A young wife gets careless and pays the price.

By Seymour Jay

It was early September in 1994; I was 17 years old and lived in a small southern Indiana town with my dad and step mom. I was an only child. My mom had been killed in a car accident when a drunk driver hit her when I was 4 years old. I was so young I didn’t remember much, but I did miss my mom greatly. My dad, Jesse, was devastated. I was just 4 years old and my dad was in his mid 40s. I remember him telling people he didn’t know how he was going to raise me, his only son, alone.

Soon, he met Vivian. She was at least 15 years younger than my dad. She was short, only about 5 foot tall, with a slim build and blonde hair.  Looking back, I guess they both were in need. My dad was lonely and needed someone to look after me, and Vivian was having a rough time in life. She was nearly broke and going from job to job. She struggled with money and a place to live. My dad had a large house and nearly everything he wanted in life except a wife and a mother figure for me. It was hardly love at first sight, but more a relationship built on need.

Soon, they were married. Vivian now didn’t have to work and stayed home to raise me. My dad worked 5-6 days a week at an automotive parts factory. Vivian and I soon bonded, as we spent a lot of time together. As years passed, we were really close. She became the mom I had lost years before. However, my dad and Vivian seldom got along great. He was a lot older than her and I guess had different ideas and values.

My dad was very strict. He was a no nonsense type of guy. I think he held a lot of resentment about my mom being gone since she was his sole mate and not Vivian. He not only had a lot of rules for me, but also Vivian. He told us both what we were to do and what we wasn’t going to do. My dad made all the decisions and they were expected to be followed. I often wondered why Vivian stayed around, but I guess this life was far better than what she had before.

If I got out of line, he was quick to yank me over his knee and give me a good spanking. My dad was a very large man, way over 6 foot tall. He had no problem taking control of the situation. At first Vivian would chastise him and tell him he was too hard on me, but he would simply not talk to her for days or maybe even a week. There was no arguing or yelling in our house. He would just not even acknowledge her presence. Soon, Vivian learned not to criticize him and let him raise me his way, even though it wasn’t her way.

When I got to be about 12, things changed. I had got in trouble for something and my dad said sternly and loud: “Get yourself to the guest room and I mean now!”

We had a guest bedroom on the far side of the house. I didn’t realize why, but I soon found out. I guess he sent me there because it was out of sight and sound from most the rest of the house, and Vivian would not try to interfere.

That was the first but not last time I got ‘corrected’ with the belt. Not a word spoken, just a bad spanking. From that day forward, the phrase ‘get yourself to the guest room and I mean now’ only meant one thing. It would strike fear in my body every single time he would have to say it.

When I was 17 I came home from school and, as always, Vivian was there when I got home. I went to my room to work on homework and watch TV. About an hour later, my dad arrived home from work. I could hear him come in the front door. My room was just down a short hallway from the front door. I could faintly hear their conversation.

My dad asked her how her day was and what she did all day.

Vivian replied: “It was fine. I cleaned and done some laundry and paid some bills.”

“How was lunch?” He asked.

“Lunch? Oh, I just had a sandwich,” she replied.

“A sandwich and a couple drinks!” My dad snapped.

Alcohol was a bad subject with my dad since my mom’s accident. He never drank but didn’t have an issue with Vivian drinking as long as she wasn’t driving.

“I heard you were at the restaurant today at lunchtime and had a few drinks. So, did you walk home, or how exactly did you get home?”

“I-I only had a couple drinks. I drove home. It is only a few blocks.” Vivian said.

“1, 2 or 3 drinks? It doesn’t make any difference. In my mind, any alcohol and then driving is too much. You know this, Vivian! You agreed you would never, ever, drink then drive!”

“I-I don’t know what to say,” Vivian’s voice crackled, searching for words. “I’m sorry, so very sorry,” Vivian said softly.

“Get yourself to the guest room, and I mean now,” my dad said sternly.

I could not believe my ears. I felt fear in my own body just hearing those words. Surely he didn’t plan to whip her? I felt fear for her and was still in disbelief my dad actually said that.

“Please, NO,” Vivian said frantically. “Please don’t do this to me,” she pleaded. “I don’t think I can take it. Not today, please.”

I could not hear a single response from my father.

“Please Jesse, Bryan is just in the other room. Not today, please, just not today.”

Hearing her say this made me think this may not have been the first time my father either threatened to spank her, or actually did it.

“Vivian, go!  Now!!”  He said firmly.

I couldn’t believe this was happening. I felt such fear for her. My dad was such an evil person when it came to discipline. Never a word spoken. If he took you to the guest room, it was always a whipping you would not soon forget.

As I heard them walk out of the front room across the house, my anxiety got the better of me and I tip-toed across the house. The guest room was clear to the far corner of the house. I could clearly see them entering the guest bedroom from behind the corner of another room.

“Go ahead and take down your little shorts and underwear, and let’s get this over with,”.he said calmly as he started to slowly unbuckle his heavily worn belt and pull it through the loops. That sound brought fear to my body just hearing it.

“Please, Jesse, please don’t hurt me,” Vivian said as she reluctantly  unbuttoned her shorts, shoved them off her hips and let them fall to her ankles as she turned and faced the dresser. She took her fingers and slid them into the waistband of her blue bikini panties and slowly slid them down past her bottom and let them fall, then placed her hands on the dresser top.

I was very nervous and apprehensive about what I was sure was going to happen to my step mom. My dad was beyond angry, even though he never shows it. I knew from experience that when he was angry he never showed any mercy.

I could see tears running down Vivian’s face through the dresser mirror. My dad stood towering over Vivian. He was over a foot taller than her and had a heavy build verses her slim body. He took his left arm and pushed her slightly forward against the dresser so she was slightly bent over it, with her bare bottom sticking out. As he held her forcefully in place, he raised his belt high and come down with nearly full force on her round bottom. She let out an ungodly scream. The pale white skin of her bottom now had a 2 inch red stripe across it. As soon as that stroke landed, about 5 more followed. Vivian was screaming with every blow. Somehow, she broke free from my dad’s grip and turned her back side to the dresser.

As she stood with her back to the dresser I could see the tears flowing down her face and a small triangle of blonde hair just below her shirt line. Her shorts and underwear had been kicked off her ankles. She pleaded with my dad to stop.

“Please, no more, Jesse. I can’t take any more.” Vivian screamed in between sobs.

Vivian gasped as my dad grabbed her by the arm and turned her back around toward the dresser. He held her tight in position and raised his long black belt again. He gave her 12 to 15 severe strokes. Each one came as fast as the previous one landed. It was as hard and as fast as I could imagine them being. Vivian screamed a shrill scream each time one landed. My dad was out of breath. He released his hold on her and she fell to the floor. I then tip-toed quickly back to my room.

I didn’t see my step mom the rest of the night. My dad ordered pizza for us and said Vivian didn’t feel well and was resting in bed. The next morning, she was up to fix me breakfast before school. She never spoke a word about what had happened the night before.

The End

© Seymour Jay 2019