Naughty Immy's Punishment

by Carole Archer

  He looked at her and sighed resignedly. “The police stopped me,” he said bitterly, shaking his head. “Someone had reported me for driving while under the influence of drink and drugs. The police quickly established that it had been a malicious call and let me go, but I can’t understand why anyone would do that to me,” he said, putting his head in his hands. “It makes no sense at all.”

  Imogen swallowed anxiously. She felt so guilty and suddenly wished she could have thought of some other way to get back at him, something less humiliating. Her poor daddy looked distraught. He was a proud man, and she realised that what she had done had been more than a step too far. She wished once more that she had got up and gone to work that morning instead of being selfish.

  “I love you, Daddy,” she whispered, touching his arm gently.

  She jumped suddenly, annoyed when a sharp knock at the door startled them and spoiled their special moment. Whoever it was, she wished that they would just go away.

  Her daddy sighed, lifted his head, and looked towards the door. He kissed Imogen tenderly on the cheek and eased her onto the sofa beside him. “Daddy won’t be a minute,” he told her, stroking her hair gently. “I love you too. I really do need to work today, but we’ll cuddle up and watch TV for a little while first,” he promised her.

  Imogen smiled and hugged her knees to her chest, looking forward to hopefully a couple of hours of TV and cuddles with her daddy. She once more silently congratulated herself on a well-executed plan, but wished she hadn’t had to hurt her daddy so much in the process.

  She looked towards the door, shuddering as Adam opened it. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the policeman standing in front of him. “Oh no,” she whimpered, shaking her head when he stepped aside and invited the officer in.

  The officer was very tall, even taller than her daddy, who she believed was huge at slightly over six feet. She was tiny in comparison at five foot one, and she couldn’t help notice that the officer was very muscular too. She trembled with fear when he glared at her as he entered the living room and removed his hat.

  Barely able to believe her eyes, she blinked a couple of times before suddenly jumping up and running towards the officer. “Uncle Mark,” she squealed, throwing herself into his arms. “When did you get back?” she asked.

  “Immy, PC Wales is the officer who apprehended me,” her daddy interrupted. “As you know, he’s been in London for just over a year, but he’s back working for the Manchester Constabulary now. He got back a few weeks ago. He just wants to have a quick chat with me. Be a good girl and go and make us some coffee,” he asked, leaning forward and kissing her on the cheek as the officer lowered her to the ground. “We won’t be long,” he promised.

  Imogen blinked and looked at her daddy’s long-time friend, who didn’t seem as friendly as she would have expected. She vividly recalled the first time she met him, just after her daddy had broached the subject of age play. Mark had visited the house with his wife, and they had talked about their own age play relationship. A couple of weeks later, when Imogen and Adam had played for the first time, Mark joined them and told her to call him Uncle Mark. He had played with them a couple of times since, and Imogen had delighted in the bare bottom spankings she had received from Uncle Mark, but then his wife’s job meant a move to London, and they hadn’t seen him since.

  Imogen glanced up at Uncle Mark, wondering if he was here to play. He certainly didn’t seem in a playful mood, she noted. She then wondered why Adam hadn’t told her that he’d met up with him again. He knew how much she loved her Uncle Mark, and she would have thought that would have been the first thing he told her when he walked through the front door.

  “I think perhaps you might want her to stay,” Uncle Mark said, gripping Imogen’s wrist firmly to prevent her heading towards the kitchen. She squirmed under his stern gaze, worrying that her plan was possibly starting to unravel. It may well be in danger of totally falling apart, she realised with dismay, her feet seemingly frozen to the spot as she waited to see what he had to say.

  Mark’s cold, dark eyes never left Imogen’s. Her heart sank and she took a backward step towards the sofa.

  “The reason I’m here is because we’ve traced the call,” he added, remaining focused on Imogen as he spoke. She squirmed uncomfortably and slumped back into the seat behind her.

