Wait 'til your father gets home! - M/F

Not my work but one of my favorite stories!


I still blush every time I remember that day. It was a never ending day,
the longest day of my life;  or so it seemed.  After all,  I was twenty
years old, and it was damned embarrassing to have anybody know that Dad
still took a strap to my bare seat.

My parents were southerners from Louisiana, but we lived now in a small
New Jersey town, and like most fathers there, my  Dad believed in strict
discipline. He had told me long ago that he didn't cotton to all that
nonsense about a girl becoming a woman when she was eighteen. He then
added that I could expect to drop my panties for the strap right up
until I was twenty-one; and even beyond that, if I was still living at
home!



My Dad was a lawyer so there was no arguing with him. I was still home
and probably would be for at least another full year. I had a job in a
stereo store. I'd  worked there for almost three years already, saving
money for my college education. Dad could have afforded to send me, of
course,  but he said this was the only way I'd appreciate the learning I
got,  and I guess he was right.

There were definite rules at our house -  rules that went back to the
days when I was five or six.  Children didn't hit anybody, especially
younger than themselves. No running was allowed inside; Mom collected
antique china, and it was sitting all over the place where it could
easily be knocked down. No swearing; that was un-ladylike No smoking;
that was a filthy habit. No sassing back, that was lack of respect. And
no touching anything, EVER, in my Dad's study. Later on another rule was
added: Especially no touching the home computer in Dad's study!  He knew
how curious I was about it, but he had all his legal files and
confidential information stored in it, which could be wiped out by
somebody punching the wrong key.

There were other rules, too, but I remember those most because I managed
to break every single one of them in one morning, the morning of that
longest, agonizing, waiting, embarrassing day.

It was Flag Day, June 14th. One of those dumb holidays when some people
get off from work and some don't. I did, but Dad didn't.  He had a court
case that day, some kind of civil thing. It was a hot, sticky Friday,
and Aunt Grace was visiting for the weekend. She was a widow with three
kids: Bobby, age 10;  Sally, age 8; and Margaret, age 6. She'd brought
them all along, as usual.

They were all brats, but Bobby was the worst.  He was named after my
Dad, who was his godfather, and Dad doted on  him.  He was cute; coal
black curly hair and a face like a cherub, but he was a little bastard.
He always baited me, knowing I didn't dare touch him, and did his best
to get me into trouble. Sometimes he succeeded.

I slept late. When I finally woke up, I got a cigarette out of the
drawer where I hid them and lit up. My door was shut (and I thought,
locked), Dad was gone, and the smoke would be out the open window before
I got up to dress. I climbed back in bed, thinking how dumb it was not
to be allowed to smoke in your own house, when all the other guys at
work could.

I'd hardly taken three puffs before the door banged open. I frantically
stuffed my cigarette into a coke bottle beside the bed and turned
around. It was Bobby, still in his pajamas, like me. "You still in bed?
When you gonna get up?"  "When I feel like it. And what're you talking
about? You're not dressed, either!"

He sniffed. "Somethin's burnin'. "  He broke into a malicious grin. "You
been smokin'!"  "I have not! Get out of here!"  Bobby ran around the
other side of the bed and I dived for the coke bottle, but not before
he'd seen the butt in it.

"You've  been smokin'!"  he  hollered gleefully.  "I'm gonna tell!" "No,
Bobby, no!" I cried nervously. "Look, we'll do something you like today.
Wanna go to the movies?"  The  grin got wider. "Uncle Bob'll give it to
ya, won't he?   You'll get it with the good ole razor strap, huh?  Will
he take your panties down?"

I blushed. "Aw, cut it out, Bobby!  Come on, what do you want to do?" He
could see I was really scared. Still grinning, he turned to look at my
model planes. Those planes were my special treasures.  They'd taken
hours and hours of patient work to complete, and I'd never let him touch
them.  He picked up the biplane.   "Whoosh -  whoosh", he cried, waving
it all around and dangerously close to the bureau.

