In Trouble

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Dad finds something in her room.
1.3k words
2.36
47.5k
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The day was beautiful. I was in heaven. I was in my last three weeks of High School. I had just turned 18. The birds were singing and the sun was shining, and all was as it should be. Then I went home.

"Jim, Erica is home." Mom called out loud. Then, to me, she said, "You better get up there." She had that look on her face. That 'You're in a world of trouble.' look.

The day was too beautiful for anything major, so I trotted up the stairs. "Daddy?" I called.

"I'm in here, Erica." He said. His voice was coming from my room, so I walked in. "What is this, Erica?" He was sitting on my bed holding a zip-lock bag with something in it. I had never seen it before.

"I don't know." I said.

"Erica?" He said, with that still small voice he used when he was angry.

"Honest, Daddy, I have never seen that before in my life." I was telling the truth. He set the bag on the bed and held his hand out to me. I took his hand, and he pulled me in front of him.

"Well, sweetie, I have to be sure." He gently pulled me across his lap.

"Daddy, I am sure. I have never seen that bag before. It is not mine."

"I hear you, darling, but it was in your room, and I love you, so I have to do this." He lifted my skirt and folded it back against my back. I knew there was no point in fighting or arguing. So I cried. He peeled my panties down, and smacked my bottom really hard. One, two, three, four, five times. My behind was in flames, and I'm sure it was red as an apple by now.

"Now, Erica, what's in the bag?" He asked. I was sobbing pretty hard, and Daddy waited patiently for me to catch my breath. "Erica, what's in the bag?"

"I really don't know, Daddy." I said between sobs. One, two, three, four, five more smacks on my bare bottom. I was sobbing again.

"Erica, I'm only going to ask you one more time." He waited for me to quiet down a little. "What's in the bag, dear?"

"I already told you, Daddy, I don't know." One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen more, and every one just as hard as the first.

"Now, darling, you will stay in your room for the rest of the day, and we will talk about this again tonight." I climbed off his lap, straightening my clothes, and threw myself on my bed. I could hear daddy's footsteps going down the stairs.

My seat was hot enough to cook on, but I also felt something else. I had this tingling feeling way down in my tummy. It felt more like it was down between my legs. In some way, I was aroused by what had just happened. I couldn't believe what I was feeling. I was horny.

I cleaned up my room. I say that casually, as if my room ever needed cleaning. I am a neat freak. I clean my room every day. This day was different, because I had nothing else to do. I usually spend about 20 to 30 minutes dusting and cleaning, but today I spent three hours. I refolded everything in my drawers, and re arranged my closet, twice. I cleaned all my shoes. I even vacuumed, in spite of the fact I had just done it yesterday.

It was dinner time, but no one called me. I waited, hoping they would call, but they didn't. Just when I thought dinner must be over, they called. I quickly went downstairs, and walked into the dinning room. Mom had already cleared the table, and Daddy stood and walked around the table.

"So, dear, have you thought about what's in the bag?" I nodded. Mom came back in the room, and she was carrying that rattan cane she had always threatened us with, but had never used.

"So, what's in the bag, Erica?" Daddy asked.

"I really don't know, Daddy. Please believe me." I was almost begging.

"Drop your shorts to the floor and bend over the end of the table, sweetie. I want to believe you. I really do." I dropped my shorts and stepped out of them, then I bent over the end of the table. I honestly believed they were just trying to scare me, which incidentally, was working just great. They had never used the cane in all the years I had been alive, and I didn't really think they would start now.

Mom stepped up and handed the cane to Daddy, then she grasped my panties and pulled them down to expose my bottom. "Erica, your Dad and I love you to death, but we are worried about you. Just tell us what it is, and we will help you. We will do whatever it takes, just tell us what it is, and lets stop this before it goes any further."

"Mom, I wish to God I could tell you what's in the bag, but I don't know. There is nothing I can do to change that. I'm sorry."

Mom stepped back. I knew what that meant. I was still totally unprepared for the intensity of the pain as one, two, three blows landed on my ass, instantly raising welts. I screamed as the third blow struck. I didn't want to; I didn't try to. I couldn't help it.

"I don't know." I blurted it out before anyone asked. I was rewarded with three more welts. Mom disappeared from the room. Daddy laid three more welts on my distressed behind before she came back.

"Jim. It's the police. Erica, go to your room." I ran, panties still down, leaving my shorts on the dining room floor. I closed my door and buried my face in my pillow and just cried.

I must have stayed like that for about an hour. I might even have fallen asleep, but I was awakened by a knock at my bedroom door. I said come in and my Daddy opened the door.

