Hello Dear Readers! So I know I said my last posted story would be it, but I've had a change of heart. I will continue to post here until this ship goes down. But find me on AO3 as I'm active over there! And I still have my Tumblr if anyone is interested in chatting with me there!
This story is a stand-alone one-shot. I had gotten an ask on Tumblr about what if Hiram was the one to spank, and one thing lead to another and here we are.
Warnings: This story contains a bare bottom, OTK hand spanking, followed by the belt. If that makes you uncomfortable, turn back now.
I do not condone the physical punishment of real-life children or anyone who does not or cannot consent. Don't spank kids in real life! The fictional kids are gonna be alright.
Enjoy!
Summary: What if Rachel hadn't gotten away with sending Sunshine to a crack house in Season 2? What if Will had called the girl's fathers instead. Hiram Berry shows up to take his child home and teach her a lesson she won't forget any time soon.
Crack House Crackdown
William Schuester leaned up against the front of his desk, his arms crossed as he glared at the teenager sitting before him. Rachel Berry was giving him her best innocent eyes—Will saw right through them. "You sent her to a crack house, Rachel. Sunshine could have been seriously hurt," he chastised. "What were you thinking?"
Rachel Berry squirmed under the heavy reproach from Mr. Schuester, unused to the man looking at her with quite so much anger. "I—It wasn't an active crack house," Rachel murmured. She ducked her head at the fierce glint that answered her and chewed at her bottom lip.
"What happened to you agreeing that we need more voices to beat Vocal Adrenaline? I really thought you had matured over the summer and realized this club only works if we work as a team."
"I was wrong before. I don't want any new members. I didn't want anyone coming in and—and messing up our group dynamic," Rachel said.
Will shook his head and glared at the girl. "You didn't want anyone coming in to steal your solos. It's the same old song and dance with you, Rachel. You are better than this—or you should be," he lectured.
"Mr. Schue—"
"You are talented, Rachel. You will be a Broadway star one day, I know it—but you have to stop thinking you are the only star in this group. This constant maneuvering and conniving to get all of the solos is getting old. You crossed the line this time. I'm calling your fathers."
Will watched with more than a little satisfaction as Rachel's face paled and her eyes bulged at his announcement. He filed this information away for later. Perhaps the threat of calling the Berry men going forward, (he was under no illusion that Rachel's single-mindedness would magically disappear completely), would curb the worst of the girl's tendencies.
"No, Mr. Schue, you don't have to do that!" Rachel insisted. "Please, I—I'll go find Sunshine and apologize for my horrendous behavior and ask her to please reconsider joining us. I can be very persuasive."
"I'm sure you can, Rachel—and I think you should find Sunshine and apologize anyway—but I'm still calling your dads. They need to know what you've done so they can discuss the matter with you. This can't happen again," Will answered firmly.
Rachel winced at the man's words. Her fathers would absolutely discuss the matter with her—with her draped over one of their knees as they delivered a very firm message to her bare bottom.
"Please, Mr. Schuester, I promise I have learned a valuable lesson here and I can assure you something like this will never happen again. You really don't have to involve my fathers in this."
"I'm glad to hear that, but yes, I do," Will told the girl. "And your reaction to my decision just tells me that it's the right one. Perhaps this is exactly what you need to help remind you that this team is a family and we treat our family with kindness and respect."
Tears were already welling within brown eyes and Rachel blinked to clear them. The girl was feeling sorry for herself and nervous about what her fathers were going to say (and most importantly, do) when they found out what she had done—but she did also regret having treated Sunshine so poorly. Rachel knew what it was like to be the outcast, the one who everyone dumped on and made to feel less than. Now she had gone and done the same to Sunshine—she was ashamed of herself.
Will sighed and reached behind him for his box of tissues, handing it over to the sniffling teenager before him. Her tears didn't sway his resolve, but that didn't mean he still didn't hate seeing them appear.
"Alright, Rachel. Let me call one of your dads and we'll go from there."
Will stood and walked around his desk in order to take his proper place behind it, then quickly pulled up Rachel's student file on his computer. Finding the correct information, Will picked up his phone and dialed the number for Mr. Berry.
Rachel dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, her heart thumping loudly inside her chest as her stomach knotted. She heard the muffled sound of her father pick up on the other end, but try as she might, she wasn't able to discern which one—and Mr. Schuester wasn't offering any clues either. And so, Rachel was forced to sit and wait and worry.
Hiram Berry stalked through the empty halls of McKinley High School on his way to Will Schuester's office where his wayward daughter was waiting for him. As he rounded the last corner, he caught sight of his child through the window of the man's office. He could see how nervous she was even from this distance. Good, he thought. She deserves to be nervous.
