Dusty & Debbie part VIII by Daria Little This is a fictional story that involves spanking and Children. Please do not read if you are under eighteen or do not like such stories. I dedicate this one, as I have most the rest of the series to Jeff from Massachusetts who was always kind enough to take time and write, pumping my ego beyond all reasonable levels. Thanks, Jeff. Thanks also to Kent who pointed out that in the previous episode the Hudson’s received permission to spank as necessary. He felt this should be part of the next story . And so, it is. A careful reader will note that some of the ages and school grades of the kids and myself don’t follow an exact sequence from the previous stories in the series. Oh, well. well.---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- DUSTY AND DEBBIE Part VIII Daria’s Lessons with the paddle paddle--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The line between baby-sitter and friend began to dim for the twins and me. To some extent I felt I was losing control but it didn’t seem that important at the time. Mr. and Mrs. Hudson were away more and more often as the summer wore on. Sometimes the kids would stay at our house for a day or two, then we would migrate back to theirs. Staying at their house was our mutual preference for several reasons, less parental interference and the freedom to play games as they wanted. Still they seemed to enjoy the times we spent with my Mom and Dad who fawned over their sometimes guests. The kids were up to something in the days before their parents returned, There was a lot of secretive talk, that would stop as I approached. I considered this a bit odd, but knew that they had a world I was not part of and didn’t give it too much thought. I should have been more cautious. One day after the Hudson’s came back, we were sitting around with the kids talking. It just sort of came out that I had let them stay up past their bedtime on several occasions, let them watch some shows that were on their parent’s list of not to watch and a few other crimes that I considered minor. I didn’t think too much of it until it was time to go and I got a rather frosty good bye from Mrs. Hudson. I seemed to keep forgetting that I had chores at home to do as well. Mom kept reminding me and I kept letting them slip. I could tell that she was making allowances for my busy schedule but her patience was growing thin. I resolved to do better. I didn’t. The afternoon the Hudson’s returned home, I returned to my house and my real life as I called it. As I set the dinner table I noticed Daddy’s paddle was on top of the credenza behind his chair at the end of the dining room table. This wasn’t a good sign, it meant one of us kids was close to getting their bare bottom paddled, if the decision had not already been made. It was an attention getter in the house to say the least. When my sister came into the room her eyes grew wide as she spotted the instrument of so many sore bottoms. It was about eighteen inches long, no more than a quarter, maybe half an inch thick and had a small handle. It was made of a wood that was naturally dark, no finish had ever been applied. Dad had made it in his wood shop several years ago when I was going through a rebellious period and making Mom crazy with my silliness and more than a little disobedience. One afternoon he had, had enough. He went down to his workshop and the buzzing of his saw began. I knew what he was doing and knew that when he was done I was going to catch it. He had often enough said he was going to make a paddle. The day had finally come. The hour or so it took, was one of the longest periods in my life. I was in the kitchen next to the stairs to the basement. I wanted to run and just be somewhere else, still somehow the fascination of listening to the paddle being made had a draw on me I couldn’t deny. I think if I could have, I would have gone down there to watch it being made. It was a cold winters day. It had just snowed and the rest of the neighborhoods kids could be heard outside whooping it up in the first snow of the season. I wanted so very much to be out there with them building a snowman instead of waiting to get my bottom warmed. The kitchen was filled with the smells of cooking and chocolate chip cookies that were almost done. It was a pleasant soothing feeling as the stove gave off it’s warmth making it the most comfortable room in the house. It was where Mom and I had most of our chats and seemed to enjoy ourselves most. The small TV on the counter was mute, as the local channel’s news person was standing in the snow in the city park no doubt commenting on the snow, while children scampered around him. I waited until he came up the stairs from the basement workshop, listening with