Chapter 16

Just then the front desk paged me, so I went down to see what was going on.

Dr. Craig had come to see me with a sullen faced, but very pretty teenager in tow. The girl had a cute face that reminded me of how Ally Sheedy looked in “The Breakfast Club.” Her hair was short and dyed EMO black. She was about the same height as Diane, but barely fourteen years old, thinner, and with smaller breasts. She was wearing a red plaid skirt and white blouse. She had that naughty schoolgirl look that makes a man want to teach a girl how to be really naughty.

“Amanda, sorry to keep you waiting. I guess I need to have office hours, but I get so busy taking care of all the things my girls need.”

“That’s why we are here. This is my daughter, Jayne. She’s just turned fourteen. Jayne has been living with her father, but he has thrown up his hands in disgust and sent her to me on a one-way ticket.

“It seems that Jayne thinks she is mature enough to have sex. She and a boy were naked in Ted’s living room when he came home from picking up his seven-year-old daughter from school. Jayne’s been with her father since the divorce. I’m just not the motherly type.

“I’ve seen Clarice Jones hanging all over you and there’s four other really pretty teenage girls kissing on you all the time too. The cleaning girls say you fuck all these teenage girls and the marine biologist as well. You have a kind of harem, don’t you?”

“Not exactly Amanda, although that might be how it appears. Each of the girls feels like she is my wife and the other girls are her sisters. Monica is my biological daughter as well as one of my wives. We think of it as a group marriage with one husband and six wives,” I said.

Jayne sneered at me and said, “You want me to believe you fuck five teenage girls and that Clarice Jones is one of them?”

“It’s up to you what you choose to believe Jayne. Your belief or disbelief doesn’t change reality one tiny bit, so your ploy to take control of a situation you don’t like and get me into a reactive mode to prove all the girls, including Clarice, are indeed my lovers, won’t work.”

Jayne looked at me angrily, but there was something else showing in her eyes.

“Well you obviously know how to talk to her, so talk to her.” Amanda said.

“I can do that Amanda, but that’s mostly going to be up to Jayne. She may not want to talk to me.”

“Actually, I’d like to talk to you Mr. Gallo. You can’t have five teenage girls thinking they are in love with you unless you understand them.”

“We can definitely talk Jayne. Would you like your mom here in case you need protection from me, or would you like her to wait in the lobby?”

“I know you won’t do anything I don’t ask for, but I want her to stay because she might learn something,” Jayne said.

“OK Jayne, your mom can stay.

“Amanda, I need you to promise that there won’t be any outbursts, accusations, name calling or anything but complete silence from you.

“This is going to come as a shock to you, but most of the girls and I think when a girl is fourteen she should be able to have sex if she wants to, with whoever she wants, and a couple of the girls think twelve should be the age of consent,” I said.

“OK, I have no idea how to cope anyway, so I’ll keep quiet.”

“Jayne, it’s your chance to get the things you are unhappy about out in the open, so we can look at them and see if there’s anything that can be done about them,” I told her.

We all sat down in the lobby. Jayne and her mom sat on one of the leather sofas and I sat in a matching chair across from Jayne so I could watch her face as she talked.

“OK, well it all started when I discovered that getting spanked made me horny as hell. It happened first when I was seven, but I had no idea what was going on, and no idea the feelings I had were sexual or that you called those feelings being horny.

“I got in trouble at school. I came home with a note from the teacher. I was still wearing my school uniform. The note was sealed, so I had no idea what it said. Dad read the note and told me I had behaved badly at school. He said the teacher was questioning whether I had civilized parents. He told me it was unacceptable to throw my dish of pudding at Becky Hanson’s face, no matter what she said to me. He told me I was to stop behaving like a chimpanzee and begin acting like a young lady immediately.

“I don’t remember dad ever spanking me before that day. He said it was such a bad mistake, he felt I needed my bottom warmed to help me remember not to act like an ape.

“He had me bend over his lap and touch the floor with my hands. I immediately felt helpless and equal measures of fear and excitement. He put one hand on my back and with the other he lifted up the hem of my red and green plaid skirt in the back, and pulled it up to my waist. Next, he pulled down my panties so my bottom was bare, and so I could feel the panties around my ankles. That reminded me my bottom was naked every second I was over his lap.

“He spanked my bare bottom with his bare palm. I felt him get an erection, although at the time I didn’t know that’s what it was. The feeling of something big and hot and hard pressing against me excited me a lot. Dad didn’t spank me particularly hard and I think he only gave me five swats, but my bottom was glowing like a red-hot chunk of steel just out of the furnace, and between my legs, I felt white hot, with funny fluttery feelings in my belly as well.

