“I have forgotten your origin,” Jane admitted, suddenly understanding. She hugged him and rested her face against his chest. “Does it really bother you to be forced to conform with structure and social etiquette as much as it does to me?”
“Yes. I abhor anyone dictating how to behave behind the doors of my home. That was one reason I was lenient with you as a child and did not discipline you as frequently, or severely, as other youths. Even when you became an adult, I really have tried to consider your needs over societal demands, particularly after we had that first discussion. Last night, though…”
“I wronged you. Please,” she grabbed his hand and looked up at him with large, pleading eyes, “can you consider that my being forced to follow your rules and restraints are as difficult for me as society’s dictates are for you?”
“I might despise social standards and expectations, but I still adhere to them while in the public eye. I expect the same from you, just as I also expect you to obey the rules I set for you to follow outside of our home.”
Jane nodded, facing the ground. “You’re right. Will you just punish me and allow us to move ahead? I hate this waiting.”
“Very well. I am going to administer a sound spanking and then you are to sit at your desk on your bare bottom and write lines.”
“Lines?”
“One hundred. However, there is a catch. Each will be written in English, French, and Hindi.”
“That is three hundred!” Jane’s smirk immediately disappeared.
“They will read ‘I promise to obey my papa and show him consideration and respect.’”
“Will you help me translate?” Jane asked uncertainly.
“I will correct any mistakes you make after you try to do it on your own. As for your spanking, I have decided to use only my hand. Do not look so relieved,” Philip warned her. “I have the ability to go on for a long period of time—much longer than your bottom can tolerate. I doubt you will be sitting comfortably for dinner this evening,” he said, rolling up his sleeves.
Jane faced the ground shamefully. His unusual acts of kindness were throwing her off balance. She truly loved the man that had returned from India; he seemed to have so much more joy and peace about him. But she still protested this spanking issue that seemed to occupy his every thought.
“Are you very angry with me?”
“I am more disappointed. I told you that I was going to overlook your sneaking out because you chose to go at a reasonable hour and to a safe area. But when I found you drowning in your wine and dancing with other men, I had no choice but to alter my decision”
“But it was just dancing, Papa. I did not do anything else.”
“How much control did you have over your safety once you started to stumble over in a drunken stupor, Jane? What do you think could have happened if one of those men decided to take you for a walk behind the pub? Do you understand my concern now?”
Jane nodded, again looking down at the carpet below her feet.
“Come place your bottom over my knees, young lady. You may as well lift that hem now. I will not have it getting in the way when I need to chastise you.”
Jane offered a single, sorrowful look to soften his heart. The stern setting of his jaw declared there was no mercy for her this time and she reluctantly gathered the hem of her frock in her arms and laid her belly upon his firm thighs. She whimpered as he adjusted her, making her bottom protrude obscenely in the air like a sacrifice being offered to a pagan god. For some insane reason, she began to giggle.
“Are you laughing at me?” Philip asked, his tone denoting shock.
“No,” Jane composed herself. “A thought went through my mind that struck me as ridiculous.”
“You think that spanking you is ridiculous?”
“No, I mean yes, I mean…oh, bother! That is not what I was considering that tickled me. I was wondering if there was a foreign god who demands his worshippers be spanked because my bottom in the air feels like it is a sacrificial offering.”
“You have been in my books again, haven’t you? No, there is no such god that I am aware of. If there were, I am sure that many more men would be supporting his precepts.”
Jane held her breath as he rested his hand on her small, plump backside. The first smack over her drawers was simply startling, but not at all painful. She said nothing as she held his calf to steady herself as four more swats stung her bottom.
Philip paused. “It is clear that an impact cannot be made while your bottom remains covered. The drawers are coming down now.”
Jane quivered slightly and bit her lip. "Please, Papa, I promise to be a good girl for you.”
“I’ve heard that promise before, Jane. Many, many times,” Philip said, resting his warm, callused hand upon her rump. He patted her and then yanked the waistband, breaking the ribbon that tied it in place. The flimsy material of her undergarments fell away from her rosy backside.
“This time your promise to be good for me will be ensured. You will never repeat the performance of last evening. That means no more getting drunk, no more dancing with strange men and mostly, no more going out anywhere without asking me beforehand. Do you understand me?” he scolded, raising his hand to give each of her cheeks a solid smack.
No reply was needed. He resumed his assault on her soft flesh, this time provoking satisfactory yelps, pleas, and multiple, squirming attempts to avoid the hard impact of his wooden palm to Jane’s tender skin. Jane’s stubborn demeanor dissipated within two minutes of the justified assault upon her backend and she was reduced to tears mingled with resolute promises to behave like a proper lady and obey all instructions given to her. He kept up the rhythm, alternating cheeks, and rapidly turning the pink flesh to a hot, apple red.
“Ow, Papa, I beg you! Please stop.”
“No, Little Lady,” Philip answered as he shifted his concentration to the creases along her sit spots. “You deliberately disobeyed me and have a lesson that will be learned once and for all. I am far from being finished with my discipline of you.”
