When Becky Came, Part 03

Dad stepped into the living room. His stare locked on me like Becky wasn’t even in the room. When he spoke his voice was quiet and gruff. “What on Earth are you two doing?”

An evil smile rose on Becky’s lips for me as she tried to appear innocent for my folks’ benefit. I tried to ignore her and forced my eyes to look more in Dad’s direction than hers. I said, “I accidentally walked in on Becky in the bathroom and she didn’t take too kindly to it.”

Mom joined Dad, keeping a step behind him and said, “I should certainly think she wouldn’t.”

Becky glanced at my Mom and said, “Back home, my mother would beat his butt til he isn’t so accident prone.”

Dad hooked his thumbs into his belt and asked, “How does one accidentally open a locked door?”

“It wasn’t locked,” I said.

Dad turned to my cousin. “Becky?”

Her smile faded. In fact, her expression turned downright sour. “Well that’s still no excuse for him to go barging through closed doors.”

Mom looked Becky over from head to toe as if she had only just then realized Becky was less than fully dressed. “Didn’t your mother teach you modesty?”

“Of course,” Becky said, trying to shield herself from view with her arms, “but that’s not the point.”

“No, the point is you baited this situation,” Dad said, “and used the opportunity to flaunt yourself, chasing your cousin around the house wearing nothing but your underwear.”

Mom shook her head. “I don’t think either of your parents would approve of this behavior, do you?”

Becky pointed her hairbrush straight at me. “He walked in on me!”

“And if you hadn’t wanted it to happen you probably would have locked the door,” Dad said.

Mom nodded. “At the very least you’d have put some clothes on rather than run around the house in your whites.”

Dad held his hand out to Becky. “Give me that brush.”

I imagine Becky knew what was going to happen right about then. She took a step back from my Dad and hugged her hairbrush to her chest like it was a stuffed bear. Her head shook from side to side and her lips quivered with the protests undoubtedly raging through her thoughts. The really telling part though, was the red flush that decorated her cheeks.

Keeping his hand outstretched, Dad stepped forward. “I’m not going to tell you again, Rebecca Mae. Give me that brush.”

Becky must have figured out she was only going to make matters worse cause she stopped backing away. She put her brush in my Dad’s hand and chewed on her lower lip. Dad grabbed her by the arm and took her to the couch with him. He sat down and she got pulled over his lap. If there was a struggle between them it was only in Becky’s mind.

Dad brought the back of that hairbrush down to meet Becky’s panty covered bottom with about as much force as she’d used when swinging the thing at my head. That’s to say I know it stung about as good as a fire ant bite. My cheek and hand were still tingling with the aftereffects and that made me a bit more sympathetic than I otherwise might have been. The smack of that aqua blue acrylic bouncing off her butt had Mom and I blinking in tune with every spank.

Becky stayed pretty quiet considering. Her legs did some involuntary kicking and I could see her hands squeezed into tight fists that had her knuckles turning white. She let her wet hair fall over her face so I couldn’t much tell if she clenched her jaw or blamed me, but I’m guessing she did both.

It didn’t take long before her panties started to glow pink from below. Dad didn’t count his spanks and neither did I, but I reckon she got a good couple of dozen before he gave the brush a rest on her sore posterior. Becky was squirming real good on his lap and I think she didn’t know he’d stopped for at least a minute after he had. The sting can be like that sometimes.

Dad said, “Now I don’t expect we’ll be doing this often, but the only reason I’m not pulling your panties down this time is because Ritchie is right here watching and this lesson was as much about modesty as anything. That being the case I think it would be counter productive, but if you ever go running around my house in your underwear again, I’ll blister your bare butt in front of God and anyone else who happens to be around. Is that clear?”

Becky’s voice had the sound of suppressed tears. “Yes, sir.”

Dad patted her bottom lightly and helped her up off his lap. “Up you get,” he said and pointed her toward the corner behind the front door. “You can go stand in that corner now and think about what you’re going to do differently to avoid another trip over my knee until your Aunt tells you otherwise.”

Becky didn’t argue. She walked to the corner and planted her nose against it without a backward glance. I guess not everything was as different in Los Angeles as she wanted me to believe. There weren’t no doubt in my mind she’d been in corners before and her bottom had likely been red and redder on occasion as well. That’s just the way things were and we all knew it, even if we didn’t always want to admit it.