Meddling, Chapter 2 (M/FF, paternal)

[beguiling]

The plotting continues.

Dad wanted to watch some show on the history channel, and let me use his office computer to check email. Again. How I managed to keep from squealing when I saw Pam’s e-mail sitting in my inbox, I’ll never know. All I knew was that if she was willing to reply, this really might be able to work. It could. I opened the e-mail, hope fluttering in my chest, and praying she hadn't sent a “don’t bother me again” kind of note.

It started with “Hi, MJ. Of course I remember you! I hope you haven’t been too much of an imp.” This time I covered my mouth, and I squealed. As quietly as possible, but a squeal. She even remembered Dad’s nickname for me!

I glanced up, checking to make sure Dad wasn't coming and that he wouldn't be able to see the email if he did, and then I continued reading.

“How have you and your sister been? Not giving your Dad too much trouble, have you? I doubt it, though. You girls are much too sweet. And speaking of your Dad, how is he?” I practically got up and danced. How utterly perfect was that? She was still interested in Dad! She went right to asking about him. This was great! The rest of the e-mail was some chatter that I was reading when my heart jumped into my throat.

“Hey, baby. Whatcha doin?” Dad poked his head around the doorway.

I must have jumped a foot, and had to take a moment to get my heart out of my throat. “N-nothin, Daddy. Just readin some mail.” He looked at me oddly – no surprise, after that reaction.

“You feeling okay, MJ?”

“Unh huh. I’m fine. You just startled me, that’s all.”

“Okay. I’m headed to bed. It’s already late, so no staying up much longer. I mean it.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead.

“I’m just going to finish this one e-mail, and I’m off to bed. Promise, Dad.”

Dad shook his head at me. “I mean it, MJ,” he reiterated. “You’ve been staying up late a lot, and you’re not getting enough sleep. Your body clock is all messed up. This isn’t the first time we’ve had this conversation, either. I know it’s the weekend, but I want you in bed soon – like in 10 minutes – and up at a decent hour. Got it?”

I knew that voice, but still I wanted to argue – weekends are meant for staying up late! But I didn’t want to risk Dad deciding that I needed to go to bed right then, so I just nodded. He looked at me, and I could tell his radar was up, but he just turned and went into his bedroom and closed the door. I breathed a huge sigh of relief and turned back to the computer, re-reading Pam’s e-mail. I forwarded it to Ari, and then bcc’d her on my response. Trying to play it cool, I kept things relaxed, just filling her in on the little things going on, trying to keep her interest piqued, without overwhelming her. Then, in for the kill: I oh-so-casually let slip that Dad had mentioned her to us the other day. There. Now Pam knew that Dad was still thinking about her, too.

I sent the e-mail, crossed my fingers, and signed off. This time, I did dance … my way to the couch, where I generally crashed when I visited. I wasn’t going to risk him checking on me, and deciding I wasn’t listening to him.

I did text Ari, though, and told her to check her mail. I didn’t expect her to be awake. But a few minutes later, my phone rang and I sprang for it.

“Sis! It’s perfect!” I grinned at her greeting and excitement.

“You think she’ll nibble, Ari?” I spoke as low as I could, not wanting Dad to know I was still up. But I was nervous about the email, and Pam and the entire situation, and I needed to talk to the one person I could.

“Yeah, I think she will. I think she likes Daddy. And you know he liked her. But, I still want to know how you think you’re going to get them together. You talking to Pam, and you talking to Daddy, and them talking to you does *not* get them talking to each other. You know?”

You know, I love my sister. But does she HAVE to be right? I mean, really.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I still think getting them together at the diner is the right way to do it, sis. Something simple. Like, I get Pam to agree to meet me – or even think she’s meeting you and me – there. And you talk Daddy into going out to dinner.” And, they just, well, meet up. I’ll ditch Pam, you ditch Dad, and they’ll have a fun night meeting each other and talking.” In hindsight, the sad part is that I really believed that. I’d completely talked myself into believing that our actions – my behavior – would be just a blip on Dad’s radar.

“Yeah,” she snorted, “talking about how they’re going to spank *us*!”

I couldn’t help it, I did giggle at that. Dad probably would have more than a few comments about that. “Well, yeah. He might not be real happy at first. But, he does like her, yanno. And she likes him. So, if he enjoys the time with her, he probably won’t even be all *that* mad. And he might not even spank us.”

“Unh huh,” Ari’s tone could’ve been dust, it was so dry. “Daddy. Our Daddy. Not spank. For meddling. In HIS life. Are you awake, girl?”

“Okay okay. So we set up the dinner, get them to meet, and we NOT be home after. For a LONG time. ‘Til Dad’s done being mad.”

“Sis, I don’t think I have that long to live.”

I had to giggle again at her tone. But she did have a point. “Okay. I have an idea: I can handle both sides. I’ll talk Dad into dinner, but run a little late and ask him to meet there. So you don’t have to be killed. I really don’t want you to get into trouble, sis.”

“Nunh uh. I don’t want to be in trouble, either. But I kinda want to be in on this. If Dad really likes this lady, then it’s worth it. It’s almost worth that paddle.”

“NOTHING is worth that paddle, sis,” I grinned, then yelped in surprise and almost dropped the phone at his voice –

“What about staying up too late? Is that worth the paddle?” Dad’s low, steely voice startled a cry from me. Oh god, how long had he been there? What had he heard?? I’d never even heard his bedroom door open. I always hear him!

