Chapter 17: Midnight Discovery
The first sliver of dawn had yet to touch the windows when Derek’s eyes opened. The house was steeped in a deep, velvety silence, a stark contrast to the usual low hum of its inhabitants. He swung his legs out of bed, the floorboards cool beneath his feet. This was his time, the only true quiet he’d found since moving into the whirlwind of this shared house.
Now, in the pale grey light, he finally had a moment to properly inspect his new room, the one Katja had vacated for him. It wasn’t much larger than the upstairs bedrooms, but it held the distinct, faintly floral scent of her perfume, a ghost in the fabric of the curtains. One door led to a small, en-suite bathroom, a luxury the others didn’t have. His eyes scanned the wall opposite and caught the faint outline of a second door, almost hidden by the shadow of a tall wardrobe.
He pushed it open. A storage room, little more than a deep closet, smelling of dust and damp concrete. An old, rust-speckled barbecue stood sentinel next to a vacuum cleaner from a bygone era. A stack of faded ceramic tiles and some splintered wooden panels leaned against the far wall. Boring. He was about to pull the door shut when a splash of color in the far corner caught his eye.
He stepped inside, crouching. It was a potty. A child’s potty, made of thick yellow plastic with cheerful red stars stamped around the rim. A little dusty, but otherwise perfectly intact and usable. A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. Guess Sabine could make good use of that instead of making another puddle on the floor.
He carried it to the kitchen sink, washed off the grime of neglect, and dried it until it shone under the fluorescent light. The red stars seemed to wink at him. Quietly, he carried it upstairs and placed it squarely on the floor right next to the bathroom door, a silent, pastel-colored announcement. The four bedroom doors were still closed, the house still asleep. He went back down to the kitchen, the rich aroma of his coffee beginning to permeate the air, and waited.
The silence broke just before nine o’clock. It started with the creak of a floorboard, then another, followed by the simultaneous opening of four doors. The upper hallway erupted into a symphony of morning sounds: yawns, shuffling feet, and the low, mumbled greetings of the not-yet-awake.
He heard Petra’s voice first, bright and loud. “I call shower first! My shift starts in an hour.”
A thud, then a high-pitched, startled yelp from Fiona. “What on earth is that?”
Derek took a slow, deliberate sip of his coffee, the steam warming his face.
“Is that… a potty?” Sabine’s voice, laced with a mixture of horror and disbelief, cut through the chatter.
Sabine’s voice, laced with a mixture of horror and disbelief, cut through the chatter. “Is that… a potty?”
Derek took a final, slow sip of his coffee, the rich bitterness a perfect counterpoint to the unfolding drama upstairs. He set the mug down with a soft click on the counter. The frantic hammering on the bathroom door began almost instantly.
“Petra, come out of the bathroom now, I have to pee!” Sabine’s voice was tight with urgency, her fists pounding a staccato rhythm against the wood.
He ascended the stairs, taking them two at a time, and found the scene exactly as he’d imagined. Sabine, still in her thin pink pajamas, was dancing from foot to foot in front of the locked door. Her whole body was clenched with the effort of holding back.
“Sabine late again?” Derek asked, his tone dry as dust.
She shot him a desperate look. “Haha, very funny. I have to go soooo badly.”
“Are you about to wet your pants again?” The memory of the previous puddle hung unspoken in the air between them.
At that moment, Katja burst into the hallway, her face pale. “Is Petra still in the bathroom? I have to pee too! Urgently!” She immediately began shifting her weight, mirroring Sabine’s nervous dance, her legs pressed tightly together.
Derek leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “Ladies, we have one extra potty now.” He pointed a casual finger at the yellow plastic potty on the floor.
“I’m definitely not sitting on that thing!” Sabine snapped, her eyes wide.
“Me neither,” Katja gasped, her voice strained. “I am not a toddler!”
Derek’s gaze was steady, his voice dropping into a calm, authoritative register that silenced their protests. “Girls, whoever wets their panties gets a good hard spanking with the hairbrush.” He remarked dryly.
