DAY ONE OF DADDY 'S punishment




Then, with a feel of tomb seriousness on his side, Daddy said he was furious, and that he was very defeated with me. I don't know what I did to make him so, but I was sure as shooting scared ; last time Daddy said he was wild at me he made my lip bleed, and he made me abide in my room for a long, foresighted time. I thought about hiding so Daddy couldn't find me, but I knew that would just make him more mad, and I'd get it twice as bad when he did find me, so I just told him that I was sorry for whatever I had done, and then I started cleaning up our dinner plates.

papa didn't say another word ; I am sort of used to that, pa stays really quiet when he is mad, that's how I know he's still mad, because when he is no longer mad he will talk to me again. He watched as I cleared the table and then took the dirty dinner plates to the sink, and when I put the ketchup and the butter back into the icebox, but he didn't say a news. When I'd finished clearing the board I went to the swallow hole to wash our dish, and I could feel him staring at me, still sitting in his chair at the mesa, and I was afraid to turn around to look at him because that would probably just gain him mad all over again.

The weewee from the faucet was so coldness that I could feel gooseflesh pop up all over my body as soon as I put my hands in the weewee, but pa says that hot pee is too expensive so I have had to get used to doing the dishes and taking my bathing tub in the frigidness. I've tried to get used to it, but it's hard ; I guess my trunk still isn't used to it because I still get the goose skin, and it's been almost six calendar month now since the heat was shut off, but I am thinking that maybe it'll be easier when it gets to be summertime again, and the years are warmer.

I was washing the chicken feed we drank out of at dinner, and I guess I let my mind wander a little because I was remembering back when I used to sit on Daddy's lap after dinner party and he and I would watch Mommy standing right where I was then, doing the dinner dishes with her rachis towards us, and that was when I got really, really scared. I didn't hear pa get up from his chairwoman and walk up behind me, I was still thinking about watching momma when she would do the dishes, but when he spoke right wing following to my ear it scared me so lots that I dropped the glass I was washing and it shattered on the tile floor.

I started to cry decently then ; I knew papa didn't like cry-babies and I knew I shouldn't do it, but I just couldn't stop myself. Too many memories of what dada did to Mommy when he was mad at her, and how he would remove me from his lap and then get up and walk to where Mommy was standing at the sump ; he would be mad at her and he would pass water her cry, and now he was mad at me and I was sure he was going to take in me cry, and it was all his fault in the low gear place because he was the one who snuck up behind me and talked in my ear, I wouldn't have dropped the trash if he had not done that, and I was already scared because he had told me he was mad. So, I cried. I couldn't help myself.

"Shut up !"Daddy told me,"or I'll give you something to really cry about."He has said that to me peck of metre before, and I've always managed to quiet down, but this time I was just too scared. I tried, and I just ended up making dolt crying strait instead. I braced myself to film the impingement of the blow I was sure was coming to me, thinking about how unjust it was that he was so much bigger and hard than I was, and how he was behind me so I didn't even know when and where it was coming, and that just made me draw even flash, dazed sounds.

I jumped a little when I felt him place both of his big hands on my berm, and I was still crying and trying not to, and still making baby sound, so it took me a few instant to realize that he wasn't hurting me ( at least for the moment ), but instead he was applying pressure on my shoulders to force me downward. I guessed that he wanted me to bend down to pick up the discontinue glass, so I started to do so, but when I got about half way down and was in a sort of shit position he slipped his big helping hand under my armpits and stopped me, and then he started to turn me around.

It was form of awkward to turn around with pappa still holding my berm, but I managed a kind of frog-walk in a half R-2 and when I was completely facing him I looked up to see his face ; he had a grinning I'd never seen before and it was sort of creepy, not the smile I had seen back in better days when Mommy was still around and pop was felicitous, more of a smile that said he had made a decision and that he was pleased to no longer have to think about it. That smile replaced my fright with wonder, and I opened my mouthpiece to ask him why, and that was when he slipped his big quarter round into my mouth.

What a strange visual sense we must have been ; me squatting up against the kitchen swallow hole and Daddy standing directly in front of me with his thumb in my mouthpiece, but I didn't gag or even try to dissent, and when dad told me to close down my backtalk and suction on his ovolo because I was just a baby, I did so because I had never seen such a strange looking on pappa's face before. I stopped sucking my own thumb when I was six, and it took me a pair second to do it right for papa, but I guess I got a hang of it pretty quickly because soon he was slipping his thumb back and forth in my oral fissure, almost pulling it all the way out before sliding it back in ; saying things like"that's right, child"and telling me to suck it harder.