"No! Stop that!" I shouted angrily. "Put it down!"  "O.K.", he said
calmly - and let it drop. It hit the floor and splintered into a hundred
pieces.  That did it! I didn't even stop to think. I leaped out of bed,
throwing the coke bottle to the floor, grabbed him around the waist,
yanked down his pajama pants and gave him four or five good hard smacks
on his bare tail. He screamed bloody murder and kicked me. When I
grabbed my shin, he fled into the hall, pulling up his pants and yelling
for his mother.  I was right behind him. He yelled. "Mom! Sally hit me!"
"You little creep!" I screamed. "Shut up !"

I chased him to the top of the stairs and managed to grab his shoulder
just as we reached one of those spindly little tables Mom had stuck
around with her china on it. In the ensuing struggle one of Grandma's
cups and saucers bounced off and broke. I was so angry I didn't even
realize what was happening. He wrenched away from me again and I chased
him downstairs. By then both my Mom and aunt were yelling at us from the
kitchen doorway, but I hardly heard them.

We raced through the living room, over and around furniture, dangerously
shaking up more antique china, and then through the dining room, where
he tried to block me with a chair.  We raced past the kitchen doorway -
and I vaguely felt hands clutching at me as I tore by - then on into
Dad's study.

We stalked each other around Dad's desk.  "Just wait  'til I get my
hands on you, you little son-of-a-bitch!" I screamed, infuriated. "I'll
tear you apart."

He suddenly dived behind the table Dad had his computer on. Bobby ran
around the other side and I ran after him, but my big feet caught in the
wires. I tripped and went down - and the computer screen exploded beside
me on the floor.

It was suddenly very quiet.  And it suddenly began to dawn on me what
I'd done.  They were all in the doorway. Bobby had his face buried in
his mother's skirt and the other two were peeking from behind. My Mom
was standing there, her arms folded.

"Sally hit me! Sally smacked  me!" Bobby  was  sobbing  convincingly.
"Just because her old model plane slipped and fell on the floor!"

"You dropped one of Sally's airplanes?" Aunt Grace asked suspiciously.
At least she wasn't completely fooled by the performance!

"She said I could do anything I wanted because I caught her smokin'! It
was an accident!"

"Smoking?"  My mother's expression was frozen.

"So what!" I screamed. It was my turn to explode. "All my friends smoke!
Am I supposed to look like a baby in front of them every day?" I got to
my feet, shaking with fury. "I have to go out and earn my own way. I
should be able to do as I damn well please!"

"Don't you DARE speak to me like that, young lady!" Mom's eyes blazed.
"And you've broken one of Grandma's cups!   One  of the few things I
have left to remind me of her!  You KNOW I can never replace that!" She
choked back a sob,  then she was all ice again.   She looked at me
meaningfully.  "Just wait 'til your father gets home.  Now clean up this
mess!"  I bit my lip and my stomach sank to my toes. My bottom tingled.

The girls began to giggle. "Sally's gonna get the strap!" Annie
chortled.  "Serves her right!" Then, as they all began to move back
toward the kitchen, little Margaret suddenly ran up behind me where I
was bending over to pick up the remains of the monitor screen. Before I
knew what was happening, she'd grabbed the seat of my pajama pants,
hauled them halfway down my bare rear and gave me a sharp slap on the
right cheek.  "Naughty Sally!"  She shrieked, and fled after the rest of
them, howling with laughter.

I started to sweat. Was I ever gonna get it now!   Smoking, running,
breaking stuff, hitting a kid,  sassing, and smashing Dad's computer all
to hell. Yep, I was really gonna get it,  and get it good.

I could almost feel Dad's strap sizzling across my bare bottom right
then. One of the worst parts was that everybody knew exactly what was
going to happen to me out in that garage. It was bad enough to get a
strapping. But to be the oldest girl in the family and have everybody
know you were out there with your panties off, getting it across your
bare tail like a kid - oh GOD, it was just too much!

