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Subject: It's quiet here, so...

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Date Posted: 04:16:03 04/12/17 Wed

Another Kind of Waiting

I lazily picked up my phone in the office. I just came back from lunch and it was hard to get back to work. I could use a distraction.
"It's me," said my wife's voice. "There's a problem with your daughter."
Interesting how it's always MY daughter when something happens.
"What happened?" I asked. "Is she okay?"
Well, I knew that she was. My wife's tone was angry, not shaken.
"Yes, she is -- for NOW. But the thing is that she..."
I listen and I nod, though I know she can't see me. It's a long and sordid tale with all the parts -- school problems, "bad attitude", arguing with my wife... It's a story I have heard a hundred times before. To be honest, I don't really listen to the details.
"...that girl needs to have her butt tanned!" she finishes up.
"All right," I say, as always. "So spank her."
Her explanation for why she can't is complicated, as usual, and bullshit, as usual. I know the truth, she is simply very ambivalent about spankings. She got spanked a lot when she was a kid, and even in her teens, after we started dating (I must admit that I was probably directly responsible for some of those spankings). And even though she really likes the idea of spanking in principle, she doesn't want to actually DO it. It's like when you like hamburgers but you wouldn't be willing to actually slaughter a cow to get to them.
"Fine," I say, because there's nothing else I could say, nothing else that could end the tirade.
"Yes, I already told her to get ready for a spanking of her life when you come home..."
And there she goes again. I love that woman, but she just talks so much! And our daughter got that from her. She knows what's going to happen so she now has several hours to make her arguments. I will have to be very strict with her, not because I want to, but because if I give her the slightest chance, she's going to talk my ear off explaining and pleading. And I don't want that. Sorry, my princess, but I am not really interested in whether you were in right or your mom was. And you might say it's not fair, but really, I am a working guy. I am willing to be unfair for the sake of my peace and quiet. That's just how adults are.

Later in the afternoon, when I sit on the toilet, my eyes fall on my belt. For serious spankings, that belt gets to dance on my daughter's bare butt. And this WILL be a serious spanking because my wife called me about it instead of just telling me when I get home. Suddenly, I get the feeling that the belt is no longer up to it. It's old, and the surface is flaking. I suspect it might be a hazard.
You know, I've been wanting to buy a new one for some time. Perhaps this is a good pretext?

Two hours left before I can leave this boring office. Perhaps one hour to get home, and then, well... I will have to spank my daughter before the dinner; I get sleepy afterwards and couldn't do it properly. So, three hours, three and a half tops. I can see my daughter now, sitting in her room, trying to distract herself. Maybe she still hopes she will be able to sway me -- in vain, of course. There might already be some tears as she imagines how her tender bottom cheeks will look after a session with the belt -- and she doesn't even know that I have already decided that I AM going to get a new belt today. I will have to select it quick so my daughter won't have to wait for it too long.
And I can also see what's going on through my wife's head, as she's sitting on the sofa in the living room, buried in her daytime television. She's second-guessing her decision. She knows that the decision to sentence her daughter (it's HER daughter when she thinks good things about her) to a spanking, especially a hard "butt tanning" with my belt, was not completely fair, that it was partially because she was too angry to think properly. She also feels sorry that she cannot bear herself to spank her so she has to use the threat of "big bad Dad", just as her mother, in fact, used on her.

It's funny, in a way. When the time for the spanking comes, no one actually wants it to happen, not me, not my wife, and not my daughter, but it's still going to happen.

I excuse myself from work a bit early so I can get to a shop along the way and spend a few minutes picking up a belt. I take them randomly, fold them and smack them against my hand.
"Kids giving you trouble?" asks the shopkeeper with a knowledgeable smile.
"Yeah," I admit. "I need something sturdy."
"Well, I have something here, mate," he says. "What age are we talking about?"
"She's fourteen," I admit.
"Oh, she's going to discover the boys soon, then. You will need a good belt."
He selects a nice, thick leather one, shiny and black.
"I have a daughter as well," he says, "and because of that, mate, I'm going to give you discount."
It's still not cheap, but hey, a discounted belt.

Five minutes from the house, I stop the car. As always, I pull out my phone and send a message to my daughter.
"On my way. Get ready."
She knows that she has just a little bit of time to go to the bathroom, and then she'll have to take her pants and panties down and spend the last few minutes bare-bottomed until I get there.
I have talked about this with her before and we both agreed that it's a good idea to give her an advanced warning.

I park the car and enter the house. My wife gives me a look. I know what she's thinking, she's sorry for getting our daughter into this situation, she's wondering if there's perhaps another way, another form of discipline we could try, and we both know that she just has to say the word and the whole thing could be cancelled, my daughter could spend the evening without crying and she could go to bed with a white, untouched bottom.
But both of us also know that she's not going to say the word and that, in the name of firmness and consistency, she's going to let her daughter suffer the pain of a spanking once again.
I pass her without a word. Her arm twitches, as if she wants to stop me, but she doesn't.

I unbuckle my belt and pull it out. I open the door to my daughter's room and enter with the belt in my hand.
I look at her, sitting on her bed bare-bottomed, head in her hands, sobbing.
She lifts her head and looks at me, belt in my hand, my other hand, a bit comically, holding my trousers up.
It's time for us to do the thing we always do, even though nobody really WANTS to do it.
She stands up while I sit on her bed. I look into her eyes, and nod. She nods too.
She walks to me and I pull her over my lap. I position her a bit while she starts to cry in full, and then I take up the belt and raise it high.
I don't want to do this. She doesn't want me to do this.
Not even her mother wants this to happen, not anymore.
But, in a way, all three of us are glad that the waiting is over.

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And one more...Marek04:16:34 04/12/17 Wed

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