It had been such a long day.  I was so tired.  I was tired of school, sick of it, really.  I couldn’t wait for it to be over.  Just a few more weeks to go.  I wasn’t sure if I could last.  It was drudgery.  Summer couldn’t come soon enough.

 

The blast of cool air on my face as I walked into the house felt good, refreshing.  It blew my short blond hair up and combed it back.  And, the aroma of the simmering roast beef smelled delicious. 

 

“Mom, I’m home,” I announced, making my way to my room.  I threw my backpack, weighed down by books, onto my desk.  As I changed from Levis and a polo into board shorts and a surf t-shirt, I heard Mom beckon me, “Jackie, come in here, please.”

 

Changing from Sabagos to flip flops, I responded, “Just a sec.”

 

Home revived me.  I was able to shake off the weight of homework, the oppression of cliques, and the burden of special projects.  Now, I just wanted to go outside and play with my friends and enjoy the beautiful spring day.

 

Opening my bedroom door, I asked, “Mom, where are you?”

 

“In the living room,” she responded.

 

“Yes, Ma’am?” I asked when I found her.  Just under 5’3”, her petite frame stood erect and smartly dressed, her long blond hair lifted off her neck and secured in a stylish clasp.  Unlike my pragmatic and comfortable taste, Mom had an eye for fashion and style. 

 

“Here,” she patted the wooden bench, her blue eyes smiling, “I want you to practice the piano.”

 

The anticipation of playing outside in the bright sunshine sucked right out me, totally deflating my world.  “Mama, I don’t WANT to practice the piano.  I wanna go outside and play.”

 

“NOW, Young Lady.”

 

“MAMA!”  I whined.  “I can practice the piano ANY time.  It’ll be dark by the time I finish.”

 

“I’m not going to argue with you.  Sit down right now and start practicing.”

 

“Mama, No!  I don’t WANT to!  It’s too pretty of a day.”

 

“Jacqueline, I said to sit down and start practicing.”

 

“OH MY GOSH, Mom!  Why did you have to be a piano teacher?!”

 

“NOW!” 

 

“MOOOOOM!”  I growled, stomping my feet.  Heavily and begrudgingly, I plopped down onto the hard wooden bench.  I banged on the keys hard.

 

Even though I was 2 and a half inches taller than she, she was stronger.  Furious, she grabbed my arm, lifted me off the bench, marched me to my room, jerked my shorts and underwear down, flipped me over, just as she sat down on the edge of my bed, and slapped my bottom hard with her hand.  Wap, wap, wap.  I kicked and cried, begging her to stop.  She just continued.  Wap, wap, wap.  Her hand stung my backside like wasps.  Wap, wap, wap.  She just continued spanking harder and harder.  Streams of tears ran down my cheeks, splattering on the hardwood floor beneath me.

 

Finally, she stopped.

 

I just lay across her lap and sobbed.  Gently, she set her hand on my back and patted.  Then, she rose, lifting me up.  Stumbling, I got to my feet and searched for my underwear.  As I slid them on, she stated, “Stay in your room until dinner, do you understand me?”

 

Meekly, I responded, “Yes’am.”  But, I had other plans.  I lay on the bed, my bottom throbbing, feeling sorry for myself.  I listened for sounds betraying her location within the house.  When I was sure she was in the kitchen, far from my room, I quietly lifted up a window.  Then, very carefully, I took the screen off.  Listening closely, I could hear she was chopping vegetables on the cutting board.  It was now or never.  I took a deep breath and very quietly climbed out the window, dropping softly onto the grass.  Since that bedroom window faces the rear of the house, I was in no danger of being seen by neighbors. 

 

Quickly, I sprinted to the edge of the back yard and climbed the fence, jumping into the neighbor’s back yard.  I was free!  Yay!  Relaxing, I strolled over to my friend’s house, a few blocks away.

 

Liz answered the door and let me in. 

 

“Wanna watch MTV?” she asked, as she led the way to her bedroom.

 

“No, I wanna do somethin’ outside,“ I replied.

 

As Liz flopped onto her bed, her long jet black hair flew up in the air, then fell gracefully, embracing her thin cheeks.

 

Still standing, I suggested, “How ‘bout blackberry pickin’?  The water’s still too cold for me to go swimming.  Those stupid tourists are CRAZY gettin’ in there!”

 

“Hmmmmm, “ Liz thought, her dark eyes staring up at the ceiling.  “Ok, she finally agreed, and swung herself off the bed.

 

“I know a great place down at the sound,” I announced.