"I still don't know what's in the bag." I said.

"I know, darling. I know, and I'm sorry. I hope you understand why we did what we did. I love you." He said.

"What did the police want? I asked.

"They were here about your brother. Apparently, he went to the police station after school today. They came to check out his story."

"What story?" I asked.

"Well, your brother got home last night and found something in his book bag. I don't know why he didn't tell us about it, but he went to the police station after school and told them what he found. They came to check it out."

"What was it?" I asked.

"He thought it was a bag of marijuana. He hid it here so he wouldn't get caught with it, and went to the police."

"Ha! That's just great. And just where did he hide it?"

"He said that he was worried that whoever put it in his bag might break into our house to look for it, so he hid it right here, in your room. That is right where we found it. I'm sorry, sweetie. I have never had reason to doubt you, and I shouldn't have doubted you this time, but I had to be sure. If you were doing drugs, we wouldn't be able to forgive ourselves if we did nothing."

"Could you do me a favor, Daddy?" I asked.

"Anything, princess." He said.

"You haven't told Jason about this, have you?"

"No. Why?"

"Don't tell him. Please. I'd just assume we all forgot about it. I certainly don't want Jason to know about it." I said.

"Alright, I can do that. I'll tell your Mom not to mention it. Again, princess, I'm so sorry. I know it hurt a lot. Forgive me?"

"It's alright, Daddy. I forgive you. I know you did it because you love me. I just hope you never have to do it again."

"Goodnight, sweetie."

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AnonymousAnonymousabout 15 years ago
It's a long one, read at own peril

Sorry I'm trying very hard to be constructive and find something nice to say about it, but I can't, it reads like a child abuse story, and considering the ‘girl’ being abused is an adult….

Maybe it’s the ethical lapses in plot line that gets under my skin,

Parents find drugs and they feel justified in beating their daughter? It’s all happy go luck everything’s fine at the end because, oh well there really was really nothing to worry about but we had to make sure.

Even worse they're [the parents] portrayed as being in the right.

Despite the beating of this young woman, for no reason other than paranoid suspicion.

More to the point all the ‘consequences’ are left for the daughter alone. The son appears to leave unscathed from suspicion or consequence and so are the parent. Can you say social services?

If that’s the story you wanted to tell, I concede that it’s your work, please write what you want regardless of to my comments.

Objections to the scenario aside, the characters in general could use some work and few extra dimensions, but you should be able to fix that really easily.

For example the daughter is so submissive and wooden, all the emotions are off balance, why is she like that?

Why is she more concerned about her brother not finding out about the whipping she was subjected to? Is she a completely innocent party or is there another reason, like her being co-conspirator or even the brains of the operation.

The brother is a complete mystery, not necessarily a bad thing. It keeps a reader guessing and they can find their own assumptions about his character.

The parents however are a different matter, the behaviour displayed is it written in a fashion which automatically sets them up as the bad guys. They appear to have no thought and depth beyond violence .

Hell they find wacky backy, in their daughters room and not even a conversation about drugs is warranted before hand? Or even sniffing the air in the room or looking for equipment to confirm their paranoia. That stuff leaves a distinctive smell.

To reiterate why did they repeatedly boomerang back to violence and coercing demands instead of even listening, or even talking to their child when she said she had no idea where the bag came from?

Why was that their only and first option? Why the knee jerk reaction?

Do they not know her well enough to distinguish the truth, is she an accomplished liar, is the other child rather wayward and they fear the same happening to this child. You get the point.

Please think about why the other characters act they way they do, and what are their motivations for doing this: and in following out these actions how do they justify and rationalise the directions in which their actions take?

Are there any emotional consequences?

The flow of your story doesn’t feel right from a first reading, there is no direction in your work, I find it hard to put down the reasons for your story its purpose or intent. If it’s purely for yourself, and your reasons are your own please disregard this comment as trivial quibbling.

I apologise if the comments come across as a bit harsh, they are meant to be constructive.

All the problems are fixable if you consider the above and take it a step or four further.

Paint some background and fill in the blanks maybe add a little colour and detailing to the story this could be turned into an intriguing exploration.

As is, scrap it and better luck next time

AnonymousAnonymousabout 16 years ago
I am 18 and you beat me for nothing. Then you tel

me my brother set me up to protect himself. And I just say lets forget about it. Yeah right and bugs bunny and mickey mouse agree with this to. Way to immature to be of any consequence.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 16 years ago
suppose

suppose there's more coming. Otherwise, this story makes no sense at all.

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