dread as I heard his steps get closer. I was the most nervous thirteen year old in the world at the moment. As the door opened and he came into the kitchen, I was standing next to Mom as if to get some comfort and moral support. I need not have bothered, I knew she was in full support of my getting a spanking and had urged Dad for a few days to “take me down a peg or two.” To my surprise both of his hands were empty. Mom cocked her head as puzzled as me and asked. “I thought you were making a paddle” “I did.” He said simply. My Dad was not one to waste words. “Well where is it.” She asked. “Down stairs. It’s done I just have to give it a quick coat of stain and then it’ll be ready to go to work.” He said this looking at me, while I felt a shudder run thorough me. “No more than an hour or two, then it’ll be ready. I thought. “An hour or two, this was too much, I had already suffered an hour of torment, surely I would die if I had to wait two more hours. “Daadddyyy” I whined. “That’s not fair.” “Not fair, Little one?” He asked. ( He thought that was cute when he called me little one, with our last name being Little, I was nick named Miss Little, Little.) “You’ve been behaving like a first class brat for two weeks now and you think having to wait for two hours for what you have coming is unfair?” I hung my head in shame at this reprimand. Mom came to my rescue and convinced him that the paddle would be as effective either way and she wanted to get it over with so we could all resume our day. I was grateful as she spoke and then not so happy as I saw him turn back to the basement and the immediacy of my spanking became evident. He returned quicker than I would have thought possible. My eyes went straight to the paddle in his hand and couldn’t seem to leave it. He carried it casually against his leg as if were just another work tool, to him no more, no less. To me it was a great deal more. Mom pulled a chair away from the small kitchen table and placed it not far from the oven that continued to emit the delicious smells that seemed to make what was happening with in the small frame work of my immediate life seem so out of place. Dad placed one hand under my chin and lifted my head so I was looking into his eyes. He spoke gently. “Kitten, you know you deserve this, don’t you?” I brushed away a tear. “Yes sir, I do.” My jaw quivered in his large rough hand that held me so gently. “I’m sorry, I’ll be good.” I promised. Mom had backed off and was standing in front of the TV, she then turned to the counter and began slicing the salad. It was just me and my Dad. The room held only the two of us. The stove with it’s aroma ceased to exist, the sounds out side had faded away. The sensation of warmth from the oven no longer factored into my thinking. I was aware of nothing but my Dad who was looking into my eyes. He gave a slight smile, acknowledging my promise. He slowly removed his hand. With a nod from him I undid my belt and unbuttoned my jeans. I could feel the knot in my stomach as I peeled my jeans open. I took a deep breath and began sliding the jeans down. My ultra white panties caught on my jeans and I had to take care not to pull them down as well.. Once they were past my panties I bent over and quickly slipped them to my ankles. I stood back up promptly and looked at Daddy, waiting for instructions. I rubbed my hands on my bottom, almost unaware of what I was doing. The cool of the fabric freshly exposed to the air was somehow pleasurable. “Drop the rest.” Daddy ordered. “Oh, no please I’m too old to be spanked bare, Daddy, please.” I begged in what I hoped was not too whiny of a tone. “Sorry, kitten, this paddle was made for disobedient little girls and their bare bottoms.” I looked into his eyes for a few short seconds, then my head dropped in shame. I slid my fingers into my panties and quickly slipped them down to mid thigh. I shuffled to his side, my embarrassment lost in the twirling emotions of what was coming. With a slight hop and some assistance from him on my arm I was across his lap. The chairs were taller than one might normally expect to find in a kitchen. The effect was that as he moved me on his lap my fingers were a few inches from the floor and my legs stretched out into space. How far my toes were from the floor I had no idea and couldn’t have cared less at the moment. I could feel my pants as they slid over my feet and hung down, my panties had descended to my knees as daddy pulled me across his lap. I was very aware of the my exposure. Cool air seemed to slip in from the door past the weather stripping and across my exposed bottom only to be replaced by the warm air of the oven. As the air currents seemed to dance on my exposed backside, I twisted and twitched slightly in nervous