 

After getting two buckets, Liz and I ambled down the street and made our way to the calm water.  At the edge, a belt of Spartina, saltmarsh cordgrass, grew.  Wrapping their tendrils around the hollow stalks, briars stretched and blew plump, juicy blackberries out of their blossoms.

 

“Oh my gosh, Jackie, there’re a million here!”  Liz exclaimed.

 

“I know!” 

 

We both dug in voraciously, gently moving briars and stalks and leaves around, maneuvering to pick hiding blackberries and avoiding the sharp points of the briars.  The sun felt wonderful on my face, its warmth soothing.  The gentle breeze had a hint of the north chill, which kept perspiration at bay.

 

As we picked, Liz and I discussed our classmates, our homework, projects, and plans for the summer.  Some of our friends joined us and we played hide and seek for awhile.  Lost in our world, I didn’t realize the sun had made its way to the western horizon.

 

Hiding among the reeds, I whispered, “Oh, my gosh, Liz, these are DELICIOUS!” as I shoved a handful of plump blackberries in my mouth.

 

“’You’re gonna spoil your dinner,’” she mimicked a mother’s voice.

 

I laughed.  Then, all of a sudden, I realized….getting dark, dinner, grounded, room.  Abruptly, I stopped laughing. 

 

“What?” Liz asked.

 

“I’m grounded.  I was supposed to stay in my room until dinner.”

 

“You snuck out?”

 

“Yeah.  I gotta go.”  My heart started beating hard and I prayed that Mom had not been in my room to check on me.  I wasn’t sure if supper was ready, but, I knew it was close.

 

When I got to the fence, I carefully lowered the bucket down; I didn’t want to spill any of my treasure.  Then, I quietly climbed over, careful not to move the fence any more than necessary.  Tip toeing, I approached my window.  The screen was back in place and the window was closed and locked.

 

My head dropped.  SH--!  I was dead.  I wanted to just cry.  I fell to the ground, sitting with my back against the brick wall of the house.  Shadows came alive and laughed at me.

 

Taking a deep breath, I quietly stood up, walked to the gate and gently lifted the latch.  Just as I went through and was closing the latch, I heard Mom letting Lily, our white maltese, out the back door. 

 

“If Mom’s in the back, then, maybe I can sneak back in without her knowing,” I thought to myself, moving faster.  Then, my heart sank.  Dad’s car was in the driveway.  “Oh, my gosh!  I was in so much trouble!”

 

I stood outside by the door for, what seemed like, ever.

 

Then, I finally mustered up the courage to turn the knob….very slowly.  And, open the door…..very slowly.  Very slowly, I stepped inside and quietly shut the door.

 

Before I could turn around, I heard a deep voice, “I’m so glad you could join us, my Dear.”

 

I could feel tears welling up in my green eyes.  Gulping, I reluctantly turned to see my dad sitting on the couch in the living room, an open book resting on his lap.  The bright light from the lamp illuminated his light brown hair, streaking it with blond highlights.  His piercing blue eyes impaled my soul; I wanted to die.

 

I was speechless and paralyzed.  I just stood there mute and motionless.

 

Apparently, Mother realized I was back and she came out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a dishtowel.  “Come in here,“ she ordered, tilting her head toward the living room.

 

Meekly, I followed, my eyes scrubbing the floor.

 

“Your mother tells me you pitched a fit this afternoon.  You didn’t want to practice the piano, “ Dad began.

 

I just stood there, my head down, my eyes focused on a knot in the wood.

 

“Then,” he continued, “you decided to do your own thing.”

 

BAM!  He closed the book and gently announced, “I think we need to have a TALK.”

Startled, I gasped at the loud noise and jerked my head up, just in time to see Dad set the book on the end table and stand up.  He towered over Mom by nearly a foot.  A united front, they were a veritable force.

 

My stomach was in knots.  I wanted to throw up.  I wanted to run.  Silent streams of tears began to flow down my cheeks.  I wished I could turn the clock back.

 

“When your mother tells you to do something, you do it, do you understand me?”

 

My head had fallen back down, my eyes staring at the grain in the wood.

 

“Do you understand me?!”

 

Humbly, and, almost at a whisper, I managed,”Yessir.”

 

“She is my wife and you WILL respect and obey her.  Do you understand me?”

 

“Yessir.”

 

“And, “ POP! I hadn’t even realized he had moved close to me.  His large left hand hit me squarely on my buttocks, lifting me off the ground an inch.  Had his right hand on my shoulder not held me, I would have fallen over. “Don’t you EVER climb out of the window AGAIN!  Do you understand me, Young Lady?!”

 

I was crying, now, and couldn’t answer.

 

POP!  “I asked you a question.”

 

Through tears, I responded, “Yes, Sir.”

