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Subject: Jessica Lynn Part IV (F/f nc, M/f semi-nc)
From: Corporal <dbrett@fast.net>
Date: 1998

Jessica Lynn, Part 4

Jessica Lynn 1998 Corporal. All rights reserved. Permission is granted to copy for personal use only. Any other use is prohibited. Permission for any other use must be obtained by contacted Corporal at dbret@fast.net.

This story is fiction and contains themes which some may consider to be of an adult or offensive nature. If you are not an adult under the laws of your state or country do not proceed further. This story is for entertainment purposes only and may not represent the viewpoint of the author or the electronic source. All characters are entirely fictional and any resemblance of any kind, to real people living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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Jessica Lynn Part IV

Sara was about twenty minutes late arriving at our house. Jessie had started to become a bit anxious, but I reassured her that all was well and that her mom was probably caught in some traffic. But then Sara pulled up and Jessica went barreling out of the house and wrapped her arms around Sara. The two were quite happy to see one another, and while I was somewhat disappointed that Jessie's stay with us had ended, I was none-the-less relieved to be the father of only four girls again.

As Sara hugged and kissed Jessie, she looked to me with an unspoken question in her eyes.

"Everything is fine Sara. We can speak later if you like."

"Yes, please. If you don't mind. Jessie, tell Dr. Brett thank you. Okay?"

"Thanks, Daddy. Can I come over later?"

"Certainly, Jessie. You're welcome anytime."

Sara looked at me questioningly -- I supposed because Jessie had taken to calling me Daddy.

"Jessie has taken to calling me Daddy along with the other girls. I have no objection. In fact, I rather like it, if you have no objection, Sara."

"No . . . No . . . I have no objection at all. She has needed a daddy for some time."

"And . . . . . well . . . . she has had one for these two weeks."

"Ohh? And has her new daddy had to perform any fatherly duties?"

"Ahhhh . . . . well . . . . uhhhh . . . yes he has. But we can discuss that along with what you need to do to continue what has been started."

Sara smiled---a most lovely and girlish little smile---and whispered to Jessie to run along home. However, Sara never took her eyes off me the whole time, and frankly, I found them absolutely beautiful. I was feeling things that I had not felt since my wife died. I desperately wanted to know this young lady much better. Sara leaned over, kissed my cheek, and whispered.

"Thank you, Will. I better be going to make sure our girl doesn't get into anything, otherwise, she may have to come back for some more attention from her daddy."

"I'm sure that won't be necessary for a while."

"Well, we'll see. But I'm very happy that you were willing to take this responsibility. Thanks, again."

Sara turned and walked to her house, following the prancing, skipping Jessie. As she walked I couldn't help but watch the sway of her hips and bottom through the short, light skirt she was wearing. A brief image of her small body over my lap and that cute bottom positioned for a spanking flashed through my head, and then she opened her door and disappeared into her home. I found I was breathing somewhat deeply, and realized that parts of my anatomy were reacting in ways that might have been somewhat embarrasing had Sara looked back before going inside. I went into my home and got myself cold glass of ice tea.

I saw Sara a number of times over the next several days, and I reminded her of the last condition on our agreement -- that of taking her out to dinner. On Wednesday after her return I was again reading through some preliminary dissertations, when my office phone rang. It was Sara.

"Hello Will. Do you have a moment?"

"For you, yes. What can I do for you?"

"Well, I had originally planned to call you today to ask if you would like to come over here for dinner Saturday night. I thought that perhaps I'd cook you dinner to thank you. Then if you wanted to go out for dinner some other time, I'd be very pleased to go with you."

"Saturday dinner at your house would be very nice. Thank-you."

"Uhhh . . . Will . . . . there's something else."

"What is it Sara?"

"Jessie."

"Oh?"

"She has been smart-mouthed and rude to me the entire day. I finally sent her to her room for an hour, but then she started doing the same thing all over again. I told her if she didn't behave, I was going to call you to come over and deal with her. That worked for a while, but now she's starting again. I need help."

"Ahhhh . . . first of all Sara, you cannot -- you must not turn me into the Boogie Man. You have to deal with her strictly and consistently. That was part of our agreement."

"I know it was, but I just don't know what to do. Can you pleeeeeease come over?"

"Sara! You are Jessie's mother. You have to deal with this. The child needs a spanking!"

"I know she does, but I have never spanked her before. I don't know what to do. Please help me."

Sara sounded like she was crying, and I couldn't help but think that perhaps there were two bottoms that required spanking.

