Size: a a a a    Colour: a a a
BEN & LINDSEY'S DOMESTIC DISCIPLINE

by Geraldine Hillis


1. Grounded

"Grounded?" Lindsey gazed up at Ben in astonishment. "You mean ... like ... I can't go out? To the shops and stuff?"

"No, that's not what I mean and well you know it, young lady," he replied sternly. "I mean grounded from the computer."

She gulped and tried again. "Oh , you mean like from the Internet and chat and things like that, don't you? Not from the computer ... not completely."

Sighing, he took her by the shoulders and looked down into her eyes. "Grounded," he said distinctly. "From the Net, from Chat, from FreeCell and Solitaire ... from ... the ... computer. Totally. Completely. Got it?"

"But ... but ... but ..." she spluttered.

"Any more buts and your butt will be toast, lady," he warned. "You've had weeks to get that story ready for your publisher, and what have you achieved? Nothing. Every time I come in, you're chatting or surfing or playing games. So now it stops. You stay off the computer until Wednesday, or until the story's finished, whichever is longer."

She scowled. "And just how am I supposed to write if I can't get on the computer?"

Ben shook his head sadly. "You may have forgotten, my dear, but if you look in the top drawer of the desk in the study, you'll find some miracles of modern technology called ball-point pens. And in the second drawer you'll see some of that quaint, old-fashioned A4 paper with lines on it. Ok?"

He released her shoulders and made to leave the room. She stuck out her tongue at his retreating back. Unfortunately, Ben chose that moment to turn round, and in two seconds he had covered the distance between them. Before she had time to run, he had grabbed her round the waist, placed his foot on a chair, and draped her over his knee. His hand resounded off her denim-clad behind.

"Insolence, my dear," he said as he walloped her again, "will get you precisely nowhere." Another smack landed. "Correction ... it will get you here ... over my knee having your tail tanned! So ..." He dealt a further five or six spanks. "Unless you want to do your writing standing up ..." A few more smacks descended. "I suggest you straighten your face and stop being such a brat." He slipped her off his knee and dumped her unceremoniously on her feet. "Now do we understand one another?"

"Yes," was the sullen reply.

Ben swung her round and smacked her yet again. "Excuse me?" he said mildly.

"Ow! I mean ... yes, sir," wailed Lindsey, rubbing at her stinging bottom.

"Good." He kissed her on the forehead. "You should be able to write ... oh ... five or six thousand words a day, I should think. So that's ..." He calculated for a moment. "About fourteen hand-written sheets. I'll check when I come in from work. Bye, honey." And he was gone.

Lindsey glared after him, then with a resigned sigh and a longing glance at the computer, she stalked through to the study to begin the hateful task.

By lunchtime she had completed six pages. Hmmm, not too bad, she thought. I wonder if I should just go on to the computer and type it up now, then he'd see ... But she cut that thought off mid-stream. Ben always meant exactly what he said, and he'd said no computer. She did miss her mid-day chat with Cathy, though ... and surely she was entitled to a break. By the time she'd made herself a snack she had talked herself into it. Sandwich and tea were carried into the lounge and the computer was turned on.

Hi there, Cathy ... That was the start of it, and the end of it was nearly two and a half hours later! Oh my God! It was twenty to three and Ben would be home at five ... how could she possibly write another eight pages before he came in? She logged off quickly, and rushed to the study ... then rushed back again to clear away the incriminating plate and cup from beside the PC.

"How's it going, love?" asked Ben as came into the study to find her scribbling away furiously.

She looked up, as though surprised to see him. "Oh gosh! Is that the time? I got so involved with this ... em ... not too bad, I think. Look ... I'm on page twelve!" She waved the paper at him.

"Hmmm ... good," he said, scanning the pages. "There should only be one 'f' in 'professor," he added.

"Well, if I had the spell-check ..." she began indignantly, then shut up as he treated her to 'The Look'. "I'll order dinner," she snapped, making sure he understood that she had been far too busy to cook.

Bed shook his head and sighed as she stomped her way to the telephone. While she ordered pizza with all his least favourite toppings, he perused her written sheets more closely. The first half dozen looked fine, the handwriting neat, and few errors. The rest told a different story. As he leafed through the pages, he noted that the writing had gradually degenerated into an almost indecipherable scrawl, spelling mistakes proliferated, and there was a distinct lack of punctuation. Hmm ... he mused. Why was she in such a rush at the end?

Papers in hand, he wandered through to the lounge. His eyes strayed towards the computer, and after a moment's thought, he switched it on. A quick check of the history confirmed his suspicions, as did the breadcrumbs on the keyboard and the cup-ring on top of the scanner.

Lindsey came stamping back, muttering in annoyance. "The pizza place can't deliver for another hour! What kind of fast food service is that? It'd be quicker to ..." She trailed off as she saw the monitor screen. "What ... what are you doing?"

"Just checking," he said, giving her a look that sent her heart dropping to her feet. "And an hour should be plenty of time for what I have in mind."

She paled. "I didn't ... I mean ... I wasn't ... I ..."