Taking a deep breath, the man closed the remaining distance and knocked on the door. Rachel jumped with the noise and her eyes flicked up to meet his gaze through the glass door. Brown eyes widened and Hiram could practically hear the girl's mental 'Oh shit'. He narrowed his own in answer.
"Mr. Berry, thank you for coming in," Will Schuester said as he opened his office door and offered Hiram his hand. Hiram shook it and nodded to the man.
"Of course. I'm sorry it's under such circumstances," Hiram answered as he followed the younger man into the office.
Rachel slunk down in her chair at the look her father directed towards her. The whole time she had been waiting, she had prayed that the dad that showed up would be LeRoy. LeRoy was the softer of the two—the one Rachel could wrap around her little finger with merely a glance. Hiram had a higher immunity against Rachel's puppy dog eyes and pouty lips. Hiram was also the stricter of her fathers—and the one with the larger (and harder) hand.
"You have a lot to explain, young lady," Hiram said pointedly. "But for now, you owe Mr. Schuester an apology—and a heartfelt thank-you for not turning you over to Principal Figgins for this stunt you pulled."
Rachel offered both to her teacher and then let out a surprised yelp as her father hauled her out of her seat. She immediately threw her free hand behind her before remembering where she was and dropping it just as quickly. She caught the briefest of smirks on Mr. Schuester's face and her own burned in embarrassment at having revealed to the man that she, mature and insanely talented Rachel Barbra Berry, was still subjected to such juvenile chastisement at home.
Hiram didn't miss the exchange either and cleared his throat, leveling the younger man with a look that spoke volumes. The man had the decency enough to look ashamed and quickly accepted Rachel's apology.
"We'll start fresh tomorrow, Rachel, okay?" Will extended an olive branch to the teenager. His eyes then flicked back to the girl's father and he nodded to the man. "Thank you again, Mr. Berry," he said, offering his hand once more.
"I'm glad this matter is settled," Hiram answered pointedly, shaking the other man's hand firmer than truly necessary. Schuester looked like he wanted to grimace, but nodded instead. Hiram gave his own nod, then turned his attention back to his daughter. "Let's go home, Rachel."
Rachel swallowed nervously as she grabbed up her bag before her father marched them out of the office. Her papa's grip never loosened as he led them through the school and out to the parking lot. Rachel was thankful the halls were devoid of any other students so none would see her walk of shame.
"I don't think I have ever been so disappointed in your actions, Rachel Barbra. What were you thinking?" Hiram chided as they approached his Acura. "Let's start with how you even knew about this crack house," he continued, finally letting Rachel go once they were at the passenger side door.
"It wasn't active anymore, Papa. I'd never send Sunshine to an actual crack house. It was more like a—a squatter's commune," Rachel defended. She yelped at the hard spank that landed on her skirt-clad bottom.
"You are not helping your case, Rachel Barbra. It was still a dangerous place!" Hiram growled, unlocking the car. "What would ever possess you to do such a thing?"
"I'm sorry. It was a horrible mistake," the teenager whined, rubbing at her bottom ruefully.
"It was downright cruel, young lady. Dad and I haven't raised you to act this way. Get in the car."
Rachel winced at the sharpness of her papa's words. The man wasn't yelling—he didn't need to—but his reproval spoke volumes. She eased herself into the passenger seat, hissing as she settled her weight on her still-smarting bottom. She groaned at the very thought of how much more it would hurt once they got home.
They arrived home much-too-soon for Rachel's taste. Her papa had spent the entire ride lecturing her so by the time they walked in the front door, he was ready to get down to business.
Rachel pleaded with her father as he marched her into the living room, to no avail. He let go of her arm to roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt, and Rachel shifted as she watched on nervously. Her tummy was already doing backflips while her heart beat a fast tempo inside of her chest. She gulped when he then hiked his pants legs up before taking a seat on the oversized ottoman and finally looked up at her expectantly.
"I had hoped we were growing beyond you needing this sort of—" Hiram paused to wave his hand languidly, "—hands-on discipline—" This time he leveled his child with a pointed look, "—but clearly you are in need of it still."
"I'm too old," Rachel tried, despite knowing it would do no good—a girl could hope!
Hiram shook his head as he grabbed his daughter's elbow and pulled her close. "You will fit just fine over my knee, young lady," he said, and then Rachel was toppling over his lap with an indignant squeak.
"Papa!" the girl gasped, her hands pushing up against her father's thighs. The man easily maneuvered her into place, his arm coming to wrap around her waist.