"Sara. How can you not know what to do. Were you never spanked as a child?"

"Well, yes, but that was a long time ago. Pleeeease, Will. I really need your help."

"I'll be right over."

"Thank you."

I hung up and straightened my papers. How was I going to deal with this. I certainly did not want to become the Boogie Man or any such thing to Jessica. I did not want her to begin thinking of me only as someone who punished her. By the time I reached Sara's front door, I believed I had a plan. I knocked and Sara answered the door. I was struck again by how young she appeared, not more that sixteen or seventeen herself. Certainly not more than twenty. She was wearing loose fitting, bib front shorts and a T-shirt that did little to hide her small, firm breasts. Her reddish hair was pulled back into a long ponytail and tied with thick yellow yarn. The image was completed by yellow ankle socks and running shoes. Frankly, she was incredibly cute. Also, I noticed for the first time the splash of freckles that went over her nose to either cheek. The emerald green eyes above those freckles were full of tears, and her full lips were almost drawn into a pout. The effect was compelling. . . . . uhhhh . . . but . . . . ahhhh . . . that was not what I was there for.

"Alright, Sara. Let's see if we can work out a plan that will work for you and Jessica. Where is she right now?"

"Back in her room. She heard me calling you and ran up there and slammed her door."

"Why don't you call her back down so we can take care of this?"

"I've tried she won't come down. Oh, Will, what am I going to do with her?"

"Sara, you are going to love her, you are going to mother her, you are going to discipline her, and, when necessary, you are going to punish her. Now which bedroom is hers . . . . ahhhh . . yes. . . stupid question. It would be the one with the closed door, right?"

Sara nodded and giggled a little. Again a sound that was maddeningly beautiful. I went up the stairs toward Jessica's room. On my way down the hall, I noticed some family pictures. One in particular caught my eye. It was obviously Sara and her parents. She was about thirteen and her mother was holding what was obviously a newborn. Brother? Sister? Hard to tell from the picture. I passed what had to be Sara's room -- a moderate disaster. A pair of bikini panties and a bra lay on the chair in the corner. Some other clothing was scattered around the room. And on the wall was another picture, this time of a younger Sarah and a three or four year old Jessie. I could not get over how young Sara looked. The faint scent of Sara's perfume hung in the air of the room. I wanted to go in, but remembered my mission and turned from the door.

Slightly down the hall was a closed door -- it had to be Jessica's room. I knocked. No answer. I knocked a bit harder. Still no answer. I was getting angry. I knocked one more time.

"I told you I'm not coming out! So go away!"

That tone would have earned one of my girl's an extremely sore bottom to sit on. Then I remembered, this was one of my girls -- in a manner of speaking. I had accepted an obligation, and now I had to make sure things worked out properly.

"Jessica Lynn Martin! Open this door immediately!"

The door fairly flew open and Jessica stood there, mouth agape and looking very scared.

"Daddy . . . uhh . . . . Dr. Brett . . . uhh . . . I mean. . . . uhh Daddy! I'm sorry. I didn't know it was you!"

"And if it hadn't been me? If it had been your mom? Then your tone and words would have been okay? You're coming with me young lady!"

I grabbed her hand and quite emphatically dragged her down the hall. She was pulling back and pleading as I hauled her down the steps.

"Noooooo! Wait! I'm sorreeeee! Wait! Pleeeeeease wait!"

"I have no intention of waiting young lady! I am extremely angry with you! You will go into that kitchen and you will apologize to your mom and then we will decide just how we will deal with you about all this!"

I truly believe that by the time we reached the kitchen, Jessica was certain that she was about to be drawn and quartered -- if she had any idea what that was. But she certainly was one very scared little girl. Sara was in the kitchen working at the sink when I walked in -- by this time with Jessica tucked under my arm. I set her down facing her mother. She turned her back. I turned her around and swatted her backside twice . . . . hard! Her subsequent yelps were quite satisfying.

"There's more where that came from! Now apologize to your mother!"

"NO!"

I picked her up, flipped her under my left arm so that her backside was facing forward, flipped up her skirt -- how convenient and thoughtful of her to be wearing one -- and delivered several stinging smacks to her panty-covered bottom. Sara's mouth was open in amazement. Jessica struggled and yelped each time the palm of my hand smacked down on the seat of her very thin, cotton panties. I continued to demand an apology and punctuated each word with a fresh smack on her bottom.

