Copyright 1998 to <firstname.lastname@example.org>.
Please respect this copyright. Don't distribute or archive this
story in any way except for personal use without explicit permission.
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Every day at 2:15 in the afternoon, the little
girl had nap time. She was four years old and said that she
was way too old to have to take naps. But Mommy put her down
with her little sister all the same. Just like she was a baby
This made her feel all mad. The little girl
would lie there with her 'sheepie' (security blanket, named
'cause of the little sheep all over it) and tears would trickle
out of the corner of each eye. Spankings had taught her not
to cry too loud or too often and not to talk back at all. She
still got spanked a lot, though. Or slapped. Sometimes just
for 'looking' wrong.
But she knew she was too old for naps, knew
that the little girl across the street didn't have to take one
and made fun of her for 'needing' one.
The little girl slid her hands beneath her
skirt and pouted.
Nap time was so boring that the little girl
had discovered something to do. She would put one hand on top
of the other on top of her panties, down there, and
press hard, up and down. When she did this and thought about
being spanked, she felt comforted, even though she was way way
afraid of smackings from her daddy. She did not understand the
comforting feeling and didn't try to.
Mommy had come in and seen her pushing and
asked what she was doing. The little girl replied,
"Pushing on myself."
And Mommy had told her not to do it again.
The little girl promised not to - she hadn't even known she
was doing anything wrong.
So now when the little girl did it, she felt
vaguely guilty and listened closely for her mommy.
It was hard for her to hear anything other
than her own breathing however. Her eyes were closed as she
looked only at the thoughts in her head.
One day the little girl had her hands between
her legs and didn't stop in time. Her mommy came in and saw
her. Mommy was mad and yelled her name. The little girl stopped,
but Mommy went away and came back with the ping-pong paddle
Daddy used to spank her. The bumpy orange rubber was gone on
one side. That was the side Daddy always used.
The little girl started crying when she saw
it. She squeaked, very afraid because she knew it would hurt.
"Nonononono, Mommy, please don't spank
She squealed so loud her baby sister woke
up and started crying too. Her mommy didn't listen, but sat
down on the corner of the bed, pulled the little girl out of
bed and over her knees. Up went her little skirt. Her panties
were pulled to her knees. Down came the paddle with a hard smack
against her bare bottom.
As the paddle came down again and again very
very fast, the little girl kicked and wailed. The sting was
so much, too much. And Mommy was yelling at her, telling her
she was a very naughty and disobedient, dirty little
The little girl cried even harder at this,
the words seeming to increase the sting.
The little girl twisted free and threw her
arms back, hands covering her burning bottom. Mommy couldn't
stop in time and ended up smacking the little finger of the
girl's right hand. As the paddle hit, the little girl knew that
the cartoons were right - she really did see stars.
The sound of her howl was muffled as the little
girl shoved her sore finger into her mouth. Mommy gave her more
smacks, but the finger hurt more. The little girl couldn't cry
Finally, Mommy lifted the girl off her lap
and stood the crying child in front of her, lecturing her on
why good little girls didn't do such dirty things.
The little girl couldn't hear her; she could only hear the roar
of pain throbbing in her hand. Then she pressed her right hand
tight between her legs and doubled over, trying to stop the
very bad hurt.
When Mommy saw the little girl press her hands
between her legs, she got all angry again and pulled the crying
child behind her to the bathroom. Mommy shook the bad little
girl hard by her shoulders and hands.
"You make your hands dirty and smelly
when you touch yourself there."
The girl couldn't say anything. She just cried
and knew she was very very bad. Mommy leaned the little girl
over the sink and began to wash her 'dirty' hands with hot hot
hot tap water, Lysol, and a scrub brush from under the sink.
The hot water hurt very much, as did the scrubber. The little
girl wished her Nana (grandmother) would come and save her.
But then she felt sure Nana would think she was dirty down there
Mommy stopped finally and the child looked
at her red red hands. The little girl put her right finger in
her mouth. Mommy carried her back to her bed and lifted her
over the rails.
"You stay in that bed until Daddy gets
home and don't you dare get out. Do you understand me?"
