Brat Boot Camp pt. 5

“I have so many questions to ask you before I go home,” Gracie announced as Sharon stood over a pot of home-made chicken soup in the kitchen.

“Like what?” Sharon asked with a smirk.

“Like, first of all, how did you afford this big of a house? I don’t even know what you do for a living.”

Sharon laughed.

“That’s what you have on your mind, huh?”

“Yes,” said Gracie defensively. “I’m probably going to spend the rest of my life freelancing and couch surfing, so I’d most certainly like to know.”

“I have a degree in botany,” Sharon replied with a smirk. “My parents thought it was the most ridiculous field of study known to humankind, but it turns out that plant research is lucrative enough.”

“Oh,” said Gracie, mulling that information over, “You don’t strike me as much of a tree hugger.” Sharon raised an eyebrow.

“I kind of feel like I’m being insulted,” she replied.

“No, no, just taking it in,” Gracie teased. “Next, do you have kids?”

“They’re in college,” said Sharon flatly. She clearly didn’t plan to divulge too much.

“What about a husband?” Gracie pressed.

“We split up when I came out as a lesbian,” Sharon replied.

“Oh,” said Gracie again.

“Are you done with your tirade of questions, and if so, can we eat in peace? The soup is ready.”

Obediently, Gracie dropped her questions and headed to the kitchen to fill up a bowl for herself. Frankly, Gracie was in a sour mood. She was supposed to go home the next day: home to her sister who had sent her to this boot camp in the first place. But she found herself not wanting to go at all. She wasn’t mad at her sister, she just didn’t want to leave Sharon. She was starting to get attached.

Over the past few days, after Gracie realized how much she liked and needed to be spanked, she had joined an online chat room filled with other spankos. After lunch, while Sharon was doing the dishes, Gracie logged in to the chat room and sent a message to the group under her new alias and typed a message to her new friends.

NEWSPANKO: Ugh. I’m leaving my top today. Well, she’s not my top, just the top who I was staying with for the week. I don’t want to go home though. I like it here with my top. There’s no way my sister and I are going to have the same connection.

HOLLYBRAT: Your boot camp was only a week?! Oh no! I know how hard long-distance can be, but maybe your new top will stay in touch?

NEWSPANKO: Maybe. Unless she takes on a new brat and forgets about me…

WILDCHILD12: Well, I don’t think it would be a good idea for her to send a brat back home to an unsuspecting sister, right?

NEWSPANKO: What do you mean?

WILDCHILD12: I mean… if you were not well behaved, then maybe your top would have to keep you an extra week to make sure the lessons stuck 😉

NEWSPANKO: You mean act out on purpose?

HOLLYBRAT: NO. That is a bad idea. As a friend, I am begging you not to bring the wrath on yourself at the last minute.

WILDCHILD12: I wouldn’t lead you astray.

NEWSPANKO: Let me think about it. I need a plan.

Gracie closed the chat room and considered her options. She could be honest and tell Sharon that she wanted to stay. And yet… she kind of needed an authentic send off spanking, even if the plot to stay another week ultimately failed. Mulling the options over and over, Gracie came to a decision.

She tried to act normal for the rest of the day. She and Sharon went shopping together and bought steaming cups of hot cocoa with a huge dollop of whipped cream. It was a lovely day and Gracie almost scrapped her bratty plan, but she had an itch that she couldn’t scratch unless she gave it a shot.

“I’ll cook dinner tonight since it’s our last meal together,” Gracie offered as they walked back into the cozy warmth of Sharon’s house.

“Are you sure?” Sharon asked skeptically, “I appreciate you doing your share of chores this week, but usually I cook.”

“I can do it,” Gracie grinned mischievously. Not wanting to ruin a perfectly good offer, Sharon agreed and decided to use the extra time to write a letter to Gracie’s sister about her progress over the week. Gracie had done well and Sharon was please and excited to share.

Gracie gathered up some ingredients for dinner. Fresh pasta that Sharon had picked up at an Italian market, a large gleaming ball of mozzarella, even a bottle of red wine. As she cooked, she made sure to leave more of a mess than usual. She took several unnecessarily large gulps of red wine to fortify her confidence.

Brat mode: engaged, Gracie thought to herself with a giggle.

Gracie’s dinner was so delicious that Sharon didn’t even think to mention the mess in the kitchen. She figured they would tackle that together after their meal.

“Thank you for cooking dinner,” Sharon smiled, “You are quite the chef.”

“Thank you,” Gracie replied earnestly.

“Do you think you’ll cook like this for your sister now and then?” Sharon asked.

“She’s gluten free,” Gracie replied flatly.

“That’s not what I meant,” Sharon sighed, “Not pasta specifically, just… anything.”

“My sister doesn’t need me to feed her,” Gracie snarled, “She’s not a dog.”

“Excuse me?” Sharon asked harshly, “I’m not sure I like the attitude you’re giving me right now, especially since your sister is coming to pick you up tomorrow and I told her she’d be meeting a very polite, mature young lady.”

“What, were you going to introduce her to the woman who brings the mail?” Gracie asked sarcastically.

