Mischief Under The Mistletoe

by Maren Smith

  “Tomorrow, you’re grounded as a six-year-old, and Christmas is canceled. We are not going out to dinner. You are going to spend the day centering yourself and trying to get a handle on your emotions again. If that requires extra bad girl punishments then you will receive them. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes,” she growled resentfully. Bradley didn’t like her tone so he spanked her once more with the paddle. She yelped and wriggled.

  “Do I make myself clear?” he repeated.

  “Yes! Yes, Daddy! It’s clear!” she replied. “Please stop! I’ll be good!”

  “Will you, now?” he murmured, releasing her arms and gently caressing her bottom. When she sighed and wriggled into his touch, he cracked the crest of her buttocks with the paddle, which was still in his other hand. She squeaked in surprise, and he decided she’d had enough.

  He helped her up from her awkward position on the floor, and he drew her into a big hug.

  “Now do you want to tell me why you had your phone at the table?” he asked.

  She paused, and he knew she had something to admit. “I checked it when I awoke. Someone’s texted me today.” He left a hole in the conversation and waited for her to fill it. “Tisha.”

  “Your dad’s second wife?” The surprise was quickly replaced with a strong feeling that he was going to discover why Chloe had just over reacted about the spinach. “What did she say?” he prompted when she didn’t elaborate.

  “She wants to meet up with me tomorrow.”

  Bradley raised an eyebrow. He waited. Chloe didn’t hold back for long.

  “I don’t want to talk to her. Why should I? I only met her once; at my dad’s funeral.”

  Bradley nodded in agreement. “What did she say when you refused?”

  “Well, that’s the problem. She’s turned into a crazy bitch, saying I’m blackening the name of a dead man, and all this other horrible stuff. She says she’s going to come around tomorrow morning and that I’d better talk to her.”

  He sighed and rubbed her back gently, hoping to reassure her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was hoping I could handle it.” Her voice was rueful and it wavered as she spoke.

  “So, instead, you bottled up this problem and exploded about the spinach?”

  Chloe began to cry again. “I guess. I’m sorry. I should have told you straight away.”

  “First, I’m going to handle Tisha if she shows up tomorrow. Second, when you have a problem like this, you need to tell daddy. I can’t make it better otherwise.”

  He ensconced her in a bigger hug and rocked her gently, kissing the crown of her head and making shushing noises as she cried and sniffled. He knew it would be very difficult for her to deal with Tisha, since by all accounts the woman had never seen Chloe’s father’s bad side.

  “Daddy?” she asked tearfully, after a long snuggle.

  “Yes?” he looked into her beautiful eyes and his heart contorted when he saw sorrow.

  “Do I still get pudding?” she asked.

  He smiled and nodded. “Of course. You’re in trouble, but I’m not a monster.”

  They slowly got up and he led her downstairs, where he fixed her a bowl of ice cream and covered it in multicolored sprinkles and strawberry sauce.

  “Thank-oo, Daggy!” she said through a mouthful of ice cream. He smiled and watched her eat. She was hard work sometimes, but it was all worth it to see the simple joy she found in little things. Perhaps she would need more punishment tomorrow, and the day would certainly bring more stress and tears if Tisha showed up, but for now Chloe seemed content, and her issue with the spinach had receded. He reminded himself to thoroughly clean the wall near the trash can, to eradicate the green mushy remains of the troublesome leafy vegetable as soon as he got a chance.

  CHAPTER SIX

  BABY’S SIXTH CHRISTMAS

  Most of the day had been spent doing chores around the house under Bradley’s watchful supervision. So far, he had cleaned the toilet while she cleaned the basin, and then he had scrubbed the solid floors while she pushed the vacuum around the carpets. Now, he was deep-cleaning the big pans while she unloaded the dishwasher and refilled it. She wasn’t allowed to touch the cutlery, and she had to put all the glasses on the countertop because six-year-olds couldn’t reach the top shelf. She didn’t remember ever doing chores as a child.

  “Daddy?” she began, after she carefully picked up another plate.

  “Yes, sweetheart?” He paused his task and looked at her.