“We were just saying goodnight, Daddy,” I said as I dove under the covers, hoping he hadn’t heard anything important.

“Unh huh.” He reached down took the phone from my hand. “Goodnight, bug,” he said to Ari, using his nickname for her. “I love you.” I couldn’t hear her response, but I saw the smile on his face, and I loved it. “And I mean ‘goodnight’.”

Dad ended the call and, as he set the phone down, I saw what was in his other hand. He’d stopped off in the kitchen for one of the wooden spoons. It wasn’t the paddle, sure, but that didn’t mean I was happy to see that spoon, either. I squirmed deeper under the covers, childishly thinking that would protect my bottom, and hoped like mad that talking to Ari had cheered him up enough that he’d changed his mind.

“You know, I could’ve sworn I said ’10 minutes’, MJ. And that was,” he looked over at the clock on the wall, “over an hour ago.”

“I was in bed in 10 minutes, Daddy!” It probably wasn’t going to work, but I was going to try. “Off the computer and in here and in bed! I was in bed when sissy called.”

Nope. It didn’t work. His eyes narrowed at me, and his voice lowered still further. “Stay here.” He turned and went upstairs. He looked so calm, frighteningly calm. My mind was racing, trying to think of anything to move him away from the idea of punishment.

Stay there. Right. I wasn’t going to move anytime soon at all. What the heck was he doing upstairs? Ohhh. Damn. I heard him close Mike’s door. There went any hope of getting out of a spanking. He was checking on the kids and making sure they were asleep. I swallowed hard as Daddy came back to the living room and strode directly to me.

“Daddy, I’m going to bed now. Right now. Eyes closed and lights out and I *promise* I’m going right to sleep!” I’d never ‘gabbled’ before meeting Dad. Or, more correctly, before I started getting spanked for misbehavior. Now, I was well-practiced in it.

“Yep, you will. After.” He yanked the covers from me, tossing them to the foot of the couch. “Put both of your hands on your mouth, Michaela.”

This did not bode well. Shakily, I stacked my hands as directed but yanked them back off to protest when Daddy scooped both of my ankles up, holding my legs out of the way, my long t-shirt falling back to display the panties I wore underneath. I hated diaper position! Hated it more than hands on knees. “Daddy, don’t!”

“Mouth!” He didn’t give me another look, just pulled back that spoon and let it fly. I let out a squeal of surprise and pain, and he paused just long enough to have me regret my audible reaction. “If you wake up either of two upstairs, I will assume that you don’t mind them watching.”

Since we had, so far successfully, hidden that part of our relationship from both of his kids, the thought of them seeing me getting it from him both shocked and mortified me. I slapped my hands back onto my mouth and clamped down. Just in time, because Daddy sent that spoon flying down onto my sit spot for the first of many cruel slaps. I tried arching my back; I tried wriggling my hips; I tried twisting in place, anything to evade that spoon. Nothing worked. It never did. With my hands over my mouth, I couldn’t reach down to try to block even a single smack. Nothing paused the descent of that spoon, and it was so much worse because I could see it. I could watch that spoon flying toward my bottom and knew just how badly it would burn. Each time.

My muffled wails rose in tone and volume when he I saw him shift position as he began targeting my thighs. I couldn’t do anything to stop him. I could only accept his punishment as I howled behind my hands and tears flowed out of my eyes to streak back into my hair and onto my pillow.

When he finally stopped crashing that spoon into my aching bottom and lowered my legs, I was sobbing and moaning. “If you can keep your volume down, you can move your hands from your mouth.”

My breath hitching with sobs, I clumsily shifted, climbing up to kneel, not wanting my burning bottom against the nubby texture of the couch and flew both hands to my bottom.

Daddy grabbed a tissue, wiping my eyes with it, then holding it to my nose. “Blow.” I always felt like such a child when he would do that. Then again, by the time I needed the tissue, that’s usually how I felt anyway. He pointed to my pillow for me to lie back down and I started to cry again, but he helped me turn over, so my bottom was up and then he gently covered me back up.

Lying on my tummy, aching from the spanking, I gave in to the feelings of being loved enough to be corrected. The safety and security that always came when Daddy held or cared for me after a spanking. I was still crying when Daddy tugged my hand free to tuck my stuffed bear that he’d given me years ago into my arm. He crouched down, the spoon safely on the coffee table now, and the same hand that had lit a fire in my bottom gently stroked the hair back from my face. “When I say 10 minutes, baby, I mean it. You don’t get to disobey me like that.”

“I-I know, Daddy. I’m s-sorry.”

“Do you really know it, MJ?” He leaned over, got another tissue and wiped my eyes. “No more arguing about bedtime? No more fussing when you’re sent to bed? And, you go to bed when you’re supposed to? Do you know? Or do we do this more often?”

Daddy’s voice was tender, but I knew he wasn’t just chattering. He was serious, and I was NOT going to earn any more spankings over something like bedtime. I had bigger battles I was going to need my butt for. I shook my head against my pillow.

“I know it, Daddy. I’m sorry I,” embarrassed, I ended on a whisper, “disobeyed you.”

“Me too, baby. Think you can sleep?”

My eyes were already drifting, so I just nodded. He kissed my forehead before standing up.

“Goodnight, imp.”

This time, I stayed in bed. In the dark. And away from the phone. And I slept.