"APOLOGIZE TO YOUR MOM RIGHT NOW!"

Eight swats and several yelps later Jessica thought better of her stubbornness.

"I'M SORREEEEEE!"

I set her down and turned her to face Sara. Jessica skirt was still caught up in the back, and she was rubbing for all she was worth. Those few smacks had probably been more painful for her than a whole spanking had been several days previously. I knelt down right next to her and spoke right in her face.

"That was a fair start, Jessica Lynn. But now you will apologize to your mom like you mean it, and then we shall discuss your punishment!"

I barely heard Jessica's whispered response -- barely, but I heard it, and it stopped me cold.

"She's not my mother."

"Excuse me?"

"I said, 'she's not my mother.'"

I looked up at Sara. She had her head turned away and her arms folded across her chest. She was weeping, and she was shaking.

"What do mean she's not your mother."

"I mean, she's not my mother! My mother's dead!"

For a moment I couldn't speak. I suddenly remembered the pictures. I let go of Jessica, turned, and ran up the stairs. I grabbed the picture off the wall and ran back down the stairs. Back in the kitchen, I took Jessica by the arm, took Sara by the arm, and sat them down in chairs next to one another. I looked at them. I looked at the picture.

"Oh, my Lord! You're sisters!"

Sara nodded her head, and began to cry even harder. I went to her and held her head against my chest. Jessica started to cry. She took Sara's hand and kept saying she was sorry. Sara kept crying.

"Shhhhhhh. It's alright, Sara. Shhhhh. Stop now. Shhhhh. Just tell me what's going on here."

After several minutes, Sara stopped crying and calmed down enough to speak.

"It's true. Jessica is my sister. Our parents died when I was sixteen and Jessica was four. They were killed in a car crash in Minnesota. I've been raising Jessie as her mother ever since."

"You were sixteen and Jessie was four. Jessie's nine now. That means . . . that means . . . . you're . . . . "

"Twenty-one."

"But that's not possible! You have a Ph.D.! You're an Associate Professor at the College. You have to be at least my age! True, you look twenty-one. HELL, YOU LOOK LIKE YOU'RE SIXTEEN! HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?! YOU'VE GOT TO BE AT LEAST TWENTY-EIGHT LIKE ME! IT'S JUST NOT POSSIBLE!"

"It is possible, Will. Just let me explain."

"Did you fake your credentials somehow?"

"NOOO! Please, just let me explain!"

"Okay! I'm listening. I don't believe this . . . . oh, go ahead. Please explain."

Sara took a deep breath, trying to gain control. She looked at me for a long time. Those beautiful green eyes pleaded with me to listen and be patient.

"I was academically precocious and quite far ahead of my class in junior high. When I was 12 I took the SATs and scored a 1500. Not bad, huh?

When I merely smiled and nodded, Sara looked a bit crestfallen, but continued.

"Since my father was Dean of Academic Affairs hear at the College he managed to enroll me in some courses. Over the next several years I continued take courses at the college, skipped my 8th and 9th grade years of public school, and graduated from both high and college when I was sixteen. I entered graduate school in Minnesota and competed my Ph.D. when I was 19."

"What about Jessica and your parents?"

"Mom and Dad were killed in a car crash just outside Minneapolis about two weeks after I received my degree. I've been raising Jessica ever since."

"How were you able to manage that on what you must have been earning as an instructor?"

"Wellllll. There's the little matter of the trust funds."

"Trust funds?"

"Mom and Dad left us both a trust fund. We've been living on my salary and whatever extra we need from mine ever since."

"Does anyone at the college know about all this?"

"Uhmmmm . . . . welllllll . . . . yes, a few. But most just think I was a child prodigy in ways in addition to academics."

"Oh, for the love uh Pete! But how did you manage to become an associate at so young an age?"

"Oh, that! Easy. I'm really good."

"And modest, too."

Sara giggled at that. And that smile and giggle roped my in all over again. But then she got serious again. I could tell something else was bothering her, so I nodded for her to continue.

"I guess I owe you the truth about the last two weeks, though. The truth is, I was not guest lecturing. Jessie, go back up to your room, please. We still have things to discuss, young lady. And I want to speak privately with Dr. Brett."

Jessie started to protest, but looked at me an thought better of it. After Jessie stomped up the stairs, I told Sara to continue.

"Actually, I was out in Minneapolis fighting my mother's sister, my Aunt Jean."

"About what?"