"Tsk ... tsk ... tsk, Lindsey. You're not going to add lies to your disobedience and deceit, are you?" he asked.

Admitting defeat, she looked down at the floor and whispered, "No, sir."

"I'm glad to hear it. I'm very disappointed in you, my dear. It's obviously time for a reminder, isn't it? Go on upstairs ... you know what I expect. You have five minutes."

A pathetic sniffle did nothing to weaken his resolve, so she trailed miserably up to the bedroom. Yes, she knew what he expected. Blinking back tears now, she went to her own 'special' corner, loosened her jeans, and lowered them, along with her panties, to her knees. God, how she hated this part of it ... almost more than she hated the punishment itself. It was so humiliating to have to stand like this just waiting for him to come in and spank her. At least it was only five minutes this time ... sometimes he made her wait an hour or more, and the anticipation was dreadful.

But when she heard the bedroom door open, she began to re-assess what the 'most-hated' part of this whole thing was. Maybe standing bare-bottomed in a corner for a while wasn't really as bad as being lectured and scolded and ... worst of all ... walloped! Not daring to turn round, she listened to Ben move about the bedroom, opening and closing drawers and cupboards, and shifting furniture. That last indicated that the chair was being moved to the centre of the room, which meant she was going otk. It followed, therefore, that he was going to use either his hand or the hairbrush, since the larger wooden paddle was usually applied while she lay squealing over the end of the bed.

At last he spoke. "Right, young lady ... come here."

Obediently she shuffled over and stood facing him as he sat in the straight-backed chair. "Do you know why we're doing this?" he asked sternly.

Because you're a power-crazed megalomaniac who grudges me a bit of fun and a lunch-break! was the answer which sprang to her mind, but luckily she managed to stop it reaching her mouth. Instead, she murmured respectfully, "Yes, sir. I've been wasting time playing instead of writing, and I went on the computer when you'd told me not to."

"Good answer," replied Ben, and flipped her across his lap. "Now we'll set about making sure you're sorry and you won't do it again." A sharp flurry of stinging smacks began to redden her upturned cheeks.

"Ow! Ouch! I am sorry! Yeeeeeoch!!" she yelled.

"Really?" he asked, as he delivered another salvo. "And you won't waste any more time?"

"No ... never!" was the rash promise as she kicked her legs and struggled ineffectually against his restraining arm.

The next question was accompanied by a third round of Splats! "And you won't disobey me again?"

"Yikes! That hurts! No ... I'll always ... Ouch! ... always, always do what you tell me in future! I'm sorry!"

"Mmm ... I hate to say it, sweetheart, but I think you're sorry you got caught ... not sorry that you did it. So ..." He reached for the hairbrush.

As soon as Lindsey felt him stretch across to the dressing-table for that horrible implement, she became very sorry indeed. And the more he peppered her now extremely sore behind with it, the sorrier she was. By the time twenty searing whacks had landed, she was sure she'd never chat or play FreeCell again!

At last he stopped and helped her stand. She threw herself into his arms, soaking his shirt with her tears, and he held her close while she sobbed and sniffled and apologised. When she'd quietened down a bit, he gently pushed her away and helped her replace her undies and jeans.

"Ow!" she yelped, as the material chafed her roasted rear.

Ben tilted her face up with one finger under her chin. "Nearly over now, love," he soothed. "Just a couple more things to do, then we'll forget all about it."

"More?" she hiccoughed. "No ... please don't spank me any more!"

He chuckled and hugged her. "No ... not spanking. But I would like something to eat ... and I cancelled the pizza. Anchovies and capsicums? I don't think so."

She gave him a shame-faced grin. "Ok ... that's fair. I'll make something."

"And I'll help," he said magnanimously. "Then I'll sit with you in the lounge while you type out all that stuff you wrote today."

A look of horror came over her face. "You expect me to sit? Can I ... can I have a cushion?"

"Mmm ... maybe," he said, considering. "If you promise never to feed me anchovies."

"Deal!" replied Lindsey. And they sealed the bargain with a kiss.



2. Early to Bed

Lindsey stifled a yawn as the nine o'clock News ended.

"Tired, hon?" asked Ben.

"Mmm ... a little," she replied. "Busy time at work just now."

He nodded. "What time did you come to bed last night?"

Damn! She'd been hoping he wouldn't ask that. "Em ... not sure exactly," she hedged, burying her head in a magazine so Ben couldn't see the flush on her cheeks.

"Hmm ... never mind exactly," he said, pulling the magazine from her hands and turning her to face him. "An approximation will do."

She sighed. "Ok ... I guess it was about one ... maybe a little after."

"I see. And what time are you supposed to go to bed on a Sunday night when you have work in the morning?"

"Midnight," she muttered.

"Pardon?"

Hastily, she corrected herself. "I mean ... midnight, sir. I'm sorry. I'll be there by twelve the rest of the week."

"No you won't."

"I won't?"



© Geraldine Hillis
Not to be reposted, reproduced or distributed, in part or whole.