 

“Good.  I’m glad we agree,” he smiled.

 

I sighed, thinking that that wasn’t so bad.  I almost smiled, too. 

 

Then, Dad remarked, “I hope those blackberries were good.”

 

I looked at my purple-stained fingers and scratched arms and legs that betrayed me.

 

Before I could respond, the fingers of Dad’s left hand were around the nape of my neck, pushing gently, guiding me forward…down the hall…to my room.  The faucet opened, again, and tears began to flow; my body vibrated with convulsions.  Mother followed closely behind us.

 

Inside my bedroom, Dad let me go, then, shut the door behind Mom.  He sat on my bed, joined by her.  I just stood before them, awkward, trembling, terrified.  My eyes found a surf poster on the wall.  I focused on the wave.  That calmed me.

 

“Look at me,” Dad ordered.

 

Startled, I jumped, then, averted my eyes, fixing them on his.

 

“Put your hands to your side.”

 

Sighing, I unclasped them from behind my back and dropped them by my side, where they swung awkwardly.

 

“I’m very disappointed in you, Young Lady,” Dad began.  “When I come home, I certainly don’t expect Mom to be complaining about your behavior.  A fit!  Are you 5 years old?!”

 

“Dad, it was a beautiful day!  I was tired of being locked up inside!  I wanted to be outside enjoying it!” I fought back.  “I come home from school and she immediately wants me to practice the piano!  No break, no nothin’!”  The tears were replaced by anger.

 

“I don’t care if she told you to clean the entire house!  You obey your mother!  Do you understand?”

 

“Dad, it was a beautiful day!”

 

“You obey your mother!”

 

“It’s not fair, Dad!”

 

“The issue is obedience, my Dear!”

 

“It’s still not fair!”  I mumbled.

 

“I asked you a question, Jacqueline.  Comprend tu?”

 

I wanted to say,”No, je ne comprend pas.”  But, I knew I was defeated. Quietly, I responded, “Oui, je comprend, Papa.”

 

“Bon!”  He stated.  “Now,” he said, “climbing out the window…..”

 

My heart sank.

 

“That is TOTALLY unacceptable.”  He rose to his feet.  Mom followed suit.  They both set their stern eyes on me, locking my gaze.

 

Unconsciously, I took a step backward.

 

Dad ordered, “Drop your pants and undies.”

 

“Dad!  NO!”  I protested.

 

“Now,” he calmly ordered.

 

“Papa!  S’il, tu plait!” I pleaded.

 

“If I have to repeat myself…..”

 

“Je ne veux pas une fessee,” I cried, tears streaming down my cheeks. 

 

Through tear blurred eyes, I saw Dad slowly approach me, his eyes glued on mine.  I held my breath, not knowing what he was going to do.  He looked down for a second, then, returned his gaze, just as his hands went forward toward me.

 

Gasping, I realized what he was doing.  “No!” I pleaded, just as his fingers unpopped the snap on my Oakley shorts, then, ripped the zipper down.  “Daddy! Please!” I wailed.

 

He spun me around, then, snatched my shorts and underwear down.  I cried uncontrollably. 

 

His heavy hand pushed my back down and he ordered, “Grab your ankles.”

 

“Dad, PLEASE!” I resisted.

 

His hand popped my backside hard.  “Now,” he calmly stated, pushing my back forward, waiting for me to wrap my fingers around my ankles.  “Good,“ he praised, as they took hold. 

 

My body shook as I cried, tears and clear snot flowing down to the floor.  I waited in fearful expectation for the unexpected.

 

As I heard the jingling of the belt buckle, I lifted my body up, stood erect, and turned to face him.  New tears surfaced and I begged him, “Please, Dad, No!”

 

“Back down,” he ordered.

 

Stomping, I resisted.

 

Mom, who had been an observer, stepped toward me and popped my behind hard with her sure hand.  “Now,” she ordered.

 

“Owwwww!” I cried, complaining.  Reluctantly, I bent over, grabbing my ankles above my shorts and underwear, which were resting on the tops of my feet.

 

I heard the wiz of the belt flying through the belt loops.  Then, the jingle of the buckle as Dad fastened the belt with the buckle.  Then, I felt the pressure of Dad’s right hand resting on my back.

 

My body racked with sobs.  Then, I held my breath.  I waited.  I braced myself.

 

RIP!  The heavy, thick leather bit deeply into my buttocks.  Gasping, I tried to catch my breath.  RIP!  Tears flowed heavily, forming a puddle around my toes.  RIP!  RIP!  RIP!  The licks came fast and hard.  “Owww!  Dad, please!”  The belt was a Gatling gun in Dad’s hand. 

