Monday, March 14, 2011

"Don't touch a thing!" by Daddy and I

“Before we get out, I want you to understand that I will be busy with my meeting.” Looking slightly stern at me.  “I know Daddy, I’ll find something to do” Pulling the key from the ignition. “Don’t touch anything and I mean it. You know what will happen if you misbehave?” Trying to convince you… “I will behave while you’re busy, don’t worry.”  Patting my knee and smiling… “OK, Let’s go.”

We get out and head into the fire house. I watch as you discuss the meeting tonight with the other fire fighters. I just nod as a few of them wave to me. “Daddy, can I go look at the fire truck?” Lifting my chin up to look me in the eyes, you remind me to behave. “I will, I promise” I head of to the area where they keep the fire trucks.
I walk over to the big fire truck and see all the levers, knobs, and tools on the side of it. I get closer to look. Trying not to touch anything, but the urge is too great.

Remembering what you said. I look around and don’t see anyone. I reach and start pushing knobs in and pulling on others. Pushing, pulling and twisting anything that would move. Wanting to see more, I walk around the truck. Stopping at the back of it, I see one of those extinguishers like at the stores and in our barn that I’m not allowed to touch, sitting on back bumper all hooked in so it won't fall. Looking around once again, I grab the handle and try to squeeze it. Nothing happens and I try squeezing it again. I see a ring on it and pull. Opps it came out. Try to put it back in but think I hear someone and I quickly stick it in my pocket, so no one sees. Peek around the truck and don’t see anyone. Go peek around the other side and no one there either. I start to move on, but decide to give the handle another squeeze. This time when I do, all this white stuff, comes flying out everywhere, all over the truck and nearly covering me. I can’t seem to let go or stop it. I start screaming and trying to make it stop.

Suddenly two arms reach over me and pull my hands from the handle, stopping the spray. Pushing me back out of the way. I see you got it stopped but not before getting some of it on you also. Gathered around watching the show and laughing a bit at the mess I have all over me and now on you. One of the guys asks if I’m ok. I wipe my face some, to see better, when I look up and see you turn and notice the look on your face. At that moment, a lump in my throat makes it hard to speak.

I kneel down on one knee in front of you and brush some of the dust from your hair. My concern for you shows on my face, as I ask if you are OK, however another look, a hard look in my eyes tells you another story. I can see your chin, and lip begin to quiver as the anxiety and fear wells up inside you, and a tear starts to form in one eye.

"Daddy, I'm OK, I promise....I'm so sorry daddy...I, I looked...that thing looked like it might fall and I wanted to help, and I didn't want it to fall off, so I um, Daddy...I...." you try to find a way to explain it all. Suddenly you look around, remembering once again that a crowd of firefighters has gathered and is watching the whole thing. Some of these guys are very close friends, some are like uncles to you, and some of them have kids too, kids that you play with. You know that the story of what happened here tonight will be told again, and again in houses around town.

I stand up, and as I look down at you, I ask, "Little girl, what did I tell you before we got out of the truck?" I see you cringe slightly when I call you "little girl", you want so badly to be thought of as a "big girl" by the firemen. You just look up to me and mouth the words, ", no" as you shake your head slightly, side to side.

From the crowd, one of the firemen calls out, "Come on chief, take it easy on her, she didn't mean any harm!" Another calls out in support, and a few murmor agreement. Then another voice, rather brash, from the back of the group, says, "If  she were my kid, she wouldn't be able to sit down for a week after a stunt like that!" The same firemen goes on by saying, "Remember chief, what you always tell us about keeping an eye on our kids and making sure they don't mess with the equipment!"

Suddenly a loud voice calls out that draws every ones attention away, "Holy cow! What in the hell..." It's my assistant chief Smitty. Smitty goes over to the side of the truck, and pushes in the "tank valve", and the "pump drain" valve. Looking down, there is a large river of water seeping away from under the truck, and down the floor drain nearby. Not realizing what actually happened, Smitty turns and looks at a couple of the firemen and says, "Hey Bob, Al, weren't you guys training on this truck earlier?" The two firemen both looked rather sheepish, and admitted, "Yeah, Smitty, we were, we were going over the pump operation." Smitty tears into the guys, chewing them out good about being more careful about how they leave the levers and valves. Smitty says, "Looks like about a third of the tank water is drained out! This could be dangerous!" The two probies try to explain that they were certain they had double checked everything, and hadn't left any valves open, but Smitty wasn't giving much credit to what they were saying. Smitty can be pretty hard core on the guys, so he orders the two guys to grab a hose and top off the truck. As the two guys start moving to carry out their order, Smitty follows that up with, "And when you're done there, report to me in my office, I'll have a few more things for you to do!"

