Anneliese – Part 4

Posted by Jason Gilbert

A fictional spanking story, posted here with the permission of the author Louise Vancisic. If you enjoy the story, please do leave a comment!!

Title: Anneliese – Part 4 

Author: Louise Vancisic

Warnings: F/f, M/f n/c

Over the course of the next several months, the Dreher’s provided Kevin Hardy with further opportunities to indulge his interests at the expense of poor Anneliese. He did not do so without later feeling serious misgivings. But each time he expressed sympathy for the girl, Martin or Eve would reassure him that Anneliese was being spanked only for her own good.

“We only want her to develop well,” Martin smiled. “You don’t have children so you don’t understand the terrible temptations that they are faced with. I’m talking drugs and sex. We are only trying to protect her. A sore backside is a small price to pay for being spared the horrors of drug addiction or unwed pregnancy. Such a pretty and sweet girl like Anneliese would be most vulnerable if we weren’t so strict with her. And deep down I know she understands that.”

“I see what you mean,” Kevin nodded. “I notice that Anneliese plays an active part when preparing for her spanking. Why she even asks you or Eve for permission to take down her own panties?”

“Yes, Kevin, Anneliese has indeed come a long way.  Yet, though we have always been strict with her, we found that even she was subject to the rebelliousness of adolescence.”

“Really?” the man chuckled. “Why I cannot even begin to picture Anneliese talking back and being deliberately disobedient.”

Martin smiled in return. “No, no Kevin, it wasn’t like that with Anneliese. There was no back talk or outright challenges to my authority.  Our girl knew only too well that such behavior would be dealt with swiftly and severely.  She continued to do what she was told.  No, her rebellion was far more subtle, it was displayed in her attitude.”

“How so?”

“Oh, she did so in a variety of ways.  For example, often when she did her chores they seemed to be done just a bit slower and bit less thoroughly.  Not so much worse as to merit a spanking, but always less than she was capable of doing.  Her clothes were a little less ironed, her homework a little less accurate and her housework a little less neat.  When Eve or I tried to discuss it with her, she’d give us that wide eyed innocent routine and assure us that it wasn’t deliberate and promise to do better.”

“Uh, oh,” Mr. Hardy slyly whispered

“Uh oh is right. However, most disturbing of all however was the change in her demeanor after being spanked.  It seemed that her genuine childlike sorrow and remorse was replaced by feelings of resentment and even anger.  Of course, as we expected, she denied it.  Even more worrisome was the fact that instead of resuming her customary gaiety after a few hours she might sulk for an entire day … or even more.  When we’d speak to her she’d say the right words, but her tone would be one of indifference and insincerity.”

The younger man’s face furrowed with concern. “Oh goodness; I imagine that must have been very frustrating for you.  How did you deal with that?”

“At first we were at a loss,” the bald man sighed. “Our friends were of little help as the behavior of their children was infinitely worse.  Then they would say things like ‘it’s the hormones’ and ‘it’s just a phase’.  The worst were the ones who said ‘is that all you’re worried about; I wish I had your problem’.  We could not, however, subscribe to such a defeatist attitude; certainly not when it was our daughter’s welfare that was at stake.   We could, of course, continue to control Anneliese by force, but that would only nourish her resentment and alienate her even further.”

“I can only imagine the kind of emotional torment that you must have felt,” Kevin offered sympathetically.

“Precisely the word I would use. But the impact fell most heavily on poor Eve. One time I came home to find my wife quite upset over the situation. I was so incensed that Anneliese would do this to her mother, I stormed into her room, dragged her up from her desk chair and across my lap. Saying not a word, I lifted the back of her dress and began smacking her behind. It was one of the few times that I spanked her out of anger.

Pleadingly she asked “why … Daddy … why” and pleaded for me to stop. Undeterred, I continued spanking her hard. I concentrated on the tender sit-spots, delivering crisp smack upon smack onto the soft surface. The flush of red and subsequent increased wailing seemed to commend my efforts. The intensity of the spanking achieved what would’ve taken a normal spanking twice as long to accomplish:  Anneliese stopped resisting and went limp. She no longer wiggled around madly or kicked the air with all her strength; the only reaction to the punishing smacks was a long mournful wail and slight twitching of her legs responding to the tough slaps. She was defeated.

But such was my fury that even then I didn’t stop. It would be something I would come to regret as I realized how much my anger terrified the poor girl that day.  In the past, every time she had stopped struggling and became a “well-spanked little girl”, her spankings would end shortly thereafter. If they didn’t we would always explain why additional spanking was needed. However, this time I just kept spanking.  But the charged energy and volatility of earlier had disappeared, to be replaced by what almost seemed like a monotonous routine. My hand ascended and descended again and again with apathetic simplicity as Anneliese, now fatigued, sobbed quietly.”

