He is waiting


! he waitsThe sun is shockingly white and all the new grass and flowers are vivid. Amid it all, bright stars of fluff drift in the air like snow, propelled along by the lightest of breezes. Even her fire-red hair glows in the morning light, hanging in a cascade of curls onto cotton-white lace that falls to her waist.

Below this darker curls are seen where they should not be and her face colours to match her hair.

“Daddy, I am too old for a spanking,” she tells him, but he just glares back like a real father would.

From where she is standing he can see her pale bare bottom, she knows that and she blushes. He can’t really mean for her to go outside half naked? She looks apprehensive at the serene sunlight world; it is all too beautiful a day to be punished. But at least she sees no one; not yet.

There is nothing for it so she steps from the haven of the doorway onto soft green glass as she bites at her lip to supress the boil of emotions.

The breeze is cool on her bare legs and bottom and she hugs herself to crouch a little. There is no one to see, but her shame is acute. So she scampers like a wood nymph for a stand of trees only sparsely obscured from the road.

In her hand are stout scissors for the cutting. He told her to fetch a switch like youngsters of her youth. Her eyes had been wide at this instruction and she would have begged anything for a reprieve. But Daddy is as immoveable as the old stone wall along the garden boundary.

It seems like an age in dangerous exposure until she reaches the stand of willow; lightly budded with green as the season turned. Only then did she glance to the road for a witness. Heart pounding now, she takes little solace from the absence of prying eyes, not when anyone could come by on such a day.

It takes eons to find willow length that will serve, longer since she must continually glance to the road for neighbours, but it would not do to fail in the task. She shudders. Daddy would be cross.

Two thin withes just below a yard long cut easily and she slices the air with each in turn. It takes longer to trim the buds, but so intent on the task is she that she forgets her shameful exposure for a moment. Her tongue pokes beyond her lips in concentration as she trims.

Two thin sticks between hands behind her back frame her pale bare bottom as she dances back across the cool grass to the house. It is not that she is eager, why would you think that? But someone might come and see her nakedness.

So finally she makes the harbour of the dark doorway and passes beyond to where she is safe.

He is waiting. Sitting in the armchair he studies her sternly as she hands him the two switches.

“I asked for the one?” he says sharply as he takes them.

She shrugs and makes a small worried pout.

In return for this minor disobedience she would not put it past him to discard her small offerings and send out again to cut a new switch. But disaster is averted.

“Place yourself across the arm of the chair,” he tells her with a sigh. He standing now and bracing the two pain sticks between his large firm hands,

She gulps as her gaze flicks from him to the cool brown padded leather pressing close to her naked thighs. But she obeys, so that she folds elegantly over the proffered furniture, her bare bottom round and uppermost.

He is behind her now and he is waiting. So long that she whimpers and squirms.

Then all at once a crisp line of pain touches close to where she sits and she makes to hiss.

“I’m sorry daddy, I’m so sorry,” she whimpers as thwicking lines sear her bottom one upon the other.

She pushes her bottom up to meet his efforts, although tears spring from her eyes and she cannot keep still.

“I think I will use both your gifts,” he says sternly.

“Yes Daddy, I deserve it,” she replies through rueful tears.

“Hush my princess, it will soon be over.” His voice sooths even as his hands do not.

“It’s burny, it’s burny,” she mumbles until he is finished.

Then will come the safety of his arms and all will be forgiven.


5 Responses to “He is waiting”

  1. 1 George

    A duty for each father. Unti marriage day…

  2. “It’s burny, it’s burny…”

    What a beautifully written story, so evocative.

  3. Iliked the story the way it was lId out and also the naked picture too.

  4. 4 DJ

    thanks – I hope you spotted that ‘daddy’ wasn’t the father – maybe it was all too understated,

  5. 5 Svetlana

    The third paragraph should have made it obvious for anyone but those who think that fathers who don’t glare are not real. 😉

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