“You are pushing it,” Sharon said firmly. “Is there something you’d like to tell me? Is there something you’re upset about? Are you mad at your sister for sending you here?”

“No!” Gracie shouted quickly, suddenly feeling guilty about the prospect that Sharon would think that she hadn’t enjoyed the week, “No, I like it here.”

“Mhmm,” Sharon replied, her eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Ok. Then what has you in such a sour mood?”

“Maybe your little detective act,” Gracie replied, recovering her brat-act quickly, “I heard you were a botanist so no need to interrogate me. Stick to the plants, Shar.”

“We’ll continue this conversation after dinner,” Sharon said evenly. She was not going to be baited by Gracie’s tactics. They finished their last meal together in relative silence, and then Sharon gestured to the kitchen so that Gracie would know it was time to clean up.

“What?” Gracie asked stubbornly.

“It’s time to clean up,” Sharon told her.

“Ok, well good luck in there, captain,” Gracie replied with a mock salute.

“I’ll give you three seconds to get your butt into the kitchen and start cleaning before I lose my cool,” Sharon hissed with a menacing look. “One….. Two…”

“Didn’t know botanists could count so high,” Gracie interjected, throwing her napkin onto the table and walking toward her room.

She hadn’t planned much beyond this. She didn’t know what she was going to do if Sharon just let her walk away. She was equal parts relieved and horrified when she heard Sharon’s swift footsteps following her down the hall. Heart pounding, Gracie picked up the pace and tried to high-tail it into her room before Sharon could reach her. Gracie’s heart wasn’t in it, though, so Sharon quickly caught up and grabbed her firmly by the upper arm, swinging Gracie around and pinning her firmly, but carefully, to the wall. Gracie gave a pathetic, terrified squeak.

“THIS. ACT. ENDS. NOW.” Sharon was staring Gracie dead in the eyes, using her hips to keep Gracie trapped agains the wall and using her hands to pin Gracie’s thin wrists, as well. “You have less than ten seconds to explain why you’re acting like a royal brat. Go.”

“I’m…. I’m not?” Gracie offered pathetically.

“The hell you’re not,” Sharon snapped back. “Your mood darkened out of nowhere right before you’re supposed to head home. If you’re having negative feelings about returning to your sister, by all means, share them. But mouthing off to me and refusing to clean up the mess you made are one-way tickets to pain city.”

“I… I don’t want to go home,” Gracie admitted, a tear escaping her eyes, “And actually I don’t want to go to pain city either,” she added, giving Sharon a pathetic, tearful puppy dog look. Sharon sighed and released her hold on Gracie, pulling her into a hug instead.

“I figured as much,” Sharon whispered into Gracie’s hair as she patted Gracie’s head with surprising gentleness. “Your act was on the obvious side, my dear.”

“Oh,” Gracie mumbled to the floor.

“If you wanted to stay longer, you could have just asked,” Sharon pointed out gently. She placed her hand under Gracie’s chin and lifted Gracie’s head so that their eyes met. “You are a lovely person and I would have said yes in a heartbeat.”

“Really?” Gracie asked, her spirits lifting immediately.

“Yes,” said Sharon earnestly, “But now we have a problem, don’t we? Now I have a little girl who wants to stay with me but who acted very, very poorly in order to prove her point.’

“Right,” Gracie squeaked, shifting from foot to foot. She had thought she wanted one last spanking, but now that it was imminent, she had second thoughts. Sharon had offered to let her stay. That’s all she needed, really. Maybe they could just put on a movie and forget this whole ordeal.

“We’re not just going to put this behind us without a conversation,” Sharon said suddenly, as if she’d read Gracie’s thoughts. “I’m going to call your sister and explain that you’d like to stay. For now, we’ll plan on extending your stay for a week, during which your communication WILL improve, or your bottom will pay a steep price.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gracie replied instantly.

“And while I’m on the phone with your sister,” Sharon instructed, “You are going to march your behind to your bedroom, undress, and wait for me lying face down on the bed.” Gracie cringed but knew better than to disobey at this point.

“Yes, ma’am,” she repeated.

“Fine. Good girl,” Sharon said, giving her a sharp slap to the buttocks as she scampered off.

Gracie was so excited that she would get to stay that she barely registered how nervous she was for the punishment. She took off her clothes and folded them carefully, and then flopped onto her stomach on the bed. She felt humiliated by her nudity. She squeezed her legs together to avoid putting her most private parts on display, but she had a feeling that her modesty wouldn’t be preserved for long.

When Sharon quietly entered the room to stand at the foot of the bed, Gracie buried her face in the sheets and focused on breathing in and out.

“Have you had enough time to think about why you’re in this… position,” Sharon asked. Her presence was commanding but her tone wasn’t cruel. She sounded businesslike.

“Yes, ma’am,” Gracie said, “I was disrespectful to you on purpose because I was too chicken to tell you that I didn’t want to leave, which was immature of me and not acceptable.”

“Correct,” Sharon agreed. “All you had to do was have a simple conversation, and instead you insulted me and threw a fit like a child.”

“It won’t happen again,” Gracie promised, lifting her head just enough for her words to be audible.

“No, it won’t,” Sharon said, a hardened edge to her voice. “Are you going to stay very still or should I tie you up a bit?”

