THE SUMMER I BUILT MY CHARACTER

BY JILLIAN

[ part 1 ]

The summer I was twelve, the summer before 7th grade, that time when girls get crushes on boys and daydream about dances and first kisses, and practice flirting in the mirror, my mother insisted I get a job. It wasn’t as if we needed the money, my father was a successful businessman, we lived in an up-scale part of town, and my grandmother had left a trust that would more than pay for my college. No, she felt it would ‘build my character’, would teach me about honest work, instill responsibility, and give me a sense of accomplishment, of knowing what it is like to do a ‘job well-done’. She had even found a job for me through our church. Mrs. X, whose husband had died in a traffic accident the previous month was in desperate need of a full-time babysitter for the entire summer. The entire summer. I begged and I pleaded and I even threatened to run away, but to no avail. No lazy days at the club pool, no cruising the mall, no trips to the beach, no just hanging out with my friends. Oh no, I was to be saddled with babysitting a runny-nosed five year old brat while my friends were off having fun. I imagined endless hours of playing Barbies and CandyLand and cartoons on the TV and goddamn but I hated the kid even before I met her. She had ruined my summer! As I peddled my bike that first morning, on the way to Mrs. X’s house, there were tears in my eyes. Little did I know that this job would start me off on a path that I had never thought of, never knew existed, would, in fact, ‘build my character’. Oh, but what a character it would build!

Mrs. X and her daughter Kelli lived in a large, rambling house in one of those subdivisions whose name ended with the word ranchette. I don’t know why ranchette, there were certainly no cattle or horses, perhaps it was because each house sat on several acres of land and through careful planning and carefully placed trees, each house sat in isolation from it’s neighbors. Mrs. X’s house was reached traveling down a winding gravel drive, a good five minutes by bike from the main road. I propped my bike against a large pine tree and, fighting back tears, went up and knocked on the front door.

My first impression of Mrs. X was that she had just eaten something bitter. Her mouth was twisted in a grimace and her eyes were narrowed into little slits. I was later to learn that appearance was not a reaction to food but a response to life. She was a bitter woman. Her husband had died, she was burdened with caring for a child, for the first time in her life she would need to work for a living, no more golf or cards or charity boards for her. In Mrs. X’s view, her life was over.

“You’re Jill, right? Come on in. Kelli is still in bed, you’ll have to get her breakfast, there’s cereal in the kitchen, give her baloney for lunch, and don’t let her watch too much TV it’ll rot her brain. Make sure she behaves, she’s been a little brat lately, I’ll be home by 5:30, oh, and no boys.”

And with that Mrs. X was out the door and off, gravel spraying from her rear wheels.

Mrs. X should never have said that about ‘no boys’. At twelve boys were all I ever thought about. There was this one, Joe, with dark curly hair and the bluest eyes who I had the biggest crush on. He would be in ninth grade so that meant I had just one year to win his heart before he headed off to high school and the high school girls with their big tits and their sexy walks and I just knew in my heart of hearts that right this minute, one of my friends, Beth or Nicki, would be sashaying around the mall in her shortest skirt or prowling the edge of the club pool in her tiniest bikini just waiting for the chance to snag him first while I was in this stupid house, being a stupid babysitter, for a stupid little bitch! It was as these thoughts ran through my head that Kelli came walking into the living room. My eyes shot daggers at her.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Jill. I’m your babysitter. Come on, I’ll get you breakfast.”

I wasn’t a particularly good babysitter that day. I guess maybe I was hoping to be fired. I ignored Kelli as much as I could. Other than pouring her a bowl of cereal for breakfast and slapping a slimy piece of baloney on some bread and pouring her a glass of milk for lunch, I left her to her own pursuits. I watched TV, snooped in Mrs. X’s bedroom, cleaned up the few dishes from the meals, made Kelli’s bed, and daydreamed about Joe.

Kelli, for her part, was pretty quiet. She watched some cartoons, colored some, and played with her Barbies. I was kind of impressed with how neat she was. When she finished coloring everything was put neatly away. She didn’t seem to be a brat at all, but then maybe she was just being on her best behavior because I was there.

True to her word, Mrs. X came through the door at 5:30. She looked like she had just eaten a dozen lemons. Her first question was almost a repeat of the last thing she had said that morning.

“You didn’t have any boys over here, did you?”