Kevin Hardy nodded for Martin to continue.

“That evening Eve and I had long talk and from that moment, the pieces gradually began to fall into place.  First of all we realized that punishment and restrictions were something that we unilaterally imposed on Anneliese.  We would tell her what to do and she would obey.  On her part there was no thought required and consequently no emotional investment.  Spanking was like eating and sleeping.  If you’re hungry, Mommy or Daddy gives you food to eat.  If you’re tired, they put you to bed.  If you misbehave or otherwise disappoint your parents, your skirt is turned up, your panties are taken down, you get spanked, you cry and you make up.  That’s the simplistic reasoning of a child and it worked; as long as she was a child.”

“Yes, as long as she’s a child,” Mr. Hardy repeated thoughtfully.  “But a child grows up.”

“Precisely! For now Anneliese was passing from childhood into adolescence.  And with adolescence comes questioning.  Also, as her body started maturing, the attendant ritual undressing became progressively more embarrassing for her.  The spankings themselves had to be more severe to account for her advancing age and size.  Thus the total emotional distress associated with a spanking increased dramatically.  It was only natural that she should choose to question and subtly challenge our disciplinary practices.”

“That must have been incredibly disheartening after all you and Eve had done for her.”

“It was,” Martin nodded, “until we realized that the time had come for Anneliese herself to buy into and embrace her need for strict discipline.  We could no longer allow her to be a passive participant. She would have to become our junior partner.  However, in her present mood, she’d hardly join us willingly.  She would have to be trained. And we decided that I would be the one to do the training.”

Martin paused for effect; then continued, “This, I reasoned, would have to be an extended two-step process.  First, Anneliese would have to be taught to obey me immediately and without question.  The second stage would require that Anneliese gradually accept more and more responsibility for disciplining herself.  My ultimate objective was to have Anneliese monitor her own behavior, voluntarily confess her misdeeds, suggest an effective correction and prepare herself for punishment. Then upon conclusion of the punishment, acknowledge her appreciation for my assistance in helping her to improve.”

“I would hardly imagine that as being an easy task,” Kevin supportively observed.

“Not at all easy, but nonetheless necessary,” Martin responded gravely.  “First I had to reiterate to her that any future displays of petulance would mean an even more severe spanking.  But using pain and fear alone, at this stage, would surely alienate her even further.  After some thought, I determined that it would have to be a combination of pain and pleasure.  Refusal to cooperate in whatever punishment I decreed would bring immediate and painful consequences; obedience would be rewarded by physical and emotional affection.  And cooperation would mean attitude as well as action.  Sharing my plan with Eve, we both slept quite soundly that night.”

Captivated by the unfolding story Kevin voiced an empathetic sigh of relief in response to this last statement.

Martin resumed speaking.  “I chose the day after Anneliese’s twelfth birthday to implement this new policy.  She was upstairs doing her homework when I came into her room.  Seating myself on her bed, I summoned her to sit on my lap.  Taking her into my arms I explained to her that we were about to enter a new phase of her training, and why.  I spoke at length, and with great patience, about how from now on I would expect unquestioning obedience and participation from her.  She nodded mechanically and answered, “’yes, Daddy” to all my questions, but her face betrayed a sullenness that had become all too familiar.  I decided that right then and there I would have to confront her. I commenced by calmly asking her to stand up and bring me the hairbrush.

Anneliese hesitated. Then in a small voice, but with an unmistakable edge of resentment, she asked ‘“why?  Are you going to spank me?”

“I didn’t say that, sweetie.  What I said was get … me … the … hairbrush.’”

Anneliese made no response, but, as she rose to her feet, an angry and rebellious scowl darkened her face and her hands were clenched into audacious little fists.  For several moments neither of us moved.  Then, with a defiant toss of her head, she finally took the brush from her night table and disdainfully offered it to me.  Though she had the sense to remain silent her manner was unmistakably challenging. 

I politely thanked her and calmly requested that she lay across my knee. She just stood there motionless. I repeated the command, more crisply. Her face colored hotly, but she still did not move.

‘But I didn’t do anything,’ she pouted. ‘You can’t spank me for nothing.  That’s just not fair!’ Perhaps emboldened by my restraint, Anneliese angrily stamped her foot.

Saying nothing, I leveled her with a withering stare.  She appeared to back down a notch.  Inwardly seething, but determined to maintain my composure, I calmly repeated my instruction. “’Anneliese dear, I have now asked you twice to lie across my knee.  It vexes me greatly to have to ask a third time.  So I will simply count to three.”  I exhaled heavily as I awaited my daughter’s response.

It occurred to me that the girl might well choose this moment to bring her rebellion into the open.  If so, I was prepared to subdue her, but I fervently prayed that it would not come to that.  My goal was to win her cooperation with loving discipline, not brute force.

I called out, “One!”  

There was no response.

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