by C. B. Hunt
“He wouldn’t have let me.”
“This is serious. You’ve made me very unhappy tonight.”
The second he made that statement, I fell into my little girl place. Reaching for my stuffed bunny, I held it against my chest. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
He continued to brush my hair. “Being sorry for making me upset isn’t going to teach you to behave the way that I need you to. I’m afraid that you’re not going to be a very happy young lady by the time you go to bed.”
The more he spoke, the deeper I sank into my little girl headspace. Burying my face in my bunny’s head, I sniffled as I was treated to one of his infamous lectures that I was no longer able to tune out. I didn’t know what was worse, the guilt or the anticipation of what was going to happen once he finally stopped talking. All the while, he kept me captive by brushing my hair, providing both comfort and intimacy.
I shuddered when the brush was placed on the bed, and he turned me around to look at him. The anger was gone from his eyes and was replaced with sadness. I felt horrible!
“Look at me, peanut,” he ordered quietly. “For me to raise my voice means that I’m either very angry or very afraid. I felt both when I came home early, and you weren’t here, and Les had no idea where you had gone.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“To start, you are grounded for one week. No television, computer games, movies, or going out. You will stay in your room and think about how worried you made me and how naughty it was to take off like you did. Comments?”
I hesitated and then nodded. “Yes, Sir, but I don’t want you to think that I’m making excuses.”
“Go on.”
“You told me to let you know if I felt a trigger thingy,” I said quietly. “Being locked away and forgotten is one of them.”
“I understand.” He touched my cheek. “Would being grounded to the house give you the same feeling?”
“Not if I get to see you. The silent treatment also makes me feel disposable.”
“I don’t believe in doing that. Very well, you are grounded to the house. I will give you chores to complete as well.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that you’re going to get a spanking. I’m afraid that this situation has earned more than just the use of my hand. Over my knee.”
“I promise I won’t do this again. I swear!”
“It’s time that you learn that no girl of mine is going to do whatever she wants to, especially when I give her rules. If I have to tell you again, I’m going to get my belt. I promise that is one thing that you won’t like a bit.”
Whimpering did as much good as making promises. I clutched the material of his pants as he pulled my shorts and panties down to my knees. I still felt so much embarrassment with being seen like this but knew that in a few minutes, I wouldn’t care. As before, his hand landed hard across both my cheeks, and I let loose with a loud squeal of pain.
“Ow! That hurts!”
“I suspect I’ll hear that observation being made every time you end up in this position. This time, I promise that your bottom will remember this lesson for more than a day.”
I didn’t think he was capable of smacking so hard and, once again, no amount of twisting and kicking helped my escape. If anything, the spanks landed harder and lower on my bare thighs and brought another type of burn.
“Not on the thighs! Stop!” I screeched, trying to pull away.
“The more you fight me, the more area I will cover,” he warned, smacking the back of both my thighs.
“I can’t help it,” I sobbed, pounding his leg with my fists.
“Then you’ll face the consequences.” He paused the spanking and allowed me to catch my breath, but did not release me. After handing me a box of tissues to blow my nose, he rested his warm hand on my backside. “I try my best not to cause bruising, but your bottom has not adjusted to receiving a thorough paddling yet. I will give you a word of advice—the longer you stay still, the shorter this part will be. I’m not going to stop until I’m satisfied that you will feel this for a while and remember that Daddy loves you enough to say ‘no’ to bad behavior.”
Oh, dear Lord—I thought his hand was painful, but it was nothing to the back of the hairbrush. Staying still was not in the cards, and I drained myself fighting against him and the unceasing blows of the brush against my sit spots. His aim was unbearably perfect and landed in the same spot smack after smack. I was certain that my ass was every color of the rainbow after only five swats, but it didn’t stop his assault. He paused now and then to check my skin and then resumed the discipline.
He traded the brush for his hand and finished the spanking with flesh on flesh. I cried so hard that my entire body shook and barely noticed when he had finished. He kept me in place and silently rubbed my back as I tried to catch my breath and then led me to the corner to stand with my hands on my head and red bare bottom on display.
“Stay right here until I call for you. I’m going to make a pot of coffee,” he ordered softly, kissing my wet cheek. “I want you to take the time to think about how this could have been avoided, okay? No rubbing.”
I nodded, unable to talk through my tears. He patted my shoulder and left me alone to agonize over the pain. I shifted back and forth and bobbed up and down on my toes, trying to shake off the sting. It did no good, of course, but the movement helped distract me a little bit.
“I never understood why subs do that,” he said when he returned.
“I’m not a sub,” I grumbled.
“I see. I guess we are now in the angry and hate phase of the session.”
“Go away.”
“Come on. We’re going inside where you can pout while I get some work done.” He pulled up my shorts and then took my hand.
“I don’t wanna.”