“Tie me?!” Gracie exclaimed, “No! No! I’ll stay in place.”

“Very well,” said Sharon skeptically, “We’ll find out.”

The room was silent. Her own breathing was all that Gracie could hear. She heard a soft rattle and the sound of clothing shifting. Was that… Gracie looked nervously over her shoulder. Her fears were confirmed: Sharon had a belt. It came off of Sharon’s belt loops with a barely audible swoosh. Gracie’s face crumpled in horror.

“NOOOO,” Gracie whined, starting to roll over and covering her bottom with her hand, “No, please, don’t hit me with that!”

“You don’t have a choice,” Sharon said with finality. Her face was resolute. Gracie squealed yet again, but she turned back over and waited obediently in position.

“You’re not getting a warm up with my hand,” Sharon explained, “I think you like that a bit too much, and this punishment is for your discipline. You need to learn your lesson. Stay in place or I’ll have to tie you down.” With that, Sharon lifted the end of the belt and brought it down rather softly on Gracie’s rear end. Gracie gave a reactive gasp, but was relieved that it hadn’t hurt as much as she’d feared. Was Sharon going easy on her?

“It’s just a warm up,” Sharon clarified, as if reading Gracie’s mind again. “When I think you’re ready, the punishment will start in earnest.” Gracie groaned internally. It wasn’t bad so far, but she knew it would get there. Surely enough, the soft swipes with the belt picked up in intensity. Her bottom went from slightly tingly to warm to burning in a matter of minutes. After about 15 soft strokes and 15 medium strokes, Sharon knew that it was time to pick up the intensity.

“It burns,” Gracie gasped, staying as still as possible but starting to breathe more heavily.

“You’ll get 15 proper strokes with the belt,” Sharon explained evenly, “Do not reach back or I will start over.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gracie replied, balling her hands up into fists and praying for it to go by quickly.

“I’m going to put a pillow under your hips so that I can aim better,” Sharon announced. She grabbed a pillow from the top of the bed and used her hands to lift Gracie’s hips. Sharon’s long hair tickled Gracie’s naked back as she leaned over her to position her. Her soft, warm hands on Gracie’s bare hips felt surprisingly erotic. Gracie gave a gasp of surprise.

“Did that hurt,” Sharon asked, a hint of concern in her voice.

“No, sorry,” Gracie said quickly, “I just… I’m fine.”

“Ok,” said Sharon softly, giving Gracie an affectionate pat on her lower back. Gracie’s bottom was still burning, but she couldn’t deny the arousal that shot through her at Sharon’s intimate touch.

“Fifteen strokes,” Sharon repeated firmly, snapping Gracie back into reality. “Count and say thank you after each.”

Gracie nodded her understanding and took a breath. The first stroke felt like fire across her already-sore rear.

“YEEOW!” she yelped, her legs jerking involuntarily. “Fifteen, thank you,” she gasped, “Oh my god that hurts.”

“Fourteen to go, stay in position,” said Sharon mercilessly. The next lash rained down in a different spot on Gracie’s rear but was equally painful.

“Fourteen, thank you,” Gracie hissed. Sharon hadn’t told Gracie to count backwards, but she didn’t argue. There was no need. On the spanking went, each stroke burning across Gracie’s upturned cheeks and lighting a painful fire on her rear.

“Eight, thank you,” Gracie shouted as Sharon continued methodically, giving her hardly any time to recover between strokes.

“Seven, thank you” Gracie shrieked, her breathing growing frantic.

By four, Gracie had started to cry.

“Four, it hurts so bad,” Gracie moaned pathetically. Sharon didn’t say anything about the missing “thank you.” She simply raised the belt and delivered two hard consecutive strokes.

“Three, two, thank youuuu,” Gracie cried.

“Good girl,” Sharon encouraged her, “Last one.”

“ONE,” Gracie shouted, squirming and thrashing but staying in place, “THANK YOU.” She breathed a sigh of relief and cried into the sheets. Sharon put the belt aside and gently rubbed Gracie’s back for a moment. Gracie could tell by her demeanor that they weren’t done.

“Stand up,” Sharon commanded, firmly but kindly. Gracie obeyed. Sharon stood Gracie directly in front of her and looked her in the eyes. Gracie immediately remembered that she was naked and collapsed her body language to try and cover up.

“Stop that,” Sharon ordered. Gracie’s cheeks were starting to become as red as her bottom, but she stayed still.

“Is it over?” Gracie asked.

“No,” Sharon explained, “You’re going to go stand in the corner for a few minutes, and then you’re going to come back over here and resume your position on the bed.” Gracie’s jaw dropped open.

“Your bottom is safe for now,” Sharon promised.

“Then what–” Gracie began to ask.

“Corner,” Sharon repeated, turning Gracie around and landing three sharp, painful smacks on her battered rear end. Desperate to get away, Gracie scampered off to the corner naked and stuck her nose into the crease in the wall. It was nice to have a break for her bum to cool off, no matter what came next. Sharon sat calmly on the bed, admiring Gracie’s figure from behind. Gracie vacillated between feeling embarrassed and feeling curious about what would come next.