"I don't want to hear it, little miss," Hiram scolded as he flipped up his daughter's skirt. "You deserve this."
"But I'm sorry and I'll never do it again—Papa, please!" Rachel squealed as her panties were lowered, leaving her red-faced and bare-bottomed over her father's knee. She didn't have long to focus on her embarrassment before her papa's hardened palm was cracking down, painting pale skin red-hot in a matter of seconds.
"Ow, ow! Ouch, Papa! Ow—please!" Rachel was already blinking back tears as she squirmed back and forth across her father's knee. But no matter how much she wiggled and tried to avoid those searing handprints, her papa found his mark each and every time.
"There is no telling what could have happened to Sunshine, sending her somewhere so dangerous. How would you feel if she had gotten hurt—or worse? And it would have been entirely—your—fault!" Hiram focused his attention on his child's sit-spots and thighs, determined to leave a lasting impression that the girl would feel for quite a while.
"I'm sorry! Oooh, I'm sorry! Ow! Ow, P—Papa, please not there! I'm so sorry!" Rachel begged, kicking her legs. Her father placed one of his own over hers, locking them in place. Rachel threw her hand back instead.
"Sorry doesn't quite cut it, Rachel Barbra," Hiram said, his tone firm as he secured his daughter's hand in his own. "And right now, I think you're only sorry you're getting your bottom thoroughly warmed, and not for your actions."
"No! No, I'm not. I'm sorry for—Ouch, Papa, OW—" Rachel struggled against her father's hold (not that it did her any good)—it earned her a volley of hard spanks to the undercurve of her bottom where she'd feel it most when she sat down later. "OW! OW! OW, nooo Papa—" she gasped, tears now making their way down her cheeks. "Sorry for putting Sunshine—Oh, ouch—in—OW—a dangerous—OW, NO—situation. Owahoww!"
The spanking stopped as suddenly as it began and Rachel sagged over her father's firm thighs. It couldn't be over already…could it? She was crying, but barely. Her bottom stung, but she knew for a fact she had gotten worse ones from her daddy—and for a whole lot less! Sending Sunshine to an abandoned crack house turned squatter's commune surely constituted more. Unless…Perhaps her papa had come to his senses and decided fifteen really was too old for a bare-bottom spanking across his knee.
Or maybe he had just wanted to prove a point? Rachel knew she got 'too big for her britches' as her daddy would say. Her daddies were always telling her it was their job to remind her she wasn't as grown up as she liked to think she was. Maybe this spanking was her papa's way of proving that she was out-of-line today and needed a reminder to stop and think things through first. Well, she heard that message loud and clear, yes sir!
When her father released his hold on her hand and legs and then helped her to stand, Rachel was convinced that was the case. She noted with some misgivings that he didn't right her panties as he usually would when a spanking was finished, but decided not to dwell on that too much. Instead, she took advantage of being able to rub at her stinging bottom without her clothing impeding that process.
Rachel was so focused on her current task that she didn't notice her father's hands lowering to his belt buckle. It wasn't until the distinctive jingle of metal clinking together alerted her to imminent danger. Her gaze shot towards her papa and her stomach dropped clear down to her feet. Her hands froze, now clutching her still-burning bottom as she watched in horror as that expensive piece of leather was pulled through the belt loops of the man's dress slacks. There was more jingling and clinking as Hiram Berry doubled it over, folding the buckle in on itself and then grasping it firmly in his clenched fist.
"Papa, no," Rachel rasped, her heart pounding furiously inside her chest.
"Papa, yes," Hiram said simply, taking advantage of his child's shock to guide her the few steps needed to reach the arm of the sofa. He held her by the elbow as he stared down at her anxious little face and felt his heart constrict. It was never easy disciplining his child, but this was especially hard. Still, he knew he had to see it through—Rachel needed him to.
"Do you remember that time you pushed Becky Goodman down during the winter recital in sixth grade? She broke her wrist in front of a packed auditorium on opening night—all because you were angry she had gotten the lead in The Nutcracker that you thought you deserved. Do you remember what happened when Daddy and I got you home that night?"
Rachel paled at her papa's line of questioning. She remembered—of course she remembered! She could still recall the sickening crack when Becky fell and the blood-curdling scream that followed. Rachel hadn't meant to push the girl that hard—just enough for her to stumble and mess up the big dance. It had seemed like a harmless enough idea. Rachel was Becky's understudy and she thought if Becky messed up enough during the opening, Rachel would be given the lead instead.