  “As you know, we had a tip-off that you had drunk a bottle of vodka and taken drugs before getting into your car. We were also told that the boot of your car contained drugs. Clearly you weren’t under the influence of alcohol or drugs, and the breathalyser and blood tests confirmed that—though I needed no such tests to prove your innocence to me,” he said, a faint smile crossing his face for the first time since he had entered the house. “But we have to check these things when we get a complaint,” he said apologetically. “In fact, the only drugs we found in the boot of your car were enema supplies,” he noted.

  Imogen’s cheeks flushed and she briefly wondered why her daddy had bought more enema supplies. She recalled the small disposable enema on the bedside table and she was sure she had seen a couple more of them in the bathroom cabinet. There was certainly no need for her daddy to buy more, and to bring her some comfort, she reminded herself that her daddy now believed—incorrectly, but that was only a minor detail, she reasoned—that her supposed constipation was no more. Even though he’d bought more enema supplies, he would certainly have no need to use them, she hoped, mentally crossing her fingers.

  Adam nodded and turned to face his friend. “That’s right. I’d just been to the pharmacy for some supplies. Maybe this is simply a case of mistaken identity,” he suggested, shrugging his shoulders.

  Mark shook his head, taking a step closer to Imogen, who pulled her knees up to her chest and curled herself into a ball, wishing he would go away. She had initially been delighted to see him, but now she hoped he would leave as she was certain he knew more than he was letting on, but she wasn’t about to confess, just in case he didn’t know for certain and was just guessing, hoping she would drop herself in it. She wasn’t going to be a fool and get herself into any more trouble.

  “No, there’s been no mistaken identity in this instance, Adam,” Mark said bluntly. “The call came from this address.”

  Imogen’s face paled and immediately she lowered her eyes, praying that the floor would open up and swallow her whole. She had been caught out, and there was no possible escape, she realised with growing anxiety.

  “No, it can’t have come from here. There’s only Immy here and she would have no reason…” His voice trailed off and he turned quickly to look at his squirming, pale-faced wife. “Immy, please tell me that you didn’t do this,” he said, squatting down beside her and looking pleadingly into her eyes. “It wasn’t you, was it?” he said, shaking his head as he cupped her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him. Imogen chewed her lower lip anxiously and glanced down at her hands.

  “Adam, your name and vehicle registration were given. Someone wanted you to be stopped by the police. It was a young lady who made the call, and it came from this house. I think we both know who made that call,” Mark said sympathetically, putting his hand on Adam’s shoulder.

  Imogen’s eyes filled with tears and she shook her head, hardly able to believe what was happening.

  Her husband immediately turned his stern gaze on her, and she trembled with anxiety. “Start talking now, young lady,” he demanded, gripping her wrist and pulling her to her feet. Whilst she trembled in front of him, chewing her lower lip to hold back her tears, he spun her away from him and smacked her bottom hard. She yelped loudly and he immediately whirled her back to face him. Her cheeks flushed instantly and she glanced at Uncle Mark, horrified that Adam had smacked her bottom in front of him. It was nothing like the play times they had shared in the past, and she was utterly embarrassed.

  Adam’s face was like thunder, and Imogen quickly glanced down at the floor. She knew he was waiting for an explanation, but she couldn�
�t think of a single word to justify her foolhardy behaviour. She trembled under his gaze, absolutely terrified. She had never seen him so angry and she bitterly regretted her actions.

  Eventually, Adam pointed to the corner. “If you’ve got nothing to say, young lady, go and stand there and think about what you’ve done. When you’re ready to explain, I’ll be waiting,” he snapped, turning her to face the corner and quickly marching her towards it, sharply smacking her bottom as they moved across the room.

  Imogen shrieked and reached back to shield her bottom, howling in protest when he yanked up her short skirt and pulled down her panties, bent her forward under his strong arm and landed a stinging smack to her bare bottom. She had never been so embarrassed in her entire life, knowing that Uncle Mark was watching. Adam suddenly grabbed her wrists, pulled her upright, put her hands on her head and landed a few more hard smacks onto her bare bottom as he pushed her into the corner. Imogen whimpered in response, desperately trying to move her bottom away from his hard hand.