  “Six-year-olds don’t do chores like this,” she pointed out, feeling like she’d found the fatal flaw in his whole plan for today.

  “Yes, they do,” Bradley replied, “when they have adult supervision and don’t wander far from their parent.”

  “I never did chores when I was that age.”

  “You never did chores at any age. That’s because your mom was too lazy to teach you.”

  “How’s that lazy? She had to do it all herself.”

  “Yeah, but it’s just as selfish as those parents who give their children all the chores. A good mommy or daddy is a bit like a good dom. They have to push their child’s boundaries so they learn and grow, but if they push them too hard they’ll harm them. Your mom never pushed you to do chores or other things that would help you become a grown-up, and your dad pushed you too hard with his inconsistent behavior and unpredictable temper. So, neither of them looked after you very well.” He sighed with an air of finality, then returned to his task. Chloe didn’t envy him having to scrub those pots, and she was glad she could help in some small way. Making Christmas happen every day came with a mountain of housework that she hadn’t even known about until today. Had he been doing all these chores while she napped and watched Sesame Street? He was incredible.

  “Daddy?” Chloe began again.

  “Yes, little one?” He scrubbed harder at something and didn’t look around this time.

  “I don’t like being in trouble, but this isn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be.” Chloe had spent plenty of Christmases feeling the brunt of someone’s anger. But this was different. She didn’t feel like Bradley was mad at her or trying to bring her down to make her feel small. He was teaching her a lesson about responsibility. She wasn’t sure how it related to her behavior, but knowing she was helping him tidy up the house made her feel better on the inside.

  “Did you want me to bring out the whips and chains?” he asked, turning for a moment to flash her his domliest grin before he turned back to the sink. Chloe giggled.

  “No, that stuff’s for grown-ups!” she replied.

  “Maybe I should tie you up with some tinsel and turn you into a Christmas light with the violet wand,” he murmured. Chloe felt her clit throb, then she sighed and put away the plate she was still holding.

  It was eleven-thirty when the doorbell rang, and Chloe’s stomach flipped as she ran to answer it, then she skidded to a halt in the hallway when she saw Tisha through the glass of the front door. Luckily, Bradley was right behind her.

  “Do you want to go upstairs, or are you staying to hear what she has to say?” he asked.

  Chloe took a deep breath.

  “I’ll stay,” she said. All the same, she let Bradley answer the door.

  “Chloe, we need to talk,” Tisha said, without even greeting Bradley or Chloe.

  “Well, hello to you, too. You must be Tisha,” Bradley said sternly. Tisha looked up at him and nodded, then stared directly at Chloe. The intensity of the woman’s gaze made Chloe waver slightly.

  “What do you want, Tisha?” Chloe asked.

  “You’re not even inviting me in?” Tisha asked. Chloe glared at the stupid woman who she hated so much.

  “Our sofa isn’t going to make your voice work any better. Speak to Chloe here.” Bradley’s protective tone was exactly what Chloe needed to hear right then.

  “Fine.” The woman glared at him, then at Chloe. “Your father’s will just appeared. He wasn’t rich, as you k
now—”

  “Compared to how we grew up, he was by the time he died,” Chloe interjected. She hated her dad’s stupid, moneygrubbing second wife so much right then.

  “Anyway, he left almost all of the proceeds from his house, his car, his bank balance, and the rest of it, to a charity for victims of domestic violence—”

  “The fuck?!” Chloe yelped.

  “It’s just the sort of thing he would do, of course.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Chloe muttered under her breath.

  “And he was always so kind toward anyone in need of help.”

  “No, he wasn’t.” She spoke more loudly this time.

  “So, what are we going to do about it?” Tisha asked Chloe. Unable to even pretend to look like she cared, Chloe began to giggle. Tisha narrowed her eyes in exasperation.

  “Honestly? Do what you want. I don’t want a penny from that asshat.” Chloe could happily get through the rest of her life without thinking about her father.

  “Really? That’s your attitude? There’s about seventy thousand dollars at stake and you’re busy acting like a child, being mad at a man who was seventeen when he had you?”

