Looking back at things that Dad and I've shared is something we do now and then. One of the most awful... well, did I say "awful"... days of my life comes to mind as I sit here waiting for Dad to return from town. The story goes like this:
Occasionally, I did something that elicited great praise or great anger from Dad. Good grades were always worthy of new clothes, dinner at my favorite restaurant, and a movie. Overflowing the dishwasher by using liquid soap instead of dishwasher soap was enough to have Dad ground me for two weeks.
And, when I turned eighteen, I pulled the firecracker of my youth. I decided that it was time for me to buy a car. That's right... "I" decided... just like that. And, worse yet, I knew the combination to the floor safe and so I just helped myself to a down payment on a car. I was working at the school library and at McDonald's in the evenings and whenever school was in break, so I knew that I could make a monthly car payment. Without one bit of approval, or even discussion, I took myself to the car dealer and purchased a used Chevy... handed them $5000 of Dad's money, signed the paperwork, and drove my new car home.
Well, la de dah... was I a grownup now! Pleased as punch, I set about making dinner for Dad and me.
All of a sudden the door opened and Dad stood there looking at me with one eyebrow raised higher than the other. "Have company, Sharlann?"
"No, Dad... no company."
"Whose au - toe - moe - beel is that in the driveway?" Dad spoke slowly and more seriously than I'd ever heard.
"Well, Dad... it's MY new car! Aren't you proud of me?"
"W H A T?" "What in the HELL are you talking about Sharlann?"
Suddenly I realized that I'd probably made the mistake of my life. As Dad's face turned redder and redder, and a dark cloud of anger settled over him, I actually began to shake. Oh, what had I done... and what would happen now?
Dad slowly walked into the kitchen and sat down. "Tell me, Sharlann... tell me all about how and why you bought a car... tell me how you did it without my permission... tell me where you got the money... TALK TO ME SHARLANN! NOW!"
Oh brother, this was serious. Shaking, I told Dad what I'd done. No lies. Just facts. Then I waited... not for long, though.
In one swoop, Dad grabbed my by the arm, put me over his lap, pulled down my panties, and began smacking my bare bottom again and again and again. It HURT! Terribly! He was like a crazed man, slapping and slapping me until I began to cry loudly. Even then he didn't slow down. Dad actually beat on my bottom until I could feel welts and blisters rising... and even then he didn't seem to care how much he was hurting me. I was eighteen! And Dad appeared to be taking some degree of pleasure in my punishment... I could feel his cock growing harder and harder against my stomach as he continued spanking me.
Finally, Dad stopped and took a deep breath. He stood me up and said "Go upstairs and undress Sharlann... you have never been so naughty and you have never been punished the way I'm going to punish you tonight!"
Sobbing and clutching my aching bottom, I headed upstairs where I undressed. I dipped a washcloth in cold water and held it against my burning rear. Looking in the mirror, I was horrified... welts and ugly little blisters had risen all over my backside.
What more could Dad do to me?
Storming up the stairs behind me, Dad literally threw me on the bed with a fierceness I'd never seen in him. He smacked me a couple more times and then proceeded to tie my hands and feet to the head and foot boards, spread eagle. I was far too scared to do anything but whimper. "Dad, Dad... please... please stop... please don't do this..." Dad laughed a mean, maniacal laugh and bent down to retrieve something from under the bed.
He pulled out a black box and opened it. I could see through my tears that inside the lovely velvet interior of the box were all sorts of metal items that looked like something a mechanic would use. There were pins and clamps and probes and... well, then I REALLY began to cry... loudly! Dad couldn't, wouldn't actually hurt me, would he? Looking at his angry face and hearing his loud breathing, I decided not to say anything else, since all of my pleas had gone unanwered.