anticipation. I felt a single drip of perspiration run down the inside of my leg. Daddy took the paddle and patted my bottom several times as if to get his aim down and reassure himself that he was familiar with his new tool. My legs and arms dangled, moving only as the fidgety tics of my body bade them to do so. I sensed his arm pull back and I tightened up in preparation. With what was no more than a quick flick of his wrist the paddle found it’s target. My first sensation was surprise at the almost silent clap of the paddle in the small heated room. Almost immediately the sting ran through my body. “Not so bad” I thought taking small comfort. The second swat burned more. Then it was the third swat, then fourth. The sting was building. The fifth swat seemed to ignite the first ones and a blaze was running across my fanny, and I knew the paddling had just started. Mom told me later that Dad never raised the paddle more than a foot or so from my bottom, each swat was delivered with a quick snap of his wrist. It seemed to me he bringing the paddle down from the sky with a thunderbolt of sting. The pops of the paddle off my bare bottom muffled in the room seemed to grow louder as I tried to concentrate on that instead of the burning on my seat. Then that effort evaporated and I was more aware of the paddle, my bottom and the red hot stinging pain. The sounds forgotten I began to cry and try to wiggle free. His strong arm made this a futile but necessary effort. Soon enough I was in a full fledged bawl having no sense of shame at my crying and the tossing of my legs and my burbling out words of apology promising to be a good girl for ever and ever. My arms waved from side to side, my hair fell into my eyes and stuck to my face as the tears streaked down my face. The paddling continued for what seemed forever. Then after twenty five swats it was over and I lay across his lap limp as a sack of flour having no wish to do anything but cry. I felt mom’s hand on my arm as she assisted me off his lap. My jeans lay discarded on the floor as she pulled up my panties and walked me to my room. By the time she opened to door to my room the bawling had reduced to a steady snivel of tears and whimpering. After a few words of comfort I was tucked into bed. I grabbed my teddy bear and cried myself to sleep. A bit later I woke, somewhat surprised to see it was still daylight. A glance at the clock told me I had only been asleep for an hour or so. I slid one hand down the back of my panties and felt the warmth. Curious I slipped from bed and into the rest room that was between my sister’s room and mine. Careful to lock her door so she couldn’t enter I washed the streaks of tears from my face. I turned to the full size mirror and then away. Looking over my shoulder I slowly lowered my panties all the way down and then off. My bottom was streaked from the paddle, the redness caused a sense of amazement in me. As I gently rubbed my sore tail I reflected this was one of the hardest spankings I had ever received. I supposed I deserved it and made myself a promise I would do everything I could to avoid that paddle again. For the most part I had been successful over the next few years, which is not to say I avoided spankings, that would not be at all accurate. I did avoid the paddle most of the time, but every time I got the paddle it was just as Daddy had said. It was for bare bottoms. Now for some reason the paddle was sitting on the credenza. It could only mean one of us was in deep trouble. We sat down to eat, none of us kids were about to mention the paddle as if by somehow acknowledging it’s existence would somehow increase the possibility of their being it’s unfortunate future. The conversation was strained, Mom was quiet and Dad seemed focused on his dinner. Then he shifted slightly in his chair and looked at me as I slipped some mashed potato’s off my plate. I could feel my tummy tighten and appetite disappear. It was me, I just knew it. I glanced at my sister, her expression hadn’t changed but I could read the relief in her eyes as she sensed she was off the hook. “Have some trouble today at the Hudson’s?” Daddy asked staring over the rims of his glasses that had sunk down the length of his nose. I shrugged, trying to act unconcerned. My mind scrambled furiously, now that I knew the topic of concern I was trying to weigh the angles of how to respond to any questions that would be coming. Daddy tore into my defenses like a District attorney with his eye on the Governor’s mansion. Soon I was sputtering and back pedaling with no hope of putting forth a plausible defense. He seemed to know of even minor things I had done when with the kids, things I could not have guessed he would know. He used this to trip me up in fibs