“I don’t recall asking if you wanted to. You said that being left alone makes you feel bad, so you will be my shadow every waking minute.” He sat on the sofa and patted his lap. “Come cuddle.”
I groaned. “Do I have to?”
“Aftercare is very important.”
“I don’t need it. Just give me some time to pout, and I’ll get over it.”
“Yes, but you’re not in a little girl mode right now, and that’s where I want you to be. It makes you more pliable.”
“Will I be in trouble if I refuse?”
“No, but it would hurt my feelings. Daddies need aftercare, too. I don’t like disciplining you.”
“Then don’t.”
“Get your butt over here and give me a hug, brat.”
I admit that his embrace did make me feel a little less angry and removed some of my embarrassment. He tightened his hold to stop me from squirming and forced my cheek against his chest.
“I wish I could convince you that I care about you,” he said gently.
“I know you do. It’s just hard to accept.”
“Stop fighting and give in to your impulses. I think you’d be surprised.”
“The only impulse I have right now is to sit on a bag of ice. I’m tossing out that hairbrush.”
“Go ahead. I should get a wooden one anyway.”
“No!”
“Hmm, I think a wooden brush is a good idea. It might discourage a repeat incident. How’s your backside feel?”
“I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“You’re stubborn, but I love you.”
“Yea, well, I love you too.”
His chuckle vibrated in his chest and made me smile.
***
“I hate translating coordinates,” I whined when Ray dragged me out of bed at 0345 that morning to go down to the message center to pick up the secured information that had just come in.
“That’s my little ray of sunshine,” he said, tossing me a pair of sweats.
“Can’t this wait until Monday? I don’t want to go out.”
“Whining isn’t going to change my mind. Here’s some coffee.” He
handed me a travel mug and gestured to the door. “Grab your sneakers and let’s get going.”
“Can we at least bring the stupid things home to work on them?”
“Yes, but only if you promise to try to be more pleasant.”
“I’m not a morning person.”
“You are if I make French crullers. Ha! I saw that look. You can be bribed!”
I snorted. “You think you’re so smart.”
“I think we need to have another little talk about how a little girl is supposed to respect her Daddy,” Ray said, handing me a windbreaker.
“We’re walking?” I asked as I followed him to the main road.
“Yes. I thought it would be nice to take an early morning walk to the base instead of waking Les to pick us up.”
“You have a car. Why don’t you just drive?”
“I don’t feel like driving. Since you enjoy the walk through town so much, I figured we could go together.”
I cringed. My ass still ached horribly with every step. “But we shouldn’t be carrying secured information in public, especially when it’s dark.”
“By the time we pick up the messages, the sun will be up. I have a locked briefcase and my little bodyguard. I’m not too worried.”
Scowling, I stopped and put my hands on my hips. “You know my butt is killing me and that it hurts to move. Why are you making me do this?”
He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and continued on his way. “Because you are grounded, and I didn’t want you to feel like I abandoned you.”
“But it hurts.”
“Whining isn’t going to make me turn around to get the car.”
“I don’t like you right now.”
“Really? I would never have guessed.”
Despite my discomfort, the early morning stroll was nice. Ray held my hand to help me up the steep, narrow steps between the buildings, making me feel very cared for and protected.
“Daddy? Do we have to go to the message center right away?”
“Do you have something in mind, Peanut?”
“I want to go to the beach. Please?”
“You’re grounded. That means no playing.”
“Oh.” I looked at the ground, not even trying to hide my disappointment.
Ray squeezed my hand and then released it. “Maybe we can go for a few minutes. Time to look professional. We’re in view of the base.”
The Marine at the gate saluted as we walked through. I waited impatiently as Ray spoke with him, asking about his night, the conditions, and if there was anything he could suggest to make his job more efficient. I was handed a notebook and jotted down Ray’s comments, taking notice that the young man looked exceptionally pleased that the base’s commander cared enough to ask for his thoughts and opinions.
Doing things like this was the reason he was so respected as a leader. He never showed favoritism and treated both enlisted and officers the same, regardless of their rank or job specialty. In his Marine Corps, no one was disposable or lacked worth, and he encouraged the best from everyone.
We headed towards the beach and sat on the rocks as the sun peaked over the horizon.
“You genuinely believe in people, don’t you?” I observed.
“I do. Even those who I don’t personally care for have value and worth; it’s just a matter of finding it.”
“What do you do if you’re stuck with someone you don’t like?”
“I stay professional. I learned long ago that those people incapable of putting aside their personal feelings in business would only hurt themselves and the people around them.”
“But what about people who are harmful? People like my parents who are evil and destructive?”
“Even toxic people can play a part in life. If anything, they can show us how not to behave and how not to treat others. I had a commander in OCS who taught us that the first rule of warfare was to keep your friends close and your enemies closer. This way you always knew what they were up to and were never caught off guard. You never had to worry about your enemy turning against you as long as he was in your camp, but as soon as you tried to ostracize him, you asked for war. If he was a person without scruple or integrity, it was only a matter of time before he could turn the events against you.”
