DAY ONE OF pop 'S PUNISHMENT




Then, with a look of tomb seriousness on his face, Daddy said he was angry, and that he was very disappointed with me. I don't know what I did to make him so, but I was sure scared ; last time daddy said he was angry at me he made my lip bleed, and he made me stay in my room for a prospicient, yearn time. I thought about hiding so Daddy couldn't find me, but I knew that would just stool 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.

Daddy didn't say another Holy Writ ; I am sort of used to that, pappa stays really quieten when he is mad, that's how I know he's still mad, because when he is no longer mad he will peach 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 word. When I'd finished clearing the board I went to the sink to wash our ravisher, and I could experience him staring at me, still sitting in his professorship at the table, and I was afraid to call on around to look at him because that would probably just realise him mad all over again.

The piddle from the faucet was so cold that I could experience goosebumps pop up all over my body as soon as I put my manus in the water, but pappa says that hot body of water is too expensive so I have had to get used to doing the dishes and taking my baths in the cold. I've tried to get used to it, but it's hard ; I guess my organic structure still isn't used to it because I still get the goosebumps, and it's been almost six months now since the passion was shut off, but I am thinking that maybe it'll be easier when it gets to be Summer again, and the mean solar day are warmer.

I was washing the glasses we drank out of at dinner, and I guess I let my judgement wander a little because I was remembering back when I used to sit on Daddy's lap after dinner and he and I would watch Mommy standing right where I was then, doing the dinner party dishes with her backbone towards us, and that was when I got really, really scared. I didn't hear Daddy get up from his chair and walk up behind me, I was still thinking about watching Mommy when she would do the cup of tea, but when he spoke ripe side by side to my ear it scared me so much that I dropped the glassful I was washing and it shattered on the roofing tile floor.

I started to cry right then ; I knew Daddy didn't like cry-babies and I knew I shouldn't do it, but I just couldn't stop myself. Too many memory of what papa did to Mommy when he was mad at her, and how he would move out me from his lap and then get up and take the air to where Mommy was standing at the sink ; he would be mad at her and he would make her cry, and now he was mad at me and I was sure he was going to lay down me cry, and it was all his defect in the first place because he was the one who snuck up behind me and talked in my ear, I wouldn't have dropped the methamphetamine 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 supporter myself.

"Shut up !"daddy told me,"or I'll give you something to really cry about."He has said that to me slew of times before, and I've always managed to quiet down down, but this sentence I was just too scared. I tried, and I just ended up making stupe crying sounds instead. I braced myself to take the impact of the shock I was sure was coming to me, thinking about how unfair it was that he was so lots bigger and stronger 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 make even tacky, unintelligent sounds.

I jumped a little when I felt him localise both of his big manpower on my berm, and I was still crying and trying not to, and still making babe sounds, so it took me a few sec to understand that he wasn't hurting me ( at least for the moment ), but instead he was applying pressure sensation on my shoulders to hale me down. I guessed that he wanted me to twist down to beak up the broken deoxyephedrine, so I started to do so, but when I got about half way down and was in a sort of scrunch up attitude he slipped his big manus under my axillary cavity and stopped me, and then he started to plough me around.

It was kind of awkward to ferment around with papa still holding my shoulders, but I managed a kind of frog-walk in a half set and when I was completely facing him I looked up to see his font ; he had a smile I'd never seen before and it was kind of creepy, not the smile I had seen back in better days when Mommy was still around and pappa was glad, more than of a smiling that said he had made a decision and that he was proud of to no longer have to think about it. That smile replaced my fright with wonder, and I opened my mouth to ask him why, and that was when he slipped his big thumb into my mouth.

What a strange sight we must give been ; me squatting up against the kitchen sink and pa standing directly in front line of me with his thumb in my oral cavity, but I didn't laugh or even try to protest, and when Daddy told me to close my mouth and sucking on his ovolo because I was just a baby, I did so because I had never seen such a strange look on daddy's nerve before. I stopped sucking my own thumb when I was six, and it took me a duo present moment to do it redress for daddy, but I guess I got a bent of it pretty quickly because soon he was slipping his thumb back and forth in my mouth, almost pulling it all the way out before sliding it back in ; saying affair like"that's right, child"and telling me to suck it harder.

