DAY ONE OF pop 'S punishment




Then, with a facial expression of grave seriousness on his expression, Daddy said he was angry, and that he was very disappoint with me. I don't know what I did to make him so, but I was sure scared ; last time papa said he was furious at me he made my lip bleed, and he made me stick in my room for a long, long fourth dimension. I thought about hiding so pop couldn't find me, but I knew that would just clear 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 party plates.

daddy didn't say another discussion ; I am kind of used to that, dada 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 verbalize to me again. He watched as I cleared the table and then took the dirty dinner party plates to the sink, and when I put the ketchup and the butter back into the refrigerator, but he didn't say a give-and-take. When I'd finished clearing the table I went to the sink to wash out our dishes, and I could feel him staring at me, still sitting in his chairwoman at the table, and I was afraid to turn around to expect at him because that would probably just make him mad all over again.

The water from the spigot was so moth-eaten that I could find horripilation pop up all over my body as soon as I put my hands in the water, but Daddy says that hot urine is too expensive so I have had to get used to doing the beauty and taking my baths in the cold. I've tried to get used to it, but it's hard ; I guess my body still isn't used to it because I still get the goosebumps, and it's been almost six months now since the heat was shut off, but I am thinking that maybe it'll be easier when it gets to be summer again, and the days are warmer.

I was washing the glasses we drank out of at dinner party, 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 and he and I would watch ma standing right where I was then, doing the dinner party dishes with her back towards us, and that was when I got really, really scared. I didn't hear dad get up from his chair and walk up behind me, I was still thinking about watching Mommy when she would do the dishes, but when he spoke right on side by side to my ear it scared me so a lot that I dropped the glass I was washing and it shattered on the roofing tile floor.

I started to cry right then ; I knew dada didn't like cry-babies and I knew I shouldn't do it, but I just couldn't barricade myself. Too many memories of what papa 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 mama was standing at the swallow hole ; 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 make me cry, and it was all his demerit in the number one berth because he was the one who snuck up behind me and talked in my ear, I wouldn't have dropped the glass 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 mountain of time before, and I've always managed to quiet down down, but this time I was just too frighten off. I tried, and I just ended up making stupid crying sounds instead. I braced myself to pick out the wallop of the gust I was sure was coming to me, thinking about how unfair it was that he was so often bigger and unattackable 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 work even loud, stupefied audio.

I jumped a footling when I felt him localize both of his big hands on my shoulders, and I was still crying and trying not to, and still making coddle sounds, so it took me a few seconds to recognise that he wasn't hurting me ( at least for the present moment ), but instead he was applying pressure on my berm to force me down. I guessed that he wanted me to deform down to pick up the part spyglass, so I started to do so, but when I got about half way down and was in a sort of squat position he slipped his big hands under my armpits and stopped me, and then he started to wrick me around.

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

What a unusual muckle we must have been ; me squatting up against the kitchen sink and dada standing directly in front of me with his thumb in my mouth, but I didn't laugh or even try to dissent, and when Daddy told me to close my mouth and suction on his pollex because I was just a baby, I did so because I had never seen such a foreign feeling on Daddy's brass before. I stopped sucking my own pollex when I was six, and it took me a couple moments 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 River in my mouth, almost pulling it all the way out before sliding it back in ; saying things like"that's right, Baby"and telling me to sop up it harder.

He had a crazed face on his font, and I guess I was now more entrance than frightened because I started to get into it for him, sucking his thumb like it was the earth's tastiest lollipop, as he continued to boost me. But then he removed his other script from my shoulder and placed it upon the rachis of my top dog, his big fingers wrapping around my neck opening, guiding my capitulum back and Forth over his ovolo. Daddy continued to slip one's mind his thumb back and Forth in my sass, but now he stopped talking and just closed his middle while he did it, but he still had that unknown, form of creepy smile on his back talk the whole time.

It was weird, and I variety of felt a lilliputian comical sucking Daddy's thumb, but it was much easily than getting a whooping from him, so I just kept letting him take my head back and Forth River over his thumb. There's no clock in the kitchen so I don't really know how tenacious we did that, my undecomposed guess would be maybe five minutes or so, and eventually he instructed me to use my knife to lick his thumb each time it went all the way into my mouth. I began to relax a slight because pa was using a much softer 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 dishes and dinner things.

daddy stopped moving his thumb into my mouth eventually ; like I said, I don't know how much time later and just paused with his thumb just at the peak of my backtalk. He still had his big manus on the back of my neck, but he was no longer trying to incite my head forward or his thumb into my sassing. I opened my eyes to await at him but he still had his center closed. We stayed that way for a short clip, and then with his optic still closed he stepped forward and directly up against me. I had no melodic theme what was coming next, and there really wasn't much more than a half step between us to get with, but I stayed put as he removed his thumb from my lip and pressed his jeans up against me.

The get-go thing I realized was that Daddy 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 script that was on the back of my neck to hold me against him, and whatever was in his bloomers felt very lovesome. Daddy then put his other mitt behind my neck as well, and as he held me firm against whatever that warm, hard thing in his pants was, he also started to act his hips a little, variety of like he was dancing up against me, rubbing his jeans on my oral fissure and against my face. Daddy did this for a couple of minutes, occasionally moving one of his big secure hands up to the vertebral column of my brain so that he could turn my face, which would make the heavy thing in his pants press up against my buttock and ear, all the while he remained quiet and his eyes stayed shut.

daddy picked up the pace a little, moving his articulatio coxae a little bit faster as he pressed up against me and I started to vex that whatever the hard affair he had in his pocket was going to hurt me, but then he made a loud grunting sound that sounded like it came from deep inside his throat, and stopped completely. He let go of my neck and the back of my nous with both of his hands and then he took a stair backwards and opened his centre. He didn't look 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 encourage instructions and I didn't want to anger him all over again. We stayed that way for a niggling bit, me looking up at him from my diddly status against the cabinet below the sink and him looking back down at me with his sleepy eyes, and then all at once he shook his header as if he was coming out of a daydream. His heart cleared and he looked around quickly then back down at me.

When he finally spoke his representative held no angriness, but that face of grave distressfulness was back on his font. There was no smile, creepy or otherwise, and his eyes had cleared and sharpened in the look I had become very comrade with, the flavor that meant he was not screwing around. I was told that I would make to be punished for making Daddy mad, and also that I would take to"do redundant work"to draw up for the glass I had broken. I didn't dare protest, the sincerity on his facial expression told me that I had no choice but to hear to what he said, so instead I stayed mum and just nodded that I understood.

dada informed me that he was going to aim a shower, and that he expected me to have the broken glass picked up and the residuum of the dinner party dishful 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 up into his bed and wait for the rest of my punishment. I hadn't said a unity Word since dinner and when I spoke my voice was kind of thick and crackly because of my crying, but I managed to skreak out a soft"Yes, Sir"at his book binding as he walked down the hall towards his bedroom.




WF 13.1.2016