"Custody of Jessie. She's been trying to have herself named Jessie's guardian. She says I'm not capable of caring for Jessie, but that's not the real reason."

"What is?"

"She's after Jessie's trust fund."

"Oh? How would that be possible?"

"The way the guidelines for the fund are written, Jessie cannot access it until her 18th birthday or she starts college, whichever comes first. That's how I got access to mine early. But the guidelines also stipulate that Jessie's guardian has access to it in order to provide for her. My aunt wants to raid the fund because she has financial problems. If she can get herself named as Jessie's guardian, she can get at the money. So she petitioned the court to take Jessie away from me. She told the court that I was using up Jessie's inheritance for my own gain."

"And you have not. Correct?"

"I haven't touched Jessie's money except to have it invested in a moderate risk portfolio under the direction of my attourney. I have used nothing but my own fund for the two of us these last five years."

"I see. So what did you do?"

"I produced ledgers and official papers showing all this. Then I had myself named as Jessie's legal guardian. I am now one step away from legal adoption and really being her 'mom.'"

"Good for you, Sara!"

"Yes, but . . . . "

"But what?"

"My aunt manage to get a codicil added to the guardianship, stipulating that Jessie's behavior and academic progress was to be monitored for the next year. If I cannot prove that I can be a good mom, I lose Jessie . . . and Jessie will lose her inheritance."

"And soooo . . . . Jessie's behavior has become extremely important."

"More than for just my own sanity."

"And how are her grades in school?"

"Excellent. She just acts out frequently, and I get phone calls at least once a week."

"So we're back to the behavior issue."

"Yes. Please help me."

"One question more, Sara. And please just tell me to mind my own business if you so choose. Just how much is in this trust fund?"

"Five hundred. . . ."

"All this over five hundred dollars!?"

". . . Thousand."

"Excuse me?"

"FIVE-HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS!?"

"Uh, huh."

"Sara, where did your parents get five-hundred thousand dollars?"

"Uhhh, that's just Jessie's fund. There was another five hundred in mine, but that's down to about three hundred now, since I bought this house."

"A MILLION DOLLARS?!"

"Plus another two hundred in saving accounts. That money is still held up in probate. My parents invested very wisely and my dad was a lot older than my mom. He had been investing for about twenty years before he met her."

I had the distinct impression that this woman-child had not the vaguest notion of how hard it would be to save a million dollars. I had maybe fifty thousand invested in Cds at the time. I was, to say the least stunned.

"Well, then, I can understand why relatives might be coming out of the woodwork to get their hands on that."

"But I don't care about the money! I just don't want to lose Jessie. I'd give her the money if I could---if she would just leave me and Jessie alone! But I can't -- the courts won't allow it. The money has to follow Jessie."

"Then we shall have to make sure that you do not lose Jessie."

"You'll help me?"

"I already agreed to that. Now you have to hold up your part of the agreement."

"But I don't know how to discipline her! And she just keeps getting worse. When she came home after those two weeks with you she was great for a couple of days. Then she started doing things again, and the school started calling, and she wouldn't listen to me, and . . . ."

"And what did you do about it?"

"I scolded her! I talked with her! I sent her to her room! NOTHING worked!"

"But you haven't tried . . . . . ?"

"I know, I know. But I'm afraid I'll do it wrong. I'll hurt her. She'll hate me. . . ."

"Do you think she hates me?"

"No. She adores you and your family."

"And what happened when she was misbehaved while with me?"

Sara sighed and smiled at me. I did not smile back. I was sorely tempted to demonstrate exactly what Sara had to do . . . . with Sara on the receiving end instead of Jessie.

"I know. You spanked her . . . three times. She told me. But how should I do it?"

"Sara it is quite simple. . . ."

I took Sara by the hand and pulled her over to one of the kitchen chair. She looked startled. I sat down and pulled her next to my right leg.

"First you pick a place in the house that will henceforth become the spanking place. Your office, the kitchen, the living room, wherever, but not your or her bedroom. They have to be safe places. It must be a place where she will be spanked each and every time it is necessary. It must be private. It must be quiet. Understand?"

Sara looked a little scared, but nodded her head.

"Now, where will that place be?"

"Uhmmm . . . . well . . . . uhhhh . . . . my . . uhhh . . . my office I guess."

"Good. Let's go there."

"Now?"

"Now!"