“Daaaad!!!”  I cried.  He ignored my pleas.  Every time I tried to straighten up, his strong hand held me down.  RIP!  RIP!  RIP!  RIP!  RIP!  RIP!  RIP!  I danced around, moving my buttocks to avoid contact.  RIP!  RIP!  RIP!  RIP!  RIP!

 

FINALLY, his hand lifted.  As I sobbed, the tears splashed in the puddle at my feet.  Gently, he lifted me up.  My face was a mess.  Streams of black mascara tears flowed down the crevices of my cheeks, clear mucous dripped off my chin. 

 

My bottom swelled and radiated heat.  As I pulled my underwear back up, they scratched my sore buttocks.  Tears continued to flow and I lifted my shirt, wiping my face.

 

As Dad threaded his belt back in his trousers, he said, “You may come out where you’re ready to apologize to Mom.”  Just before they walked out of the room, he turned off the light, and shut the door.

 

I threw the shorts off my feet and dove for my bed, burying my muffled cries in my pillow.  With my fists and feet, I pounded the mattress hard.  Soon, I was spent; I had no more energy.  I had no more tears.  My bottom burned.     I lay on my bed, looking up at the dark ceiling.  A calmness swept over me.  I sniffed, wiped my face, again, on my shirt, now soaked. 

 

I sighed, sat up on my throbbing buttocks, a reminder of consequences.  Meekly, I opened the door.  The light in the hallway blinded me for a second.  Quietly, I made my way to the kitchen. 

 

Lying in her bed next to the wall, Lily raised her head, then, set it back down and closed her eyes as I entered the room.  Dad sat at the table, accepting a cup of coffee that Mom was serving him.  Their conversation abruptly ceased as I entered the room.  Mom turned and faced me, the coffee pot in her hand.

 

As I looked into her clear blue eyes, I quietly said, “Mom, I’m sorry.”

 

Her smile melted my heart.  She floated past me, set the pot down on the coffee maker, then, returned with arms opened wide.  Tenderly, she wrapped me in them, squeezing, kissing my cheek.  I bent down and hugged back.  “I forgive you,” she announced.

 

“Thank, you, Mama.”

 

As she let me out of her grasp, I noticed Dad, who was smiling at us.  He moved his chair away from the table a bit and patted his knees.  Without hesitation, I sat down and rested my head on his shoulder.  He engulfed me in his strong arms. 

 

“You know I hate spanking you, my Dear.” 

 

“Yessir,” I whispered.

 

“I take no pleasure in it whatsoever.”

 

“Yessir.”

 

But, I love you too much not to.”

 

“I know.”

 

He held me tightly.  Then, he put his right hand on my back and patted.  “I love you, my Dear.”

 

“I love you, too, Daddy.  I’m sorry.”

 

Dad smiled and said, “All is forgiven.”

 

I smiled and said, “Thank you.”

 

Dad loosened his grip, kissed my forehead, and lifted me to my feet.  As I stood, he gave me a gentle love pat on the seat.  And, smiled.

 

Mom, stirring the simmering green beans, smiled at us.  “Jackie, go change your shirt, please.  It’s a mess.  And, put on some pants.”

 

I looked down at the smeared and soaked shirt.  It was disgusting.

 

As I walked from the kitchen to the hallway, Mom continued, “And, fix the tea, please.  Supper is ready.”

 

I HATED to fix the tea. 

 

“Yes, Ma’am,” I responded, gingerly touching my sore behind.

Another well written, great story. I love the depth and detail of your stories as well as the believable subject matter. Cant wait for the next one!

Thank you so much, Steve; I really appreciate it. So glad you enjoyed it.

Riveting. Your story captures the fierce conflict involved. Most stories of this kind of parental discipline, things are resolved more easily than I think is typical in real life. As a reader, I felt somewhere in the middle of the battle.

Eric, thank you so very much. I truly appreciate your feedback. I drew very heavily from my experiences with my dad.

Once again - remarkable Characterization! You write these extremely well...

Thank you so much, Jack.

Great story, was it fact or friction? or percentage fact?

Thank you, Jelena. It was fiction, but, used some facts in it. That's exactly how my dad is.

You sent me this story but it was great re-reading it!

Yes, I did. So glad you like it, MTK

Brilliant story. That's how parenting should be!

Thank you so much, Reggie; I really appreciate it.

Great writing!

Thank you, Bob. That makes me feel good.

Wonderful story Jackie, it reminded me a lot of my experiences growing up. Very well written!

Thank you so much, Thomas; I really appreciate your kind words. I miss our chats. Hopefully we can catch up real soon.

Ohh myy

great story