If only things had worked out the way eleven-year-old Rachel had assumed. But no, when Becky fell, she fell hard. So hard, in fact, that she had needed surgery to reset the bones. The Berry men had footed the bill and when they got home that evening, well…Rachel's bottom paid the price and then some. That had been the only time she'd ever gone over both of her fathers' laps, one after the other. It was the worst spanking she had ever gotten—or, it had been. Today's was about to be crowned the reigning champion.
"Do you remember what I promised you would happen if there was ever a repeat of you intentionally harming someone again?" Hiram pressed.
Rachel gasped and then burst into tears as the memory of her papa's promise replayed inside her head.
Rachel's unicorn panties were dragged back up and over her bright-red bottom, making the girl yelp as they raked across tender skin. Her nightshirt was then lowered to cover her and she was being helped to her feet and stood between her papa's knees. Tears blurred her vision, but not enough to block out the stern look her father was giving her. She shifted on socked feet, desperately wanting to rub, but her papa had already taken hold of both elbows to keep her from doing precisely that.
"We love you, Rachel, and you are forgiven and it's all over now," her papa began, his tone soft despite his outward demeanor. His fingers squeezed more firmly around her elbows as he drew her closer, so close that their noses practically touched. "I have one more thing to say on this matter before we put it to rest—hopefully for good—" Rachel gulped as she stared into her father's dark brown eyes, so much like her own. "If you ever do something to intentionally harm someone again, I promise you, Rachel Barbra Berry, I will take my belt to you so fast your head will spin. Do I make myself absolutely clear?"
"Y-Yes sir! You won't h—have to! I'll never hurt someone again, I promise!" Rachel blubbered.
"P-Please don't, Papa," Rachel begged as her father bent her over the armrest. The man flipped her skirt up over her back, exposing her once more, and Rachel shivered as the cool air hit her skin. She twisted to shoot a pleading look over her shoulder at the man.
Hiram met his child's pitiful gaze and regretted it immediately. "Face forward, Rachel," he ordered weakly. He took a steadying breath as the girl turned back around, steeling his resolve for what he was about to do—he never thought he would have to make good on the promise he had made nearly five years ago. With another deep breath, he reached forward and grabbed a throw pillow to place in front of his child. "Hold onto that," he advised her, steadying his left hand on the small of her back.
"Papa—"
"You're getting fifteen—one for every year of your life," Hiram cut off his daughter's protest before it began, "I'm going to make them count, young lady—and you, in turn, are going to count them off as we go. And after each one, I want you to repeat: 'I will never cause intentional, malicious harm to anyone'. Is that understood?"
"No, please!" Rachel wailed. "I'm sorry, Papa! I've learned—I promise I've learned! You don't have to do this!"
"I asked you a question, young lady," Hiram said sternly. He knew he was being hard on his girl, knew this would be a difficult punishment for her to get through—and him, as well. He was determined that this would be the last time his child even thought about doing anything so dangerous to another human being again. Rachel's actions could have killed Sunshine—and all to keep a perceived rival from joining a high school glee club. She more-than-deserved to feel the sharp crack of Hiram's belt across her bare bottom.
Rachel winced at her father's hard tone. "Y—Yes, sir, I understand!" she answered. She felt her papa shift behind her and she snatched up the pillow and held it tightly. She then buried her head in her arms and braced herself for the inevitable.
"I love you, Rachel. I will not let you treat anyone so cruelly, and if it takes my belt to make certain of that, so be it," Hiram said resolutely. He had raised his arm halfway through that little speech, timing it perfectly. The swish of the leather flying through the air emphasized his 'so', and the crack of it landing reverberated against the walls as the last word passed his lips.
"OwAHOWW!" came Rachel's muffled shout a second later.
"You need to count," Hiram reminded her.
Rachel let out a sob as she lifted her head. "Oww. O—One, Papa," she shuddered.
"Good girl," Hiram praised, taking a moment to rub the girl's back. "Now say: 'I will never cause intentional, malicious harm to anyone'."
"I will never cause—Ow, ow, it hurts—intentional, um—malicious harm to a—anyone," Rachel repeated between tiny gasps of pain.
Hiram raised his arm again and the next lick landed, just below the first. Now Rachel had two perfect red strips of color blooming across her bottom to add to the pink handprints he had already given her.
"Ow, ow, ow!" the girl hissed. "Two, Papa! I—I will never cause intentional, malicious h—harm to anyone!"
Swish! Crack!
"Owowwoow. I-I'm sorry, Papa. I'm so sorry! T-Three. I will never cause intentional, mal—ow—malicious harm to anyone."