As the crowd begins to break up a bit, one of the captains comes up to me and says, "Don't worry chief, I'll clean up the extinguisher and swap it out for a full one." Taking you firmly by the upper arm, I thank the capt., and begin to walk you toward my office telling you, "Come on naughty girl, we are going to have a little chat!" A couple of firemen walking away overhear this, and snicker slightly, saying, "Yeah, I'll bet someone is going to get a spanking now!"

I walk you into the office area of the old firehouse, through Smitty's office where he is sitting, waiting for Bob and Al to report to him. Smitty catches your eye as we walk past his desk and he winks at you and says, "It'll be over soon little lady." Behind Smitty's desk is a wall, with a wooden door off to one side. The floors of the office area are old hardwood, scratched and scuffed by years of fire boots, but polished as best possible. The wood floors creak slightly as we walk over them. The door is a big, heavy, wooden door. Stained dark, and carrying its one scuff mark scars showing its age. The door has a frosted glass window in it. The window allows light to shine through, but you can't see more than a shadow through it. In arched letters, painted on the glass, gold with black shadow are the words..."Fire Chief". The hinges creek slightly as the door opens, then closes.

I point you to a seat in front of my desk. There are several, old, straight backed wooden chairs there. I take a seat behind my desk, in the wooden desk chair with the arms. The chair creaks slightly as I lean back, looking at you across my desk, eyes squinted slightly. You try to break the silence by saying, "Daddy,, daddy I'm" I motion for you to stop and ask, "Little girl, what exactly did I tell you before we came into the station tonight?"

As we start to chat, we can hear Bob and Al coming into Smitty's office outside my door. Smitty is really giving these guys the riot act about paying better attention, and how that screw up could have cost someone their life. As that conversation continues, I can see your lips quiver and a tremor shoot through your body, as your hands wring in your lap, and you can't seem to keep still.

Finally, interrupting me, you blurt out, "Daddy...I need to tell you something!" Caught slightly off guard, and a little annoyed, I frown and ask, "What is it?" You fret, and stammer, stutter, trying to put the words together. Finally, with Smitty still yelling at the two firemen in the outer office, you tell me, "Daddy, Bob and Al didn't do anything wrong!" Caught totally off guard, I sit up in my chair, looking at you questioningly. "What...what are you talking about, Bob and Al...what?" "Daddy, Bob and Al didn't let the water out of your truck, I think I did!"

Totally perplexed now, I ask, "What on earth are you talking about young lady?" You go on to explain how you had been playing with the levers, and buttons, and remember hearing water running, but not paying attention to it, as you went to the back of the engine. I sit back in my chair, folding my big arms across my chest and fix you with a hard stare while I contemplate all this information.

In a loud voice that takes you by surprise, and causes you to jump, I yell, "Smitty, step in here please." Within a moment, the door creeks open and Smitty steps in, "Yeah, chief?" I ask, "Are those two probies still out there in your office?" "Yes, they are....I'm about to give them some extra detail work." "Bring those two in here, Smitty, and come in here yourself."

Smitty hustles the two firemen into my office, and everyone looks around, looks at you, then looks at me, all sort of wondering. I fix a stare straight at you, and never look away from your eyes as I talk..."Smitty, I do believe that we have some new information about our leaking fire truck, and I do NOT believe that these two guys had anything to do with it." Smitty is obviously, slightly confused, "Uh, OK..." Still fixing my gaze on you, I say, "Young lady, would you mind explaining to these men what it is that you just told me?"

After several minutes of explaining, and a lot of apologizing, the story finally comes out. The room remains quiet for a few moments, as everyone takes into account what was just said. I can see that your cheeks are completely flushed with embarrassment, and that you are right on the verge of breaking down right in front of everyone.