Sara led me out of the kitchen, down the hallway, and into her office. I couldn't help but watch her cute, firm backside as she walked in front of me. A major debate was going on inside my head. Did I dare give her what I really believed she needed? We went into her office. I looked around and found what I was looking for -- a straight backed chair. I placed it in front of the desk. Then I sat and pulled her next to me again.

"Next, you have to select her 'spanking chair.' She has to know it by that name so that you can warn that she will be visiting the 'spanking chair' if she does not behave. This chair is perfect."

Sara was breathing quite heavily, but she was doing nothing to stop where I seemed to be going. Lord, I wasn't even sure I was going. But I was getting a point across.

"Next you send her to, or bring her to, the spanking chair. You sit down and you position her as you are positioned right now. . . . are you right or left handed."

"Right."

"Then this is where you stand her."

Sara's heavy breathing was accompanied by her biting her lower lip, now. This was something I had seen every one of my girls do as they waited for a spanking, but frankly this was the first time I had ever perceived it as being so cute a behavior.

"Then you ask her if she understands why she is going to be spanked. This is very important. She has to be able to tell you why she is going to be punished. If she doesn't know or won't say, you must prompt her until she does. Okay?"

"Uh, huh."

"Once she has told you why she is going to get a spanking, you then prepare her physically for the punishment."

Sara's voice became a soft, little-girl like whisper.

"How do I do that?"

"Very carefully . . . .very deliberately . . . . you unsnap and unzip her pants. You take hold of the waistband and you pull them down. If she is wearing a skirt or dress, you lift it up and tell her to hold it up. You then take her panties down and tell her to bend over your lap."

Now there will be some who will believe I lost my nerve, but I did not demonstrate these last directions. Something inside me told me the time was not quite right. I really believed Sara needed a good-old fashioned, bare-bottomed spanking, but . . . . . well, I just didn't do it. I continued to explain, but as I did I noticed that Sara's hands were now behind her, palm out, one laying on each of her beautifully curved, firm bottom cheeks in that traditional position adopted by every naughty child who has ever been spanked.

"Once you have placed her over your lap, adjust her position so that her toes are off the floor and her bottom is directly above your right leg. Then spank her. Smack first one cheek then the other, and continue until her bottom is red, she is crying, and you are satisfied that the punishment has been sufficient to match the misbehavior. Generally, I give the girls about one hundred spanks . . . sometimes more sometimes less . . . depending upon what they have done. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Well, then, now all you need do is bring Jessica down here and spank her."

"Yes. Okay."

I stood up and began to walk to the door. Sara stood next to the chair, her hands still behind her, her breathing still a bit heavy. She called to me.

"Will?"

"Yes?"

"You know, for a minute there, I almost believed you were going to spank me."

"You know, Sara, for a minute there, I really thought about doing just that. I do believe you deserve one almost as badly as Jessica does. Now, please see to your daughter . . . because that is what she is . . . . treat her like she is."

"Yes, sir."

I watched as Sara walked up the steps to Jessica's room. Standing at the bottom of the steps, I listened as she firmly told Jessica what was going to happen to her. A few moments later, they came out of the bedroom. Sara was leading Jessica by the hand. Jessica looked a bit scared . . . and so did Sara. They came down the steps without saying a word. As they passed me, Jessica looked at me, and with tears in her eyes, smiled and surprised me yet again.

"Mom's gonna spank me."

"I know Jessie. You really deserve it."

"I know."

Sara looked over her shoulder and gave me a shaky, but determined smile as they went into the office. I stood outside the office and listened for a minute. I heard Sara talking to Jessie.

"Jessica, do you understand what is going to happen now?"

"I'm gettin' spanked."

"Do you understand why?"

"I guess so."

"Why Jessie?"

"'Cause I was really rude and nasty to you today."

"That's right. Okay let's get this over with, young lady. Please hold your dress up."

"I sorry, Sara . . . . I mean, Mommy. I really am."

"I know Jessie. But I'm still going to spank you."

"I know."

"Okay, Jessie. Bend over my lap."

I didn't have to be looking in the office to know that Jessie was now lying over Sara's lap with her skirt up and her panties down. A moment later, I heard it---the first spank of the first spanking that Sara ever gave Jessie. It was followed rapidly by many more, and they were accompanied by Jessie's moans and whimpers and cries and eventual wails as Sara's hand punished Jessie bare bottom for the first time. It was not the hardest spanking I ever heard, and I didn't stay around until the end, but it was a very thorough and, from the sound of it, a very sound spanking . . . one that Jessie would remember for a long time. I think Sara would remember it also.

End of Part IV

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