<div class="floatleft">(https://www.theplace2.ru/archive/elizabeth_turner/img/elizabeth-turner-wil(8).jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Mar Sinclair<br/><strong>Date/Time:</strong>Saturday October 10th<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Home<br/><strong>Content/Mood:</strong>Coming home | Anxiously excited<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Mar and Erin<br/><br/><hr/><hr/><br/>As far s setting the table went, Celeste did everything she was told as well as she knew how to do it. If there was some special way to arrange the cutlery, well, that'd be for Mar or Erin to explain -<em>she</em>didn't know. But she did her best; that's what counted. As for Erin's water, Celeste got that too. Three cubes, because Erin hadn't specified how much she wanted, and three seemed like a good, neutral number. Not too much; not too little. The glass, along with the cutlery, was all on the table by the time their brief little exchange flared up.<br/><br/>And it<em>was</em>brief.<br/><br/>Celeste didn't want to be a brat. For tonight, at least, that was the major deterrent keeping her in line, much more than the threat of spanking. Those would hurt. A little or a lot remained to be seen, but they wouldn't be pleasant. Of that, Celeste was certain. Submissive to the core, yes, bt she wasn't a masochist, just like Mar and Erin weren't, she didn't think, sadists. No, Celeste didn't really<em>want</em>to be spanked. But she was curious - curious to see how it felt, both physically and psychologically. What would it be like, a fully grow woman, to submit herself to discipline from her new Mommy and Daddy, just like she actually<em>was</em>a little girl again. Their little girl? And how much would it actually hurt? A little or a lot; she wanted to know. But she didn't want to be difficult on their very first night together. She wanted to be their good girl who sometimes needed correction, not some little hell-raiser constantly bratting.<br/><br/>She also didn't want to go to bed at 10 PM.<br/><br/>It was Mar's thoughtful voice that started the process of calming Celeste's frustration; it was having her chinned cupped, eye-contact forced, that completed it. Silently, she stared back at the older woman - her Daddy - blue eyes meeting the stern, but calm, paternal pair looking back at her. Celeste shifted on her feet, felt her cheeks growing hot. She knew she was blushing, partly for the outburst, mostly because of how she was being treated: like a little girl. Daddy's little girl. She loved it, but it was still embarrassing to be openly chastised like this. Some butterflies fluttered around the pit of her stomach, and Celeste found herself doing a little more awkward squirming, weight shifting from foot-to-foot as she listened first to her Daddy, then her Mommy.<br/><br/>They were both stern, but neither one sounded angry. For that, Celeste was grateful. A firm hand on the first night was one thing; actual frustration from one or both of her parents was not something she wanted to provoke. It'd happen eventually, she knew; it happened in any relationship. People inevitably got frustrated with each other, let their emotions briefly get the better of them. It wasn't a big deal. But she'd rather not have it happen on their first night. Good, then, that Mommies and Daddies had more patience than their little girls.<br/><br/>Celeste rubbed her chin when Mar at last let it go, more for her wounded pride than any physical pain. Daddy had been gentle. She wore a sheepish grin, her cheeks still pink, head lowered and eyes downcast. At least until Erin mentioned<em>consequences</em>- all three of them knew what that meant. They'd discussed it thoroughly online, over the phone, in their few face-to-face meetings before this. It was all Celeste could do to keep herself from reaching back to rub her dress-covered butt. Suddenly, she wasn't feeling all that curious about getting her first spanking; suddenly, now that the threat had been made, she wanted nothing more than to be Mommy and Daddy's<em>good</em>little girl. She shifted her eyes briefly to Erin, felt her cheeks grow even hotter, and heard a soft whimper escape her lips that she hadn't meant to make.<br/><br/>But then, it seemed, it was all over. Daddy's little nose-boop even had her smiling again, and Erin's comment about the food alerted Celeste to the pleasant aromas wafting in from the kitchen. Eager to put the last couple minutes well-behind them, Celeste said: "It smells really good, Daddy."<em>Daddy</em>- she liked that word. And Mommy. She liked that one, too, even if it would likely be a while before she could say either one without blushing. That was okay, though. Blushing wasn't a bad thing; being embarrassed wasn't a bad thing. Not here, anyway. They were family.<br/><br/>"Do we get dessert too?" She wondered, this question directed equally to both parents, and her eyes darted back-and-forth between the two while she eagerly awaited their answer.