“Oh, no Mrs. X, I wouldn’t do that.”

“Well, you better not, ever, if you want to keep this job. Now, what kind of trouble did Kelli give you today?”

“None at all Mrs. X, she was a little angel.”

Mrs. X snorted. “I doubt that. Let’s just take a little tour and see.”

Kelli was sitting quietly on the couch in the family room but Mrs. X just ignored her. Instead she inspected, checking to see if toys were put away, if the kitchen was neat. I followed her into Kelli’s bedroom, almost bumping into her back when she came to a sudden halt. She whirled on me.

“I thought you said Kelli was a perfect angel, well what do you call this!”

I couldn’t see what ‘this’ was but before I could ask what was wrong Mrs. X had pushed past me and was screaming down the hall.

“Kelli you get your little ass in here right now! Don’t make me come after you if you know what’s good for you!”

When Kelli came to the door Mrs. X grabbed her by the arm and roughly pulled her into the room.

“Look at this, just look at this! How could you do this!”

I still couldn’t see what ‘this’ was. Everything looked fine to me.

“How many times have I told you, the bedspread should be two inches off the floor, two inches!”

Oh my god! I had made the bed, not Kelli, but before I could get a word out Mrs. X had grabbed the bedspread and ripped it off the bed then, in what I was to learn was a well-practiced motion, she sat on the edge of the bed, pulled Kelli across her knees, ripped her shorts and panties down to her ankles and began spanking her bare ass as hard as she could. Kelli cried and screamed and twisted and the harder she tried to get away the harder Mrs. X spanked. Finally, after twenty or so welt-raising smacks she stood and dumped Kelli on the floor.

“Now you crawl under that bed and you don’t come out til I tell you to! And you, “ and Mrs X pointed a trembling finger at me, “you come to the kitchen.”

I followed Mrs. X to the kitchen, my knees shaking, wondering if she was going to try to do the same thing to me. Mrs. X walked directly to the sink and turning the cold water on stuck her right hand under the water.

“Damn, would you look at this hand, look what she did to my hand, I think I sprained it!”

I stood there, a million thoughts running through my head, wanting to just run, run, run as fast as I could away from Mrs. X.

“Jill go get some ice out of the freezer and put it in a dish towel.”

I blindly followed Mrs. X’s request. When I handed her the towel she mutely held the palm of her hand in front of my face.

“Would you look at this! I swear spanking her hurts me far worse than it hurts her. I guess I need to get a paddle. Sit down at the table Jill. Sit down. I guess maybe I didn’t explain to you this morning just how sneaky and disobedient Kelli can be. Jill, I need a babysitter who can help me with Kelli. She needs discipline. Ever since my husband died she has just been uncontrollable and I can’t afford to have a babysitter who will just let her run wild. Do you understand? Now I hired you as a favor to your mom but if you can’t control Kelli, well I’ll just have to find someone else. So what’s it going to be Jill? Are you going to help me raise Kelli to be a good kid or do I find someone else?”

All I could do was numbly nod my head, not really saying yes but just wanting to get out of that house as fast as I could.

“Okay then. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. But it’s your last chance Jill.”

Riding my bike home my head just whirled. I’d seen violence on TV but never in real life. I could not go back to that house, just could not!

I couldn’t tell my mom why. Maybe if I had she wouldn’t have made me go back, but I just didn’t know how to explain it and I think part of me was afraid of explaining it, that somehow it would turn out to be my fault because I was the one that made the bed.

The next morning my mom drove me to make sure I didn’t ‘fail at this character building experience’. I winced when she said that. Mrs. X met me at the front door, again with that bitter look. She didn’t say a word, just turned and led the way into the kitchen.

“Here, I thought of this last night. Wouldn’t want you spraining your wrist and not being able to work. Remember Jill, I’m depending on you to help me raise Kelli to be a good kid. And remember, no boys.”

I watched Mrs. X walk out the front door then looked down at the object she had handed me. It was a ping-pong paddle. The paddle part was covered in a blue rubber with small little upraised circles. The handle was similarly covered although the rubber circles were longer than on the paddle part, I guess to give it a better grip. We had four just like it in our basement. I guess the dead Mr. X must have liked to play ping-pong. I looked at the paddle for the longest time then carefully laid it on the kitchen counter. My stomach was turning and spinning and I felt light-headed. What a nightmare I was in!

