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Author: LolaLane
Title: Lady Like
She fidgeted impatiently in the corner, her face pressed close to the
wall. The air was stuffy and stale this close to the hot oven and she
longed to be outside, sliding recklessly down the hills with her
brothers. They never treated her like their little sister and she was
grateful for it; her mother, on the other hand, hemmed and hawed over
her lack of both manners and courtesy on a daily basis. She wished she
could be like Owen and Brac; even little Emrick was allowed to toddle
freely, pillaging the flower beds and soiling his chalk-white baby
clothes with abandon. She sighed against the yellow wallpaper, busy with
latticed vines and tiny daisy bursts, and stomped her foot. Her mother
glanced up from her needle work and tsk, tsked. “Caitlin Wynn Maddock,
you had better stop that tantrum this instant,” she chided to her
daughter’s back. Caitlin hated hearing her whole name, thinking it was
too old-fashioned sounding. Why couldn’t she have been born a Jane Thorn
or Betty Louise Appleton, like her girlfriends at school? She crossed
her arms, leaned against the wall and scowled. The twins were behind the
house, making an incredible racket. She could see them in her mind’s
eye, plummeting down the snowy slope on their new wooden sleds. She had
wanted one for Christmas, too. She had begged Mama and Daddy, but she
had gotten two new dolls instead. Mama had said that sleds were for big
boys like Owen and Brac and that girls like Caitlin would end up with
bruises and broken bones. Her mother went on to point out how Emrick had
not gotten one, either. Caitlin had been furious and earned herself a
sharp smack across the face when she demanded, “So you think girls are
babies?!?” Aderyn Maddock was not to be spoken to that way by her
children; she was a devoted woman who bore her husband, Powell, four
fine, clever children before she was twenty eight years old, but with
such love and strength comes a firm hand. Aderyn would not tolerate
Caitlin’s backtalk and unruliness; she believed that every ten year old
girl should respect and abide their mothers’ expectations, as she had
done. Aderyn knew the spirit that lay in Caitlin’s sparkling green eyes,
and she mused inwardly over it. But this attitude would never get her
daughter a suitable husband to provide for her and her children, and so
Aderyn met Caitlin at every turn, wrestling her daughter into the image
of an idyllic child, and eventually an exemplary wife and mother. She
looked up now to see Caitlin biting her nails and peeking out of the
curtained window. She shook her head. “Take your fingers out of your
mouth, dearest,” she began, sighing into her needle point, “Keep that
nose in the corner. If I have to tell you again, you’ll be sorry.”
Caitlin swallowed and clenched her fists, the curve of her neck between
two long, blonde braids turning scarlet. She resumed her position,
wishing her mother would focus her energy on one of the boys instead.
The front door slammed shut and Brac pounded the slushy snow off on the
deeply green, knitted rug. Owen was just behind him; he pulled off his
snow cap, revealing a shock of white blonde hair that matched his
brother’s perfectly. The two were more alike than different and shared
everything, including wide devilish grins, which they now flashed at
their mother. “Ma, what’s for dinner?” Brac asked, pawing through a
cookie jar. “Not those,” his mother replied, casting a warning look at
her son. “Aw, ma,” Owen chimed in, glancing deviously at his brother.
Their mother had resumed her stitching and did not notice Brac stick two
chocolate chip cookies in his pocket before pushing the tin away.
Caitlin didn’t miss it though and she opened her mouth to protest. Owen
glared at her and stuck out his tongue. She wasn’t afraid of them; they
were barely larger than her at twelve. “Maaa,” she whined, despite
Brac’s angry head shaking, “They have cookies!” Without looking up,
their mother held out her hand and Brac, dropped the treats dejectedly
into her outstretched palm. He glared at Caitlin. “I wonder how you even
knew,” he began, grinning wickedly, “if your nose is supposed to be in
that corner.” Owen snickered. Caitlin growled and turned back to the
wall, as the two headed toward their bedroom, still chuckling. “We’ll be
eating,” her mother said, loudly over the bickering children, and
looking at the wall clock, “When your father gets home.” Caitlin
shuddered considering what else could happen when her father gets home.
She involuntarily rubbed her backside, thinking about the last time her
mother told him about her disobedience. She resolved to be perfect until
then, hoping her mama would think time in the corner was enough to teach
her a lesson about playing with toys she wasn’t allowed near. Aderyn
stood and tucked her needle work into the basket beside her rocker. She
patted the gurgling Emrick on his bonneted head and proceeded toward the
kitchen to check on the roast. Powell was a good man and worked hard as
a manger at the local steel factory; it was a respectable job and paid
for their fine house and full bellies. Aderyn liked to have his meal
prepared when he walked through the door; there was but another half
hour or so until then. She pulled the frilly apron over her shirt-waisted
navy cotton dress, rolling back the three quarter sleeves. She opened
the oven and poked at the meat, ladling a heap of sauce over it. It
smelled nearly done so she took the biscuits from the Electrolux and
popped them beneath the roast. Emrick began to cry angrily. “Brac!