It only took Sabine a second to make up her mind. With a frantic tug, she pulled down her pajama bottoms and panties and sat down on the potty in plain sight of everyone. The plastic creaked under her weight. “Katja, don’t stare at me!” she hissed, her cheeks flushing.
Less than five seconds later, a loud, steady stream of pee echoed in the hallway, hitting the hollow plastic bottom of the potty. Sabine sighed with profound relief, her body going limp.
“Sabine, please get off the potty immediately. I have to go too!” Katja pleaded, her voice a high-pitched whine as she clenched her legs even tighter.
“Be a little patient, Katja,” Derek said, not unkindly. “Sabine can come down from the potty in a moment and then you can use it.”
He walked over to Sabine, who was still sitting on the potty, looking relieved but mortified. “Lift your bottom, young lady, so I can wipe you clean.”
“But, D, I can do this myself,” Sabine pouted, avoiding his eyes.
“Girls on the potty get their bottom wiped,” he answered firmly.
Sabine lifted her bottom up from the edge of the potty. He put his hand on her back and pushed her upper body down a little. Out of necessity, Sabine bent her knees, spread her legs a little, and stuck her bottom out in a helpless, exposed pose.
“Such a good girl. Don’t move!” He produced a wet wipe from his pocket and efficiently wiped Sabine’s buttocks and labia. The girl’s face was burning red with shame under his clinical touch.
“Katja, now it’s your turn to have a pee-pee,” he said, smiling at her.
But for the girl, this opportunity came too late. With a soft, defeated moan, Katja desperately pressed her legs together one last time and then a dark patch bloomed and spread across the front of her cotton shorts. A steady trickle pattered onto the wooden floorboards, forming a growing puddle right next to the baby potty and right in front of Sabine and Derek.
At that very moment, Petra opened the bathroom door, steam billowing out around her. “I’m ready, Katja…” The girl broke off the sentence, her eyes wide and fascinated as they tracked the stream of urine still dripping from Katja’s shorts to the floor.
“Is Katja really going to get her bottom spanked now?” Sabine was the first to regain her composure, her own shame forgotten in the face of Katja’s greater humiliation.
Derek nodded. “She wet her panties because she was too stubborn to use the potty like a good girl. So she gets her bottom spanked.” He looked at each of them in turn. “Why should she be any different than the rest of you girls?”
“But D, please, at least not here in front of everyone, okay?” Katja whispered, her eyes begging.
He thought about it for a moment, the silence heavy in the hallway. He decided this could be a valuable lesson for all the girls. “Petra, get the brush from my room please. Sabine, get a chair from the kitchen.” His commands were quiet and absolute. “And Katja, you clean up this puddle and then take a shower. You’ll be back here in five minutes, clean and naked.”
“But D please… not like this… naked, with the brush, in front of all the girls…” Katja looked at him in utter despair, tears welling in her eyes.
“No more arguments, Katja. Get ready.” He turned away from her crumbling composure. “I’m just going to check on Fiona.”
He left the three of them in the hallway, the air thick with Katja’s quiet sobs and the sharp scent of urine, and pushed open Fiona’s door without knocking.
The girl was sitting on the edge of her bed, her pajamas in a neat pile beside her. The bulky white diaper was still fastened around her hips, a stark contrast to her delicate frame. “Good morning, Fiona. Did you sleep well?”
She nodded her head hesitantly, her long blonde hair swaying. “Yes…. I didn’t know if… well if I could take my diaper off myself?”
“Just in case you want a proper spanking before breakfast, Fiona.” He held her gaze, his expression unyielding. “Otherwise, don’t touch your diaper. Do we understand each other?”
“I thought so. I won’t touch my diaper!” Fiona whispered, a deep blush spreading from her neck to her cheeks. “But I’m really wet….”
“Lie down on the bed and I’ll get you out of it.”
