PicTales: Breakfast Woes

"Perfect," I said, taking a last look in the mirror before bouncing off to the breakfast table. Dad was already nibbling on burnt toast, dripping with butter and cinnamon. The coffee pot finished dribbling the last drops into the pot as I entered the kitchen and I grabbed the pot, pouring Dad and I each a full cup. My little brother, Mike, slid into his chair and said, "Hey, where's mine?"

"You're too young," Dad and I answered in unison as I slid the pot back onto its burner.

"Am not," Mike said, sounding much younger than his 16 years.

I split my typical morning bagel in half, adjusted the heat settings on the toaster and pushed the lever down to get my breakfast going. I plopped myself down in my seat and grabbed for my mug. Dad shook his head at me and said, "That's not how ladies sit down."

"Lighten up, Dad," I said, and carefully sipped at my steaming mug. Mike smiled across the table from me and said, "Yeah Dad, she's not a lady."

Pretending to push stray hairs out of my face, I gave Mike the finger. He bristled pointing at me and I smiled, dropping my hand back into my lap before Dad could see. Mike said, "Did you see that? She just flipped me off."

"Ooh, maybe I should wash my hands out with soap," I said and Dad chuckled. I said, "I was just brushing some hair out of my face. Don't take everything so personally."

"Dad?" Mike said with an annoying whine to his voice.

"Act your age," Dad said, eyes flashing between Mike and me, "Both of you."

Mildly offended, I said, "I didn't—

Dad snapped his fingers and said, "Enough. Finish your breakfast and you," Dad pointed his finger at me, "Better watch yourself if you don't want a spanking."

Mike's eyes taunted me from across the table with his minor victory. I was tempted to stick my tongue out at him, but Dad was watching me too closely. Instead, I tossed my hair over my shoulder and turned to face Dad more directly, flashing him a smile complimented by fluttering eyelashes. I said, "I'm sorry Daddy. I know I shouldn't let him provoke me, but sometimes he can be so annoying."

"You'll be sorry if you don't straighten up," Dad said, obviously too annoyed to feel any sympathy, "Eat your breakfast."

"Yes, Daddy," I said with a sigh.

Dad dropped his toast to glare at me with narrowing eyes and said, "If I didn't know better I'd swear you were asking for a spanking."

"I'm pretty sure she is," Mike volunteered with an unabashed smile.

I stared at my annoying little brother through furrowed eyebrows, but managed to keep an innocent smile on my face for Dad's benefit. The toaster popped my bagel up at just the right moment to break the tension and I pushed myself back from the table, careful to not be abrupt. "Excuse me," I said, taking my plate to retrieve the hot bagel. On my return I took an extra second to make sure I seated myself in a manner Dad would consider more polite.

Dad was watching my every move and Mike was enjoying every minute of it. I nibbled at my bagel and did my best to ignore them both. Thoughts turned toward the day ahead and I remembered I needed to make an excuse for the afternoon so I could meet up with my boyfriend. I washed my bagel down with a long sip of hot coffee and turned a smile back toward Dad. I said, "I almost forgot to mention, I'm going to be a little later than normal this afternoon. I have a study group in the library after classes."

"Or maybe you are sneaking off to see Ryan," Mike said.

Startled, I turned my eyes to my little brother and wondered if he knew or was simply guessing. The self-satisfied grin on his face suggested he knew, but his silence suggested the only proof was the look on my face. I masked my surprised and probably guilty look with an annoyed, whatever frown and roll of the eyes. "I'll be home by five," I said.

"Who else is in the group?" Mike said.

I huffed and said, "Shut up twerp. I'm talking to Dad."

"Don't talk to your brother like that," Dad said picking his napkin from his lap and laying it on the table. "Besides, he asks a very good question. Who is in this group and why didn't you mention it last night?"

I stuttered a moment dredging up classmates I could safely use as an alibi. Swallowing nervousness I glared at my bouncingly happy brother sitting across the table. It was hopeless, I realized on some level Dad was going to see right through me, but still I had to try. I said, "Well, there's Sarah and ah Carla, and, and Bob—

"Enough," Dad said, "You're lying. Your brother is right isn't he?"

