Burning Confessions

Chapter 3

About three weeks ago Bret and I started making plans to reveal our relationship—just the boyfriend/girlfriend kind of thing, of course, we certainly weren’t going to mention the s*x. I admit I was scared, so we decided to wait until I had a job and it looked like I was settling into the life of a grown up woman.

A week ago, however, all pent-up with s****l frustration, I tackled Bret in the back hall and we went straight for the second attic just after dinner. Bret was reluctant but I insisted. Everyone was out of the house because it was a beautiful summer evening. Mama strolled around the property, the twins had taken off in their jalopy, and I’m not sure where Tommy was, but I suppose he was with his girlfriend. I figured Daddy was on the porch as he usually was that time of day, in his rocking chair reading the paper and listening to his radio program.

So lost in the moment, sequestered in our perch high inside the house, I didn’t hear the front door creaking open. I didn’t hear the footsteps on the stairs. I didn’t even hear the sound of the attic door squeak because we were about to c*m and not thinking about anything but that final blitz. The lumpy mattress we hauled into the small space was so hard, I couldn’t wait for the end, anxiously pursuing it while Bret rammed his d**k into me, his naked ass bobbing hotly over me. All this we were doing in an unthinking s****l stupor. But being deaf to our surroundings ended abruptly with the sound of someone shattering our instant of happy mayhem. Daddy’s voice cut the air like ice breaking on a January morning.

“Calley McEwan Gallegher, what the hell are you doing!”

We froze, Bret going limp on me, his erection slowly dwindled inside my p***y, while I found a trickle of c*m he couldn’t hold back running down my leg, despite the way I tried squeezing the life out of his withering p***s. I wasn’t all too anxious to share the moment with my father. I jumped up, as did Bret, both of us grabbing for our clothes. Sitting nakedly side by side, Daddy certainly had the answer to the question, but he wanted to hear it from my lips.

“What’s going on here?”

I gulped. “We were making love.”

“You were fornicating in my house, in my attic!” he disagreed. “Get dressed. The both of you. I’ll see you in the dining room.”

Daddy stormed out—his feet on the stairs so remarkably loud, I wondered how we could have missed the sound before, unless he was deliberately sneaking up, planning the surprise attack.

Bret and I scampered silently into our clothes while the look on Bret’s faced reminded me that this was my idea, screwing with my parents so close by. Up until this day, we certainly hadn’t done this with Daddy anywhere around. But I was desperate—so I said.

When we reached the dining room, Daddy was sitting in his chair at the head of the table, the chair c****d enough so we could see his lap and the strap lying over it. Mama sat next to him, looking sheepishly embarrassed. She wasn’t about to say a word. The shades had been drawn and the room had that kind of evening aura that makes everything glow with the warm light of a fading sun. It’s a lonely, melancholy kind of light that makes me feel sad, but oddly peaceful and sensuously aroused.

Into that sensuous peace, however, Daddy words ripped the edges of solitude asunder. “I will not allow you to copulate in my house without the benefit of marriage!” he started in. “I can think of nothing so degrading as to denigrate the beauty of the marriage bed with such deplorable promiscuity. I am shocked and disappointed in you both.” He looked from Bret to me and back again, making sure we understood that the message was for both of us. “Bret Lawrence, do you have any respect for my daughter?”

“He does respect me!” I shot at him before Bret could answer. Bret clutched my hand as if to calm me.

“Don’t you speak to me that way!” Daddy shouted. “Bret?”

“I care for your daughter very much.”

“No, you couldn’t and sully her this way,” Daddy immediately disagreed. This was going to be one of those conversations that wasn’t a conversation at all, but a humbling lecture.

“I’m sorry,” he answered.

“Well, I’m not sorry,” my voice rang out again.

“Calley,” Bret tried again to pacify me.

“Bend over and take down your pants,” Daddy barked his answer to my rebellion.

I glared at him, hardly feeling subdued at all, but I obeyed him, undoing the clasp of my trousers and letting them fall to my ankles. As I bent over the dining room table, I let my panties down, though they hung up at the base of my buttocks since I was keeping my legs together, my cheeks clenched tight. I was so hot with rage, I’m sure everyone in the room could feel it. To do this right in front of Bret was the most appalling thing I could imagine.

As the strap ripped its way along my ass, I held my breath, and tried not to groan.

“Don’t you ever defy me, Calley Gallagher!” Daddy roared as the first smack hit. He followed that one with several more, all laid on my bouncing ass with me fighting like crazy not to let him see how I was suffering. Damn! It burned like firecrackers, spreading dreadful warmth through my body I could hardly bear. He paused several times so I’d be able to take more, but as the strapping went on, it was becoming so painful I could hardly keep my composure.

At first, the nasty things I wanted to say were mean and mutinous retorts that would have surely earned me more than just this one session with the strap. Daddy wasn’t above giving a punishment in two sessions, if he thought the offense warranted that kind of extreme measure. Knowing this was going to be a real doozey I wasn’t about to earn another one if I could help it. As time when on, however, I didn’t have much room for anger amid the pain. The strap was so agonizing that I began to squirm and wiggle, rise up—a terrible thing to do—but I couldn’t stop myself. When Daddy gave me a breather I got back in place. It seemed that by some natural cue I was relenting rather than fighting.