  “I don’t care how young he was. A jackass is a jackass is a jackass,” Chloe retorted. “I get it. He was kind to you. You were somehow better or more interesting than my mom and me, so he didn’t try that shit with you. You don’t have to keep parading it in front of people’s faces!”

  “He left you ten thousand dollars,” Tish interjected.

  “I don’t want it.” Chloe didn’t even need to think about it. Even if she was on the streets and starving, she wouldn’t accept anything from the man who ruined her life.

  “Would you be willing to sign a document so I can claim it from the estate, instead?” Tish sounded desperate, and now Chloe realized why the woman was really here. She knew Chloe wouldn’t want that money. Chloe saw red.

  “Get. The. Fuck. Off. My. Property,” Chloe growled. “And don’t ever come here again.”

  Tish started shouting, but Chloe was in a haze and couldn’t hear her. Her chest was aching, heart beating nineteen-to-the-dozen, blood rushing in her ears. Her vision started to go out of focus and she sat on the front step, trying to breathe, while above her, she was distantly aware that Bradley and Tish were still arguing.

  “Your father was right about you,” Tish yelled in a parting shot. “You think you’re better than everyone else.”

  A car door slammed. An engine roared to life. Then, tires screeched as Tish drove off in a snit. Barely a second passed before Bradley’s arms were around Chloe’s shoulders, and he drew her against his chest, shushing her and rocking her as her last self-control shattered and she began to sob against his shirt.

  “D-Daddy?” Chloe asked. She knew they weren’t supposed to be ageplaying another Christmas today, but she needed her grownup.

  “Yes, sweet one?” Bradley replied.

  She didn’t really have anything to say though, she just wanted to hear his voice and know that he was with her.

  “Daddy.” She clung to him as she cried. Bradley seemed to catch on to the fact that she just wanted him to be there, because he held her and she felt so loved and protected.

  “I will always take good care of you, my little princess,” he said. “Daddy’s here. Daddy’s always here. I promise, I will never harm you, or neglect you. I will never take things away that are precious to you. I will look after my little one, and protect you.”

  “I love you, daddy,” she mumbled through his shirt.

  “I love you too, little one.” He cuddled her on the front step until she stopped crying, then he gently helped her into the house.

  The rest of the day was spent putting the house in order, and then it was time for dinner. After so many festive meals, Chloe found that normal food seemed a little lackluster, and she pushed her meatballs around on the plate.

  “What’s up, little one?” Bradley asked.

  Chloe didn’t really want to answer him, but she’d already had one punishment day and didn’t want another, so she decided to be truthful. “Well... I sorta... kinda... possibly...” she trailed off, losing her nerve.

  “Yes?” He fixed her with his full attention and she quivered under his dominant gaze.

  “Food’s a bit boring when it’s not Christmas food,” she confessed, then immediately colored red. Bradley grinned like the Cheshire cat.

  “So, what you’re saying is you miss an aspect of Christmas now it’s been taken away from you?” he prompted.

  Unable to say anything more, she just nodded. Bradley put his fork down, pushed his chair back, and patted his knee. She got up and sat on his lap, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck.

  “I’m glad you’ve found some small part of Christmas that you’ve connected to,” he told her. “Let’s see if we can find some more over the coming days. I’m proud of you.”

  “Why?” Chloe asked, confused. All she’d done this week was whine and mess up to the extent that today’s Christmas was canceled.

  “You’re trying your best, and keeping an open mind, and those are the only two things I wanted you to do during this time.”

  She smiled as he squeezed her tight and kissed her on the head.

  “Now go finish your boring non-Christmas dinner, then we’re going to get an early night,” he told her. She hopped off his knee obediently, feeling more like his little girl than ever before.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  BABY’S SEVENTH CHRISTMAS:

  Getting to sleep had been difficult. Chloe couldn’t reconcile her angry, violent father with the man who had left his money to help victims of domestic violence. When she slept, she dreamed of him. He had cornered her, shouting, throwing things, and she couldn’t get away from the sound of his voice. She awakened to his angry taunts still ringing in her ears.