The little girl started crying again and nodded
through her tears. She knew her daddy would spank her because
he always did if she had to wait for him to come home like this.
The little girl curled up and cried on her pillow, discovering
that she couldn't even use her hands to wipe away the tears
'cause the salty tears hurt the raw skin.
When her daddy got home her mommy called the
little girl out to the living room. She came slowly, tears still
streaming down her cheeks, her hands holding each other behind
her back. Mommy and Daddy both stared at her hard, and the little
girl froze, standing just in front of where they sat on the
couch. She looked down and felt her tears trickling down her
cheek, then fall onto the floor, lost finally in the carpet.
The little girl started to wipe her eyes with
her left sleeve and felt her daddy take her wrist. Mommy started
to explain again what a bad little girl she was, doing such
dirty and unnatural things. She felt Daddy squeeze her wrist
so tight it hurt and the little girl cried out:
"I'm sorry, Daddy!"
Daddy told the little girl to go back to her
room. She did, slowly. She was going to get spanked again, the
little girl just knew it. And she also knew Daddy's spanks would
hurt a lot.
He was very mad. The little girl trembled
in her room as she heard him yelling. What a bad little girl
she had been to make Mommy and Daddy yell so very much! The
little girl sat on the very edge of the bed and cried as she
stared at the bad hands on her lap. She put her right little
finger in her mouth and sucked, feeling the sharp then dull
pain and ache.
Daddy came in, but the little girl was too
ashamed and dirty to look up. She knew he carried the paddle
though, she just knew it. He sat down next to her and lifted
her onto his lap. She leaned against his chest, scared but glad
not to be alone.
He hugged her a little bit, then took her
left hand very gently in his. It looked red red, and the brush
had left nasty little raw scratches which were even darker.
There was also a scattering of tiny white blisters. The little
girl felt a stab of terror, as Daddy carried her to the bathroom
and sat her on the sink, her body becoming cold with fear. But
Daddy ran cool water and gently rinsed the sore left hand, coated
it with a soothing salve and wrapped it loosely in clean white
"Give me your other hand, baby."
The little girl kept her finger in her mouth
and shook her head, no. But she didn't resist as he pulled her
hand out. He didn't rinse it right away, though. She saw him
stare at it, the right hand bright red, scratched and blistered,
except for her little finger, swollen to twice its normal size
and purple-black. Daddy was very quiet and the little girl started
to tremble again and pull her hand away.
"No, baby. Let Daddy see."
So she sat very still on the edge of the sink
as Daddy turned her hand back and forth. Finally he began to
rinse it under a very gentle stream of cool water. Still, that
hurt, and the little girl started to cry again. The cries got
louder as he dried the poor hand, patting it with a soft towel.
Then Daddy left her sitting there on the sink and she heard
him go down to the kitchen.
When he came back, Daddy gave her half of
a red popsicle. She sucked it and wept her face to a sticky
wetness as he packed ice in a towel around the little girl's
finger. There was another popsicle stick that Daddy had brought
up. He rinsed it off then broke it in two pieces and put sticky
white tape on the ends.
The little girl watched him. She had never
seen him do this before. Her face nearly broke into smiles when
he took away the ice, the warm air felt so very soothing. Daddy
held her very close and took the sore hand. She leaned against
A brilliant flash of pain. For the second
time that day the little girl saw bright stars flashing before
her eyes as Daddy straightened her little finger, then held
it straight with tape between the two halves of the stick.
The little girl screamed and screamed long
after Daddy had rubbed the hand with salve and wrapped it in
fresh gauze. She looked at her mummy-mitt hands. There was no
comforting finger for her mouth.
Daddy didn't make her stop screaming or crying.
He washed her face with a wash cloth, removing the sticky-sweet
mixture of cherry and tears. She didn't have to go to bed like
a bad girl. Daddy held her and fed her chicken soup, then ice
cream in front of the television. She took orange flavored children's
aspirin, that had a toy soldier on the box, and fell asleep
on his lap.
That was the last time Mommy spanked the little
girl. After that, Mommy always sent the little girl to her room
to wait for her Daddy to come home and punish her.
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