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Found 2 results

  1. Lucy held the position of local manager at a highly esteemed multinational corporation specializing in early childhood products, generating millions of dollars in revenue annually. Through years of dedication and hard work, she had earned her place within the company. However, she faced a significant challenge in the form of her less-than-competent personal assistant. Despite Lucy's patience, the assistant's repeated errors, some of which were grave, had caused serious issues within the company. Following a severe reprimand from her superiors due to a mistake that jeopardized a $17 million deal, Lucy decided to address the situation. During lunchtime, she summoned her assistant to her office and calmly instructed her to take a seat.
  2. So this is very different for me. Inspired by a writer who does a lot of stories in which an adult child asks their parent to discipline them again, with an ABDL twist to this one. _____________________________ Chapter 1 “Can whatever you wanted to talk about wait until tomorrow, Abby? I just want to go shower and crash.” What a long day it had been. I packed up my dorm room, loaded my car, drove six hours, and unloaded everything on my own by the time my mom got home. I just wanted to clean myself up and sleep for three days. So did my mom, apparently, who’d been working her standard 12-hour nursing shift. “It’ll only take a few minutes, Mom,” I assured her. My mom and I have always been best friends. I think part of that comes with being the oldest, and the fact that dad split when I was ten, and my little brother and sister were just 2 and under 1 at the time, just made our situation more intense. My first year of college had been hard on both of us especially since I wasn’t close enough to come home on weekends, even long weekends. Still, the freedom had been liberating for me. You might say I had been a willful child, and while I did take on more responsibility than most kids, especially when it came to looking after my brother and sister, my mother had always been pretty strict. Or more specifically, she became a lot more strict after dad left. I think it had to do with her suddenly being a single mom and feeling like between school, work and raising three kids, she needed to be strict to stay sane and make sure everything that needed doing got done. As the oldest, and by a wide margin, I caught the brunt of it. Understand, though, that Mom is not a screamer or a hitter. I had friends whose parents were screamers, and it always made me sick to my stomach. It reminded me of my asshole dad. Even now I get a little upset when I hear a parent raise their voice or, god forbid, swear at their kid. Mom never yelled at us or swore at us. I never got so much as a pat on the butt, either. When I didn’t live up to mom’s expectations or broke a rule, it was loss of privileges and grounding. I’m embarrassed to say timeouts in the living room corner didn’t stop until I turned 16. I spent a lot of time grounded, at least a weekend a month and sometimes much more, and I think that was part of the dynamic of a single parent household, too. With all the extra responsibility I had, I resisted some, especially in middle school and my first couple years of high school. All the changes were hard enough, and then to layer in all I was expected to do, well, sometimes I just didn’t do it. A lot of times I only did it after putting up a fight. That was the other part of being close to Mom: I never could stop myself from getting into the pettiest fights with her, things I’d bicker with my friends about. Mom didn’t ask anything unreasonable, in retrospect, but you know how young teens are. I didn’t want to babysit, I didn’t want to do extra chores, and I didn’t want to work extra hard in school to, in my mom’s words, not end up like her, dependent on a man for her livelihood and then needing to start college as a freshman at the age of 33. And yet for all that, we were very close, especially my last two years of high school when I was only grounded once every two months (or so). I guess I felt somewhat protective of her, especially as I got over the worst of my preteen and teen years and realized what she’d done for me, how hard she’d worked to get us back into the middle class and make our home stable and normal. I had friends with both parents whose home lives were more volatile than mine. “Let’s talk in the kitchen,” Mom said. I followed her, and she sat down at the table, and I did the same. She looked at me funny, then leaned forward and kissed he on the forehead. I blushed. It felt good to be home. “I’m excited to be home for the whole summer,” I said. “Me, too,” she replied, “I missed your help.” “Sorry.” “Don’t ever be sorry for that. I’m proud of you!” I blushed again. “So what did you want to talk about,” she asked. “Well, you know that talk we had over the phone last week, about all the old rules still applying while I’m home this summer?” Mom’s face has a way of becoming friendly and stern at the same time. It always reminded me of a school counselor’s, and I was pretty acquainted with several of those growing up. “Abigail,” she said, never a good sign when she uses my full first name, “That’s non-negotiable.” “I know.” “I know you’ve been away for most of the past year, and I don’t want to step on your summer, but it’s for everyone’s sake and so the kids know no one ever outgrows