He had a crazed look on his look, and I guess I was now more fascinated than mark because I started to get into it for him, sucking his quarter round like it was the world's tastiest sucker, as he continued to boost me. But then he removed his other hand from my berm and placed it upon the back of my head, his big fingers wrapping around my neck, guiding my headway back and Forth over his thumb. Daddy continued to slip his quarter round back and forth in my rima oris, but now he stopped talking and just closed his eyes while he did it, but he still had that foreign, form of creepy grin on his brim the altogether time.

It was weird, and I sort of felt a little funny sucking daddy's ovolo, but it was much better than getting a whooping from him, so I just kept letting him manoeuver my chief back and Forth River over his thumb. There's no clock in the kitchen so I don't really know how long we did that, my best surmisal would be maybe five proceedings or so, and eventually he instructed me to use my tongue to clobber his thumb each prison term it went all the way into my mouth. I began to slack a little because dada was using a a good deal flaccid tone of voice by now, I didn't think he was still angry with me because he was saying things like"yeah, infant"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 dish and dinner things.

pa stopped moving his thumb into my mouth eventually ; like I said, I don't know how much metre later and just paused with his thumb just at the tips of my backtalk. He still had his big hand on the back of my neck, but he was no longer trying to motivate my read/write head forward or his pollex into my lip. I opened my eyes to look at him but he still had his eyes closed. We stayed that way for a suddenly time, and then with his eyes still closed he stepped forward and directly up against me. I had no idea what was coming next, and there really wasn't much more than a half footstep between us to begin with, but I stayed put as he removed his thumb from my mouth and pressed his blue jean up against me.

The first thing I realized was that pappa had something very hard in his pants, maybe in his pocket or something, but he was pressing it up against my face. He began using the mitt that was on the back of my neck opening to hold me against him, and whatever was in his knickers felt very lovesome. Daddy then put his other hand behind my neck as well, and as he held me firm against whatever that warm, punishing matter in his pants was, he also started to proceed his hips a little, kind of like he was dancing up against me, rubbing his jeans on my rima oris and against my aspect. dada did this for a couple of second, occasionally moving one of his big inviolable hands up to the spinal column of my head so that he could turn my face, which would make the concentrated matter in his gasp weight-lift up against my cheek and ear, all the piece he remained quiet and his eye stayed shut.

pop picked up the tread a small, moving his pelvic girdle a little bit faster as he pressed up against me and I started to occupy that whatever the hard thing he had in his pocket was going to hurt me, but then he made a flashy grunting sound that sounded like it came from late inside his throat, and stopped completely. He let go of my neck and the back of my read/write head with both of his hands and then he took a whole step backwards and opened his eyes. He didn't feeling mad at me anymore, in fact, he looked kind of sleepy, but I stayed exactly as I was and just looked up at him because he had not given me any further pedagogy and I didn't want to anger him all over again. We stayed that way for a small bit, me looking up at him from my squat position against the cabinet below the sink and him looking back down at me with his sleepy-eyed eye, and then all at once he shook his head as if he was coming out of a daydream. His center cleared and he looked around quickly then back down at me.

When he finally spoke his phonation held no anger, but that look of grave accent seriousness was back on his face. There was no smiling, creepy or otherwise, and his eyes had cleared and sharpened in the look I had become very familiar with, the look that meant he was not screwing around. I was told that I would have to be punished for making pappa mad, and also that I would have got to"do surplus work"to progress to up for the glass I had broken. I didn't daring objection, the seriousness on his aspect told me that I had no pick but to listen to what he said, so instead I stayed silent and just nodded that I understood.

Daddy informed me that he was going to take a shower, and that he expected me to have the broken glass picked up and the eternal sleep of the dinner saucer finished before he was done. I was told that as soon as I finished these chore I was to go get my jammies on, and then I was to climb into his bed and time lag for the quietus of my punishment. I hadn't said a single word since dinner and when I spoke my part was sort of thick and crackly because of my crying, but I managed to screak out a soft"Yes, Sir"at his rear as he walked down the G. Stanley Hall towards his bedroom.




WF 13.1.2016