and half truths several times. “How could he know that?” I wondered, more confused as the questioning continued. My goose was cooked and I knew it before the questioning was half over. I could my face burn with embarrassment as I noticed my sister glance at the paddle secure in the knowledge that for this night at least, it wouldn’t be her bare fanny that was the center of it’s attention. “Well that’s it then. No more watching the kids for young lady, if you can’t be trusted, then you shouldn’t have the job.” Mom said sternly. My heart stopped and my face turned even redder at this pronouncement. Surly I couldn’t be hearing right. Not baby sit the kids? This was worse than anything I could have imagined. I sputtered my protests and begged for forgiveness. “It’s not us you have to convince, Daria” Dad said. “It’s Mr. and Mrs. Hudson, they’re quite upset with your casual handling of their rules.” I looked into his eyes and then down at my plate. “What do I have to do? I’ll do anything, anything at all.” I pleaded. Dad reached behind him and picked up the paddle, to my surprise he held it out to me with the handle extended. “It’s your choice.” He said. “Take this to Mr. Hudson or forget watching the kids.” I gulped and took the paddle, just as what was expected of me was becoming clear in my fevered brain. “You mean I have to let them paddle me?” I asked. Mom and Dad just looked at me. The answer was obvious. My sister had a slight smile cross her face, this was more delicious than she could have imagined. “Now, you mean right now? I asked. Dad nodded. “Right now, show up within fifteen minutes or the baby-sitting is over for the foreseeable future.” I stood up on my legs that were shaking and felt like wood. My head swam with a sense of unreality at what was happening. “Mom, I need a paper bag.” I said holding the paddle up a few inches to indicate why I wanted the bag. “Carry the paddle like it is.” Mom replied. “Consider it part of your punishment.” I made the walk as quickly as I could to their house, never had it seemed so far. Kids were outside playing in the fading sunlight, enjoying themselves while I walked to my fate. One of the Johnson kids noticed the paddle and pointed it out to his friends who snickered and laughed loud enough for me to hear, how I would have loved to use it on them at that moment. I knocked on the door, heard some voices inside. A few seconds later the door opened and a stern looking Mrs. Hudson ushered me inside. The kids were scampering upstairs to their rooms talking and laughing as they went. Mr. Hudson joined us in the living room. I see you made your choice, do you have something for me?” He asked. After a second or so of mental confusion I realized he was talking about the paddle and handed it to him. He took me by the arm and we went into the den, where so many times before I had played games with the kids. This was not going to be a game, that much I knew. He pulled out a chair from behind a desk and placed it in the center of the room. I stood by the door wondering if there was anyway I could get out of this. My brain scrambled for options. There seemed to be none. “Close the door.” Mr. Hudson instructed. I turned and slowly closed the door. The quiet catching of the door lock seemed to seal my fate. I was resigned to what ever was going to happen. I turned to face him. I rubbed my damp hands on the sides of my light green dress that ended a few inches above my knocking knees. He nodded to me and I approached. I wondered if he had been told that the paddle was only used on the bare bottom. It all it’s years it had never landed on the seat of jeans or panties. It only knew as Daddy had promised, bare bottoms. I could only hope that tradition would end in a few minutes. I stood next to him, every fiber that was my being, trembled in anticipation. It seemed so strange to be standing next to this man I barely knew, waiting for him to place me over his knee and spank me. His cologne hung heavy in the air. I looked straight ahead, not wanting to look him in the eye. He guided me across his lap and flipped up my dress. I felt it tickle the back of my neck. He pulled it back and tucked the bottom of my dress under the small white belt that I liked to wear with it. I wished I had worn a thick pair of cotton panties instead of the flimsy ones I had on, but when I got up this morning, how could I have known that before the day was over I would be across Mr. Hudson’s lap getting a spanking? I lay across his lap, my fingers almost touching the carpet, my legs extended, my panties facing the ceiling. Mr. Hudson proceeded to give me a short lecture. Some of it encouraging, saying for the most part they liked my baby-sitting, then sterner stuff about responsibility and