  She couldn’t believe her normally loving husband was treating her like this in front of a police officer, and she couldn’t believe he was standing by and allowing it to happen. Aren’t the police supposed to protect people? she petulantly thought, gazing vacantly into the corner, desperate to reach back and rub her stinging bottom. But of course, he’s not acting in his capacity as a police officer, Imogen thought glumly. He’s acting as Adam’s friend.

  She was relieved when Adam moved away from her, but squirmed in embarrassment when she heard him tell Uncle Mark that they still indulged in age play and she often needed the firm hand of her daddy on her bare backside. Her cheeks flushed and she shivered, feeling the cool air on her bottom. She shuffled uncomfortably as her husband told Uncle Mark she had pretended to be sick so that she could stay at home with him. Her blush deepened when he told his friend she had claimed to have been constipated, but now she was miraculously cured.

  “Stand still, unless you want a proper spanking,” Adam snapped.

  She immediately stopped moving and closed her eyes, not wanting to be spanked when he was so angry. She wondered what she could say to make Uncle Mark leave. And after he had gone, she had no idea what on earth she could say to explain her actions to her husband and persuade him to forgive her. As she realised the enormity of what she had done, Imogen started to cry.

  Ignoring her tears, Adam approached his young wife and smacked her bottom once more. “Immy, I want an explanation of why you did something so nasty and hurtful to me. What have I ever done to make you treat me in such a hateful way?” he asked, his voice breaking.

  Imogen spun round to face him, leaving her hands on her head, despite an urge to rub her stinging bottom. “Daddy, I love you. I’m sorry,” she whined. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she explained. “I just wanted to get revenge after you embarrassed me by calling my boss.”

  He raised his eyebrows and sighed, cupping her chin in his hand and forcing her to look at him. “Immy, I can’t believe you would do something so foolish. Do you realise that if Mark hadn’t rushed to my aid when the call went out that I was driving whilst under the influence of drink and drugs, I could well be locked up in a cell right now, being tested, strip searched, and questioned.”

  She nodded and blinked back tears that stung her eyes. She hadn’t thought of the possible consequences of her call. She’d now been backed into a corner, literally and metaphorically, and she guessed her only option was to tell the truth, despite the painful consequences.

  “Were you unwell this morning?” he asked, his stern gaze remaining on her. “And let me warn you, if I think you’re lying to me, I’ll make you a very sorry little girl,” he said angrily.

  Imogen slowly shook her head and lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry, Daddy. No. I wasn’t sick at all,” she admitted, trying not to think about the almost certain ramifications her admission of guilt would bring.

  He nodded and kept his gaze steady on her. “Were you constipated?”

  “No, Daddy,” she whimpered, shuffling her feet and trying to avoid the intent gaze of Uncle Mark, who had moved closer to them and was standing only a couple of feet away from Imogen. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, and she once more closed her eyes.

  “Look at me,” her daddy angrily demanded. Imogen immediately opened her eyes and tried to look into his dark brown eyes. His beautiful eyes were the first thing she had noticed about him when they had initially met. She had been unable to tear her eyes away from his when he had chatted to her in a bar and offered to buy her a drink. The corners of her mouth turned up slightly at the memory, but as she gazed into his eyes now, she desperately wanted to look away from the accusation and anger within them.

  “Do you think this is funny?” he demanded to know, pulling her towards him, tucking her under his arm and landing a hard smack on her bare bottom.

  “Ouch! No, Daddy. I’m sorry,” she wailed, stamping her feet as the single smack stung intensely. Despite her frantic squirming, her daddy held her in position, her bottom sticking out as she was forced to bend forward.

  “And have you gone potty this morning?” he snapped.

  Imogen closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “No, Daddy,” she whispered, her cheeks red with embarrassment as his hand landed on her bottom once more, encouraging her to reply more quickly.

  “Very well,” he said, releasing her and turning towards Mark. Imogen took advantage of the brief respite to dance around and rub her stinging buttocks. She was shocked by the heat radiating from her bottom, and she was almost certain her punishment had barely even started yet.

