It is a hot summer afternoon in Old Town and the sprawling awning above the storefronts offer a reprieve from the sun and encourage the throng of sidewalk gawkers to stop and stare in the windows. Old Town hasn’t changed much in the last seventy years and even the new lick of pain of fresh spackled walls add to the charm.

Daddy and I are strolling down the cobbled street hand in hand as we peer into diners, the costume store, and a few on the many antique stores that make up the main street. We like to imagine the stories that an old side table or a broken mirror could tell about us about the people that used to own them. Or play pretend that we are decorating our imaginary mansion. But my favorite thing about being in Old Town is visiting the candy store. One of those old timey places that has a million flavors of homemade saltwater taffy.

I squeeze his hand as we approach and hear him chuckle at my unbridled excitement. I skip a few paces ahead and look inside the window. My breath fogs the window and I wipe it away. In the reflection, I can see him snap a picture of me on his phone. My newly tanned legs standing on tip toes, my plump thighs held tight in pink shorts, the white flower shirt, and my favorite big floppy hat. He picked this outfit and I imagine he is quite pleased with the view.

“I’m going to get sooo much taffy!” I exclaim wildly as he opens the door for me.

“Just as long as you wait until after dinner. You will ruin your appetite.” He hands me a pink and purple striped bag to fill.

“Just a few pieces.”

“No, dinner first.”

“One piece?”

“Bunny,” I hear the subtle change in tone that makes my core tingle in conflicting dread and arousal. “No candy before proper food.”

I press my lips together and pout, but I quickly take the bag and begin filling it up with different flavors; strawberry, cherry, cola, vanilla, mint, blue raspberry, but I leave the pickle flavored ones in the barrel. Ick! I take my bounty to the register and watch the shop keeper weigh out my treats and giggle as he hands the bag back to me.

As we step outside in the sunshine, Daddy pats his pockets. “I think I left my wallet inside.”

When he goes back inside, I unwrap a piece of blue taffy and pop it into my mouth. Blue raspberry is my favorite and I make a small wiggle as the flavor melts on my tongue.

“Ready?” Daddy startles me and I nod my head.

We walk hand in hand down the street. We are going to a posh little Italian place for dinner and I’m already thinking about bruschetta as I swallow the taffy.

“Do you think anyone actually buys pickle flavored taffy?” I ask as we walk.

“I don’t know. Maybe people like the salt taste. Or dip them in ranch.”

His joke makes me giggle and I laugh just loud enough for him to notice my newly blue tongue.

“Um, Bunny?” He stops in the street and holds my hand. I look up at his raised brow. “Why is your tongue blue?”

I keep my mouth closed and look up with big eyes. Busted! But I know better than to tell lies.

“From the taffy.”

“What did I say about sweets before dinner?”

“Not to have any. I was just one piece.” I respond meekly.

“Uh huh.” He starts walking again. “We better go back and change your outfit.”

“Change? What’s wrong with my outfit?” I protest.

“Well. I don’t imagine you want everyone at dinner to see your pink cheeks.”

He is walking quicker, and I whine behind him. “It was just one piece!”

We are staying at a cute apartment downtown and the cold blast from the air conditioning hits my face as we walk inside.

“Give me your candy.” He holds his hand out and I place the bag in his hands. He places it on the counter. I fidget with my fingers. “I should probably pour these in the trash since you want to be sneaky. I asked you to wait. We’ve had…look at me when I’m speaking.”

I snap my eyes up. They are already glassy, and I feel foolish for breaking a rule and thinking I’d get away with it.

“We’ve had a lot of treats today and I want you to eat your dinner. You know fine well sneaking a piece was naughty don’t you.”

I sniffle, “yes Daddy.”

“And what happens to naughty girls?”

“They get spanks.” I rub my foot on the back of my calf. He sighs and kisses my forehead.

“Go get your brush from the bathroom and come to the bedroom.”

I move quickly to the tiled bathroom and pick the brush up from the sink. The room is cold, and I look in the mirror. I stick out my tongue and can see the bright blue proof of my sneakiness. The brush id oval shaped and heavy. The wood a smoothed deep cherry red. Rosewood they called it with tight boar bristles. It makes my hair shiny and stings my cheeks something fierce. I take one last look at the back of my thighs and go to the bedroom.