I cleaned up everything as best as I could. The day stretched out
endlessly before me.  I couldn't stop thinking about what was ahead. I
must have visualized myself bent over in that garage with the strap
blistering my bare bottom a million times before it actually happened.

I tried whatever I could think of to take my mind off it. I played my
stereo - the first song in the album was full of rhythmic clapping! I
read a little until I came to the part about this New England town where
they were going to take some guy out to the stocks and whip him. No
matter where I turned, there was a reminder of what I expected that
night.

And of course these bratty kids were after me about it at every
opportunity.  I couldn't get away from them. In the early afternoon, Mom
had sent me out to trim the low front hedge. "You may as well get used
to bending over," she'd remarked.

I was doing it just to have something to do. And while I was out there,
trying not to look at the garage, my friend Dean from work drove up in
her car. She came over and we started talking about work and a camping
trip we were planning. I had finally managed to forget the approaching
punishment for a few  minutes when those brats came dancing across the
lawn.

"Bobby's made up a poem for you!" Annie yelled gleefully. "We've all
learned it!" Bobby was quite a poet. Dad thought he was an absolute
genius. I thought he was a nerd; and I could just guess what any poem
for me would be, right then!

"Beat it!" I snarled.  "I'm busy!"

"Ready?"  Margaret squealed. "One -  two - THREE!"  And they all chimed
in, in sing-song:
          "Sally's gotta take her panties off
           because she wouldn't mind!
           And she's gonna get a STRAPPING
           right across hers bare behind! "
           SMACK - SMACK - SMACK - they all clapped their hands
together in unison and screamed with merriment.

I went red all over, naturally. "SHUT UP!  SHUT UP, DAMN YOU!"

"You cursed again!"  Bobby  taunted. "I'm gonna tell!" And they all ran
off, hooting and snickering.

"Is that for real?" she asked me. "Your old man is actually going to
strap your bare ass?"  "NO!" I swallowed nervously, still blushing.
"Those brats are just trying to get a rise out of me." "Sure they are."
She began to chuckle. "It's true then, isn't it? He's really gonna put
the leather to your bottom! Wow!  I wish I could see THAT!  When's he
going to do it!  After dinner?"

"Never MIND, goddamn it!"

She patted my shoulder. "No wonder you're so fuckin' nervous. Probably
will take you into the garage, huh? That was my Dad's favorite place!"
"Well, I don't know what in hell you did, but every time a gal gets a
bare ass licking, s he usually deserves it. I know I did. What time did
you say your Dad gets home?"


About an hour later, we were all having iced tea on the porch, where the
huge wisteria vines shaded us from the sun. It was unusually hot for
June. "Gracious, it certainly is warm."  Aunt Grace commented, fanning
herself with the paper. "Even here, behind those vines." Mom agreed.
"It's going to get even warmer behind Sally when her father comes home."
Jesus!  Couldn't they ever lay off?

Annie broke into a chant: "Sally's gonna get it! Sally's gonna get it!
Sally's gonna get it on her bare be-HIND!"  And she clapped her hands
together three times again and dissolved into a fit of giggles.

"Hush, dear," Aunt Grace exclaimed, but she was smiling. "I'm sure
Sally's spanking will be enough punishment without you tormenting her."
I got up, scarlet as usual, and left.

They didn't let up, of course. Every time they could catch me alone
they'd clap their hands together three times and hoot with derision. I
didn't dare touch them; all I could do was blush and fume and wish it
was all over.

Dad got home right on time. He parked the car in the driveway and I
heard him greet Mother in the hall downstairs. I had retreated to my
room. Their voices went low right after that. Then I heard them go into
Dad's study. The next thing I heard was "MY IBM!" and I steeled myself
for what was to follow.

The study door crashed open and I heard him stomp out into the hall. He
bellowed.  "SALLY, WHERE ARE YOU?"