“Come back,” Sharon commanded finally. Gracie shuffled back out of the corner and climbed onto the bed as Sharon stood up with the belt in her hand. Gracie didn’t know if she could handle more with the belt, but she knew better than to complain.

“I’m ready,” Gracie announced bravely.

“You don’t even know what I’m about to do,” Sharon smiled in amusement.

“The belt again,” Gracie replied, feeling a little confused about what else could be on the horizon.

“Yes, the belt,” Sharon agreed tentatively, “But first, what did you do when I told you it was time to clean up the kitchen?”

“I gave you attitude and said no?” Gracie asked slowly. They had already covered that. Where was this going?

“Mhm,” Sharon drawled, “And then what…”

“I don’t, oh, uhm, I walked away from you,” Gracie said.

“And you won’t be doing that again,” Sharon announced. “I don’t tolerate brats walking away in the middle of a conversation. The first think you need to learn about communication is that you don’t unilaterally decide when a conversation is over. To help you remember, I’m going to give you ten lashes on each foot with the belt. Don’t worry- I won’t swing it as hard as I did with your bottom. I don’t want to injure you. It will be a nice stingy reminder of why you don’t walk away from me. It will feel like a sunburn,” Sharon explained rather clinically.

“Er…” Gracie didn’t know how to react, but she didn’t argue.

“It’s hard to fight your reflexes, so I’m going to put my leg on yours,” Sharon explained. She draped her left leg across Gracie’s calves, her right leg still planted on the ground so that she could balance when swinging the belt. “No need to count this time.”

With that, Sharon grabbed Gracie’s right ankle firmly with her left hand and lifted the end of the belt with her right. She brought the end of the belt down in a short, snappy CRACK. It stung a bit, but wasn’t terribly painful. The pain built gradually as the strikes went on, but it was more of a firm reminder than all-out torture. When she finished with the right foot, she switched to the left.

“You ok?” Sharon asked when she finished.

“Yes, ma’am,” Gracie replied.

“Great,” Sharon said, “Stand up and get over my lap. We’re going to finish with a hand spanking. I don’t think you’ll like it given that you’re already red and sore, but it will really drive in the message.”

“This is diabolical,” Gracie groaned, but she stood up and draped her naked body over Sharon’s lap anyway. As much as she dreaded more swats, it was nice to be touching Sharon again. The belt allowed for more distance than Gracie liked.

Sharon’s hand spanking was firm, but not as hard as it would be if she hadn’t just taken the belt. Gracie was quite sore and it didn’t take long for her to cry, more from guilt than pain, but the pain was there.

“You will communicate next time,” Sharon announced as she aimed several swat’s at poor Gracie’s sit spots. “If you’re going to stay here, we are not going to have any childish bratting in lieu of adult conversation.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gracie said, “The message has been duly received.”

“Good,” said Sharon, returning to the backs of Gracie’s thighs for another round of swats. Gracie whimpered and shifted on Sharon’s lap as the fire in her rear built to a peak.

“Please,” she whimpered, “It hurts.”

“Ten more,” said Sharon gently. They weren’t even that hard. Gracie had been good, so Sharon didn’t want to go overboard. She wrapped up the final swats and transitioned fluidly into rubbing Gracie’s bottom, back, and thighs. Her long fingernails ran gently along Gracie’s burning skin, giving her goosebumps as her tears dried and her breathing regulated. As Sharon continued to rub, Gracie’s sense of arousal returned. She let out a barely audible moan and her legs involuntarily parted.

“Miss Sharon?” she gasped.

“Huh?” Sharon asked, “Miss… Sharon? You don’t have to call me that, sweetheart.”

“Ugg, ok, Sharon?” Gracie asked again.

“What is it baby?” Sharon asked patiently.

“I feel…”

“Yes… are you ok?” Sharon asked, pausing her hand on Gracie’s lower back.

“Aroused,” Gracie mumbled, embarrassed at her admission. There was a long silent pause. Sharon finally let out a nervous laugh.

“Oh,” she said uncertainly, “Well, then.”

“I’m sorry,” Gracie replied, closing her legs and trying to curl up into a humiliated ball, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.” Sharon kept her hand pressed firmly into Gracie’s lower back so that Gracie couldn’t get up.

“No, sweetheart, you’re fine,” Sharon cooed. “I just hadn’t really planned on, you know, being intimate with you that way. I don’t ever want to abuse my authority that way. Would you like some time to… calm down?”

“No,” Gracie admitted, “I would prefer to… not calm down if you know what I mean.”

“If that’s what you want,” Sharon said slowly and softly, letting her hand drift from Gracie’s bottom to her inner thigh. She continued to rub sensually as Gracie’s thighs spread open again, revealing her wetness and desire.

“I want it,” Gracie assured her, parting her legs further and arching her back, “Please.”

“Mm,” Sharon mumbled softly, letting her finger rise higher on Gracie’s thigh and toward her center.

“Please,” Gracie repeated.

“This isn’t a reward for being a brat,” Sharon whispered as she took Gracie suddenly and possessively with two of her fingers, “We’ll consider it a welcome home present.”

