by Susan Thomas
---oOo---
Crystal and Janine had long been worried about Katerina even before I came on the scene, and now we were all concerned. Katerina lived in my road. Her father was like a salesman in the way he talked to folk, all smiles, teeth and slaps on the back, but there was something creepy about him I didn't like. He was very quick to spank Katerina. I mean mom and dad spanked me but it was just a spanking. I ended up with a sore bottom and wished I hadn't done whatever it was, but it was for a good reason, not any old thing. Katerina's dad spanked hard and often, frequently for really very little reason. Worse, he cut switches and used them on her, and boy did he use them. One day when we were in Crystal's room, we saw the effect of his switching. It was horrendous... dozens and dozens of nasty thin little welts all across her bottom and right down the back of her thighs. There wasn't an inch of her skin that wasn't marked. It wasn't punishment, it was abuse in my book and I told her she should go to child protection services. She wouldn't do it because it would leave her mom without a husband or any money, but she did let me take some photos in case she ever changed her mind. When she'd gone, Janine told us that it wasn't just Katerina who got hit by her dad... her mom did too.
Back in my house I decided to take action. I knew interfering was a dangerous thing to do, but I got hold of my private detective again and asked him to do a full investigation into Katerina's dad's affairs. He said, "I'm on it."
Meanwhile, school was going well, my grades were excellent and the swim team was beating some old established rivals, and we were enjoying the attention. I was happy, no really I was. Yes, I had strict parents and had to behave myself or get spanked, but I didn't mind that at all. My financial people sent me reports by email that I never shared with mom or dad. They were bewildered by how little money I was spending as they had expected... well, you know, the usual rich kid stuff. Even the business we'd bought to set dad up with a job was booming. Dad it seemed was an excellent manager.
The crime rate in town was low so the police department often sent out detectives rather than ordinary officers to talk to kids. The eleventh grade had two detectives to talk to us about online security and the dangers that young people face on the internet. I noticed the younger of the two detectives keep shifting his gaze back to me and then he'd look away, and I couldn't think why but it made me uncomfortable. As we all left, I saw him asking one of our teachers something while nodding in my direction. That made me feel worse. I had really hurt that college boy at the party, were they chasing me for that? As I left school there was a car parked outside, and as I walked past the window wound down and there was the young detective. "Hello Karen," he said, "get in, we need to chat."
I got in, thinking the guy I had hit had no right to complain as I had saved him from a rape charge, and then I took a good look at the detective.
"Oh shit," I muttered.
"I'd say that is a good enough response to tell me that sixteen-year-old Karen Wheeler who is actually my old neighbor, is now twenty-three Karen Standish. I think you have some explaining to do."
It was Dave who lived opposite us when I was a kid. He was about three years older than me so I hadn't had a lot to do with him, but our parents were friends. Now I vaguely remembered he'd become a cop, and must have moved here at some point. He drove me off to a quiet place where no-one else could see us and I explained in a stammering, embarrassed way what had happened and why I was doing it.
He sat thoughtfully and asked a load of questions before advising me not to use the passport. Finally, he told me he understood why I was doing it but wanted to know if I had been paddled or spanked, given the community we lived in.
"Yes, I have, several times."
"Now that is something else again." He smiled. "I wouldn't mind watching that happen. You always were a little brat."
"No, I wasn't."
"Sure you were. You came up trumps when your parents took sick but boy were you a pain before then... pretty pain, but a pain in the ass."
Having established he was going to keep silent as long as I didn't use the passport, I flounced off home, cross that he'd said I was brat. That wasn't how I remembered myself. When I got in, mom was looking worried.
"Karen, at last, where have you been? If you're going to hang around with friends you have to phone me."
Now what to say? Do I tell lies or a version of the truth? I knew what would happen otherwise... my butt would be stinging like mad. In the end I just said I forgot.
"Well, perhaps you need a reminder of my expectations. Girls of your age are vulnerable, Karen, and if you are going to hang out with friends, you phone... do you get me?"
"Yes, mom."
"Now bend over and put your hands on the counter top."
I bent over and next minute a wooden spoon cracked across my jeans, making me yelp somewhat. Crack! Crack! Crack! In spite of my jeans and panties, that spoon made my butt sting, and I yelped each and every time. She gave me about twelve smacks... I wasn't counting, being too busy yelping... then she gave me a telling off all over again and made me stand in the corner. As I stood in the corner praying no neighbor would come in, I couldn't help smiling. She had been really concerned. It was nice having someone that cared enough to spank if I came in late without phoning in.
I had expected my private detective to give me his report as quickly as he had the others, but after about four days he got in contact to say he needed to do surveillance so would have to come to town. He also needed to employ some local help and asked was that OK.
"Sure," I said, wondering what he had found out, "just send the bills to my financial people."
It was several weeks before the work was done. I arranged to meet with him in a diner where it was unlikely anyone would recognize me. I told mom I was staying at school to work on some stuff in the resources' room. What he found out was staggering. Katerina's dad had been up to his eyes in debt, but had merged all his debts into a new mortgage which was the full value of his property. He was paying eye-watering interest on it but was making all his payments, which effectively took all his legal income and then some. So how was he living? The answer was a nice little sideline run out of a small rented workshop where he was receiving and selling stolen goods.