consequences. Just as I thought he was ready he asked me a question. “Daria, you’re Dad said there was something special about this paddle that you would tell me about. What is it?” I buried my face in my hands at the words. I didn’t want to respond. Thirty seconds passed. “Daria?” He moved one leg slightly to indicate he was waiting. I spoke through my fingers. “It’s for bare bottoms, it’s only to be used on bare bottoms.” I answered reluctantly, shamed. I felt his fingers in the waist band of my panties and then the flow of cool air over my derriere. I was bare bottomed. My panties were pulled all the way down to my knees. I gave off a soft moan. The paddle snapped off my bottom. I clasp my hands together, determined to ride out the spanking as best I could. WHAP, SMACK, SPLAT, SPANK. The licks of the paddle ranged from the bottom part of my fanny right up to the very center. SMACK, SPLAT, WHAP. The burn was furious, I could feel the sting as it seemed to run through my entire body. Mr. Hudson was a fast spanker. The swats weren’t as hard as Dad’s but they came faster and there were more of them by far. WHAP, SPANK, SMACK, SWAT. I clenched my bottom, then relaxed. My legs were kicking, I became vaguely aware my panties were slipping down my legs as I bounced on Mr. Hudson’s lap. I couldn’t have cared less if they had flown out the window, all I wanted was for the spanking to end. WHAP, SMACK, SPANK, WHACK. “OOOOOoo” SPANK “I’m sorrrrrryyy” SPANK. I twisted and turned as best I could, finding no more room to maneuver than I had on my Dad’s lap. I was crying freely, having lost any thought of trying to bravely ride out the spanking. “OOOOWWWWwwwww” SPANK, SLAP, WHAP, “YYYYiiiiiiiiii” SPANK, SWAT. The swats of the paddle seemed harder now, as it snapped off my bottom. “OOOOOOOwwwww” WHAP, SMACK, SPLAT, “OOOOzzzerrrsss” SWAT, SLAP, SPANK, “ouchouchOUCH” SPANK “OOOOOoooo” My legs were kicking frantically, I was making every promise I could between bawling and trying to catch my breath. I was trying to leave no doubt I would be a good girl and follow every rule forever. SPLAT, SMACK. SPANK “Ssssoorryyyyyy, I’m sooorrry” I cried. SMACK, SWAT. Then it was over, I lay across his lap crying too hard to care about moving. I was lifted off his lap and sent to the nearest corner. I rubbed my eyes. A hand extended me tissues which I gratefully accepted. My bawling had stopped, I was sniffling, and returning to normal. I wished I could reach behind me and undo my dress so my bare bottom would be covered, but I did not dare. I wondered if there were a graceful and ladylike way to retrieve my panties and put them on when I was allowed from the corner. I felt a presence behind me. A hand wrapped around my arm. To my surprise it was Mrs. Hudson. A stinging swat from her hand landed on my bottom, then another. I yelped in protest I had thought the punishment was over. This was a most unwelcome development. “That’ll teach you not to smoke cigarettes in my house.” Another swat brought me to my toes and then another back down, feet square on the floor, trying not to fall forward into the corner of the wall. Mrs. Hudson gave me fifteen swats on my burning bottom before she was satisfied the lesson was learned. A few minutes later Mrs. Hudson handed me my panties and helped me put them on. The spanking now over and the lesson delivered, she was once again the nice person I usually knew. One the way home as I sniffled my tears away, I was puzzling over the recent developments. “How had Dad known so much at dinner?” I wondered. Mrs. Hudson’s words came back to me. “That’ll teach you to smoke cigarettes in my house.” She had said. I had not smoked a cigarette since I was eleven and the infamous garage incident, when five of us girls had been caught smoking. The it hit me, full force. The kids had set me up, the little devils had planned this. In what they no doubt considered to be fun and games they had conspired to see me get in trouble. Oh, were they going to pay for this, were they ever. I vowed. I slipped back into my house while everyone else was in the family room watching TV. I placed the paddle back on the credenza and retreated to my room wanting nothing more than to be left alone for the rest of the night. I slipped off my dress and bra. I rubbed the back side of my panties, relief ran through me that it was over. It hadn’t been any fun by a long shot, but I was still the kid’s baby-sitter and that was important to me. Backing up to the mirror I looked over my shoulder and slowly lowered my panties. The streaks of red that covered my bottom were every bit as painful as they looked in the mirror. I decided I would sleep on top of the covers that night and let the air cool my poor bare bottom. And that’s just what I did.