Gracie groaned in ecstasy. It was going to be a good night, after all.

“I like being home with you,” Gracie breathed. And with that, she and Sharon rolled onto Gracie’s small bed just as the sun fell below the horizon. Sometimes, bratting pays off in the end.

Xmas Exchange Story — A Red Christmas

I always dread Christmas, not because I’m a bona fide grinch, but because it involves having to spend time with six older sisters. I often wonder why my parents bothered to pop out a seventh baby when they already had six strong-willed girls. Maybe they were hoping I’d be a boy. Who knows. Although many of my sisters are now married, it’s a tradition to spend Christmas together at our parents’ large home in Eastern Connecticut, just us girls. People find it unusual that my sisters ditch their spouses and children on Christmas. I find it odd, too, and would love for them to be anywhere but home. Seeing as I’m in grad school and have nowhere else to go on Christmas, I’m stuck baking and cleaning with my mom either way. What fun!

Being the youngest sibling does come with a few perks, one of them being that no one grills me about my job prospects or romantic partners (or, ahem, lack of them). With six successful older siblings with kids of their own, the expectations of me are low. Don’t take this to mean that I’m a slouch. I’m certainly not. I’m an excellent student and a frequent volunteer at the hospital. I’ve run multiple marathons and have had a few steady relationships. It’s just nice not to have everyone poking around the details of my life all the time.

The downside is that my siblings have always considered me to be a little wayward; a little spoiled. They like to be, uhm, hands on with disciplining me. They all consider themselves my backup parents or something. Growing up, my prim and proper mother never so much as raised her voice. She wouldn’t dream of laying a hand on me. Her idea of punishment was no shopping for one weekend. My sisters stepped right in with their scolding and, yes, even spanking. Their firmness knows no bounds. I’m not necessarily afraid of them, but being around them as adults makes me feel humiliated. It doesn’t matter how old I get—they will always turn me over their knee if they think I deserve it. Spending time with one or even two of them can be a headache. Spending time with all six is bound to be a butt-ache, if you know what I mean.

On the 24th of December, I take the train from NYC to Connecticut and then take an Uber to my parents’ house. I always show up on Christmas Eve to minimize the amount of time that my sisters have to torture me. Less can be more with family. By the time I roll up, all of my siblings have already arrived. There is a gentle dusting of snow on the ground. I pull my faux-Burberry scarf tightly around my neck and take a deep, cleansing breath before I head inside with my yellow suitcase in tow.

“Ana!!!!” my favorite sister Joy chirps enthusiastically. She dashes to the front door and wraps me in a hug. I love Joy. Her name is appropriate. She is always happy. She is always beautiful. She has wavy blonde hair, big green eyes, and wide hips. Joy always treats me with warmth and kindness, but when you cross her, she’s frightening. Joy gives the best hugs, though. I hug her back and brush some of the rogue snowflakes out of my short brown hair. 

“Hey, did you have a good trip?” my sister Lauren asks, appearing in the foyer to meet me. Lauren is quiet and sweet. She is my second-favorite sibling. That doesn’t mean that she can’t take me to task, but she does it in a sad “I’m very disappointed” kind of what that cuts right to the core. I tell her that my trip was quick and painless and make to enter the house.

There are more hugs and greetings exchanged. My mom makes a show of kissing me and telling me I’m too thin. My dad gives me a shoulder clap.

Besides Joy and Lauren, who are married but don’t have kids of their own, there are my sisters Abigail and Charity. They’re twins with curly hair and wicked laughs. They can be extremely strict and delightfully sarcastic. They both love me, and I love them back, but they do not mess around. They both have kids, which explains why they take no shit. Then there’s Raya. She can either be calm and sweet or stern and intimidating. You never know what you’re going to get. She’s proudly single and very independent. Finally, there’s Gwen. She’s just a couple years older than me, but is often distant and seems wholly unimpressed with me. She’s my least favorite by a mile. It’s a full house. Full of angst, anyway.

After the greetings are done, I head to my childhood bedroom to drop off my things. My bed has a fluffy pink comforter and is against the wall the way it was when I was growing up. I have a rickety old dresser, and my own bathroom where I used to hide by taking a scorching shower when my siblings were irritating me. Kicking off my tall boots and unwinding my scarf, I drop my suitcase and head back into the kitchen where my sisters are chatting and sipping martinis.

“What are you having?” I ask.

“Cranberry orange martinis,” Joy responds with a smirk, “You want one?”

“Maybe she should eat first,” Charity suggest evenly.

“I’m not hungry,” I smile back passive aggressively, “But I’m very thirsty. I’d love one, Joy.”

“Why don’t you have a glass of water?” asks Abigail.

“Girls! Your sister is an adult,” my mom chastises them before I can say anything. I nod in approval and take the martini glass from Joy. I lied when I said I wasn’t hungry, though, so I take a piece of Swiss cheese from my mom’s holiday platter and munch on it while we all catch up.

“We should watch a movie this afternoon,” Joy suggests.

“Home Alone,” Gwen says immediately.

“I don’t want to watch that nasally little kid again,” I groan. “Can we watch an actual comedy?”

“Watching the same thing every year is called a tradition,” Raya snaps.

