The Fetching

The paddle, solid stained oak with a contoured handle and a three inch wide by fourteen inch long business end, hung from the wall by way of a small brass hook catching the leather loop extending from a tiny hole in the paddle’s handle. For guests it appeared a prominent curiosity in the home’s family room, where it rested on display. Few would mention it and fewer still would acknowledge its unconcealed purpose without the mask of humor. However, to the young ladies in residence the displayed paddle harkened no memories of joy or laughter. It served first and foremost to remind them of the consequences befallen to those who would dare break the house rules.

On the sad occasion a young lady did break the rules, she would be called forth to the study. Her hands would sweat clasped together behind her back while butterflies swarmed in her stomach. She would stand in the center of the room, head bowed in a sign of respect or at the very least, regret at being caught. The booming words of a well conceived lecture would rattle her ears and in some, elicit tears. And at the conclusion, she would be sent to fetch the paddle from the family room, knowing full well that upon her return it would be used on her quivering bare buttocks.

She blushes upon leaving the privacy of the study. Her lower half is already naked, exposed to the slightest glance of any in her path. A mere twenty paces to the paddle and twenty paces back to the study feel like miles. Each step may as well have been on hot coals for all the pain she feels dodging the judging stares, knowing smiles, and taunting snickers of friends, family, enemies, and strangers who line the fringes of her path. The paddle itself taunts her as she struggles to lift it free of the hook where the leather loop inevitably catches and refuses to let go easily. She will breathe deeply, tuning out the audience, focusing on the task without acknowledging the future it bodes. Only when her hands steady from their trembling will the paddle come free, but even then her heart beats with a shudder and pounds deafening blood into her ears. It is good though, because the final steps go quicker.

Finally, paddle in hand, she returns to the study and its privacy. She returns to her former place in the center of the floor. Her gaze fixes on the wood held in her hands and she lifts it out in front of her. The paddle is offered by gesture. Her throat constricts around the expected words and her mouth runs dry. The careful eye would notice the tremor in her outstretched hand, the rapid rise and fall of her chest and the glimmer of a desperate plea for leniency twinkling in her eyes. Silence settles on the room, on the entire house and she says, “Please, may I have my spanking now.”