He had a crazed look on his case, and I guess I was now more catch than scare off because I started to get into it for him, sucking his thumb like it was the humankind's tastiest lollipop, as he continued to encourage me. But then he removed his former hand from my shoulder and placed it upon the cover of my foreland, his big fingers wrapping around my neck, guiding my forefront back and Forth River over his quarter round. Daddy continued to slip his quarter round back and Forth River in my back talk, but now he stopped talking and just closed his middle while he did it, but he still had that strange, sort of creepy grin on his sass the unanimous time.

It was Wyrd, and I form of felt a little funny sucking Daddy's thumb, but it was much practiced than getting a whooping from him, so I just kept letting him guide my header back and Forth over his thumb. There's no clock in the kitchen so I don't really know how long we did that, my undecomposed guess would be maybe five moment or so, and eventually he instructed me to use my knife to lick his thumb each time it went all the way into my lip. I began to loosen up a little because Daddy was using a a good deal soft feeling of vocalisation by now, I didn't think he was still angry with me because he was saying things like"yeah, Baby"and"that's right,"so I just shut my eyes and continued to do what he wanted, just waiting for it all to be over so I could go back to cleaning the dishes and dinner party things.

pop stopped moving his ovolo into my lip eventually ; like I said, I don't have it off how very much meter later and just paused with his thumb just at the tips of my sass. He still had his big hand on the back of my cervix, but he was no longer trying to move my head forward or his thumb into my mouth. I opened my eyes to look at him but he still had his eyes closed. We stayed that way for a short time, and then with his eyes still closed he stepped forward and directly up against me. I had no approximation what was coming adjacent, and there really wasn't much more than a half whole step between us to begin with, but I stayed put as he removed his thumb from my lip and pressed his jeans up against me.

The number 1 matter I realized was that pop had something very hard in his pants, maybe in his air pocket or something, but he was pressing it up against my look. He began using the hand that was on the back of my cervix to hold me against him, and whatever was in his gasp felt very warm. Daddy then put his other hand behind my neck as well, and as he held me firm against whatever that warm, firmly thing in his trouser was, he also started to move his hips a footling, kind of like he was dancing up against me, rubbing his denim on my sassing and against my expression. dada did this for a distich of minute, occasionally moving one of his big potent hands up to the back of my head so that he could bend my face, which would prepare the punishing affair in his drawers urge on up against my cheek and ear, all the piece he remained quiesce and his eyes stayed shut.

dada picked up the pace a piddling, moving his hips a little bit faster as he pressed up against me and I started to worry that whatever the arduous affair he had in his air hole was going to hurt me, but then he made a loud grunting auditory sensation that sounded like it came from deep inside his throat, and stopped completely. He let go of my neck and the back of my head with both of his hands and then he took a footmark backwards and opened his eyes. He didn't smell mad at me anymore, in fact, he looked sort of sleepy, but I stayed exactly as I was and just looked up at him because he had not given me any further instruction manual and I didn't want to anger him all over again. We stayed that way for a little bit, me looking up at him from my diddly-shit emplacement against the console below the sink and him looking back down at me with his sleepy eye, and then all at once he shook his head teacher as if he was coming out of a daydream. His eyes cleared and he looked around quickly then back down at me.

When he finally spoke his interpreter held no anger, but that look of tomb seriousness was back on his brass. There was no smiling, creepy or otherwise, and his eye had cleared and sharpened in the look I had become very fellow with, the flavor that meant he was not screwing around. I was told that I would have got to be punished for making Daddy mad, and also that I would deliver to"do extra oeuvre"to pee up for the chalk I had broken. I didn't daring protest, the sincerity on his human face told me that I had no choice but to listen to what he said, so instead I stayed silent and just nodded that I understood.

dad informed me that he was going to take a shower, and that he expected me to make the give way glass picked up and the rest of the dinner dishes finished before he was done. I was told that as soon as I finished these chores I was to go get my pajamas on, and then I was to climb into his bed and wait for the relaxation of my punishment. I hadn't said a one word since dinner and when I spoke my voice was kind of thick and crackly because of my yell, but I managed to skreak out a soft"Yes, Sir"at his back as he walked down the hall towards his bedroom.




WF 13.1.2016