The man stared down at the child, his eyes aglow with anger.

“You did what?!”

Abby stared up at him, frightened as one could be, feeling miserable in her one and a half metre as her father towered over her slender frame.

“I’m sorry daddy...”

“Oh are you?! You go show off like that for months and now you say you’re sorry?”

“They’re a professional agency, they...”

“It doesn’t matter if they’re a professional photographic agency! You should’ve asked for our consent, you should’ve come to us in the first place, Abby!”

Sat on the sofa, the child’s mother shook her head, a sad expression on her face: “You are a good girl, Abigail. You always manage to escape trouble, you are smart and self-conscious. Why did you not trust us this time, honey?”

This made Abby cry in earnest, and she felt thoroughly miserable now, and defeated. To have disappointed not one, but both her parents at the same time was something she could not stand. What was she thinking? It all seemed so obvious now. She should have just told them. “Mom, dad, can I please be a model for a professional modeling agency?”. It would be so easy. But on the other hand...

“I was afraid you’d say no if I told you,” she cried in a meekly voice, sounding like a wounded little animal.

“And we would,” said her father, now a bit calmer. “Posing in swimsuits and underwear is no thing for an eleven year old, Abby.”

“But dad...”

“No but’s, Abigail,” said her mother, sterner now. “I’ve seen some of those photos. You look like... a...” She seemed to be looking for the right word, probably discarding the offensive ones that were drifting through her head. “Well, they just weren’t suitable for a child,” she said then, once again between sad and angry, shaking her head in utter disappointment.

“Now, now,” said father. “She showed her panties but those photos were not distasteful, were they? Some head-shots are very professional, I daresay. But this is not the key here. What I’m trying to point out, Abby, is that you should ask our permission anyway, regardless of what you thought the agency guaranteed, regardless of the content of the photos. Am I making myself clear, young lady?”

Abby nodded, sobbing. She cried bitter tears when her dad explained how children are not supposed to be taking off clothes in front of strangers, not even if they were part of a professional photographic agency. “Adults should not be watching a child in his or her privates unless clearly authorised by their parents, like with doctors, and always with one or more relative present.” Abby knew the dangers, knew everything from the sexual education extra classes she followed at school, and still she had not paid attention and had put herself in danger. Now, sorry as she was, she wanted to say something for her, but she could not come up with anything intelligent to say.

Then she found something that seemed a bit smarter, and voiced her thought: “Other girls’ parents gave permission and agreed.”

Her father nodded vigorously, and Abby thought she’d finally found something useful to her defence, but of course, once again, she was wrong.

“Exactly,” said the man. “And this is right what you should have asked as well. What were you thinking, Abigail? The fact that other parents gave their consent doesn’t mean we would give ours. You took it for granted or what?”

Abby did not have the guts to respond. She just stood there, in the middle of the living room, wondering how parents seem to be able to read kids’ minds at times. That appeared to be one of those. Her father shook his head again and placed his hands on his head, running fingers between his black hair.

“You’re a very good girl, Abby,” he repeated his wife’s words, “but this just won’t fit into your head, will it? What am I going to do with you, Abby? When are you going to learn that you are not to be friendly with any adult unless we know them and approve of their friendship to you?”

Once again the girl nodded and stood still, tears spilling on the carpet. She knew by know she was in for it, and that there was no escape.

There was a moment’s silence, a very heavy silence filled with tension... and then Abby’s mother suddenly rose from the sofa and reached for her frightened daughter. She grabbed her wrist and pulled her to herself.

“I don’t know what you’re going to do,” she told her husband, “but I’m going to spank all the naivety out of this child.”

The moment she heard the word ‘spank’ Abby renewed her crying, but this didn’t stop her resolute mother from dragging her to the sofa, sitting down and draping her daughter’s trembling body on her broad lap.

“Mommy...!” Abby cried in protest, but to no avail. She was bent over the woman’s lap and her jeans shorts were pulled down and then right off, all the while her mother kept her steadily in place with her arm circling her waist.

When Abby was sufficiently unclothed – so that she laid there in her thin pink top and white panties with multicolour horizontal stripes – her backside was positioned in the exact centre of her mother’s lap and the first burning SMACK! was applied to the left buttock.

“Oww!!”

Abby growled with pain at the first swat, but knew full well it was nothing compared to the sting she would soon be feeling. Her mother was right, she was a well-behaved child, and unlike your ordinary eleven year old she was spanked rarely, like very few times a year, but when she was she would remember it for long. This modeling thing had been her one mistake of the year, and she felt she was about to pay dearly for it.

How could she be so stupid? Her mother must have thought the same, considering how fast the smacks fell on her upturned rump. Abby hardly tried to resist, and although she squirmed helplessly on her lap she did not attempt to escape, knowing it would be totally useless.

The spanks continued and soon her mother reached twenty, and Abby’s backside felt like one little ball of glowing sting.

Then, suddenly, something happened that had never happened before. Abby’s father stepped in and held her wife’s wrist, preventing her from blowing the twenty-fifth or so spank to the wailing child’s rear.

“Enough,” he said, and the woman’s eyes widened.

“But I’m only just started,” she said, dumbstruck.