"I'm sure he is also knocking his wife and daughter about, but I have no proof of that. He is a real piece of work this guy. This is real serious stuff. The local police need this; do you want me to handle it?"
"No, I have a friend on the local force... a detective."
He smiled. "Of course you do. Well call me if you need me again. Pleasure working for you."
---oOo---
Before I could do anything about that. there was a crisis involving Katerina that ended with a sore bottom for me. Katerina lived close, we were neighbors, not that mom and dad had much to do with them as a couple, though mom often talked to Katerina's mom.
I was in Katerina's house and she was showing me some artistic glassware her dad had bought over the years. It was expensive stuff but not like antiques or anything. The reason she was showing me was because the artist was from where my family came from in Lancashire, England. In fact, I vaguely remember visiting his studios and seeing him work when I was about five years old. His stuff was collected all round the world. She took a vase out to show me how the colors whirled and swirled with each other and just how it looked in different lights. Suddenly, she dropped it and it shattered.
Katerina screamed and ran out of the house and towards my house. I chased after her, understanding her fear. Heaven alone knows what her dad would do to her for this. He needed precious little excuse as it was for switching her severely. I caught up with her by my house and she was absolutely white-faced and shaking constantly. Then we heard her dad's bellow and he came running across, shouting and utterly out of control. I got between him and Katerina but he just grabbed me and threw me out of the way.
Suddenly, dad was there. He never touched the angry man, just stepped in front of him and stepped so close
it forced Katerina's dad back until there was a gap.
"You never lay your hands on Karen again. Is that clear?" Dad was quiet but somehow very threatening.
"It's my daughter I want. Katerina has smashed one of my vases. I am going to give her the whipping of her life."
I expect you'll have worked out by now that I am impetuous and before I had even thought my mouth spoke. "It wasn't Katerina, it was me. She showed me them because I used to live there and I've seen the artist work. I picked it up and dropped it by accident. I am real sorry. I will pay for it. I have money saved."
"Then you will get the whipping and you will pay for it, believe me, and not just in money." He stepped towards me but dad put a hand on his chest and stopped him.
While dad was talking to him I looked at Katerina who looked appalled. I shook my head hard at her and mouthed, "Leave it to me." She looked like she was about to collapse.
Dad turned to me. "Did you break this vase, Karen?"
"Yes."
"Had you been given permission to handle it?"
"No."
"Then you will pay for a new one, which won't be the same I'm told as each piece is unique, but Katerina's dad is willing to accept that. You will also be given a good spanking by me. In, young lady."
I went in and straight to my bedroom. I was scared, not of dad of course, but the belt whipping. Dad wouldn't go over the top, but it was the most serious of any spanking I could get and it hurts. OK, it is nothing like the brutal abusive switching Katerina would get but now I knew that getting spanked was not fun. I was fairly sure that Katerina's dad would wish to hang around nearby in the hope of hearing me get it so I opened my bedroom window wide. Dad still wasn't here yet so now I had to get ready.
I kicked off my sneakers, undid my jeans which required a fair bit of wriggling to get out of because they are tight, and went to pull off my panties. Mom has a complete ban on all thongs/strings. I am sure if I were really sixteen it would be a source of major war between us, but other than a bit of token arguing, I did as she wished. Now pulling them off was difficult.
I will be honest, I do find getting spanked on the bare embarrassing. Stupidly when I went into all this I didn't think I would. I thought it would be exciting but it simply isn't. I am not saying it isn't good for me because I have led a most undisciplined life until now, but it isn't easy. Mom and dad's view is that spanking and modesty don't belong together. Any punishment for a teenage girl is embarrassing and spanking even on panties involves loss of modesty so tough luck, bare is best. I pulled the panties off and felt embarrassed, even though I was the only one in the room. I put the pillows on the end of the bed and then with a sigh of resignation placed myself in position: feet on the floor, tummy over the pillows, my bottom wonderfully placed to get spanked and my hands already gripping the bedclothes. I lay there, my bottom cold and prickly as I wondered how many I was going to get.
Dad came in with the belt ready in his hand. "This is ridiculous, Karen. I can't believe you went to his house of all people and handled something like that vase, never mind so clumsily. It is so many dumb things I can't begin to list them all. You're normally so sensible and act older than your years but this is just... well I am going to give you sixteen which is the most I would ever give, but, young lady, you can be sure they will be good and hard."
I said, "Yes dad," for no special reason, but felt I had to say something.
I almost heard the crack of the belt on my bottom as I felt it. I squeaked loudly and my whole body jerked with it. Crack! Crack! The next two came in quick succession and I squealed loudly and jerked around, moving up the bed with my feet off the floor.
"Back in position, Karen. Come on I'm not messing around here... quickly."
I had to stand a bit to pull the pillows back into position and then got back over. Crack! Crack! Crack! I squealed very loudly and wriggled around so much at the fiery lines that appeared on my bum that the same thing happened... I went up the bed, partly taking the pillows with me.