Fiona laid back obediently, lifting her knees and spreading her legs into the familiar, vulnerable position without another word. “Good girl,” he said, his tone softening just a fraction.
“Thank you, D!” The girl offered a genuine, relieved smile as he sat beside her. The diaper bulged heavily between her legs, warm and saturated.
He peeled back the adhesive strips with a soft ripping sound. The air carried a faint, ammoniacal tang. He took a wet wipe from the pack on her nightstand and carefully cleaned between her legs and over her bottom. “That tickles….” Fiona giggled, a nervous, fluttering sound.
“But now you’re nice and clean again.” He tossed the heavy, used diaper into a small plastic bin she had clearly set out for the purpose. “I’ll pick some clothes for you, and then please come out into the hallway with me.”
“Will you spank me like Katja?” Fiona asked anxiously, her wide blue eyes searching his.
“Why should I spank you, Fiona?”
“Well, I peed myself, too….”
“Fiona, you made a wee-wee in your diaper. That’s why you have it on.” He stood and walked to her closet. “You’re definitely not getting your bottom spanked for that.”
Fiona was visibly relieved, her entire body sinking into the mattress as the tension left her. He sorted through her clothes, his fingers brushing past soft cottons and thin prints. He selected white cotton panties, a pair of tight pink hot pants, and a white t-shirt with a large Disney princess graphic. Fiona watched him, her expression neutral, having already resigned herself to this new ritual.
He dressed her with efficient movements, the cotton panties and tight pink shorts a stark contrast to the bulky diaper she’d just worn. Fiona remained pliant, her earlier resistance having melted into a quiet, almost thoughtful acceptance of the routine.
Derek returned to the hallway. The straight-backed wooden chair was already there, centered ominously on the worn runner. The heavy-backed hairbrush rested on its seat. Petra stood beside it, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, her gaze fixed on the floorboards where the puddle had been.
“Where is Sabine, Petra?” he asked, his voice cutting through the tense quiet.
Just then, Sabine came back up the stairs, the yellow potty held carefully in her hands. “I just emptied the potty and washed it,” she said, her voice hesitant. “Where shall I put it?”
“Put your potty back here in the hallway, Sabine.”
Her eyes widened. “My… why? Everyone sees it here when we have guests.” A deep flush of embarrassment spread from her neck to her cheeks.
“Right here, Sabine. End of discussion,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Or would you like to get a spanking along Katja?”
The bathroom door opened with a soft click, halting any further protest. Katja stepped out hesitantly, her body tensed as if against a cold wind. She was naked, as he’d requested, her skin glowing pale and damp from her shower. Her long brown hair was plastered in dark tendrils to her neck and shoulders. She kept her arms locked tightly across her stomach, her hands cupped shamefacedly over her pubic bone, her shoulders hunched forward in a futile attempt to conceal her breasts. The firm curves of her body seemed to hum with vulnerability under the collective gaze.
Fiona slipped out of her room then, her Disney princess shirt a bright beacon, and stood silently next to a wide-eyed Petra.
“Then we are finally complete,” Derek said, sweeping his eyes over the assembled group. “We haven’t even had breakfast yet and I have to spank one of you for peeing in the hallway.” He let out a short, humorless breath. “It’s unbelievable.”
He took the brush from the chair. The wood was cool and familiar in his hand. He sat down, the chair creaking under his weight, and waved Katja over. “Let’s get this over with.”
Hesitantly, but without further protest, Katja walked forward. She moved with a stiff-legged grace, her entire being focused on the coming pain. She lowered herself across his lap, the position forcing her to relinquish her protective cover. Her hands fell to the floor, and her body went limp, a silent surrender. The pale skin of her buttocks was smooth and unmarked, waiting.
The first crack of the brush was a shocking, percussive sound in the quiet hallway. Katja flinched violently, a sharp gasp tearing from her throat. “Ooooh, I hate this brush!”
He didn’t pause. Slap. Slap. Slap. The blows fell in a steady, relentless rhythm, each one landing with a firm, flat impact.