Daddy is sitting on the edge of the bed with his legs open. We have practiced this ritual a few times and I know this pose.

“Take your shorts off.”

“Daddy…” The protest escapes my mouth before I have time to think. His big hands reach for my waistband and he pulls me close.

“Do I have to ask again?”

I place the brush on the bed and pull at my buttons. The pink shorts slide down my thighs exposing the soft white cotton panties underneath. I place my hands behind my back. He smiles and pulls my panties down to join my shorts and then pulls them down to my ankles. I lay over his left thigh. I know the tan lines will make my thighs and sit spots a tantalizing target.

I whimper softly.

Daddy taps the brush on the center of my left cheek. No warmup with the hand today. I hold the corner of the bed. Push my mouth against the covers. I feel his thick fingers in my hair.

“Alright Bunny. I think twenty good swats will help you remember to follow my rules.”

“Yes Daddy…Ow!...” The brush lands sharply on my cheek and I squeak. “One.”

The cracking of the brush on my behind is loud and he concentrates on the lower part of my cheeks. I imagine the rippling of my plump rear and the peek of my most private parts as I squirm over his lap.

“Eight…nine…ow…ten…ten.” I flop over and twist from side to side. I feel his hand squeeze my hip. I pant in short sharp bursts. He pulls me close to his torso.

“Stop squirming.” His voice isn’t harsh, but I can hear the disappointment in his tone. “You’re usually so good at taking your spanking. Maybe the sugar has you too hyper.”

The words make me whine. I know I’m supposed to stay still. Sugar and the embarrassment of being spanked over some candy makes me blush and I bury my head in the covers even more.

I feel the heat of his hand smack my bottom in a barrage of hard swats. “Excuse me?”

His hands are so big and smack the center of my cheeks making them flatten and ripple.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Squirming and pouting. Whatever was I thinking. “I’ll be good. I’ll be good.” After a countless number of hand spanks I am openly sobbing. My bottom is on fire and my shorts and panties are kicked off.

“I know baby” he hushes me softly and I feel his hands stroke my back. I can feel my cheeks throb and toughen. I whimper and slow my breathing. “Ten more.”

“Yes Daddy…” I feel him shift and move his knee under my hips. I know where he will aim next and I squeeze my thighs closed. The brush presses on the crease between my thighs and my ass and I wrap my fists in the blankets pulling them from the bed slightly.

“I want to hear you count.” He taps the brush again and brings it down hard.

“Eleven…twelve…ow…ow…thirteen…” I feel my toes curl and lock my ankles. I choke tears and cry as the brush falls over and over. Each crack is loud and bounces off the walls in the room. I wonder if the people below us or above can hear him spank me. The final four land on my thighs. I know now why he said I will need to change. “Seventeen…uh…Eighteen…Nine…

Nineteen…twenty…twenty Daddy twenty…”

I fall over his lap and let my head dangle slightly above the floor. I can see my sock covered feet through his legs. I cough and sob and whimper as my punished behind throbs under his now gentle touch.

“Good girl.” He soothes me and gingerly sets me on my feet. “I want you to go and stand in the corner. Daddy is going to find you a nice dress to wear for dinner. Hands up.”

I lift my arms and he pulls my shirt over my head. He hugs me close and unclips my bra. My ample breasts fall against his chest and I hold him close and lock my hands around him. This keeps my fingers away from the desire to rub my cheeks and to feel his affection and care.

“I’m sorry Daddy.”

“I know baby,” he kisses my forehead. “Corner, we have to leave for dinner in 15 minutes. No touching.”

I slink off to the corner, my thighs are stiff from the brush, but I press my nose in the corner and keep my hands behind my back. I can hear him go through my suitcase and look through the clothes.

“Alright Bunny. Time to get dressed.” I turn and see he has picked a long pink sundress and sandals. I notice he has not picked out a bra or panties. I dress and go to the bathroom to fix my hair and make-up. I lift my dress to see the vivid crimson splotches that mark my ass and thighs. I hear him call my name. As I move out into the kitchen I can see a single piece of taffy on the counter. I don’t pick it up and run to hold his hand and we walk out the door for what will be an uncomfortable sit down dinner.