"Come here, young lady." Dad spoke softly, but very firmly as I stood facing the corner. I slowly turned to face him and saw he was sitting at his desk, reviewing papers and had placed a solid wooden chair directly across from him.
I slowly approached and stood next to the desk, my hands at my side, my bottom ablaze.
"Sit down." He commanded. I very gingerly sat on the horrid, wooden chair; careful to rest most of my weight on my hands instead of my abused bottom. He looked at me, his eyes dark as night, jaw again set and a resolved look across his face. I hate this look from him and fought back the urge to cry.
"So, last month in court, it was an emotional trial, wasn't it?" He asked as he scanned my Punishment List. I nodded briefly and answered him, "Yes Sir, it was." He shook his head and spoke again, "My daughter is capable of doing hard things, am I correct?" I needed my head yes but didn't speak. "I called and spoke to you every single day of that trial to make sure you were in the right mindset. I can not imagine what you and you siblings had to go through facing the man responsible for your mothers murder. And his taunting remarks, the horrific crime scene photographs......I can not imagine how hard that was for you, Natalie. I wanted so badly to be there for you, to be with you, to help you." He spoke softly, still a slightly rigid tone to his voice.
"I need to make myself clear that you are not in any trouble for the things you said to that man outside of the courtroom. Clear?" He asked. "Yes Sir." I replied softly, searching his eyes. "However, your commentary in the courtroom.....that was ridiculous. Do you have any idea what I would have done had I been present when you told a judge......A JUDGE......that his court was a 'fucking circus'?" He asked, his voice deepening and his eyes narrowing at mine.
"I would have been in trouble, Sir." I answered meekly. "Say it again, now, Imagine this is the court room,. I am the judge, repeat your remark and we will see how I would have reacted had I been next to you." He ordered. I hesitated, certain he might slap me. "SAY IT LYNN!" He barked. My body jumped, my eyes welled with tears and I softly spoke up to him, ""Your court is a fucking circus."
Dad immediately got up from the desk and approached me. I think I may have even flinched, expecting to be slapped. He grabbed my wrist in his hand and drug me toward the bed, sitting down on the edge of it and yanking me over his knee. His thighs hard against my torso as he began to paddle my tender bottom and thighs with our bathbrush again and again.
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I cried out to him, "Daddy I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking, I'm so sorry." He paddled furiously, leaving no spot of my blazing bottom or thighs unscathed. He paddled hard and with purpose. Lecturing the entire time about how he expects me to exhibit self control whether he is physically present or not, regardless of circumstances. I knew he was right, my comment had only ignited another courtroom battle and detracted from the original reason we were here in the first place......justice for my mother.
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I held tightly to my Daddy's ankle as he continued to let that brush fall again and again on my already deeply bruising skin from the days prior lessons. It hurt and I cried......I cried so hard. Apologizing, begging him to stop, acknowledging I knew I was wrong, promising to do better, squeezing his ankle with all of my hand strength as my legs beat furiously behind me.
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I had thought momentarily my paddling was over, but quickly realized my flailing legs had kicked the brush from Dad's hands. YIKES!
He retrieved it and set about a new volley of even harder punishing swats as I begged and cried out to him. "Owwww, Dadddyyyyy pleassseeee..."
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I squealed and eventually went limp across his lap. Clutching my blanket in my balled up fists and apologizing over and over. My legs long since stopped their rhythmic beating. I still held tightly to my fathers ankle. Touch, particularly during punishment is incredibly reassuring to me. Daddy hadn't decided I'd been punished quite enough yet; he had neglected my tender sit spots and he knew that would certainly drive this lesson home.
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Dozens of harsh, unforgiving, rapid strokes found their mark om my incredibly tender sit spots as I cried hysterically into Daddy's lap. He lie the brush down on the bed beside us and gently ran his strong left hand across the smoking hot skin of my properly punished bottom. I still cried uncontrollably and just wished I could lay over my fathers knee all afternoon long.......but I knew I still had one more offense to be dealt with today.......and it wouldn't be an easy one.........I had told my Daddy to "shut the fuck up!" :( I was sooooo gonna get it now!
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