“…Oowie… Oowieuuu… Please….” she whimpered, her voice already thick with tears.
Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap. A warm pink flush was already spreading across her skin, the color deepening quickly to a hot, blotchy red.
“…Ahhh Oowieiii… Oowieuuu… Oowieuuu….” Her cries grew louder, less controlled, her body beginning to twist on his lap.
Slap. Slap. Slap. Katja kicked her legs restlessly, her feet scrambling against the air. The red of her bottom was a stark, vivid brand against her pale skin.
“…Oowieii… Oowieuuu… Oowieuuuu….” The words dissolved into incoherent sobs.
Slap. Slap. Slap. Now Katja was crying and bawling freely, her pride utterly forgotten, her face contorted and wet with tears as the other girls watched.
“…Oooooooowieeeeeeeeeee….” The final, drawn-out wail was one of pure, unadulterated sting.
He delivered three more sharp, stinging slaps to the most inflamed parts of her sit-spots, then stopped. The silence that followed was broken only by Katja’s ragged, hiccupping sobs. He shifted his weight and carefully helped the crying girl back onto her feet. She immediately brought her hands back to cover herself, her whole body trembling.
“We’ll buy you a nice potty so we don’t have to do this again, right?” he said, his voice calm and matter-of-fact.
Katja looked at him wide-eyed, her breath catching in little hitches. She nodded her head in frantic, obedient little jerks.
Ten minutes later, he and the girls were in the kitchen. The aroma of coffee and toast had replaced the morning’s tension. Katja sat carefully on a cushioned chair, wincing as she settled her tender bottom. No one spoke about what had happened. The yellow potty sat by the stairs, a silent, undeniable member of the household.
The yellow potty sat by the stairs, a silent, undeniable member of the household. The clatter of plates and the gurgling coffee maker filled the kitchen, a forced normalcy. No one mentioned the bright red heat still radiating from Katja’s skin as she shifted gingerly on her chair.
Derek sipped his coffee, his eyes moving over the four of them with a calm, appraising weight. The air grew thick, the casual breakfast sounds fading into a waiting silence. He set his mug down. The click of ceramic on wood was a period at the end of their brief peace.
The click of ceramic on wood was a period at the end of their brief peace. Derek rose and fetched five bowls from the cupboard, the clatter of china a deliberate punctuation. He set them on the counter with a series of soft thuds.
Katja entered the kitchen then, her movements hesitant. She paused by the dining table, her posture unsure. She glanced at the hard wooden chairs, then away, a faint flush rising on her neck.
“You don’t have to sit down if you prefer standing,” Derek said, not looking at her as he poured cereal into the first bowl.
Katja nodded, a quick, grateful dip of her chin. She took the bowl he offered and served herself, leaning slightly against the table’s edge as she began to eat. The others watched this silent exchange, spoons hovering.
“So, what’s the plan for today?” Derek asked, breaking the quiet.
Fiona and Petra exchanged a look, a silent negotiation passing between them. Petra took the lead, her voice bright and hopeful. “D, is it okay if our friend Anja comes over today? We were thinking we could swim in the pool together?”
“We’ll really behave ourselves,” Fiona added, her voice a soft, earnest plea. “Please, D!”
“You’ve already seen the pool in the garden behind the house from the window of your former room,” Sabine chimed in, pointing with her spoon toward the backyard.
“Oh yeah, that would be great,” Petra continued, leaning forward. “Please allow Anja to come over. We’re all going to be on our very best behavior.”
He had to smile a little at how naturally the three girls already begged for his, and not Katja’s, permission. Katja herself just stared into her cereal, a silent observer to her own diminished role.
“Well,” Derek said, drawing the word out. “Anja can come over today and you can swim together, but only if Anja’s mom agrees.” He held up a finger. “And she will have to leave before your homework time.”
“Anja is in the same class as Fiona and Petra,” Sabine offered, as if this was crucial intelligence.
“If she brings her record book and her mom agrees, then she can do her homework together with the two of them,” Derek finished.
