The Siren, the General's Daughter Book One (3 page)

“What are you talking about? You can’t ground me, I have things to do!”

“No, I’m not grounding you. I will be spanking you.”

“What?” The girl flushed, her hands still in her father’s grip. “I am 18 and an officer! You can’t do that!”

Pleased with her immediate aversion to the prospect, Dr. Quimby continued calmly. “Thus far, it seems that nothing else has managed the gain your attention. I have also given your brother full permission to take you in hand if needed. I am not to hear one word of complaint from you if he feels you require discipline. If you snitch, expect a repeat performance from me. Understand?”

“Why are you being so mean? This is barbaric!” Sam cried out, tears in her eyes as she tried to break his grip. “It’s not fair!”

“No, Sweetheart, what’s not fair is how you repay our trust and confidence in your abilities by defying, disobeying and deceiving us. No, baby girl, that stops now. Over my lap. This isn’t the first time you’ve been in this position.”

“But I was 10,” came the reply with a struggle to escape. She remembered that time clearly. It occurred after she took off to find her brother without permission. It had started with a very painful strapping.

“My mistake. I should have listened to Scott and not have stopped. You never pull this stuff with him around and now I understand why. I’ve been too lenient and have allowed you too much freedom. No, my love, boundaries and consequences are back. You have until the count of three, or I will get the belt and use it on your bare backside. One.... Two....”

Fearfully, the girl positioned herself over her father’s muscular, broad thighs, grabbing his calf to keep from falling over. She held her breath as he rested his hand on her small, shapely backside. The first smack over her sweats startled her, but did not particularly hurt. She kept silent as he landed several more swats across her bottom. He stopped, seeing no response. “It doesn’t look like I’m getting through. You have a choice, sweats down with my hand or they stay up and I use my belt.”

Gasping, his daughter twisted to look at him. Was he serious? Yes, his expression told her there was no question of his intent. She also knew that he wouldn’t use the web belt from the uniform closet. “Please, Daddy, no belt,” she whimpered, remembering way back when he had used his belt on her over her jeans. She hadn’t been able to sit for two days. She hated that thing. She buried her head in his pant legs as he skimmed her sweat pants down to her knees.

“These are not regulation, young lady,” Dr. Quimby said with disapproval of the pale pink, scanty satin undergarments.

Sam quivered slightly and bit her lip. "Please, Daddy... not too hard."

Dr. Quimby didn't answer, just rested his warm hand on her bottom. "Samantha, you will not disembark this ship again without my permission or knowledge, do you understand me?" he lectured, lifting his hand and giving each of her cheeks a solid smack. No reply was needed. He resumed his assault on her soft flesh, this time receiving satisfactory yelps, pleas, and attempts to escape. He was a strong man with a heavy hand, and in less than 5 minutes, managed to reduce his wayward daughter to tears mingled with promises to be good and listen to everything he and her big brother told her to do.

"Owww! Owwww! Yes, Daddy!" she answered.

"You will not talk back to your brother—SMACK SMACK—you won't show anymore disrespect to your elders—SMACK SMACK—understood? SMACK SMACK SMACK!"

"Yesssss, Sir" she cried.

He kept up the rhythm, alternating cheeks, lighting bottom on fire. "Owwwwwwww, Dadddddyyyyyy... pleeeease,” she begged. "Please stopppp."

"No, honey," he answered, now concentrating on the sit spots. "You intentionally disobeyed me and I'm teaching you a lesson. I'm far from finished."

That sentence made her cry even more. She started to howl and all she could do was concentrate on was the rapid fire being inflicted upon her aching bottom. She kicked as best she could, squirmed a little to attempt to dodge smacks, and clasped her hands together with her face buried into them. "Daddddddyyy," she bawled, "I'm sssooorrrrrryyyy!"

"I know, Sammi. I know," but he kept spanking, occasionally hitting the sit spots and her thighs. He even started spanking harder, which she did not believe was possible.

She began choking on her tears.  "P-leasee... I w-on't d-do it-t again!" she sobbed. "I'll be g-good!"

She could not feel his heart breaking with her pleas. "I'm sorry, baby. I have to do this."

