It was that stupid telephone bill that was the start of everything. Really, the way my father carried on over it. I'm eighteen and I have friends. Naturally I talk on the phone. You'd think I was the only one in the house that used the phone the way dad carried on. It was totally unfair.
It was a Saturday morning. My mother had gone out shopping and my father and I were home doing nothing in particular. At least, I was doing nothing in particular. It turned out that dad was doing his monthly accounts.
I was feeling rather bored and was happy to see Will when he turned up. We retired to my room (leaving the door ajar like a good little girl) and we were listening to music and chatting. That's all. OK. There might have been a little bit of playing around, but only a very little. That open door, remember?
After about half an hour Will had to step into the en suite for a little personal business. He'd only been gone a minute or so when my father came storming into the room, waving a bit of paper in the air.
"Five hundred dollars over the cap," he's yelling. "How the hell can you go five hundred dollars over the cap? I've told you before about this sort of thing. It's up to you to stick to the cap. Do you think I'm made of money? This sort of thing is ridiculous."
It was embarrassing. Bad enough that my father was yelling at me about a silly little bill, but Will was in the en suite and could hear everything. It made me a little snarky. What would you expect? So I was something less than diplomatic when answering my father.
Pointing out that I'm not the only one who uses the phone didn't help much. Dad promptly pointed out that my mother and he used their own phones most of the time and any charges they rang up on my phone would be minimal. (Irritating, but true.)
Explaining that I had a lot of friends and it would be rude not to talk to them didn't go over any better. Let them ring me, was his solution. That way the cost is on their account, not mine. You can't do that with SMS messages, I told him, and he said I should lay of the SMS and just make a quick call. It would be cheaper than a hundred messages.
He was really irritating me with his complaining. It was only one bill after all. I pointed that out to him and told him to just get over it.
Maybe I should have been a bit more repentant and placating and I probably would have been if Will hadn't been in the en suite, hearing every word. At least, he wasn't adding to my embarrassment by coming out while my father was there. Anyway, I wasn't repentant and placating. You might even say that my last comment was sarcastically condescending. My dad blew his top.
He turned red and gave me a very nasty look.
"Right, young Lady," he said. "It seems you need a lesson in manners as well as finance."
With that he just plopped himself down on my bed and yanked me over his knee. I couldn't believe it. I could not fucking believe it! I was eighteen and he was going to spank me?
He certainly was. He flicked my dress up away from my bottom and his hand came down hard. It was painful and so embarrassing. I only had on a thong and my bottom was effectively bare. And my dad had a very strong hand.
What was even worse, I could see the en suite door reflected in the dressing table mirror and it was slightly open. Will could not only see me being spanked but he had a prime view of my thong and the things it only just covered. And the larger parts that it didn't.
Now my father isn't brutal. Only strict and determined and reasonably fair. I guess I had asked for trouble with my attitude on top of the bill and I sure got it. I squealed and kicked and protested but I still got my allocated six of the best. (Ten actually. He was really pissed off.)
When he finished I was just about in tears from the pain and humiliation. He just dumped me onto the floor and glared at me some more.
"If your phone account is over the cap next month you will lose your phone one day for each dollar it's over. And I am not kidding. You had better start paying attention to what you're spending."
With that he stalked out of the room while I scrambled to my feet and slammed my bedroom door. A few moments later I heard the front door slam. Dad obviously going down to the pub for a drink while he cooled down.
"Poor little Patty," said a laughing voice behind me.
I turned around and Will was standing at the door to the en suite, laughing quietly.
"Stuff you," I snapped. "You can just piss off and go home. I'm not talking to anything male for a week."
"Don't be like that," Will protested. "What you need is a little counter-therapy."
He sat on the bed right where my dad had been sitting and pulled me towards him. I was expecting him to sit me on his lap for a cuddle and a kiss. Boy, was I wrong. He gave my hand a sudden jerk and I stumble forward and finished up face down across his lap, back in a spanking position.
"Just relax," Will tells me. "This won't hurt at all."
With that he flicked my dress up and his hand landed on my bottom. Not with a spank, though. It came down as lightly as a feather and I could feel his fingertips just brushing against my skin, running back and forth across my smarting cheeks.
I was going to protest. After all, that was effectively my bare bottom he was fondling. But it did make a difference. Instead of my cheeks smarting I could feel a gentle touch just mildly exciting me. I decided I'd delay the protest for a little while.
The light touches continued as his hands just drifted across my bottom, barely touching me. I noticed that a couple of times his fingers seemed to snag on the strap of my thong but I didn't really worry about that. Apparently Will did.
"I keep catching on this," he said, plucking at the strap. "I'm just going to ease them down a little."
Before I could say yay, nay, or that's what you bloody think, he'd taken my thong and eased it down a little. And it was just a little. He just moved the straps lower so his fingers wouldn't get caught. He didn't try to push them down further and expose me. If he had I'd have slapped him.
Will continued with those feathery little touches just drifting around my bottom, totally distracting me from everything else. It not only felt nice it was exciting, although I would have to say enough fairly soon. I was astounded when I found those touches had somehow drifted lower and were brushing against the edge of my pussy.
As soon as I realised that I also realised that somehow or other my thong had fallen lower. It had migrated further down my legs and Will could see everything. I started to protest but he just slipped a hand down and covered my mound and gave a slight squeeze. I just froze. How dare he do that?
Very easily it seemed, because he didn't take his hand away. He just started rubbing me, his hand pressing firmly against me, and I could feel that touch all the way inside me.