“Oh, please stop!” I finally wailed. “I can’t stand it.”

Daddy took little note of my plea, continuing for several more strokes—these quite fast peppering my aching ass. I’m not sure if they were less forceful, but it seemed there was a little less distress. Then, with a quick flourish of three good whacks, it was over.

I collapsed into the table feeling tears threaten in my eyes. My first thought was Bret. What was he thinking? And more importantly, what would this do to our relationship? It was too much to lose, but that’s exactly what I was afraid I’d done.

“Get up!” Daddy ordered, “and pull up your trousers.”

I did so quickly, feeling the fiery furnace he’d made of my ass. I turned just enough to see the hot blush in the mirror above the dining room sideboard. Wincing, I turned back and quickly finished getting dressed.

Hardly before I could catch my breath, Daddy was on Bret.”

“Young man, your turn.”

I couldn’t believe it, Daddy was going to punish my boyfriend right in front of me!

Bret seemed to take the news in stride. Much more even-tempered than me, he moved to the dinning room table and faced the wall. Undoing his belt and the zipper, I watched in horror as my boyfriend lowered his pants and underwear over the sexy hips and ass that I associated with just one thing—s*x. Ah! What a fine butt! Two small mounds, nicely padded with strong muscles beneath that softer surface. I love squeezing them when we make love and running my palm along the surface. I think there’s a certain manly strength in his ass. Now his cute behind was just a target for the strap. The thought of Daddy spanking him made me shiver. I was so nervous and embarrassed I could hardly stay on my feet.

“Daddy, please, it was all my idea!” I suddenly found myself blurting out.

“Calley, please! Don’t make it worse,” my boyfriend chimed in as Daddy turned to me and glared.

When I saw the wooden school paddle in Daddy’s hand, I almost protested again, but I was afraid that would only make the paddling worse for Bret. Why my father chose the hard wood I’m not sure, but it was sure to sting even more vilely than the strap I’d just endured.

Watching Daddy take his position, I had a vantage point to view it all, and this seemed almost worse than taking my own punishment. It was all my fault. If I hadn’t been so insistent none of this would have happened. I closed my eyes for a second but when the first strike hit they jerked open. Then, I couldn’t take my eyes off Bret’s bouncing behind. This firm, methodical spanking had me spellbound and I couldn’t have turned away if I tried. The sound, the strikes, the low groan that sometimes escaped Bret’s lips, and the bright red color swiftly appearing on the surface of his smooth-to-the-touch ass flesh. From where I was stood, I could see Bret’s face, the way he squinted bearing up to the strikes. He sorta looked a kid again, in a way, but then terribly manly at the same time. His jaw was tight, his teeth clenched, and as each new strike hit the mark there was a tiny wince on his lips. He breathed deep between each smack and gritted his teeth awaiting the next.

I have no idea how many swats Bret took. I was in such a daze, I couldn’t count. I had no idea how much time elapsed from start to finish. For a while I stared at Bret’s face, but then I couldn’t stand to see his painful grimace. My gaze returning to his ass, the sight of his hotly burning buns sent a torrent of feeling through me. I wasn’t sure what I was feeling, except the love. Oh! I loved him more now than I ever had. To think, he was actually allowing this stodgy, relic from another time to scold and punish him like he was still a kid—all for me. He didn’t have to do it. He didn’t have to stay in this stupid house with its barbaric rules. It was then I knew that Bret was staying for me. There was nothing to keep him in a place that could be so confining to his freedom, not to mention his self-respect.

The paddle struck, Bret winced. His grunts became more pronounced as did the fire on his smarting cheeks. When Daddy finally laid the paddle on the dining room table next to him, he backed away and gave the next order, “stand up.”

Once Bret was presentable again, we stood side by side, both staring down at our feet. Might have even been comical, but I know I was still reeling from the embarrassment, and Bret seemed hardly happy about his blistered ass.

“I suppose you can’t be trusted to end this,” Daddy started in again. “If that is the case, you two are getting married,” he paused, “next week.”

“Daddy!” I couldn’t help myself.

“You heard me,” he shot right back “You and this young man are not going to besmirch your reputation with this disgraceful carrying on.”

I was sure Bret would join my objection, but he didn’t.

“Yes, sir,” was his only answer.

“And, until you’re married you’ll move elsewhere, Bret Lawrence. I’ll not have another incident like that obscene one in the attic.” He was pointing his finger now. “You so much as lay your hand on my daughter, you’ll get run out of town.”

The message was so confused. If he thought that badly of Bret, why the hell would he want me to marry him? I think maybe he was so amazed by us he didn’t know what else to do but to shoot off these ridiculous platitudes.

“Have I been heard?”

“Yes, sir, you have,” Bret returned politely. How could he be so calm?

“Now, I’ll give you five minutes to say your good-byes. Then you go to your room Calley, and Lawrence, you pack.

Daddy and Mama left the room, though they certainly didn’t close the door. I was worried that I’d never be alone with Bret again.