That statement sent Jane into a round of howling as it was followed by a rapid firing of spanks inflicted upon her throbbing bottom. She kicked as best she could with the limitation of movement between the material around her legs and her uncomfortable position locked upon his lap. She started to squirm radically in a futile attempt to dodge the searing smacks.
“Dear Lord! Papa,” she bawled. “I'm sorrrrrryyyy!”
“I know, Janie. I know,” Philip said softly. “But you are not sorry enough just yet.” He continued the spanking, increasing the intensity along with focused strikes to her sit spots and the back of the upper thighs.
Jane began to cough as she choked on her tears. “I swear! I give you my word that I won’t ever do any of this again!” she sobbed. “Please stop!”
“I'm sorry, Little Monkey, but I have to do this.”
He had not called her Little Monkey since she was ten. That was the only clue Jane had that his heart was breaking. She deserved this spanking, and she knew it. The unspoken admission of the necessity of her punishment was met with an increase of sobs and a cessation of kicking. Philip delivered a final smack over the entirety of her backside, and then rested his hand over the trembling mounds.
“Janie, you are the center of my existence. You are the only reason I’ve had to return to this dreary place. Please, do not challenge my trust, or my love.”
“I’m really sorry, Papa,” Jane wept, her fight spanked well out of her. She felt as though she were once again six-years-old as she crumbled to the floor and cried pathetically into her hands. Without a word, Philip handed her a handkerchief and then slid onto the carpet next to her shaking body. Her wrapped his arms snugly around her and kissed the side of her head.
“Don’t make me do that again.”
Jane sniffed, hiccupping as she allowed him to comfort her. “I’ll try not to,” she promised. “Papa?”
“Yes, baby?”
“Doe
Philip chuckled. “Not a bit. I told you I could go on all night. Would you care to see?”
“No!”
“Very well. Kiss me and then get started on your lines.”
“I need more hugs,” Jane pouted.
“Those I am happy to deliver to you. Finish them up without complaining and tomorrow, you and I will have a special Papa-Little Girl day.”
“What’s that?”
“Trust me. Now, write your lines. I want to see them before dinner.”
“But Papa that is only three hours from now!”
“Then you best write quickly. Hurry now.”
***
Philip woke Jane early the following morning by tickling her with a peacock feather. She broke into gales of giggles, hiding under the blankets to avoid his poking fingers.
“Wake up, lazy bones. I want you to get freshened up and join me in the dining room in thirty minutes. Can you do that?”
“Yes, Papa! But first, my hair needs help,” Jane pouted, pushing the mass of tangles from her face. Philip laughed and sat on her bed, brush in hand, and began to smooth out the unruly mane. He quickly braided it into two pigtails and tied each with a blue ribbon, kissed the top of her head, and reminded her to hurry downstairs.
Jane threw on a clean, white frock under which she wore a silk chemise, split drawers, and black stockings. She tied a white blue satin sash around her slim waist and made a large, puffy bow in the back. She did not care what the staff thought of her attire; it felt good to be dressed in this childish manner, leaving her the freedom to move about without the restraint of fashionable modern garments. She winced as she sat to pull on her ankle-high, short-heeled black leather boots. Her bottom still ached from the previous night’s spanking, reminding her of Philip’s strength as well as his commitment to their relationship. She rubbed her bruised backend gently, grateful that he had chosen to use only his hand. She promised herself that she would wait a long while before openly defying him again.
Jane was all smiles as she greeted Philip with a big kiss on the cheek. He laid the paper upon the table next to his plate and patted the spot next to him.
“Sit down. Milk and porridge for Jane, please,” he ordered the maid.
Jane made a tiny ow sound as she sat in the straight-backed chair. “Euw! I hate milk and porridge makes me ill in my stomach.” Jane wrinkled her nose.
“Little girls need milk to help them grow strong and porridge is hearty and will stick to your ribs. You are too thin. I like having a tad more meat on your bottom when I spank it. Speaking of which, how does yours feel this fine morning?”
“Shh! Not so loud. The servants will hear you,” Jane scolded in a hushed tone. “I am quite tender, thank you. As for being too thin, Papa, you must know that it is you whom I blame for my condition. I lost my appetite when you were gone. You know that I have never eaten well when you aren’t home.”
“My fault? I will accept that,” Philip said with amusement. “It will be my responsibility to fatten you up then.”
“I don’t like porridge.”
“You will if I prepare it for you. Allow me the opportunity to change your mind. Thank you,” he said to the maid. He removed a leather wallet from his jacket and opened it to reveal small vials of different colored powders. Jane watched in fascination as he sprinkled the contents of two vials over the steaming mass, dropped a small slab of butter and a portion of heavy cream over the top, and ended his preparation with a large pinch of small colorful shavings.
“What is all that?” Jane asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.
“This is how the Raja’s children like their porridge. Plenty of cream and butter, sprinkles of cinnamon and nutmeg, and a generous pinch of candied fruit. Try it.” He lifted a spoonful of the concoction to her mouth.
“That’s good! All that stuff hides the flavor of the porridge!” Jane exclaimed.
“I told you that you would like it. Open up.”
“You don’t have to feed me.”