Finally, I stand up, bring myself to my full 6'5" height, as I look down at you, seated in front of my desk. I step around the desk, and slide one of the straight back chairs out to an open space. Taking a seat, and looking at you, I announce, "Well, I guess we need to take care of this then, don't we little girl?"

A look of terror and panic sweeps across your face as you realize that I intend to spank you right there, in front of everyone. "Daddy! No, please daddy! Not here, not in front..." your plea dies off as I fix you with a look of warning, and point to a spot on the floor next to my right thigh. Slowly, very slowly, you stand, and somehow force one foot in front of the other as you half walk, half shuffle to my right side. Looking into your face, your eyes are filled with tears already, but your hair keeps your face hidden from everyone else. Only I can see your face as you shake your head no, very slightly, silently pleading with me.

Unmoved, I simply point to my right thigh and simply say, "!" As if in slow motion, you bend forward and downward, reaching out and placing your hands on my thighs, as you gently lower yourself down across my lap. Once you are over my lap, I maneuver you forward a bit, placing your upturned bottom in the perfect position. As I lay my hand down on your bottom, a soft yelp escapes your lips as your body twitches slightly.

I look up at the gathered firefighters and see looks ranging from general agreement, to amusement at the scene before them. I tell Smitty, "Can you guys give us a moment or two of privacy here please." Smitty replies, "Sure thing chief...come on guys" as he ushers the two probies out of my office and the door creaks closed  behind them. Once they have left, we can still, clearly hear them talking just outside the door in Smitty's office. There's not a whole lot of noise protection in these old offices.

I pat your bottom firmly, and ask, "You understand why you are here, don't you young lady?" "Yes daddy...because I was playing with the stuff on your truck." you mumble. I scold, "That's right young lady, you played with the truck, even after daddy asked you not to, and almost got those two firemen in trouble too!"

We can still hear voices in the outer office as I raise my hand into the air and bring it down with a loud "pop" across the seat of your pants. Your body flinches, and a low noise comes out of you, then my hand lands again, raining down spank, after spank on your little bottom. The sound of my hand echoes around the small room and seems loud. Soon your feet are kicking up and down, and your legs are pumping like you are running. I can see the soft cotton material on the seat of your pants flatten, and change shapes each time my hand comes down.

At last I stop spanking, and help you stand up. I see some tears have started to trickle down your cheeks and you try to avoid my eyes until I say those words..."Get your pants down." In a slight panic, you look at me, then your eyes go to my office door. In the frosted glass of the door, you can see shadows of people standing, and moving around in Smitty's office, and you can hear the hushed sounds of conversations. Looking back at me with fear you say, "Daddy, no, please, don't make me take my pants down here!" Unrelenting, I fix my stare at you and repeat the order, "Get them down, now!"

Finally you start to slide your pants down, trying not to let them go too far, but still follow my order. As your pants slide down, you try to pull down on your pink sweater jacket, trying to keep some modesty and protection. Back across my knee, your cute, boy short style panties almost show more bottom than they protect. Now your bottom begins to bounce, and wiggle under my hand as I resume spanking. The sound in the room has definitely changed as you can hear skin, to skin contact in the spanks.

Within no time, your feet are coming up, and soon you are reaching back to protect your quickly reddening bottom. The spanks come down fast, and hard, and I can hear little cries of "Ohh,!" Soon I have to remind you to keep your feet on the ground, and I have to take your wrist to keep your hand out of the way, and the spanking keeps going.

Finally, among the yelps, and cries, I begin to hear the sniffles, and other sounds of your soft crying. I stop the spanking, and resting my hand on the back of your thigh I ask, "Little girl, do you think you can remember to listen to daddy the next time he tells you not to do something?"

Among the sniffles I hear you say, "Yes, daddy..I do, and I'm sorry, I'll never do it again!"

I help you up off my lap, and watch as you get your pants back up and in order. I look into your face and see a sorry little girl, and also see the look of expectation in your eyes, because now is the time that you need the most.

I pat my lap and simply say, "Come on," and quickly you almost jump into my lap, wrapping your arms around my neck, and burying your face into my shoulder, with your hair shielding. I wrap my arms tightly around you and tell you, "Daddy loves you little girl, and I am sorry that I had to spank." "I know daddy, I'm sorry that you did too, but thank you."

We could stay this way almost seated on my lap, our arms around each other, holding each other tight.

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