  Awake was better. He couldn’t find her, here, amongst the soft toys and gentle blankets of her little room.

  When Chloe first got out of bed, she craved the sound of crinkling wrapping paper tearing open to reveal a new present. More than that, though, she was hungry for anything flavored with cinnamon, ginger, chocolate, or her other favorite Christmas flavors. It seemed ironic that she was craving a childish distraction from lingering fear of the man who ruined her childhood.

  She didn’t go into Bradley’s room; she just went straight downstairs, and pushed a chair up against a cupboard to reach the high shelf where she knew the chocolate gingerbread was hiding. Carefully, she pulled it down, then went to the living room and crunched on gingerbread shaped like Christmas trees while she watched Sesame Street. Soon, the packet was empty so she returned to the kitchen to see what else was squirrelled away. She found a bag of cashew nuts, a box of orange-flavored chocolate, and a delicious-looking packet of old-fashioned candies protected with brightly- colored twisted wrappers. She tried to take all of it, but when she turned around to get back down off the chair, she realized she was holding too many things. Being stubborn, she decided to jump down without holding onto the countertop for balance. When she slipped on the smooth kitchen floor in her bed socks, she hit her head so hard she saw white spots laid over blackness.

  WHEN BRADLEY CAME DOWNSTAIRS, he expected to find Chloe snacking on something. Instead, she was lying on the kitchen floor surrounded by a halo of scattered cashew nuts and candies. Her eyes were closed.

  His entire world focused down to one tiny point as he checked she was breathing, then that her heart was beating. She opened her eyes.

  “Daddy, I hit my head,” she mumbled.

  “I know, little one. I’ll get you some ice.” Bradley pulled a bag of frozen peas out of the freezer and wrapped it in a thin towel, then gently pressed it to Chloe’s head. There were no cuts, just a big bump. He hoped she wasn’t seriously hurt. Bradley wasn’t sure how long he’d sat with Chloe, making deals with every deity, real or imaginary, that he could think of. He’d even thrown a quick prayer to the Flying Spaghetti Monster, just
in case quantum theory was right about that one.

  “Do you feel dizzy at all?” he asked as rivulets of water trickled down the side of his hand from the melting ice.

  “No.” Her voice was clear, if a little quiet.

  “Sick?”

  “No.”

  “Sleepy?” He used to be a dungeon monitor, and had trained in first aid, so he knew the signs to check whether a head injury needed medical attention or not.

  “No.”

  “Then I think you’ll be fine.” He returned the peas to the freezer and handed her the frozen carrots wrapped in the same towel. He cleared up the spilled cashews while she held the ice to her head.

  “You should take it easy today. Don’t worry, little one, daddy’s going to take good care of you.”

  She gazed up with her soulful eyes and his heart melted. He only wanted her to be happy. He carried her to the couch and tucked her in with her favorite Hello Kitty blanket, then went to get the mail.

  Stuffed into the mailbox was an angry note from Tisha, alongside lots of Christmas cards from friends. He carried everything inside and hid the note on top of a cupboard, just in case he needed it as evidence later.

  “Hey, little princess, want to open some Christmas cards?” He passed her the small stack of envelopes. When she giggled excitedly, his heart glowed. If anyone had told him even a week ago that Chloe would be enthusiastic about anything to do with this time of year he would have laughed. But here she was, tearing the envelopes open and looking at the pictures like it was the most fun a person could have.

  “Here you go!” she handed him back the open cards and empty envelopes. “Now what?”

  “Now, you’re going to stay on the couch and I’m going to get you a nice bottle of warm milk. You had a nasty fall and I want to take care of you.”

  “Then do I get to open presents?” She was all about the Christmas today. Bradley smiled indulgently.

  “All right.” He went to make her bottle of milk. Another day of planned ageplay had been lost. Reaching Chloe’s bottle down from the shelf where he kept it, he heard the doorbell chime. They weren’t expecting anyone. He slowly ambled through the house, noting the empty couch with displeasure. After being told to take it easy, Chloe had gotten up to answer the door.