I went to the top of the stairs, feet dragging. "I'm here, Dad."

"Young lady, I hope you realize your seat is going to get a strapping
you're going to remember for a long, long time! I intend to make sure
you don't sit down for weeks!"

"Y-Yes S-Sir," I stammered.

"Now get back to your room, and I suggest you stay there until dinner!"

"Yes, Dad -  " , but he'd stomped back into the study.

So I got to wait some more - alone - with my vivid visions of what I had
coming.

Dad kept a special sawhorse out in the garage just for such occasions.
It was a little lower than waist high, and padded with foam and a piece
of old blanket. I always had to bend over it, reach behind and grab my
legs at the knees while he went to work on my backside. The past and
immediate expected future  scene all blurred into one, and I could
almost feel the pressure of the horse against my pussy and the sting of
the strap against my rear.

Mother called me to eat, but it wasn't long before I wished I'd stayed
in my room. I couldn't touch my food.  Dinner was an agony of suspense,
anticipation, and embarrassment.   The kids were poking each other,
giggling, and would noiselessly spank one hand with the  other if they
saw me looking. I kept my face in my plate. The conversation went over
and around me as if I wasn't there;  almost entirely about punishment -
spanking in general and mine in particular.

The comments went on and on:
"Any young lady who takes authority into her own hands with a smaller
child certainly needs to get his own bottom blistered."

"Young cousin Joey always got paddled on the bare. It was the only way
he seemed to learn.  Just warming the seat of his pants with the
hairbrush was never enough."

"Yes, we tried that at first with Sally, too. But since the first few
times we've always had to take down her panties."

"All young women need a regular bare bottom paddling or strapping to keep
them in line. It's the only workable discipline for an unruly gal."

"I expect someone will be sleeping on her stomach tonight. "

"Well, I can guarantee someone won't be sitting on HER bottom
for a while. I intend to make it red, sore, and tender for quite
a long time."

"Did you ever try a switch? My neighbor said her husband used one only
once on their son - big strapping fellow -  he's  eighteen  now - and
there was never any trouble with him again."

"That so? Well! If I can find a willow close by, I might just
try that next time. A few cuts with a switch across a bare, unprotected
bottom just might improve someone's memory about rules in this house."

"Martha told me her husband always takes Michelle into the den, takes
her jeans and underpants down, and makes her bend over the desk they
have in there. He makes Michells hold onto the far edge of the desk while
she's getting her paddling. It helps keep her behind in place."

"Dorothy's  husband always lets the other children watch. It's a good
lesson for them too - and much more embarrassing for Toby."

I dldn't think it would ever end. I sat there blushing and pushing food
around on my plate wishing I could sink through the floor. Then the meal
was over at last. When we were all getting up from the table, Dad
finally spoke to me directly, in front of everybody: "Go back to your
room, Sally, and take off your jeans. I'll call you when I'm ready for
you to come out."

Good God! Our garage is not attached. There's a long breezeway.
Did he mean I was going to have to walk through the house and outside
without my pants?

"But Dad! Somebody might - ..."

"There are no buts involved here except yours,  young lady!"
He grimaced at his own joke.
"The more embarrassing it is for you, the better. You'll do as I say!"

I gulped, nodded, and went slowly upstairs. Those damn kids followed
me, smacking their hands at every step I took. In my room, I shut the
door in their grinning faces. Then I took off my jeans, hands shaking.
I reached back and felt the soft, cool cheeks of my ass through the
tight white silk panties. Then I sat down on the bed, knowing it would
probably be the last time I would sit with comfort for a while.

He let me wait there for almost an hour. It was getting dark outside,
and the streetlights were already on when he called me, but anyone
outside who happened to be passing by and cared to look, would be able
to see me plainly. I opened the door and came  out, feet dragging
and red-faced once more. I was very aware of the fact that my blouse
tails parted in front when I walked, and you could plainly see my
panties underneath.

