped and groaned through breakfast, and Drew again seemed to find every pothole on their drive.

  Suddenly, he stopped and put the car in park.

  “Ahhh, darling, what’s going on?” she said, concerned she’d done something to earn a re-warming.

  “I just thought of something. You need another driving lesson. Come on, slide over, and you drive us the rest of the way.”

  Jessica’s eyes popped open. “What? Drew, nooo! It’s hard enough sitting now. Driving means I have to flex and tighten my leg muscles, which means doing the same to my glutes.”

  “Young lady, you haven’t had a lesson is almost a week. You keep putting me off with vague promises and complaints that you’re busy. Well, I’ve just decided: Lesson, now. Or…”

  She shrank into the seat and swallowed hard. A spanking on the side of the road would be horrid, and she was certain everyone at the job site would be able to hear. Yeah, it might be miles away, but she’d probably scream loud enough to be heard
in Prague! So, she got behind the wheel, Drew got in next to her, and she started driving.

  And softly yelping.

  Every push of the brakes, every tap and release of the gas had her whimpering and groaning in pain. Still, she managed to drive straight, and got them safely to the site.

  The place was a beehive of activity. Everywhere she looked, she saw people working, which made her smile. They were on track and on time with every aspect of the project. Then she saw something that made her brow wrinkle in confusion. The flagman was furiously waving his flag, and he seemed to be shouting something.

  As she drew near and rolled down her window, she could hear him, and she rolled her eyes.

  “Run for your lives! Miss Alban is driving again.”

  A snort on her right caught her attention, and she turned. Drew was clearly trying as hard as he could not to laugh. He was failing.

  “Sure, take his side. My driving is fine, I’ll have you know.”

  “I didn’t say a word,” he chuckled. “Jessica, watch the road!”

  She spun her head back to face front. All around her, people were running for cover. Of course, it was all for show. She wasn’t driving fast, and none of them were anywhere near the car. No, this was just their little joke, and she didn’t appreciate it. Moving to the trailer, she parked next to it, and hopped out. Bounding inside, she said hello to Ingrid (the secretary), declined her offer of coffee, and headed for the conference room. Barry, the GC, was already there, as were half a dozen of the subcontractors.

  “Morning, Barry, gentlemen, are we ready to roll?”

  “Yes, Miss Alban, and you’ll be happy to know that the tile for the foyer has arrived, the electrical has been roughed in, and we’re a week ahead on the plumbing,” he said with a smile. “Care to have a seat, or do you prefer to stand—again?”

  She smiled, partially as a cover for her discomfort, but mostly at hearing the good news. “Ah, you know me, Barry, too much nervous energy to ever sit.”

  “That’s why she avoids coffee too,” Drew said, taking a seat. “Why, one too many cups, and it’d be hair, teeth, and eyeballs all over the walls.”