It continued on like that—the steady swish crack of the belt, Rachel's yelps and gasps, promises to be good, counting, begging, her father's phrase repeated over and over—until Rachel succumbed to her tears. She had made it to count eight and her papa didn't force her to continue—a blessing and a curse, she quickly discovered. She was grateful she didn't have to struggle to find her words blubbering as she was, but it also meant she quickly lost count of how many she had left.
Rachel's cries broke the father's heart, but he continued laying down firm, measured licks to the girl's ever-reddening bottom. There was no doubt in the man's mind that the swats he was giving hurt, but he had a feeling the sound of them made them seem a whole lot worse than they were. Still, he was more relieved than even Rachel when the last lick landed and he could throw his belt aside in favor of scooping his girl up and into his arms.
Rachel clung to her father as he maneuvered them onto the sofa with Rachel on his lap. He was extra mindful of her sore bottom so as not to cause any further discomfort. The girl's punishment was over—now was the time for lots and lots of loving up!
Rachel sobbed and shifted on her father's lap, hissing as she hit a tender spot. She settled onto her side so the majority of her weight was on her hip and then nestled her head into the crook of her father's neck as the man ran a soothing hand up and down her back. It wasn't lost on her that that hand had been the same one to punish her so thoroughly only moments before. She was never one to hold a grudge when either of her daddies decided to spank her—she could admit to herself (if not them) that she always more-than-deserved it. But now it was over and the slate wiped clean. Now was the time for cuddles and getting her daddies to spoil her (more than usual, that is).
As her tears slowed and turned to sniffles and the occasional hiccup, Rachel became aware that she was still bare beneath her skirt. Her cheeks reddened and she squirmed to get up. Her papa helped her to her feet and held her steady as she bent down to grab her panties. Easing them up, she whined as they settled into place. She was shocked at the heat radiating off her skin and gave a tentative rub. "Ouch!" she groaned when that only made the ache worse. She frowned at her papa's knowing look.
Hiram stood and ruffled his child's mussed hair, then pulled the girl into a fierce hug. "I love you, sweetheart," he said, planting a kiss to a brunette crown.
"I love you, Papa," Rachel answered. As they pulled back, Rachel tilted her head up to meet her father's eyes. "I really am sorry for putting Sunshine in danger like I did. It'll never happen again, I swear."
Hiram smiled and nodded, cupping his daughter's cheek with his right hand. He used his thumb to wipe the last of her tears away. "I know you are, baby. It's forgiven—but yes, let's not do this again, hmm? I'd really like for this to be the one and only time I take my belt to you."
Rachel's face burned as her cheeks reddened—no doubt matching the color down below—and she nodded her agreement. "Believe me, Papa—me too."
Hiram laughed then, a deep, hearty chuckle. He ruffled Rachel's hair once more before finally bending down to pick up his discarded belt. He didn't miss the way Rachel stiffened at his action and eyed the leather with trepidation. Wordlessly, he threaded it back through his belt loops and buckled it. Rachel let out a sigh of relief the moment his hands dropped from his waist.
"Why don't you go wash your face and change into comfy clothes? Your daddy will be home soon and he's bringing Breadstix," Hiram said, and Rachel's face lit up.
As if on cue, the front door opened and LeRoy entered, a wide grin on his face as he held a white plastic bag above his head. "I'm home, family, and I come bearing gifts!" he greeted, making his way over to the pair. He stopped to steal a kiss from Hiram, handing the taller man the bag of food to sort out before turning his attention to their daughter. LeRoy set his briefcase down on the coffee table as Hiram headed towards the kitchen, then opened his arms wide for the girl. Rachel flew into them and he hugged her tightly.
"I know Papa has already taken care of everything," he began once he pulled back, leveling the girl with a stern expression. His child squirmed under that gaze. "I won't lecture you further, but I do hope this is the last time something like this happens, young lady. You know your papa and I hate having to punish you at all, let alone spank you—" He ignored the bright red flush that crept up his child's face and all the way to her ears. "But we won't hesitate to do it each and every time you need it. Understand?"
"Yes, sir," Rachel answered, biting her lip and casting her eyes downward. It was bad enough disappointing her papa—her daddy was another matter entirely, especially since the man was usually so easy-going. It took a lot to ruffle his feathers and Rachel had created a whirlwind today.
"Alright, that's enough of that now," LeRoy declared, his usual timbre returning. He hooked his finger under Rachel's chin, tilting her head up. "I love you, darling," he said once they made eye contact, then leaned forward to plant a kiss to her forehead. "I've also got another surprise for you—" He turned to his briefcase, making a production of opening it.
Rachel's eyes glistened with unbridled excitement as she waited with increasing impatience for her daddy to reveal her surprise. She couldn't help smirking to herself as she did—spoiled indeed.