That morning I ignored Kelli just as I had done that first day but for a completely different reason. Every time I looked at her my stomach would flip and I’d get a faintly flush feeling like I was going to pass out. As for Kelli, she was just like the day before, quietly playing, neatly putting away her toys, being as unobtrusive as possible. I kept waiting for her to do something wrong, I even went to her bedroom and checked her bedspread; exactly two inches from the floor.

I made her a baloney sandwich for lunch and called her to the table. I got that flushed feeling again, my head feeling as light as a balloon, my stomach flipping, sweat beading up on my forehead. Without a conscience thought I began pouring her a glass of milk, and pouring and pouring til the milk was at the brim and slightly above, a dome of milk barely contained by the rim of the glass. I stood back and waited. Kelli ignored the milk.

“Kelli, drink your milk.”

She looked up at me and I could see tears in the corners of her eyes.

“Drink your milk, you little bitch!”

She tried, she really tried. She grasped the glass in two hands and slowly raised it, bending her head forward, trying to get her lips to the dome of milk before it spilled. I reached forward and poked her elbow. The milk broke away from the rim and splashed across the table.

“You stupid little bitch, you bad little girl! Look at that! Do you know how hard your mom works to buy you milk and you waste it like that!” I had pulled her off the chair and was shaking her back and forth. “You’re going to get it little girl, oh you’re going to get it good!”

I sat in the chair, feeling cold milk soak into my shorts and panties. I roughly jerked her shorts and panties down then pulled her over my knees. The paddle was right there, just where I had left it. I grabbed it, feeling the rubber grip dig into the palm of my hand, and raised it above my head. And hesitated. Then I brought it down, hard, centered on her ass cheeks. The sound of the paddle slapping the bare flesh shot through my head like a lighting bolt. I went insane. Two. Three. Four-Five-Six! as hard as I could. Then I stopped, amazed at myself, not understanding what I was doing. I looked down at her little ass. The inside curve of each cheek was bright red with darker red circles from the little upraised circles on the paddle. And this time I aimed. First one cheek and then the other, three times each. I pushed her off my lap onto the floor. My voice shook.

“Now you go to your room and you get under your bed and don’t you dare come out of there til I tell you to or you’ll get it even worse!”

She ran out of the room crying. I sat in the chair, vaguely aware of the milk soaking into my shorts and panties. I laid the paddle on the table and shakily stood, my legs like jelly. I crossed to the sink and peeled off my own shorts and panties and began rinsing them out in the sink. I wrung the water out of them and hung them off the kitchen chair to dry. I picked up the paddle and walked down to Kelli’s room. I could hear her in there crying and sobbing. I slumped to the floor in front of her door, my head spinning. I was flushed and red and when I pushed my hair out of my face my forehead felt like it was on fire. My entire body felt like it was on fire. My tshirt was long enough that I sat on its tail. At first I thought it was wet with the spilled milk I had sat in. But it wasn’t milk. It was me. In amazement I reached between my legs and could feel the wetness on the inside of my legs, could feel it soaking into my tshirt, and when my fingers touched the source, when they felt the sloppy wetness of my pussy, I felt that lighting bolt in my head again. And for the second time that day, went insane. I was rubbing and pulling and sliding my fingers in and out as hard as I could. I brought the handle of the ping-pong paddle down between my legs and began rubbing the knobbed handle down my clit, feeling the end of the handle spreading the lips of my pussy with each downward thrust, a little wider each time until it was in me, the hardness slipping in and out, the knobs feeling like a million little fingers inside me and on my clit. And then I exploded, my screams drowning out Kelli’s sobs.

When Mrs. X came home and asked if Kelli had been good. I had to tell her the truth. She hadn’t been. She had been a bad girl at lunch and deliberately spilled her milk all over the kitchen, had even splashed it on me. Mrs. X shook her head knowingly. We walked down to Kelli’s bedroom and Mrs. X told her to come out from under the bed. She had Kelli pull her shorts and panties down and to bend over. Mrs. X looked at her little ass, still red with the darker red circles after five hours.

“Thank you Jill, thank you for helping me to raise a good daughter.”

That night, down in the basement, I slipped one of our ping-pong paddles in my book bag and took it to my bedroom and fell asleep holding it in my hand, wondering what bad thing Kelli would do the next day.