"No," I said.

"No?" Dad said with a dangerous glint in his eyes, "Why don't you get out your phone, we can give Sarah a call then."

Damn! Damn! Damn! Why can't my loser of a brother ever keep his big, stupid mouth shut?

"Kimberly Anne!" Dad said as I noticed he and my brother were staring at me with near open-mouthed shock. Then it hit me; I actually said my thoughts out loud.

I nearly knocked over my coffee cup pushing myself away from the table. Standing up, I backed away from the table and my clearly unhappy dad. My brother graduated from shock to laughter, but he was the least of my concerns because Dad's eye had me square in its sights and I already knew the next words coming. It wasn't fair, but it was going to happen and there was nothing I could do about it. Even running to my bedroom was only going to delay the inevitable.

"Apparently you really did want a spanking this morning," Dad said. I shook my head, but my voice was stuck in my throat. Dad probably wouldn't have listened anyway though, I mean it was definitely a little late to just say no.

Never taking his eyes off me, Dad said, "Mike, fetch me the carpet beater. It seems your sister is in serious need of a dusting."

Mike scrambled from the table all too eager to assist Dad. I backed away until the kitchen counter stopped me in my tracks. Dad closed the distance, placing himself between me and the rest of the house, in effect trapping me. I felt the color drain from my face as I pondered the immediate future.

I fluttered my eyelashes and looked as sorrowfully as I could at Dad. In a contrite tone I said, "I'll come home right after classes, I swear."

"I know," Dad said.

"I won't pester Mike," I said.

"I know," Dad said.

"I'll behave," I said.

"I know," Dad said.

"You don't have to spank me," I said.

"Yes, I do," Dad said.

"But—

"The only butt in this conversation is the one you are going to bare and put in position over that table," Dad said.

"I'm too old to get spanked," I said, crouching into myself and holding my skirt down as if it were going to fly up if I let go.

"Your brother is going to back any second," Dad said patiently, "It's up to you if you want to wait and pull your panties down in front of him, but you're still getting the same spanking whether you do it now or then."

I allowed my lip to quiver and tears to bubble in my eyes. "Daddy," I said.

"Do yourself a favor and get in position now," Dad said.

Hesitating with every step, I forced myself to walk to the edge of the table. I reached up under my skirt and carefully tugged my panties down to just below my bottom, hoping Dad would be kind enough to let them stay there. Leaning over the table I closed my eyes and resignedly flipped my skirt up and out of the way, exposing my bared bottom to Dad's view.

"Here you go," Mike said, from behind me and out of sight.

"Thank you," Dad said, "Now go stand over there out of the way and I don't want to hear a word out of you."

"Sure, Dad," Mike said.

The rattan implement patted against my exposed cheeks, gently making me aware of its presence. It was mostly quiet swishing through air on its path to significant impact, but as it clattered against my butt, I yelped for emphasis. It wasn't until the fourth impact that the burning really made itself known and by the fifth tears spilled from my eyes while my legs danced on the floor trying to weather the building discomfort.

"Hold still," Dad said, "Were far from finished."

"I'm sorry, Daddy," I cried.

"You will be," Dad said, swinging the implement in the air once more. It slapped against my butt, making me cringe and gasp for breath as another wave of searing discomfort shuddered through me. "You will be," He said.

The carpet beater slapped down again and again as I held tight to the table, twisting and turning as best I could to avoid the impact without actually moving. It was hopeless and pointless, but I couldn't help myself. "No, please," I said, sobbing as my bottom pulsed with seemingly unbearable discomfort.

"Look at me," Dad commanded, holding the carpet beater firmly against my butt. I twisted to obey him with tears in my eyes and gritted teeth holding back childish pleas. "You'll come home right after school and we're going to have a long talk and if your attitude hasn't improved you can expect to be resuming this position. Am I understood young lady?"

"Yes, Daddy, " I said with tears in my voice as I wondered how I was going to survive sitting through hours of classes on those hard wooden chairs.