Even though she was bobbing up and down and kicking with all her might, she knew he was right—he did have to do this. She deserved it, as much as she hated to admit it. Her sobs increased as the spanking neared its end. She finally held onto the couch and buried her face into the cushions, not squirming or kicking anymore, just crying.

He took this time to deliver a final smack, covering her entire backside, and then rested his hand there. "Sammi, you're my baby girl and I love you so much. I’m so afraid of losing you.”

"I’m really sorry, Daddy . I love you, too," she cried, feeling like a five year old. With the fight well spanked out of her, Sam was released. She crumbled to the floor, crying pitifully into her hands.

Without a word, her father handed her a tissue before joining her on the floor to hold her tightly. “Please don’t make me do that again,” he whispered, kissing the side of her head.

She sniffed, leaning into his shoulder. Stroking her hair, the man sighed. He wished it would be the last time he would have to resort to old-fashioned methods, but knew that wishes rarely came true when it came to his youngest child.

Chapter Two

Still sniffling, Sam moved quietly—and painfully—down the ramps towards her cabin. She wanted to avoid the crew and having to explain her red eyes. The men were not accustomed to her tears.  She had even earned a reputation of being emotionally composed. While she practiced a good sense of humor with her crewmates and laughed whole-heartedly with them when playing frequent pranks on her brother, she also maintained a façade of strength and unwavering focus. They had only seen her cry once—when her father had tears streaming down his face the day she had regained consciousness. Even then, she maintained control. She slipped silently into her cabin, catching her breath. She didn’t realize had been holding it.

“You ok?” a deep, warm voice asked. Startled, she turned to her brother who lounged comfortably in his sweats on her couch. Her eyes filled with tears again as she approached him, allowing his strong arms to wrap protectively around her as he pulled her into his lap to cradle her closely.

“You knew what Daddy was planning. Why didn’t you warn me? You’re supposed to protect me,” she whimpered as she buried her face into his broad, muscular chest.

Michael kissed the top of her head, stroking her arm. “It wasn’t my place to say anything. I’m sorry you had to go through that, but you know you deserved it.”

“Yeah, I know,” she admitted, leaning against his shoulder. She loved her snuggle time with her big brother. He always made her feel so small and delicate. “I guess I’ve been asking for that for a long time. I’m sorry I’ve been such a little brat, Mike.”

“Just understand that I won’t hesitate to do the same, ok? I don’t care what it takes to remind you that you are not invincible and what your life means to me,” Michael said softly, hugging her close. “Somehow, you’ve forgotten the huge emphasis our family places on the value of respect and obedience. Sweetie, he and Scott are the only family we have. They are our parents and we need to give them everything they have given us. It isn’t that much that they are asking. Will you please make an effort and try to be considerate of them?”

He stayed quiet as his sister cried softly into his shirt. He knew he had gotten through to her (combined with the memory of a sore bottom). He also suspected that her remorse was temporary. Urging her to get to sleep, he promised a few hours of flying the following afternoon. The prospect cheered her up and she obediently changed for bed, falling to sleep shortly after the older brother tucked her in with a gentle kiss on the cheek.

Closing the door behind him, Michael ventured to his father’s quarters. Tapping lightly on the door, he waited for the invite before entering. “Hey, Dad, I was just checking in before bed. Is everything alright?”

“Come on in, son. Sit a spell. How is she?” Dr. Quimby asked, taking off his glasses to look up at his son.

Michael joined him on the couch. “She’ll be fine. You knew I would check on her, huh?”

Michael smiled, accepting the bottle of water being handed to him.

“You did that when she was little so why would I expect it to change? You also help get the point across. Your lectures are almost as good as mine. Did you?”

“I hope so. I promised her to take her flying tomorrow. I know I should have asked you, but I took it upon myself to make the decision. Is it ok?”

“I would never make a liar out of you, you know that. You are as bad as she is.  Easier to ask for forgiveness rather than permission,” the man grunted, although amused.

“I appreciate that you have my back. Plus, I’m way too big to spank,” he teased.

Dr. Quimby raised an eyebrow. “You think so? I could kick your ass without breaking a sweat, little boy.”

“Before or after you take your Geritol, old man?” Michael retorted.

His father stood, yanking his son to his feet. “Let’s go spar. I’ve got some energy that I need to work off.”