“You’re a nasally little kid,” Abigail chimes in.

“The only tradition around here is you all being annoying as hell,” I retort.

“Excuse me?” Abigail asks.

“GIRLS!” my mom exclaims. I relent and we watch Home Alone for what feels like the thousandth time. Blissfully, the rest of the afternoon passes without incident. I volunteer to help my mom make our big Christmas Eve dinner so that I can have some peace in the kitchen. I help her whip up deviled eggs, her famous wine-soaked brisket, green bean casserole, and twice baked potatoes. I even do the dishes while my mom and I talk about my grad school program. I’m not the spoiled brat that my sisters seem to think I am, I think to myself with an internal eye roll.

After dinner, we sip on my mom’s famous dark drinking chocolate and make conversation around the fireplace. It almost feels fun, like we’re all normal adult siblings enjoying a conflict-free holiday.  When everyone retires to bed, I pretend to head to my room and then loop back around to the living room. I make my way over to the tree and poke around a bit at the pile of gifts beneath it. I’m not snooping, exactly, but I want to see what I’m up against. I often make my siblings gifts because of the financial constraints imposed by grad school, or I buy them something lame like local honey from a Brooklyn farmer’s market. (Honey isn’t lame, it’s just a lame gift). I start looking at labels on the gifts and shaking them to assess who bought what for who.

“What are you doing?” a voice asks from the darkness behind me. I jump in surprise.

“What the hell! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“I asked what you were doing.” It was Abigail. Fuck. She’s not one to show mercy. “Shaking gifts like you’re a child?” she continued, “What is wrong with you? Mom works so hard to host a beautiful Christmas for all of us and you’re acting like an entitled brat.”

“It’s not like that,” I try to explain.

“Then what’s it like? Tell me,” she crosses her arms and fixes me with a stony stare.

“I… just… I wanted to see… ok, actually it’s sort of what it looks like, but I don’t care about my gifts, I just care about what everyone is getting in comparison to each other.”

Abigail’s face looks even angrier. Oops. That explanation sounded worse. I open my mouth to backtrack but it’s too late.

“Come here,” Abigail commands, beckoning me with a finger. I rise and shuffle over to her, holding my hands up lamely in an act of self-protection. Ignoring that, she grabs my upper arm and spins me around, landing several sharp smacks to my behind.

“Please don’t,” I whine, “Please stop treating me like a baby,” I beg.

“Are you acting like a baby?” she asks incredulously.

“Well…” I trail off. She sort of has a point.

“Go to bed,” Abigail commands.

“Yes… ma’am,” I say softly. At that, she relaxes her grip on my arm and kisses me on the side of the forehead.

“You don’t have to call me ma’am,” she says with an eye roll. She smiles, though, so I know she kind of liked it. I nod and head off for my room.

Idiot, I think, what a dumb idea to shake up the gifts.

I’m still not tired, so I turn on the small tv in my room and watch a movie that is actually good: Christmas With the Kranks. I rest my slipper-sock clad feet on my dresser and try to relax. I am granted five minutes of reprieve before I hear a knock on my door. I sigh and get up from my comfortable position to see who it is. Ugh. Gwen.

“What?” I ask.

“Is that any way to answer your door?” Gwen asks.

“The f*** do you want?” I ask in exasperation.

“I can’t sleep with you listening to that movie on full volume,” she says with a raised eyebrow, indicating her displeasure with my curse word. “Turn it down.”

“K,” I say, swinging the door shut in her face. She immediately pushes it back open.

“Do you need an attitude adjustment?” she growls threateningly.

“No, go to bed, please,” I say, my voice softer this time.

“Ok,” she says, her voice softer, too, “Good night.”

Gwen retreats down the hall and I go back to watching my movie. After another thirty or so minutes, I decide to go grab myself another drink to enjoy while I watch. It’s the holidays, after all. I head to the kitchen and take out my mom’s cocktail shaker, then I poke around the liquor cabinet to see what I can mix up.

“Are you making a drink?” The voice makes me jump… again.

“CHARITY! What is up with all of you sneaking up on me. GO AWAY.”

“I wanted a glass of water,” she explains defensively, “I don’t think you need to be drinking by yourself at 10:30 pm.”

“Sorry the rest of you go to bed at grandma hours,” I say. “Some of us aren’t ancient and have lives.”

Charity doesn’t take the bait. She simply walks over to me and stands directly in front of me, her face inches from mine.

“Want to try that again?” she asks menacingly.

“I’m going to bed,” I sigh, abandoning the cocktail shaker and trying to walk around her. She grabs my arm and stops me.

“If you need a spanking to remind you how to behave in this house, I’m happy to oblige.”

“I don’t need a spanking and none of you need a power trip,” I tell her. She gives me five sharp smacks to my rear end.

“Don’t test me,” she says evenly, “You won’t like the result. Go.”

Seething, I head for my room. I haven’t even been here twenty-four hours and I’m ready to blow a gasket. I think about slamming my door but stop myself at the last minute. Not worth the trouble.