He was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, holding the strap.
When I reached him, he grabbed me firmly by the back of the neck.
"MARCH!", he ordered.

I marched. I marched through the dining room where the brats were busy
at the table with a puzzle. They stopped everything to watch me go by,
pointing and snickering. Then I marched through the kitchen where Mom
and Aunt Grace were putting away the last of the dishes. They paused
and looked, too.

Dad marched me through the back door of the kitchen and out onto the
breezeway. My bare legs, felt the cool evening air.  My eyes darted
around. Then I saw it. The neighbors were out in their yard across the
street!  Oh God!

I prayed the neighbors wouldn't turn around. There I was,  without
any pants, in front of practically the whole goddamn world,  and there
was Dad shoving me along with a strap in his hand! Anybody but a real
idiot could see what was going to happen!

Then our next door neighbor came out of his house. He waved. "Hi there,
Jim! Hi, Bob!" He took a second look. He grinned. "I see you're planning
a little exercise!"

"Yes, I'm afraid so." Dad answered. "I hope the noise won't disturb you.
She's worked herself into a good one this time."

"No problem. I'm going out. Good luck, Jim!"  He laughed, got into
his car and drove off.

Of course all that had caught the attention of our neighbors across the
street. They were looking too, now, and grinning. I was blushing
furiously. By tomorrow there wouldn't be anybody on our street who
didn't know about my strapinging, and it would be all over the
neighborhood about how I had to walk out to the garage in my panties!

Then we were in the garage. Dad switched on the light. I was glad the
only eye-level window was on our house side. Dad dragged out the
sawhorse, dusted it off, and turned to me.

"All right, Sally. Pull down your panties.  Let's get this over with."

I did as I was told, trembling and biting my lip.  When I had my panties
down to my knees and stood before him bare, he began his lecture.

"How many times have I told you to stay away from that computer? Do you
know what it's going to cost me to get it fixed?  Do you have any idea?
Answer me!" he shouted.

"N-No S-Sir."

"It's going to cost plenty! And it's going to cost you some out of your
savings,too! If you hadn't broken the rule about running in the first
place, it wouldn't have happened!"

"But Dad!  Bobby broke one of my - "

"You tried to bribe Bobby because he caught you smoking! Your bare
seat's about to get it good for that, too! You had no business touching
that kid!  Now turn your bare bottom up over that sawhorse!"

I cringed and drew back some. "Please,  Dad!  I - ..."

"Get over here and turn that ass up !" he shouted.

I went. I bent over the sawhorse, reached back,  and grabbed my legs
behind the knees, as always.  My pussy pressed against the padded
blanket.

Dad yanked up my blouse.  Now the cheeks of my behind were fully
exposed, raised for the strap, and completely vulnerable. Through my
legs I saw Dad step back and knew he was swinging the leather for the
first spank.

Down it came across my behind, leaving a stinging stripe.
I yelled. "OUCH!" The next one followed immediately, and right
on target: CRACK!  "OOOWWWWW!"  I tried to squeeze my buns together.
CRACK!  Another, even harder, now.

I gasped and almost came up out of position. Oh brother, did that strap
ever sting! It had been a good while since my bottom had last felt its
red hot kisses.  CRACK!

"Please don't,  Dad!   OOOWWWW!   I'm   SORRY! "   CRACK!
           
"OW! Dad, PLEASE! " SMACK!
           
"OOOWWWWW!  I WON'T DO IT ANYMORE!"  CRACK!"
"AAOOOW! I'M SORRY!  I'M SORRREEEE!"  CRACK!...CRACK!...CRACK!
           
"OOWWWWW! (sob) PLEASE! NO MORE! IT HURTS! IT HURTS! OH, PLEEEZE DAD!"

Every crack of that strap across my bare, naked behind felt
like a sizzling hot iron. The tears began to flow, and what with the
loud report of the strap, my screams, crying and begging, we must have
been making quite a racket.