"Karen, do you want me to start all over again?"
My voice sounded sulky and whiney even to me. "No dad I don't but..."
"Stand up, Karen. You can bend over and take it as if you were getting the paddle at school and I'm starting from three. I'm not counting three licks because you've moved twice."
I stood up as instructed, my butt already feeling as if it was on fire. Dad might not count three of the six he had given me but my bottom knew they were there right enough. I bent over, putting my hands on my knees and stuck my bottom out as dad instructed.
Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! I squealed very loudly indeed at each one. They were definitely harder than the twelve he had given me for that miniskirt. I couldn't help it, I had edged forward. I heard dad sigh and he got hold of my hips and moved me back into position.
"You have to stay still, Karen. I am still going to give you ten now."
I could hear my voice. I wasn't sixteen but I sure sounded it and it wasn't acting. "Dad, I'm sorry... it hurts, really it hurts."
"I know it hurts, Karen, it is meant to and you, young lady, deserve it. I am really surprised at what you did. Now bend over and stay still and take your licks."
My bottom really hurt by now, I'd had ten hard licks with dad's belt and each one was burning and throbbing like mad. I knew I had been squealing loudly so I guessed Katerina's dad would have heard as he was only outside, so he ought to be satisfied and hopefully lay off Katerina. Now I really tried hard to stay still because I didn't want many more of these. I had to stay still and take this ten.
Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
Well I sort of managed it with a great many squeals, squeaks, yelps and cries of "Ow" and even then my butt wriggled about. I could feel it; Dad's belt really bit into my bum and it was without doubt the worst punishment he had given me. When he finally got the last one laid across my poor bottom he let me stand and steered me into the corner with the instruction to think about why I had been spanked. He went off to speak to Katerina's dad while I rubbed the tears from my face and felt the soreness of my bottom.
When he came back, I stood in front of him and it wasn't difficult to find the words to explain how dumb it had been. If I really had done it I would have deserved each and every lick of that belt. After redressing, I had to sit and write a letter of apology... just sitting was hard but writing to that pig sadist was harder, but I did it. Then dad wrote a check from his personal account (which I had to repay) for $1,000 which was what a comparable vase might cost. I then had to take both to him and hand them over.
"I heard you getting your spanking."
Now what a thing to say to a kid. I desperately wanted to say, "And did it give you an erection?" I didn't obviously, but put my head down and let him gloat while vowing I was going to get Katerina and her mother out of his clutches.
That was the Saturday and we went to church on Sunday and met with others for lunch, but Sunday evening I went off by myself and rang the police. I left a message for Dave. "Please tell him that Karen called and that she has the information he wants." He wouldn't know what that meant but it would bring him in fast enough.
Sure enough, Monday after school there he was in his car. I just got in and we drove to a quiet spot, and there I showed him the report I had, minus the headers that told him who had written it.
"This is professionally done. Where did you get it?"
"Doesn't matter, can you use it?"
"Yes, it is enough for us to do our own investigation and then get a search warrant. Whoever did it says here he suspects domestic abuse."
I showed him my photos of Katerina's bottom and thighs. Dave's face changed. Hard to describe how exactly, but very dark and menacing.
"Will she make a complaint?"
"You arrest him for all this other stuff and I'll see what I can do. Her mom too."
It was then that Dave suggested I needed some time to relax and just be twenty-three
again. He proposed I come around to his place sometimes when we were both free and just relax. In the end he persuaded me and we exchanged contact details.
It took nearly a week before Dave's colleagues finished following up and got a search warrant. All hell broke loose. Katerina's dad was arrested and charged with much more than receiving stolen goods. He and several other men were denied bail and I sat down with my mom and dad and showed them the photos of Katerina's switching. I asked them bluntly to help me persuade Katerina and her mom to make a complaint.
It took a while but after lots of tears we went with them and they laid formal complaints. It turned out that both of them had enough marks and bruises to convince the most skeptical of people, plus I had the photos of the switching.
---oOo---
I'll briefly tell you what eventually happened after that. Katerina's dad got a long sentence and her mom divorced him. He was broke of course but I got my people to buy the house from the mortgage holders and it was rented back at a low rent. She had no idea I was involved and inclined to believe it was blind luck. Dad had a job for her mom and they continued living in the house but a whole lot happier than before. Katerina lightened up considerably and her grades at school shot up which proves something, but I'm not sure what.
It was the reaction of mom and dad that was of interest to me. After Katerina and her mom had made their complaints and gone home again, we went home and dad suddenly said, "You didn't break that vase, did you?"
"No, it was Katerina, but I couldn't let that sadistic pig hurt her again. Better I got the belt from you than what he would have done to her."
Dad was so upset he'd spanked me for nothing I can tell you. It was really moving, and I thought he was going to cry. I had to hug him and tell him it was the right thing to do, but he must have apologized a dozen times for not seeing it at the time. Mom thought I was brave and hugged me a hundred times. I did keep telling her it wasn't bravery, it's just there are some things you can't let happen, and if she had seen Katerina's terror she'd have done the same. It was at that point that I realized how close the three of us had become.