A Thanksgiving Season Tale It was Darla's first visit back home after starting college, and Mom, Dad, Darla and her younger brothers were naturally excited. It was the evening before Thanksgiving, and it was the first time in months that everyone was together at the large wooden table in the dining room. Darla loved the table, remembering when she was about 5 and could finally lift her dimpled chin over the edge. Although she had changed quite a bit at school, living on her own for the first time, Darla did put on appropriate clothing for family dinner -- a shaggy gray sweater and pleated blue skirt. Her dark hair was brushed straight down below her shoulders, and she wore a favorite old red ribbon off to the side. Because it was still family, no stockings were required. Dad was in his sharpest tartan flannel shirt and loose fitting tan slacks. The boys were in casual clothes, but at least their faces were clean. Mom was in a polka dot dress, her apron tied securely as she worked in the kitchen. After grace, everyone wanted to know about Darla's life at college. She was still the chatty daughter and sister they knew before, but something was different. Perhaps it was the light makeup she wore, perhaps the slightly cocky attitude about life and the flip remarks about putting her family a little lower on her list of priorities. Mom and Dad had shot each other worried glances during dinner when a few "damns" and "hells" slipped from Darla's mouth. Clearly, she was quite mature now, and way beyond parental correction. But halfway through Mom's luscious applie pie, Darla was describing one of the old boys from the neighborhood, and snarled unthinkingly, "He's such a pussy!" "What kind of language is THAT from my daughter," Dad exploded. "Gee, Dad, that's the way I talk now," she giggled, adding, mischievously, "I didn't think anyone would give a flying fu.. Ooops, sorry Dad." "I've had just about enough of that, Darla! That language is not fit for this table, nor any table outside a Navy ship. You are excused, young lady, and you go right to your room and finish unpacking. Right now!!" Darla snapped her head sharply to the side indicating disapproval of the order, and the boys started giggling. Darla had had enough of family for awhile, anyway, and was preparing to sashay upstairs, resigning herself to a lecture -- yet still remembering what such a command had meant years before. Dad glared at the boys. "Stop that laughing or you'll get it, too!" It was the word "too" that made Darla just a bit uneasy, but off she went. When Dad arrived upstairs, looking serious, Darla was only halfway through one of her suitcases. She straightened up and sat on the edge of the bed. "Oh, Daddy," she twinkled in her best little girl grin. "Don't make such a big deal about it." "We've missed you so much," Dad began quietly. "What kind of way is that to treat your family? You are here for five more days, and we'd like to have our old Darla back." "I've missed you, too, Daddy," Darla said, suddenly opening up in a torrent of words; her eyes moistening as she told how much Mom and Dad meant to her when she was growing up; how much she missed the advice and guidance they gave and how much she missed having someone smart to talk over problems with. She began crying from the perceived loss of her youth. "Darla," Daddy began after a short silence. "I am quite touched. But when you are here, you have to abide by our rules, including language. You can understand why, can't you?" "Yes, Daddy. I was just being a smart freshman, I guess." "The trouble with that, my dear, is maybe it works outside the house, but only with the wrong people. You'll lose friends and never make some you don't know about if you adopt a sassy, foul- mouthed attitude. And I don't want you to corrupt the boys, either. That's what I was angry about." "You're right, Dad," Darla replied, by now brought to her own good senses. "I guess I'd have been spanked pretty good by now a year ago," she said with an odd grin as a tear rolled down her lightly rouged cheek. "Certainly you would have, but I suppose you're an adult now." "Dad, I feel like such a child when I'm away. I don't even want to tell you some of the stuff I've done. You make me feel so secure here." "That's my duty, Darla, and I take it seriously. What exactly are you getting at?" "Oh, Daddy, I cccaaaaan't ssssayyy ttthhhhisss," she stammered. "Say what?" he replied, sensing with his pert daughter a bond he had tried never to think about before. Then Darla blurted, "Daddy, please spank me! Spank me hard!!" Thunderstruck, Dad sat on her old desk chair as Darla arose from the edge of the bed and slowly walked to his right side. "Just like you used to ... but no strap, OK?" "If that's what you want, Darla, I believe that's what you need. Lift up your skirt." Had Daddy's little girl complied so rapidly in the past, she would hvae saved herself considerable anguish. But she was smarter now, and up went her skirt! "You know the way it used to be, Darla," Dad said firmly. "Panties down." "Help me do it, Daddy," she whispered, her blue eyes abrim. Dad looked straight into those eyes, considered the situation and after they both shuddered silently, he began his paternal chore. But not like before when Mom yanked the panties down amid crying and yelling. This time, Dad used both hands, turning her gently around and tugging lightly at the panty bottoms until they slid over Darla's creamy round bottom. "Thhhhannnk yyyyouuu, Daddy. I am sorry I offffennnddded yyyyou. I aaammm rrreaddddyy now," she sniffled. Dad wasted no further time, taking her by the wrist and pulling his daughter over his lap. "I am doing this as a reminder, Darla, and I won't spank hard because nobody else needs to know. OK?" "OK, Daddy," Darla whimpered, dabbing an errant tear with the hem of her skirt. SPANK SPANK SPANK, Dad began in a steady rhythm. SPANK SPANK SPANK, he continued, letting his palm fall sharply, but not too loudly, resting it for a fraction of a second on each of Darla's naughty cheeks. "Boohoooo, Waaaah, Waaaaah," Darla cried softly. Unlike previous punishments, Dad said very little. There was no need to tell DARLA what was happening. SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK "Owwwww Owwwww OUCH Owwwwww Waaaaah Boooohoooo Waaaahaaaa." Dad and Darla, working together gracefully as if they were at a cotillion dance, both noticed that the stereo downstairs had been turned up loud. "Daddy, spank me harder! Spank me HARD!!" "OK, princess. I do believe I am enjoying this!" SPANK WHACK CRACK SPANK SMACK WHAP WHAP SMACK SPANK "Owwww, Daddy, OWWWWW, ouch ouch. "I'm such a bad girl." SMACK CRACK WHAP SMACK SMACK SPANK SPANK "Owww, owwwww, owwwww," Darla began crying convulsively. As she lifted her bottom just to regain balance, Daddy slipped his left hand from her back and placed it beneath her pinkened bottom until it rested where Darla was soft, warm and now wet. "Daddddddddyyy!!!" she gasped as if reading aloud a Terry Sothern novel. Massaging his little girl's womanhood at the same time he spanked, Daddy gave Darla the fatherly discipline she had yearned for over many years but could never before entice. When they got downstairs 10 minutes later, both were composed. "What happened?" Timmy snickered at Darla, but before she could answer, Dad stepped into the conversation. "We had a good talk. You didn't hear a thing, did you? As for you, young man, you better prepare yourself for a good whipping for YOUR smartmouth -- and this time Darla is going to give it to you, so you better watch your step with her!" Timmy blushed, then slunk away, absenting himself from family time until Darla found him under his covers at 11 o'clock. With his pajamas down around his ankles and his big sister whaling away her hard-soled slipper, Timmy was learning to step neatly around Sis in the future.