Work Text:
John Laurens was on the verge of losing his sanity. His eight-year-old daughter, Frances, was having a bratty spell in her life, or so it seemed to him at least, and his wife, Martha, was out doing yardwork this particular day. Frances had spit in his face, kicked him multiple times, and screamed curse words at him one too many times that day.
“Frances Laurens, that’s quite enough outta you! Go outside and fetch me a switch, now!”
This shut her up for only a second, but she was soon back at it. “No! Fuck you, Papa!”
John took a breath to keep him from snapping. He would never punish his daughter out of rage. “If you don’t, then I will, and you won’t like my choice at all, Frances. Now, watch your mouth or I’ll add more lashes to the 8 you’re already gettin’.”
Frances seemed to think about it for a moment before storming out and pulled one off their tree in the backyard, hesitant to go back inside. “Mama…”
Martha looked up with a stern but loving glance. “You’ve done wrong, now accept your punishment. I’m not getting you out of this, Frances.”
Frances pouted but brought it back to her father who had stepped out the backdoor, holding out his hand. She handed it to him reluctantly and stood there with her hands behind her back, looking down at the ground. “Papa…”
John raised an eyebrow. “No. I’m not lettin’ you get away with hittin’ me, kickin’ me, spittin’ in my face, and cussin’ at me, young lady. Now, go inside and change into somethin’ lighter.”
Frances tried to protest but gave up quickly, knowing her father wouldn’t budge. She went inside and put on a lighter working dress, with a lighter petticoat underneath. She already knew trying to put on a heavier petticoat would only result in more lashes and having to lose the petticoat altogether for the length of the punishment. So, at least this way she’d have a little more padding. She walked back out, head hung and looked up at him briefly.
John sighed a little. “Put your hands against the house. I’m givin’ you 10 seconds to ready yourself.”
Frances sighed a little as well and did as she was told, resting the palms of her hands against the stone wall, and bracing herself for the first lash, which came a few seconds after, causing her to yelp loudly. She knew better than to beg for him to stop though. John continued striking below her waist until he reached the 8th lash. By then, Frances was a sobbing mess, doing her best to hold her tongue and refrain from using a few choice words. He broke the branch over his knee and tossed it aside, giving her a minute to collect herself before pulling her into a gentle and loving hug. “I love you and hate punishin’ you, Frances. I really do, but I have to for order to be kept in this household.”
She nodded, slowly calming down and sniffled, wrapping her arms around her father and hid in his abdomen. “I’m s-sorry, Papa. I’m scared of you leaving for the war and got angry.”
John rubbed her back gently and lowered his gaze to her. “Then you needed to come talk to me instead of attackin’ me, sweetheart. I love you and don’t want you actin’ like that.”
Frances merely nodded again and closed her eyes for a few minutes before yawning tiredly. “I’ll try to be good from now on, Papa.”
John broke the hug and led her inside, brewing some tea and sat on the sofa with her. He wrapped a blanket around her after starting the fire in the fireplace, and read a book to her until she fell asleep. He looked up as Martha came in from finishing her gardening. “Grab some tea and rest for a while, dear.”