the rules.” She’d told me all that over the phone. Those weren’t major rules. A curfew, texting to let her know where I was if I was gonna be late, completing the chore chart, generally doing what I was told, not being disrespectful. It wasn’t like we had a list or anything. “I know. I agree completely.” “Then what did you want to talk about,” Mom asked me. “It’s about grounding. I’m only home for a few months. I’m responsible for the kids. I don’t want to miss out on things, and I don’t think it’s practical for me to be grounded while I’m home or to lose my privileges. I mean, if I have the kids during the day, then a car and phone aren’t really privileges anymore.” Mom shrugged apologetically at me. “Well, rules have to be backed up by punishment. Sorry, Abby, but that’s just how they work.” “It’s not like I get in a lot of trouble these days anyway,” I defended myself. “It’s not like I’m going to be breaking rules left and right.” “I certainly hope not, but honey, let’s face it, you do have a tendency to get into trouble.” “Maybe years ago,” I defended myself. “Remember Christmas break? You coming home drunk as a skunk at 4am.” “I didn’t ... I didn’t have a curfew.” Though I knew that wasn’t her point. “It’s not like you grounded me then.” “I know, and I should have. If for no other reason than so you’re brother and sister would understand that’s not acceptable. Ryan told his friends; he thought it was hilarious. I ended up on the phone apologizing to Mrs. Davis because he told Thomas all about it.” “Oh. I didn’t know that part.” “So, yes,” Mom said, “if you break the rules, I will ground you, and I’m sorry if that means you miss out on seeing your friends sometimes when you’re home, but that should be more of an incentive.” So I tried and failed to get out of punishment altogether. I figured that would happen. I very nearly chickened out of what I said next, but summer was short, and I figured being grounded even once would mean missing out on something. Call it fear of missing out, but I just really missed a lot of my friends and thought about my summer and getting to see them as very important. I cleared my throat, and looking at the table, I slowly said, “I talked to Alison about how things worked when she was home from college.” Alison is my older cousin, her mother, Lisa, my mom’s older sister. “She told me that Aunt Lisa, ahem, still, uh, spanks her.” “At 25,” my mother asked in mild surprise. My mom’s view of discipline diverged with Lisa’s on the subject of corporal punishment. “Apparently, yeah,” I said. “Huh,” was all my mom said back. “So, I know you’ve never spanked me, but, uh, could you, um, maybe, do that instead of grounding me and taking things away, maybe?” I sounded kinda pathetic. I knew it. “Yes.” “What,” I said in not-so-mild surprise. I thought she’d have turned me down. I thought she’d call me crazy, get offended or all freaked out. I thought I’d have to reason with her. I thought the absurdity of my request may have even led her to change her mind and decide no punishment at all was okay (I was kinda hoping that). “But you’ve never spanked any of us!” “Because it’s wrong to hit kids. You’re an adult and just consented to it.” Mom sat back in her chair. “Believe me, it’s not like I never wanted to. Your last two years of high school especially.” I guess maybe she and I remembered my last years of high school a bit differently. I thought I had been a pretty good kid, but maybe I had been grading myself on the wrong curve. I was kinda-sorta in trouble a lot more than my friends. “I thought you’d say no.” “I will say no, if you really didn’t mean it.” “No … it’s better than grounding.” “Okay. And don’t think just because you asked you get to dictate the how, when, where, or why of it.” “Just so long as you don’t go all Robo-Mom on me.” “Same rules apply, and like always, I decide when you’ve broken one.” “I understand. Can you not tell Ryan and Emma?” My two younger siblings. “We can not tell them, but I think they’ll figure it out.” “And what will you tell them then?” “You,” she emphasized, “and I will explain that everyone has to follow rules, and that you asked to be held accountable this way. It might even be good for them. Ryan is on the cusp of that obnoxious pre-teen phase. Maybe thinking of how long it’s taken you to accept responsibility for yourself will knock him out of it a little sooner.” “You’ve never even given a spanking before.” “And hopefully I won’t ever have to,” Mom said, “But when I do, I’ll figure it out. I’m sure Lisa would be happy to show me. Hardly a conversation about you has ever passed between us but she told me to spank your bottom.” Mom looked up to her left as if recalling a memory and chuckled a little. I hadn’t thought of Aunt Lisa being involved in this. “Really, Abby, I’m kinda proud of you for asking. That really shows me that you’ve grown up a bit more since you went away.” “Thanks,” I blushed, thinking about what a silly compliment it was. I’m not sure which of us was more deranged. But seriously, I was an adult. How much trouble could I possibly get in? I was confident I could just behave, but glad that if for some reason things went awry, at least I wouldn’t miss out on the summer. “I need to go to bed,” I told her. “Make sure you put your Goodnite on.” I rolled my eyes like corkscrews. “I know, Mom. Been doing it since I was four, remember?” “I know ... sorry.”
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