Then Dad began to yell at me on top of it all.

"So,  you think you're big enough to spank Bobby, eh? (CRACK -OW!)
How does it feel to get a REAL spanking,  young lady? (CRACK - OWWW!)
Think you can roughhouse (CRACK - EEOW!) and run through the house
(CRACK - OOWWWW!) breaking your Mother's china (CRACK - OHHHOW PLEASE!)
and ruining my computer? (CRACK! - OOWWWWWW!  I'm  SORRY!) Well, you
have another think coming! (CRAACK!   AAAAH!) And smoking!
(CRACK!  OOWW!)  And sassing your Mother! (CRACK! - YOW! (sob)
CRAACK! OOOW ! CRACK! OOOOOW!)

       
" OH, DAD! PLEASE!  I WON'T DO IT AGAIN"


"You bet you won't do it again! (Craack! - EAOOOW!)  I'm going
to blister your behind (CRACK! - EEEOUGH!) until you can't even walk
(CRACK  - AAAAH!)  let  alone  run!   (CRACK - YEEEEOW!)  Breaking
your mother's china, eh? (CRACK!  OOOOWWWW!)

"I'M SORRY, DAD! (sob) PLEASE STOP. PLEEEEZ!"
"IT HURTS, DAD! IT REALLY, REEEAAALLY HURTS!"

"You're going to be a lot sorrier and a lot SORER before I get through!
(CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! ) OOOW!  OOOOWWW!  OOOOWWWW!

I knew the neighbors could hear, and were probably laughing. They'd have
a great time telling everybody they knew about Sallyy getting the strap
on her bare bottom out in the garage. And somewhere there I'd heard the
kitchen door slam and the kids outside the garage door, giggling and
probably peeking in. I was completely mortified and humiliated. But my
attention never dwelt for long on anything except my blazing, bare,
well-spanked behind. Never before EVER, had my bottom felt such pain! It
was worse than a thousand hornets. And it was not yet over.

"I'm  going to teach you to behave  (CRACK! - OOOW!) If it's the last
thing I do!  (CRACK!  YEEEOW!) How dare you sneak cigarettes into
your room! (CRACK! - EEAAAH!) You think you can just throw away
the rules  (CRACK! - OOOWWW! SOB!) because you go out (CRACK! OOWW!)
and work a little, eh? (CRACK! OOOWWWWWW!)  Well, missie, how's it feel
(CRACK! - OOWW!) to turn your bare ass up (CRAACK! OOOOAAH!)
and find you're not so grwon up? (CRACK! - sob!  AAAEEEOW!)
when you're gettin' your bottom blistered?  A good  sound strapping
(CRAACK! OOWWWW!) on your bare seat (CRACK! - EEEOOW!  SOB!)
just might help you remember your  place!
(CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! OOW!  OOWWW!  OOOOWWWW!)"

Thus slowly, deliberately, my tender, round, bare butt got the worst
tanning of my twenty years. He brought that strap down across my
backside in a steady rhythm, yelling the whole time.
He must have went at it for over twenty minutes, and I was howling
like wolves at the top of my lungs before he was through.
Tears were falling on the cement, and I was bobbing around
like a scorched cork.

When he finally said I could get up, it was all I could do just to stand
up straight. I had to leave my blouse rolled up - I couldn't let it
touch my raw, steaming rear end.

"Well, Sally! Think you'll remember the rules for a while now?"

"Y-yes, Dad," I blubbered, cautiously feeling my battered bottom.

"Good.  Now you stand right there and think about it for a while until I
tell you to come back into the house. I don't  suppose you want the
light left on?"
       
"No ! "  He grimaced a smile  again.

"Very well. I think perhaps a couple of hours standing out here with a
blistered bottom and no panties on might impress you enough."

He turned off the light and opened the door to the breezeway, scattering
the giggling brats. I could hear him joking with them - undoubtedly
about me - on the way back to the house.