She was "his", and had been for almost four years, although what that meant had changed somewhat over the years. In the beginning, when she had been struggling through some very difficult times, he had made all the decisions, telling her what she could and could not do and when she could do it. Now, he trusted her to make most of the day to day decisions, but he held her accountable. As he pulled off the interstate and made his way through the quiet neighborhood, he had to smile at how much she had grown, but no matter how much she grew, she would still be his.
She met him in the driveway, acting very much like a four-year old who couldn't contain her excitement, chattering non-stop as they walked to the house. So much had happened since he had been gone on vacation. She'd had two trips to the emergency room, one for asthma and one because she got stung by two wasps. Things had been really difficult at work, but she'd survived, and there were about a million other things she needed to tell him.
Dinner dishes cleared, he said "Get me your list." The dreaded list -- the list she kept for him that detailed an assortment of offenses -- the list that had gotten quite long because she'd been through a period of being too sick for appropriate punishment -- the list that was going to result in her going to bed with a toasted behind.
He read through the curfew violations and sassiness, forgetting to eat on schedule, and taking chances climbing a ladder, and all the other things they had talked about on the phone at one point or another. He scanned the pages marking things off that had become inconsequential with the passage of time. Part of the list's function was to remind her he was in charge and monitoring her actions, and writing them down had proven to be effective. With his fountain pen, he circled two items on the list: a speeding ticket and a parking ticket, and he handed the list back to her. She saw what he had circled, crumpled the piece of paper and jammed it into the pocket of her shorts.
"Twenty over the posted limit. Anything you want to say that you haven't already told me on the phone a few weeks ago?"
"No sir."
"The big paddle and strap are in my bag. Go get them and come back in here."
Jaylee nodded and turned several shades of red. "Yes sir."
She retrieved them, and with downcast eyes laid them on the end of the couch. He took her hand, and pulled her on to his lap, and while he held her close, he began to talk in soft but stern tones. He cared for her, didn't want to see her hurt, didn't want her to take risks with her well-being or the lives or the lives of others.
At the end of his discourse, he took her head in his hands and said, "You know this is a repeat offense. You're not getting as many tickets as you used to get, but this is a zero tolerance situation. We've had this discussion before, so there should be no debate, both paddle and strap. Anything you want to say before we start?"
"Well...I know you like to use the paddle and strap but my friend was telling me about rulers, and how sometimes she gets a ruler across her palm like they do in English schools, and I thought you might try that instead....," her voice trailed off.
He gave a small chuckle before replying that English schoolgirls didn't usually have the driving record she had amassed, so he was going to stick with the paddle and strap, but he'd keep the ruler in mind...maybe even for the parking ticket that was also up for discussion.
With that, he lifted her up, pulled down the shorts and panties she was wearing, and laid her over his lap to repeat the lecture emphasized by a thorough handspanking. Satisfied he had her attention, a few minute later she had kicked off her shorts altogether and was bent over the end of the couch. She could feel his hand on her back, and the next second was the searing pain of his wide leather strap biting into her backside. She never counted and knew he didn't, just went until he was satisfied she was well-spanked. Just when she didn't think it was possible for her to stay bent over any longer, she would feel his hand pressing down harder, and then in a final flurry of swats he stopped.
He rubbed her very red bottom for a few minutes, asked if she were okay, and then picked up the big paddle. Twenty swats later, one for every mile over the limit, he held her in his arms and let her bury her face in his chest while she let out the rest of the guilt and tension over the ticket.
"Now missy, I have some business to tend to, need to make few phone calls, and we'll talk about that parking ticket before bed."
She spent a bit of time recovering, read, and spent a bit of time online, and then got the fifteen minute warning to get ready for bed.
He came to tuck her in, found her wearing one of his old tee shirts and a worn pair of boxers, and wasted no time disposing of the boxers as he turned her over his knee for another spanking. It was more to make a point about her paying attention, but he definitely made her aware as his hand made the upturned cheeks even rosier. There had been a time when he was reluctant to leave marks, but both of them knew they'd fade in a few days. In the meantime, they'd remind her to be a good girl.
Spanking over and done with, he tucked her in bed without the boxers, and told her he'd be in to check on her in a few minutes. She fell asleep on her tummy, and was aware when he lay down beside her an hour or so later to hold her.
The following morning she hated to see him go, but knew it was necessary. His things loaded in the car, he came back to give her another hug.
Oh yes, the ruler your friend suggested. Hold out your hand."
She held up her hand, elbow to her side, hand extended and palm up. What had she been told....don't forget to breathe. She had just taken a deep breath when the ruler caught the center of her palm full force. It was like nothing she had experienced.
"Consider that one more for the road, missy. And I better not hear about any more tickets for a long while."
After another round of goodbyes, he pulled out of the driveway, and she waved until he was around the corner with a hand that was stinging. It wasn't a lesson she'd soon forget.