“I enjoy feeding you. Eat. Once you are done, we will begin our day.”
The bowl was empty before she knew it. On Philip’s insistence, she gulped down the mug of fresh milk and absently wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve. Philip tsked and handed her a napkin.
“I’m finished. What are we going to do?”
Despite the continued tenderness of her backside, Jane could not contain herself as Philip placed her next to him in an open buggy. It was an unusually clear, warm day for the season and she bounced with glee with the prospect of a lark out of doors with her old friend. They traveled through the vibrantly colored countryside for about an hour, Jane unceasingly pointing out the stunning shades of autumn gold, red and yellow that sparkled against the still green grass. Philip pulled into a small, forested area and parked the buggy alongside a thick copse of trees, and lifted Jane from the wagon to place her on the still soggy ground. He then lifted a large wicker basket from the back, stretched out his hand, and led his special little girl into the bright, open field beyond the trees.
Jane helped him spread the blanket upon higher, and drier, ground and plopped eagerly upon it, waiting to see what surprises had been hidden within the big basket. He joined her, keeping his hand on the lid to prevent her from peeking into its contents.
“No, you don’t, Little Monkey,” he teased. “We are going to practice our languages first, and then take a walk along the stream.”
“But, that is work. I thought today would be a play day!”
“Work will feel like play in the way I intend to teach you. Let’s work with Hindi and a little Tamil.”
“Why must I learn Tamil?”
“When speaking in public, Hindi is the standard language used in trade, while Tamil is often spoken in homes, especially in the southern states. Now listen carefully…”
Jane giggled endlessly as Philip made her practice the names of body parts, taking advantage of her severely ticklish state and poking her until she could recall the word. She stood to stretch her legs and walked innocently behind him, running her hand across his shoulders. Without word or warning, she pounced upon his back and tightly wrapped her arms around his neck and legs around his waist. This was how she originally earned the nickname Little Monkey as she clung securely to her victim and would not let go.
Philip laughed loudly as he began to run toward the streambed, holding Jane’s legs snugly around his waist. He sat down on the mossy bank and leaned backwards.
“You are crushing me, you big oaf!” Jane complained.
“Did you call papa a big oaf?” Philip turned around to face her and pinned her to the ground. He held her wrists above her head and began to tickle her ribs. “Did you?”
“Eeeeek!” Jane squealed, wriggling in every direction to try to escape his fingers. “Stoooop!”
“Not until I hear an apology.” Philip grinned, making a claw of his fingers and attacking her stomach with his whole hand.
“Sooorrrry!” Jane yelled out, her laughter caught in her throat. “Soorrrrrrryyyyy!”
Philip laid back and looked at the blue sky. “It feels good to laugh again, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” Jane panted. “It is so refreshing. I miss laughing with you.”
Philip perched his head on his bent arm and gazed at her through loving eyes. “Janie? I love you.”
Jane turned her head to face him, feeling a warm glow in her chest. She kissed the palm that gently cupped her cheek. “I love you, too, Philip. I truly do.”
“Does your bottom still hurt, baby?”
“Yes.”
“Come here,” Philip said, sitting up and scooting closer to the stream. He patted his thigh. “Bend over my lap.”
“Papa? Did I do something wrong?” Jane looked stricken.
“Trust me.”
Jane sighed and climbed over the hard muscles of his thighs. She hid her face in her hands as she felt him lift her skirt and spread apart the material of her split drawers. His hand gently brushed across the lightly discolored flesh, tracing the remaining outlines from his hand with his index finger. Jane relaxed under his gentle strokes, jumping slightly as he draped his cold, wet handkerchief over her skin. He dipped the cloth back in the stream and trailed the wet end down the center of her bottom and along the backs of her legs.
Her body accepted his gentle touch and she felt herself start to doze with the light massage administered upon her bared bottom and upper thighs. Her juices warmed her inner thighs and she clamped her ankles together tightly to prevent him from seeing her arousal. The tightening of her thighs increased the pressure of her ring against her clit and Jane tensed with need.
“Papa?” she said hoarsely, “I must sit up. My back is aching.”
Philip pulled her to his side and kissed her cheek. “I’m sure it is,” he teased. “Would you like me to take care of that ache?”
Jane felt her face heat up. He knew! What a scoundrel!
CHAPTER 8
“I cannot believe Philip went and told my father that I was at the pub,” Nettie sulked.
Jane poured her friend another cup of tea. It had been two weeks since the girls had seen one another and Philip had invited Nettie over to visit before Jane left on her trip.
“He can be quite beastly. He spanked me so hard after that event that I was tender for nearly two days,” Jane whispered. “And then he made me write lines!”
“You are not a child. Why did you allow him to treat you thusly?”
“I don’t really know. I mean,” Jane sipped her tea, “he punished me yet he has never been so affectionate. He’s always been very parental, as I have told you, but now he is worse than ever. Not that it is bad for I do enjoy his attention. Nettie, he slept next to me and held me through the entire night after taking me home. The following day, he took me for a picnic on the banks of a stream. It was so nice.”
“He is in love with you,” Nettie sighed. “Has he told you where you are going on your trip yet?”
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