In the morning, I wake up with a new strategy. It’s Christmas. I’m going to cling to my mother, or my father, in the hopes that my siblings won’t try to dominate me in front of them. They never do. They know better. Emerging from my room in a puffy vest, I make a beeline for the coffee pot. My granny sisters are already up. I look around for my mother as I grab a ceramic mug.

“Where’s mom?!” I ask.

“They want to church,” Joy replies, “We’re going to open gifts when they get home.” I seethe at not having been invited to church. I don’t like to go, but I do like to get away from my sisters, who typically don’t go. I don’t show my annoyance. I take my coffee cup calmly to the table and sit down to drink.

“Are you going to eat breakfast?” Abigail asks.

“Are you the calorie police these days?” I ask back.

“It’s not good to drink coffee on an empty stomach,” Lauren smiles, always one to be kind.

“I’ll eat breakfast in a few minutes, officer. Let me wake up.” I give Abigail a mock solute and she sets her jaw with a deadly stare.

“Someone’s brave,” Gwen chimes in.  

“Let me guess—is it me? Because six-on-one makes all of you useless cowards.”

There are some raised eyebrows, but luckily they don’t respond.

“I’m going to make another pot of coffee,” suggests Joy to break the tension.

“No, no, I’ve got it,” I said, suddenly getting a devious idea. “I’m sorry I was so rude.” I offer a fake smile and retreat to the kitchen. Giggling to myself, I brew a pot of coffee and add copious amounts of salt. I grab my mother’s serving tray and pile it up with cups. I fill my own mug with water to avoid arousing suspicion. I then return to the dining room, thinking that they’re lucky it wasn’t full of laxatives. The thought almost makes me burst out laughing again, but I contain myself.

“Here you go, princesses,” I say, setting down one mug in front of each person. “Let’s do a toast!” We don’t normally do coffee toasts, but it’s the only way I can get them to sip at the same time.

“Someone’s trying to make up for her bad behavior this morning,” Gwen jabs.

“Anyway,” I say, raising my own mug of water up, “To my lovely older sisters, who are always here to guide me. Merry Christmas.” With that, everyone raises their mugs and then takes a swig of coffee. As I watch their faces contort in horror, I can’t stop the laughter exploding from within.

Joy and Charity spit the coffee out immediately. Lauren gags and retches. I hope she doesn’t vomit on mom’s table. Everyone starts panicking, scrubbing their tongues and running to the kitchen for water. I roll off of my chair and laugh until I’m aching.

“ANA WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?” Abigail screams.

“I almost threw up,” says Lauren, looking almost angry.

Charity doesn’t say anything. She marches over to me and grabs me by the ear.

“OWWWW,” I protest, “Charity stoooop.”

“You pushed too far,” she tells me sternly, “I think you need that reminder we talked about last night. Good thing your mom isn’t home. We need a little sister time, if you know what I mean.” I try to get away from her, but her evil twin Abigail has jumped in to help. Between the two of them, they wrestle me down onto the couch and start pulling my leggings off. I kick and trash, but Joy jumps in and helps them, too.

“E tu, Brutus?” I ask.

“Funny girl,” says Joy, her usual friendly demeanor turned stern. I’m screwed.

After my pants are removed, Charity wrestles me onto her lap. Abigail grabs a fist full of my hair to pull me into place. Joy sits down next to Charity and holds my legs so that I can’t move. I’m completely immobilized. Wasting no time, Charity starts to spank me over my underwear. I try to wiggle, but I can’t get away. She is spanking hard and fast with no warm up.

“Please, it was a joke,” I try begging, “Please I’m too old for this.”

“But apparently not too old for stupid pranks,” Abigail hisses into my ear. “Hold still.” I suddenly feel a bit afraid. There are six of them and I’m all alone. This is not going to go well. Charity is still spanking my bottom, and starts adding in smacks to the tops of my thighs. My breathing quickens and I feel myself starting to sweat under my vest. Charity takes a pause, but not to give me any relief. She’s only paused so that she can pull off my underwear. I grunt in humiliation and feel myself start to cry. She doesn’t respond.

My bottom is on fire but Charity resumes her spanking vigorously on the bare. Abigail mercifully loosens her grip on my hair. She leaves her hand on the back of my head, but it’s almost gentle now, reassuring. I reach out and rest my left hand on Abigail’s knee. I’m distressed now and desperate for connection. She places one of her hands over mine. In this moment, I love this evil twin.

“Can you go get the hairbrush?” she asks Lauren. Her voice is soft, though, less angry than before.

I hear Lauren’s footsteps recede and then return. I tense in anticipating as Charity thanks her and takes the brush. There is no lecture. Charity simple pulls me closer and brings the brush down on my already-tender sit spots. I yowl in pain.

“Please, I get your point, please stop,” I beg.

“You’re getting 100 with the brush,” she says, still sounding annoyed with me. My face burns with embarrassment. Three of my sisters are holding me down and the other three are watching like it’s some sort of sick show. As the brush falls again and again, I forget my embarrassment and focus on the pain. I’m openly sobbing now, limp over Charity’s lap. When she finishes with the brush, the entire room is silent other than my ragged breathing and sobbing.

“You’re going to stand up and go to the corner,” Charity explains very calmly, her voice finally losing its edge. “Can you do that?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I sob back instantly.