“Dad told me I better not act up again, and he let me up.

“I pulled up my panties and fled to my room. As soon as I got in my room, all I could do was think about the spanking and marvel at the heat between my legs. I knew that feeling was worth the minor pain of getting spanked.

“I knew I had to act out egregiously to get daddy to spank me. Acting out at school made dad madder than if I was disrespectful to his face.

“I managed to hold out until a week before quarter break, and then I folded like a bad poker hand. I had been planning my transgression carefully so it wouldn’t get me in too much trouble at school, but the behavior was uncivilized enough to make my father furious.

“I decided I had to be original and not do the same kind of thing so using food was out. I settled on smearing a particularly big, wet, yellow booger on Cybil Smyth’s face when she called me mousey.

“Again, there was no trip to the Head Master, but a long hand-written note to my dad was composed. It got me spanked, I fled to my room and dreamed about what I wished had happened after the spanking. I really didn’t know exactly what I wanted to happen, but I was sure it had something to do with the hard lump between dad’s legs and the white-hot feeling between mine. So, the pattern of my addiction was set. Twice a quarter, at carefully planned, but apparently random intervals I did something rude, crude, or socially unacceptable that got a note sent home to dad, my bottom warmed, and that got me wound up tight.

“This continued through Elementary School. In Middle School, I had to be more creative and press the line that if crossed would earn me a trip to the Head Master’s office.

“I threw water on Mary Cosgrove’s white blouse in the loo, and the white cotton blouse turned transparent. It made her bra see-through too, so you could see her really huge, dark brown nipples. She wouldn’t come out of the loo so she was late to class. That earned me a trip to the office.

“I had steered clear of serious trouble so far, and the HM hadn’t labeled me a troublemaker yet. He called the girl’s dean into his office to act as witness. He said, “Miss Craig, I can’t have you organizing wet T-Shirt Contests in my school.”

“I was puzzled and asked, “Sir, what is a wet T-Shirt Contest?”

“Never you mind Miss Craig. Let’s just leave it that we can’t have you throwing water on another student in the loo. It seems unsanitary somehow. You will get three strokes of the paddle. Miss Oxley will witness.”

“Yes Sir,” I murmured.

“Bend over my desk, extend your arms as far as possible, and grasp the far edge if you can.”

“He delivered three smart strokes to my bottom with an oak board, two feet long, six inches wide, one inch thick, and with a handle carved at one end. There were holes drilled in the board. The HM left quite a long pause between each stroke. “For a normal girl, I’m sure it made her fear grow. For me, it simply increased the amount of lubricating fluid that leaked from my pussy, soaked my panties, and then started dripping down my thighs. I was worldlier now and knew exactly what my body was doing and why.

“My eleven-year-old brain was reeling. I was certain the HM must be able to smell me as my body was sending out pheromones screaming, ‘FUCK ME!’ to any male in my proximity. Thankfully he couldn’t smell me or chose to ignore my olfactory invitation and plea for male help.

“The HM told me to stand. I signed the logbook, and was given a hall pass to return to class.

“As I reflected on the lack of a WOW factor from the HM’s spanking, I noted that my skirt covered me so no one was seeing my bare bottom, and I wasn’t getting feelings of shame. My panties were not around my ankles constantly reminding me my bottom was bare and sticking up in the air. The HM used a paddle rather than his bare hand. Most importantly, he wasn’t my daddy.

“That realization sparked an epiphany. Besides wanting to be spanked, I undoubtedly desired an incestuous sexual relationship with my father. In short, I wanted my daddy to fuck me.

“I didn’t feel prepared to just go to my dad and say, “I need to cum. Please spank me and then fuck me.” Those things just aren’t done I’m told.

“So, I continued getting in just enough trouble to get a note sent home from this or that teacher. When I was twelve I started getting horny quicker than I had before, and my transgressions accelerated to three per quarter. Dad finally pieced it together, at least about the spanking, and finally said, “Jayne dear, wouldn’t it save both of us a good deal of trouble if you just asked me for a spanking when you feel you need one?”

“I looked at my shoes and mumbled, “Yes sir.”

“From that time on I was a model student, and asked daddy to spank me when my need was unbearable.

“One day dad said, “Jayne dear is there a particular reason you feel you need to be spanked?”

“I replied, “Yes sir, there is, but I don’t know how to explain it to you sir.”

“Dad didn’t ask again, except that when I asked for, and he gave me a spanking, he did ask if I needed to be spanked harder or needed more than five slaps.