  “Mark, as punishment for my wife’s atrocious behaviour this morning, I intend to spank her most soundly. I’ll also be giving her a series of enemas that will make her very much regret her behaviour,” he stated.

  Imogen’s eyes widened, but she did not dare to speak. He had often given her a soap stick, a disposable enema, and a few bulbs of water to rinse her out, but she guessed that by ‘a series of enemas’, he had more in mind than that. Also, despite Uncle Mark having been present when she was spanked—and he had also spanked her too—he had never been witness to her receiving an enema and it was not something she was comfortable with.

  Imogen swallowed nervously when Adam continued to outline his plan, which she noticed with regret differed substantially from what she had earlier had in mind when she decided it would be a good idea to stay home with her daddy. His plans certainly did not coincide with her idea of fun. To be fair, she guessed this wasn’t her daddy’s ideal way to spend his day either.

  “You’re welcome to stay and watch if you wish to see that justice is done,” he said flatly.

  Imogen gasped loudly, shaking her head in horror.

  “She thoroughly humiliated me this morning by her actions. It seems only fair that she gets a taste of her own medicine,” he fumed. “And it isn’t like you haven’t taken part in her punishments previously,” he pointed out.

  “No,” squealed Imogen, “make him go away. He can’t watch, Daddy, he just can’t,” she begged, desperate not to be punished in the presence of someone other than her daddy—even if that someone was her Uncle Mark. She knew she deserved to be spanked, and she knew in her heart she needed that spanking to be hard, but having someone else witness her chastisement was not something she was comfortable with at all. Besides, Uncle Mark had never witnessed her being punished properly. He had only ever taken part in play sessions, not real punishments, and she felt unhappy at the prospect of him seeing her brought to real tears.

  Imogen held her breath, trying not to look at the stern and imposing figure of Uncle Mark, who approached her quickly and leaned down towards her. His green eyes were piercing and made her feel uneasy, so she instead focused on his thick, bushy black eyebrows that met in the middle. She idly wondered if his wife had ever considered plucking them. She gazed at this focal point, trying to block out what he was saying, but her eyes widened in fear when he told her he had
come to their house to arrest her for making malicious calls and wasting police time.

  “No,” she yelled, looking toward Adam. “Please, do something, Daddy,” she pleaded.

  Her husband grasped her wrist and landed another hard smack on her bottom. “Calm down,” he fumed. “This is your own doing, young lady. Maybe a little time inside a police cell would make you realise exactly how foolish and irresponsible your actions were,” he snapped angrily.

  Imogen shook her head frantically. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she whined, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Truly I am. I just wanted to spend the day with you, Daddy. I was angry when you wanted to…to do those things to me…” she told him, unable to bring herself to mention soap sticks or enemas. Her cheeks coloured as she thought about what he was now proposing to do to her. She really needed to do something to make her furious daddy change his mind, which wouldn’t be easy under the circumstances, she realised with mounting distress.

  “Can I make a suggestion?” said Uncle Mark, stepping forward and laying a hand gently on her daddy’s arm.

  “Yes, go ahead,” replied Adam, glaring sternly at Imogen.

  “I’m happy to stay and watch, and possibly take part in your naughty wife’s punishment,” he suggested.

  Imogen shook her head and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. “Noooooooooo,” she wailed.

  A smack landed on her bottom, and when she opened her eyes, she was stunned to see it was Uncle Mark who had spanked her. She looked at her daddy, expecting him to object, but her heart sunk when he nodded in approval.

  “Sometimes a criminal record is not always the answer, and there are better solutions, ones that will ensure a young lady does not reoffend,” the officer pointed out.

  Imogen watched her daddy, who nodded thoughtfully.

  “No, Daddy! Tell him you won’t press charges,” she begged. “Tell him to leave. I’ll do whatever you want, Daddy, but you must tell him to go. Please,” Imogen begged frantically, her eyes wide as she tugged on her daddy’s sleeve.