Owen,” Aderyn called, from the oven front. There was no response and so
she called louder, “Boys!” She sighed, as Emrick shrieked impatiently.
Caitlin saw her opportunity. “Can I help, mommy?” she asked, as sweetly
as she could manage. Aderyn saw through this easily, but was too busy
with the boiled vegetables to object. “Yes, darling. Please see if
Emrick needs to be changed. There’s a good girl,” she said, nodding
toward her daughter. Caitlin smiled to herself and went to check on the
baby. He was wet indeed, and though normally she would have thrown a
fine tantrum to escape a dirty diaper, today she cooed at him and took
him to the changing table gratefully. Emrick giggled at her funny faces
and she took great care to clean and powder him thoroughly. When she was
done, she returned to her mother in the kitchen and offered to set the
table for her. “What a big help that would be, Caitlin,” her mother
smiled, thinking that in the least, she could get a few chores out of
her willful daughter before the cheery disposition wore off. She handed
Caitlin five sets of plates and silverware. The door to the basement
slammed shut and Caitlin could hear her two older brothers bound down to
the lower level. Having finished setting the places, she asked her
mother if she could go with them. “No, dear,” her mother said, handing
her five glasses, “Please lay these out and fill your cups with milk.
Then, please set out the butter, salt, and pepper.” Caitlin groaned to
herself, taking the proffered cups with a poorly disguised pout. She
hurried them to the table and dashed back to the Electrolux for the
milk. She glanced nervously between the clock and the basement door,
wanting to follow after Brac and Owen and watch them set up their army
men. “Slow down, Caitlin,” her mother warned, as Caitlin whizzed passed,
clutching the milk, “Gracefully, please.” “Sorry, mama,” she answered,
slowing down to the briskest of walks. She poured the milk quickly and
headed for the basement. “Caitlin,” her mother called, sternly. “What?”
she barked, then took a deep breath and turned to her mother’s tightly
pinched face, “What is it, mother?” “You march right back here and put
that butter out. The milk does not get left on the table,” Aderyn said
through gritted teeth.
Caitlin sighed and returned to bring the butter and shakers to the
table, though irritably. She picked up the milk and hurried it back to
the kitchen, plowing straight into her mother. The boiled vegetables
sloshed all over and scalded Aderyn’s hands, making her drop the pan to
the floor. The milk shattered and glass went flying. Aderyn moaned,
clutching her hand and Emrick began to howl. “I’m sorry, mommy,” Caitlin
squeaked, slipping around the floor. Aderyn turned the sink tap to cold
and stuck her hot fingers underneath. Owen and Brac popped through the
basement door to see what the commotion was all about. Their mother was
crying and there were milky, steaming carrots and broccoli all over the
floor. “What’s going on?” Brac yelled, over Emrick. Owen went to pick
the baby up, but he screamed desperately for his mother. It was in this
instant that Powell walked through the door. He glanced around,
bewildered. Caitlin was still splashing through the hot water, trying to
get a towel, but tracking sticky wetness and glass shards everywhere.
Powell removed his overcoat and pushed past the children to his crying
wife. He accessed her burns quickly and efficiently, as a cool-headed
manger, and not a frantic husband who loved his wife dearly and never
wished to see her in pain, would. Finding no permanent damage, he then
turned to the children. “Quiet,” he bellowed to the screeching baby,
shushing boys, and hysterical girl mopping the floor. They did,
surprised. Their mother took Emrick from Owen and sat down in the
rocking chair, clinging to him and quietly soothing the both of them.
Powell was a tall man with a broad build and thick limbs. He towered
over his children, removing his suit jacket and waiting for an
explanation. The boys were speechless. He turned his intense stare on
Caitlin and she began to cry. “You responsible for this, girl?” he
asked, rather evenly considering his recent panic. She glanced at her
mother, but nodded her head promptly. “What happened?” he asked,
crossing his large arms over his chest and scratching his chin. “I’m ss-sorry,
Sir. It was an accident,” she whispered, wiping at the floor. He bent
and took the towel from her. “Stop. There’s glass everywhere. Get out of
the kitchen; we’ll talk about this after I’ve cleaned up,” he nodded,
curtly and shooed her out, giving her bottom a quick smack on the way.