Katja looked at him then, her expression unsure. “Only if you also agree, of course,” she said, her voice barely above a murmur.
He had serious doubts that this would increase the girls' learning success, a chaotic homework session seeming more likely than a productive one. But he agreed with Katja anyway, a nod of solidarity toward her fractured authority. “If you all behave yourselves, I have no objection.”
A chorus of excited cheers and grateful “Thank you, D!”s filled the kitchen. The mood lifted, the tension of the morning momentarily forgotten in the prospect of sun and water. Spoons clattered against bowls with renewed energy, and plans for the day were volleyed across the table with breathless speed.
Spoons clattered against bowls with renewed energy, and plans for the day were volleyed across the table with breathless speed. The morning’s harsh discipline was buried under the giddy anticipation of a reprieve, a temporary return to something like normalcy. Derek watched them, this sudden shift in atmosphere as tangible as the sugar dusting the table.
He leaned back, the wooden chair creaking under his weight. "So, this Anja. What's she like?"
Petra’s eyes lit up. "She’s so cool. Super smart."
"Her mom is kinda strict, though," Fiona added, her voice softening. "Really strict, actually."
"Likes everything just so," Sabine confirmed around a mouthful of cereal. "Total opposite of this place."
Katja, still standing awkwardly by the table, offered a small, knowing smile. "She’ll probably think we’ve all lost our minds."
The next half-hour was a whirlwind of clearing dishes and frantic tidying, a performance staged for an audience of one. Derek remained at the table, a silent spectator to their choreography of anxiety and excitement. He saw the way Fiona kept smoothing her Disney princess shirt, the nervous glance Petra shot toward the yellow potty by the stairs.
Then the doorbell chimed, a sharp, two-toned sound that sliced through the morning chatter.
Everything froze.
Petra, Fiona, and Sabine exchanged a single, wide-eyed look, a silent communication of pure panic. The sound was an intrusion, a verdict. Katja instinctively took a half-step backward, her body tensing as if for a blow.
"Someone get the door," Derek said, his voice calm and low in the sudden silence.
It was Fiona who moved first, her small frame darting from the kitchen like a startled bird. The others followed in a hesitant cluster, bunching up in the hallway entrance. Derek rose and followed them, leaning against the doorframe to watch.
Fiona pulled the front door open. A girl stood on the welcome mat, backlit by the morning sun. She was tall and willowy, with a posture so straight it seemed practiced. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a severe, sleek ponytail that highlighted sharp, elegant features. She wore crisp, dark-wash jeans and a simple white blouse, an outfit of quiet, understated quality that screamed money and control.
"Anja! You came!" Petra’s voice was a little too bright, too loud.
"Hello," Anja said. Her voice was cool, polite, and carried a surprising depth for her age. Her eyes, a pale, intelligent blue, did a quick, efficient scan of the hallway. They flicked over the group of girls, past Derek’s imposing form in the doorway, and then down. They paused for a fraction of a second on the yellow plastic potty sitting conspicuously on the floorboards. Her expression didn’t change. Not a flicker.
"Come in!" Sabine said, grabbing her friend's arm and pulling her across the threshold.
Anja stepped inside, her movements graceful and contained. "My mother said it was fine, as long as I'm home by five." Her gaze finally landed on Derek, the only unfamiliar person in the room. A quiet question hung in the air.
Petra jumped in. "Anja, this is D. He lives here now."
"Hello," Anja said again, her tone perfectly neutral, offering a small, polite nod.
"Derek," he said, pushing off the doorframe and extending a hand. He saw her take in his height, his lean build, the easy way he occupied the space. Her handshake was firm, brief, and cool.
"It's nice to meet you," she said, her eyes meeting his directly. There was a sharp curiosity there, carefully veiled by good manners.
"The girls have been looking forward to you coming over," Derek said, releasing her hand. He watched her, this new variable in the equation. She was observing everything, the potty, the dynamic, him. She was nothing like the others.