Daddy's Tie (M/f) (Repost from 1995)
Quixotoes (Ted)
office that bright spring day. But as far as Lindsay was concerned,
her mood was as gloomy as a mime's at a Senate hearing on funding of
the arts.
She didn't know whether to bemoan her fate that Dad had come home
early, or whether to sigh relief that her waiting would soon be over
-- one way or another.
Dad loped into the kitchen, kissed his wife and then did a double-
take. "Princess," he shouted cheerily. "What are you doing there?"
As if he couldn't figure out something was up. For the past 27 minutes
and 16 seconds, she had stood counting flowers on the wall -- the
sunflower wallpaper, that is. They were her only vista. Lindsay, a
perky but pouty minx, had been sentenced to the corner near the tall
freestanding cupboard feeling the silent curses and angry glares from
her mother, who was cooking the girl's least favorite meal -- meat
loaf and spinach. She feared she might be feeling something else --
real soon. And it wasn't heartburn that made her nervous.
Dad surveyed the scene, but nothing could break his good cheer after a
productive day at work. It became apparent that Lindsay hadn't exactly
been setting teacups all day. Her white shorts were muddy and grass-
stained, her rugby shirt had been pulled and twisted at the shoulders,
and her left knee was trickling blood.
"Well?" he asked. It was as if no one was there, not even a chair.
Finally, Lindsay's mom told him what he hated to hear. "I put her
there until YOU came home, dear."
"Geez," he thought. "Couldn't you straighten this out first?" As if
she heard his rumination, Lindsay's mother said, "I am getting tired
of her rolling around the dirt with those boys and always getting into
fights. It just isn't proper! And if that wasn't bad enough, your
daughter flounced home 45 minutes late and then sassed me. I don't
care if she is your princess, Darling, but right now she is the devil
incarnate."
Dad strode over to his wife and pecked her on the cheek. Lindsay was
shifting uncomfortably in the corner, burdened by the discomfort of
standing still -- a true torture for any 8-year-old. He walked to his
daughter, a wry smile on his face, his right hand jiggling the
contents of his suit coat pocket. In a whisper soft enough to coax a
kitten from a tree yet strong enough to inspire instant obedience, he
told her, simply, "Come with me."
The girl's dark eyes were downcast, the ribbon in her hair askew. She
offered no resistance when Dad took her tiny hand in his and led her,
like a recalcitrant puppy, toward the living room. She instinctively
crossed her hands behind her and walked pigeon-toed and stiff-legged
alongside Dad, her bottom cheeks and spindly thighs so tight she
looked almost like a broken pair of pliers.
Tears were starting to well, but she wanted to be brave and held them
back. Her throat was tight, her flesh flecked with goose pimples. Dad
took his accustomed seat amidst the day's mail and newspapers on the
plush lavender velvet sofa. He shoved the Daily Detritus to the side
and patted the cushion in order that Lindsay might sit down.
He gave her a little hug, then reached into his coat pocket. "Are you
mad, Daddy?" she whimpered. He didn't answer immediately, but procured
from his lint-strewn pocket two flaming red jawbreakers -- her
favorite treat -- and a fresh Pez dispenser bearing the likeness of
her namesake, Lindsay Lohan.
She grinned wide before remembering that she was doomed to seemingly
eternal shame at the gap in front where her baby teeth had been. Being
a girl of righteous upbringing and soul-stirring honesty, Lindsay
hesitated before taking the gifts -- knowing she had disappointed her
parents that day.
"Can we talk?" Dad insisted. She nodded. "Now, look, Lindsay. There
isn't a kid in the world who doesn't get into a tussle or doesn't get
her clothes dirty. And there hasn't been a kid yet born who didn't get
into a scrape with her mother."
Lindsay looked at him with the anticipation of a tout whose longshot
is only half a length behind in the backstretch. She smiled again,
this time with her mouth shut. After all, she was his princess
forever, and he her gallant knight and protector.
He cleared his throat. "But," Dad paused. "We can't have you running
around after it's time for you to be in and we can't have you talking
back -- can we?" Her smile curled into a pout and she slowly shook her
head once. "There are basic rules, and one of the big ones is learning
obedience, sweetheart," he explained.
She hadn't noticed, but Dad's comforting arm was no longer around her
shoulders. Dad had finished his little speech, and Lindsay didn't have
the heart, now, to offer any lame alibis. They sat in the silence.
Lindsay folded her hands into her lap and stared downward. Dad gazed
impassively at her, as if waiting for a plea, or even a bit of
impulsive backtalk. His watch alarm beeped the hour -- as demandingly
in the hushed room as if it were a garbage truck backing up.
At least two minutes had passed before Lindsay snapped her eyeballs to
her left to find Dad still looking at her; he was calm but clearly
waiting for her to make the next move. A muffled sob escaped from her
chest and caught in her throat. She took a deep breath and lowered her
head again, hoping fervently that an angel would sweep her away and
back into time about two hours so that none of this would be
happening.
Dad had nowhere to go; but Lindsay did, and they both knew it. After
another minute, the girl peeked up again in faint prayer that her
father might have dematerialized. His soft blue eyes had not moved.
Finally, he tilted his head slightly to the left and said only one
word.
"Lindsay."
At long last she made a move -- the move they both knew was required.
Lindsay crawled across her daddy's lap, emitting a tiny sigh. Her
father, without any further word of remonstrance, gently lifted her
hips and undid the clasp on her shorts. She gulped as he lowered them
to mid-thigh. The girl pressed herself down hard on his lap to
forestall an even worse development, but Dad had no trouble grasping
the elastic of her yellow cotton panties from each side and wiggling
them down to just below her rather flat bottom.
As he performed what they both understood was this necessary ritual,
Lindsay felt an entirely new and strange, wonderful and chilling
sensation. Although Dad did not notice anything out of the ordinary,
the tip of his silk paisley tie was dangling alongside of and then
right on top of her bared bottom.
Lindsay shivered and sighed audibly. Dad thought she was preparing for
the temporary discomfort that was to commence presently. But as his
tie brushed her backside and his strong left arm curle around her
waist, Lindsay couldn't have cared any less that she was about to get
a spanking.