She yelped. He went to find a clean towel and began to mop up the food
and glass. Brac and Owen exchanged nervous looks, as Caitlin paced in
the living room, watching her father scowl at the mess. She swallowed
hard and went to sit on the sofa near her mother’s chair. She
straightened her dress, arranged her bangs prettily, crossed her legs at
her ankles like a lady, and cleared her throat. “Mama,” she began,
softly. Her mother glanced at her, patting Emrick’s back rhythmically.
Caitlin was unable to hold back her tears. “I’m s-sorry, Mama. It…it was
an accident,” she bawled, rubbing her small fists against her eyes.
“Accidents happen because of carelessness, Caitlin Wynn,” her mother
scolded, quietly, “If you had slowed down like I had asked you to, this
could have been avoided. Your rowdy behavior has got to stop. This is
what we talked about this afternoon. You hurt me this time; you could
have hurt yourself or broken something more expensive or precious than a
bottle of milk. You’ll have to be punished, Caitlin.” Caitlin hugged
herself tightly and kicked the couch with the back of her Mary-Janes,
not wanting the spanking that her mama was now promising her. She
dropped all pretenses of grace and composure, whining fitfully. “Caitlin
Wynn,” her father instructed from the kitchen, throwing down the towel
and pointing at her humorlessly, “I think I’ve heard quite enough out of
you for one evening. Get upstairs and wait for me.” She moaned, and
fidgeted on the sofa. Her father glared at her and took a warning step
toward her. She got up quickly and scurried toward her bedroom, stomping
hard on every stair and slamming her door at the top. Instantly, she
heard her father follow her, taking the stairs with viciousness that
promised to find its way into her punishment. She was frightened and
scrambled under her bed as he pulled opened the door. “What do you think
you’re doing, young lady?” he roared, yanking the frilly blue blankets
off her twin bed and reaching underneath. He grabbed her ankle easily
and hauled her out, “Is that anyway to demonstrate the ladylike behavior
your mother was just talking about?” She shook her head, having a hard
time with words at the moment. He exchanged the grip on her ankle with a
more solidly frightening grip on her arm. He sat down on the bed, pulled
her across his lap, and tugged the pink checked skirt of her organza
dress up around her shoulders. He spanked her smartly over her high,
white panties and she began to cry immediately. “Daddy, I’m sorrrreee,”
she cried, her small bottom quickly deepening to the color of her dress.
She grabbed his leg tightly and kicked her Mary-Janes, sobbing over his
wide lap. “Oh, you will be, little girl,” he promised, thrashing her
soundly while she squirmed. He caught her hand just before it snuck a
quick rub over her tormented backside. “You know better than that,
Caitlin,” he said, and he slipped his large hand underneath her panties
and pulled them off in one abrupt tug. “Nooo,” she screamed, closing her
eyes against the bare-bottomed spanking that he was about to begin,
“Please Daddy! Please?!?” He ignored her cries, taking her bouncing
cheeks from glowing pink to angry red with his heavy-handed stream of
sharp slaps. She wailed and kicked furiously, unable to escape the
onslaught. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she choked, crying so hard she was
hiccupping. He spanked her once more, right where her blistered tush met
her thighs. She squealed and lay limply over his lap. “You are going to
keep getting that spanking until you can behave like a good girl,
Caitlin Wynn,” he admonished, sternly, holding her in place over his
thighs to survey her cherry cheeks, “Your door slamming and stomping and
huffing will not be tolerated. Do I make myself clear?” He smacked her
bottom, impatiently when she failed to answer promptly. She groaned and
whined, trembling some, “Yes, Daddy. I understand.” She sniffled and
fidgeted, wanting to rub her bottom dreadfully. He knew but wouldn’t let
her up to do it. She whined softly. “When dinner is over I will be back
up here to deal with that little kitchen incident from earlier,” he
said, nodding when she gasped, “Oh, you didn’t think that would cover
it, did you Caitlin? Your attitude is, by far, worse than I’ve seen it
in years and I think that it’s time for a change.” She tucked her head
in her hands and whimpered. She was a sad little girl and so her father
let her up to rub her bottom and comfort herself. He crossed the room
quickly and let himself out. Before shutting the door, he leaned back in
and said, “When I return, I want you to be ready for bed. You won’t need
your panties. If you want to be like your brothers so much, tonight you
get your chance.” He tapped his belt and her eyes grew wide, her chin
quivered.
She waited for him to close the door and then took off her shoes and
socks and changed into her baby doll pajamas. She climbed into bed and
lay on her stomach, tucking her thumb into her mouth soothingly. Her
bottom was hot and sore and she blinked great big tears down her face.
She played with her braid and waited nervously for her daddy, with his
big belt, to come through the door.
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