“Yes, you are,” said the man in a hushed voice, “and I intend to finish. Abby, please stand.”

Abigail had not heard her father’s last remark, and was all too happy to rise from her mother’s lap and rub her sore nates. Little she knew about her father’s intentions, but had a hint when the man grabbed her wrist, preventing her from rubbing any further.

“Daddy...?”

But her father did not say a word, probably feeling that there was a time for speaking and a time for spanking, and that was the latter. Still speechless, he led Abigail to a chair and gently but firmly pushed her so that the child was bent over its wooden back. Abby may have made a mistake months before, when she accepted to shoot for that modeling agency, but she was not a fool and knew all too well where this was going to lead.

“No daddy please!” she wailed, crying as if for dear life.

Her father’s eyes were icy, and when Abby looked back to plead for mercy he showed none. Instead he unbuckled his belt and pulled it out of the loops, unfolding it like a long leather snake. Abby heard the typical metallic sound of the buckle, and did not look back, well aware of what it represented. She cried more, and lowered her head until it almost made contact with the wooden seat of the chair. She braced herself...

WHACK!

... and she was smart to do so, since her father started whipping her right away, still not a word from his rigid and thin mouth.

The belt descended with mighty power, as if the Hammer of Thor itself was beating her poor bum... or so it seemed to little Abby, who felt each and every lash like it was the worst to ever have been delivered. Father was not a cruel man, though, and he was containing his strength, whipping to sting but not to really hurt. Had he spanked in anger, Abby might as well forget having skin on her butt ever again, so he belted her with rationality and not angrily, taking his time, whipping slowly and methodically, hard but not too harshly.

Abby did not know of the thousand thoughts drifting through her father’s mind, focused as she was on her burning backside, on keeping the position and on the blood pumping wildly in her veins. That hammer also hit her head, as she felt her heart beating anywhere but in her chest. She fought hard to breath, which was becoming more difficult with every second, every cough, every gasp, every scream. A passer-by may have thought she was being murdered, though the spanking was not being particularly harsh, and Abby knew it all too well. She always tried to put on a big show, even if she knew her parents would not buy it. She could not help it, though: she had to try and make it look worse than it was.

Her father whipped the belt on her pert, prominent buttocks some more, then delivered two extra-hard lashes that really made her beg for mercy... which finally came, as the man stopped and folded the belt in his hands.

“You may rise, Abigail,” he said softly.

The child stayed in position some more before standing and starting to frantically rub her painful, glowing butt.

Her father bent over to examine the damage, handling Abby’s frail body to have a better view at her bottom and thighs. He seemed satisfied at a first glance, but then he pushed upwards the soft white tissue of the panties, uncovering about half of the child’s buttocks, and examined the skin closely. There was a pinkish colour all over, with some redder stripes here and there, but no real welts or bruises. He wondered whether he had gone a bit too easy on Abigail, and for a brief moment he pondered whether he should whip her some more or not.

Her wife caught the dubious look in his eye and shrugged, doubtful as well. For a moment he thought of bending Abby back over the chair, peel down her panties and unfold the nasty belt again, or maybe to take out the large strap he had in their room, but decided against both things. Did the child need a spanking? Yes, and she had got one. Did she need a very hard spanking? No, because she had not meant to break any rule, and although the admission of her guilt had not been immediate, she had not tried to escape the punishment, and that had great value to his eyes.

So, instead of spanking her more, he placed his hands on Abigail’s shoulders and pushed the weeping child to the nearest corner of the room. He pressed her forehead against both walls, while the girl, well aware of the procedure, positioned her feet and brought her hands in front of her.

SLAP! SMACK!

Father spanked once on each cheek, in the crease where they turned to thighs, and Abby cried out feeling his hard palm smacking her unprotected skin.

Then he lowered her panties down to her ankles, leaving the child naked from half her back down, a glowing pink-and-red bottom showing for the world to see. No matter how the spanking was administered, if on the clothed butt or not –corner time was always spent with a bare butt, if not fully nude if the circumstances guaranteed so, in Abby’s household.

Her parents went out of the living room, and before leaving her mother planted another quick spank on her butt and a much more heartfelt kiss on her hair.

“It’s all right, honey,” she said. “You’re forgiven. Later on we’ll discuss about how to avoid future accidents like these, okay?”

“Yes mommy...” said Abby, a barely audible whisper through her many tears. Did that mean there were more spankings in store for her? She knew all too well there was no way to find out. Not now, at least.

When her parents were finally gone, she allowed herself to weep in earnest, crying her heart out at the searing pain in her backside. Making those photo shoots had been very funny, and rewarding, too – so many ice creams and candy and movie tickets bought with that little money she had earned. But apart from that, it had been a nice experience. No one had ever touched her in an embarrassing way, she had been treated with respect, she had felt loved and cared by all those nice men and women, and she got to know other cool girls.

Abigail did not really understand why she had been punished for it. Had she been that wrong? On the other hand, she also learned that sometimes you just need to accept events the way they come, regardless of if or how you understand them. And even there and then, red-bottomed and in the corner, she knew that one day, when older, she would be grateful for that and all the other (rare) spankings she had got from her parents.

– The End –