Laughing, Michael happily followed his father to the workout area where they successfully exhausted themselves on the pads. Leaning back to back, panting for breath, the two talked about the coming day and the newest experiment with the neuroband.

Michael gave his father a sweaty hug as they stood. “I’m so glad we still wrestle. I’ve always loved messing around with you like that. Some of my happiest memories were our living room wrestling matches,” he admitted, handing his father a towel.

“Me too, my boy. You’ve always been easy to deal with. It’s like your sister got all the mischief for the two of you. Meet me at 0500 to run, ok?”

“Sure. Should I bring the brat?”

“Son, you know as well as I do she will do one lap then dive overboard. Then you will have to go after her. Do you really think she would do anything different after tonight?” Dr. Quimby grinned.

“No, probably not. Good night.”

***

Sam woke up early that morning, dressed in her swimsuit and track gear and ventured out to the deck to watch the sun rise over the starboard bow. She loved the early morning when the ocean slowly awoke and the sun kissed the shiny, gentle waves.

Sam took a deep breath, closing her eyes. The breeze was cool and salty. It made her feel alive. The sound of footsteps behind her caused her to turn.

“What are you doing out here? And dressed? You usually stay in your jammies this early,” Michael asked, hugging her briefly before his father stepped in.

“How are you this morning, my love? Did you sleep well?” Dr. Quimby asked, embracing his youngest.

“I’m ok. I couldn’t sleep in. I wanted to swim, but I didn’t want to wake you to ask,” the girl said quietly.

“Good girl. It seems we got through to you. Yes, you may swim if you like. Would you like to run with us first?”

“Sure. Thanks Daddy. And, well, I’m really sorry about yesterday,” she said submissively, looking at the deck.

He lifted her chin to face him, kissing her temple. “It’s over with. Just think before you do things for now on. Let’s warm up.”

The three jogged several times around the deck of the 150’ vessel, chasing each other up and down the ramps and stairs, and happily chatting before they paused at the stern to catch their breath.

“I’m going in, ok?” Sam stated, stripping off her sweats and standing before her father and brother in a simple black, high cut one piece suit.

Her father shook his head. “Not like that. Put your wetsuit on, it’s freezing.”

“I’m ok. See you soon!” she stated, climbing over the rail and diving off before he could stop her.

He watched her slice beneath the waves. “I’m gonna blister her…. Go in after her, please.” Dr. Quimby ordered his son.

Michael laughed. “Not without my wetsuit, it is way too cold.”

“Talk with her about wearing proper gear. She needs to exercise some more modesty. That suit hides nothing.”

“I hate to break it to you, but neither does the wetsuit. Her curves are noticeable in everything but sweats. She’s not a little girl anymore. Ask the crew,” he elbowed the man, who rolled his eyes.

“She will always be our little girl. Go change and find her. I want to check out the neuroband this morning.”

It took twenty minutes for him to successfully retrieve his sibling. She had been playing with the calves in a pod of Pacific bottle-nosed dolphins.

“Come on, time to get back. Ooo, Dad is going to jump down your throat for this. You need to wear the wetsuit to protect your skin. Plus,” he added, looking at her the deep scratches that covered her arms, “blood attracts sharks. Let’s not invite trouble.”

Sighing, Sam reluctantly followed her brother towards the ship. They boarded, meeting two of the engineers on the platform.

“Good morning, lieutenants.” They were greeted with towels, “Nice swim?”

“You look cold, Sam. Here,” one of the men handed her a cup of hot tea, English style with cream and sugar. She moaned, and her eyes closed as she sipped it. Her crew knew her routine to the minute and took very good care of her needs. They were often awarded by getting an eyeful of her in a swimsuit!

“Mmmm, this is so good. Thanks, Frank. Are the tanks ready?” Sam asked, drying off her long braid.

“Yes, ma’am. Are you going to chow?”

“No, I’m not hungry—”

“Yes, she is going to chow,” Michael interrupted, wrapping the towel around her waist before taking her elbow. “She’ll be in the lab in about an hour.”

“You are such a spoil sport,” his sister complained as she was led to her cabin.

“And you are a tease. I’ll be back to get you in 15 minutes. We are working the band today, so dress appropriately.” The hidden meaning was that they would be working with their father, so wear a uniform.