“Then what?”
“People like that eventually self-destruct and cannibalize themselves. I try not to give them any power by continuing to stick to my guns, tell the truth, and not allow them to turn me into what they are.”
I picked up a shell and rolled it over in my hand. “I need to tell you something. I think you’ll be happy about it, too. I didn’t want to hurt myself last night.”
“So your spanking was sufficient?”
“I suppose. You made me hug you, too. I think that helped.”
“I think that keeping you in this little girl headspace is the best thing for you. Are there any activities that might help with keeping you there?”
“I don’t know. This is all so new to me. I like going out and exploring places, going to the beach, and doing puzzles. It’s just hard since we really can’t do anything outside of the house unless we are out of the country.”
“I’ll think of things for us to do together.” He patted my thigh and stood up. “Let’s pick up those messages and start for home. I have some French crullers to make.”
***
Being grounded sucks. I mean, when work becomes more fun than being home, you know there’s a problem. I learned a few things during this time about a Daddy Dom’s level of patience and how far I could push. For example:
Cutting out two holes in the New York Times (his coveted newspaper) so that you can look at him from the other side is only funny for a few seconds. After the surprise had worn off, he frowned and sent me to sort through the trash to find the missing pieces so that I could tape them back in place. Gross.
Laying down in the middle of the floor out of boredom to make him step over me and give me some attention only resulted in treating me like a log for him to sit on. Not fun.
Taking plastic wrap and running around the room making barriers to dive over and under while he chased me down was fun until I was caught. That was when I discovered that saran wrap was very strong when wrapped around one’s arms and feet, and keeps one restrained from moving when being spanked.
Coloring the laces of his running shoes with crayons only served the purpose of making me go running with him. I hate running. I would rather have been spanked.
Rubber gluing his combat boots to the concrete resulted in an evening spent having to pick out every piece of the nasty goo from the boots with a toothpick.
Sewing up the fly to his underwear resulted in having to bring them all to work and undo the stitches under my desk, hoping that no one will catch me. Incidentally, I claimed innocence for that stunt, but he didn’t believe me.
Finally, taking the ink part out of his pens to force him to talk to me instead of work was a huge mistake. Once he realized what I did, I had to write lines with the inky things. Do you know how hard it is to write ‘I will not mess with any of Daddy’s office supplies to get attention’ 500 hundred times with the inside part of a pen?
Needless to say, I don’t know who was happier when that week was over—me or Daddy.
Chapter 6
About a month later, we boarded a plane to Australia for a discussion regarding bringing Marines to the country for training. I had one word to say about this meeting: boring. Making matters worse, Ray ensured that I had no opportunity to disappear and forced me to sit through the horrid conference and take useless notes. I doodled a picture of him running for Congress with his head up the president’s butt and received a painful pinch under the table. After four of the longest hours of my life, we went to the hotel to change for dinner at the host’s home.
The man’s wife was part aborigine, and she had native foods available to sample at the affair. I got another elbow nudge from Les as a plate of ‘local cuisine’ was being ass
embled for us to taste. There was no doubt now regarding our general’s sadistic streak when it came to foreign foods and the American palate. Les quickly complained of a stomach ache and disappeared just as Ray approached us with a plate filled with questionable items.
“Where’s Les?”
“He said he had a stomach ache. You can’t be serious about making me eat this stuff. You’re gonna kill me,” I groaned.
“Remember my rule. Taste first, make faces later.”
“You want me to eat bugs? Daddy, you can’t make me do this,” I whispered, wrinkling my nose.
“These are honey ants. Just suck the back of the sack like this. It takes a bit of work, but I promise the results are well worth it.” He bit the sack open and held it to my mouth. “Open.”
The last time he gave that order, he made me eat soap, so I shuddered before tentatively obeying. I was rewarded with a flavor that was a cross between dried strawberries and honey.
“Well?” he asked, sucking a sack between his lips.
“It’s really good. I just can’t get over the idea that it’s a bug.”
“Eating native foods is 99% mental and has little to do with flavor. This is a witchetty grub and is considered a prime delicacy. This one is cooked in butter and garlic, but most of the natives eat them raw. Just close your eyes and try not to let the texture bother you.”
“Do I have to?” I eyed the small, sausage-like item on the plate.
“Do you have to ask?”
With a reluctant sigh, I opened my mouth and let him put the nasty thing on my tongue. I couldn’t prevent myself from initially gagging as I started to chew. The flavor was very close to nuts mixed with fried egg whites, but nothing I would ever want to try again. I couldn’t get over the fact that it was an insect larva. A roasted locust dipped in honey, tasted like burnt toast and did not impress me in the least—plus one of the legs got jammed between my teeth. I will admit that the emu, alligator, and kangaroo meat was delicious.