“Good girl,” she says affectionately, helping me to stand up on wobbly legs. She takes my hands and looks at me. “We’re not quite done,” she says, wiping up my tears, “But it’s going to be okay.” I nod submissively and head over to the dreaded corner, opposite my mom’s large Christmas tree.

In the corner with my bottom on display, my breathing slows down. My rear is on fire, but I feel oddly calm. It feels almost like balance has been restored to our family unit. I feel childlike in a welcoming way now. The bitterness and tension has abated. I can hear my sisters talking quietly behind me, milling about, probably enjoying the view victoriously.

 I’m still crying a bit when Gwen and Joy come to collect me from the corner.

“You’re lucky that we’re not going to pour salt down your throat,” says Joy with a pointed look, “But you are going to get a mouth soaping.”

“I suggested hot sauce,” Gwen points out with a dirty look, “But luckily for you, mom has none in the kitchen.”

“I’m sure I can pick it up if we have any more problems,” Charity promises.

Joy gives my hand a squeeze and pulls me toward the nearest bathroom. She sits me down on the toilet seat and I wince when my sore bottom touches it. Gwen lathers up a bar of soap and then grabs my chin and commands me to open. I oblige. The bitterness of the soap is always a shock. I gag immediately as a rogue drop of soapy water slides down my throat. In fact, I can’t stop gagging. It’s awful. Gwen sets an iphone timer for 4 minutes. I try to breath. Tears start anew. I don’t move a muscle in the hopes that I can zone out and survive until the timer chimes.

“Spit but don’t rinse,” Joy commands when the timer goes off. I spit as hard as I can but I can’t get enough of the soap out of my mouth to make a difference. I keep gagging.

“Please,” I beg pathetically, “Please… water.” I start sobbing again. My cheeks are raw from all of the tears falling. Joy wraps me into a hug but doesn’t change her mind.

“After we chat, sweetie,” she promises. I nod into her chest to let her know that I accept. She leads me back out to the living room and sits me down on the couch. She sits on my left side, and Lauren takes the spot to my right. They both stroke my hair and rub my arms, whispering into my ear to calm me down. Charity crouches down in front of me and places her hand gently on my right knee.

“I know you didn’t like that,” she says softly. She offers me her first smile of the day. “Just breathe,” she instructs patiently. She takes a few deep breaths and I match my breathing to hers. She rubs my knees and waits until I’m calm.

“We don’t do this to torture you,” Abigail says as the three sisters closest to me try to calm me down. “Mom never gave you the slightest bit of discipline growing up. We know you’re an amazing woman. Smart, spunky, nice, hard working. It’s not about that. We think that you can use some structure and physical discipline in spite of how amazing you already are. We can see how much it centers you, even when you pretend to hate it.” I nod, agreeing with her in spite of how sore I am and the icky taste in my mouth.

“Do you agree?” asks Lauren softly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Yes—yes, ma’am,” I reply quietly.

“Good girl,” says Gwen.

“The salt thing is going to be funny in like three years,” Raya points out good-naturedly. “But we’re not going to let you subvert the power dynamic here. You need us to keep you in your place. And we love you, so we’re going to give you what you need.” I keep nodding, suddenly too tired to talk even though we just got up.

“You know we love you?” Charity asks.

“Of course,” I assure her, “I love you, too.”

“Let’s get you some water,” says Joy, guiding me to the kitchen and allowing me to rinse at last. I shudder in relief. Joy hands me my leggings and I pull them up. The fabric hurts my bottom a little bit, but I’m glad to have some semblance of modesty back.

“Mom should be home in twenty minutes,” Charity points out, glancing at the clock. “Why don’t you take a quick nap and then we can celebrate Christmas.” She opens her arms and lets me come in for a hug. I do so gladly.

Lauren comes to my room with me and snuggles me while I rest my eyes. I remember suddenly how much my sisters really do love me, much more than they want to dominate me.

I wake up when my parents are home and we huddle around the tree to open gifts. My sisters love my artisanal honey, after all. I love their gifts, too. It was a Merry Christmas after all.  

Brat Boot Camp pt. 4

**finally, so sorry, a new story is up! no spanking in this one but I think you’ll like it anyway. And if not, who cares. You get what you get ;)**

Gracie couldn’t believe that her week with Sharon was almost up. When she woke up on Friday at 7am sharp, she noticed that her ears felt a little funny and she had a nasty sinus headache. She gave a small cough and reached for the glass of water that Sharon left on her bedside table. Oh no, Gracie thought miserably, a cold or sinus infection.

With another pathetic cough, Gracie rolled out of bed and headed toward the shower, hoping that the hot water and steam would clear the proverbial fog. As good as the shower felt, it didn’t work. Undeterred, Gracie marched toward the kitchen to find Sharon’s tea kettle. Nothing that hot water, honey, and a dash of cayenne couldn’t fix! Sharon entered the kitchen just as Gracie was stirring up her hot concoction.

“Good morning,” Sharon said softly, “What are you up to?”

“Oh,” said Gracie shyly, “I woke up feeling a little stuffy. No big deal. This Chicago weather is no joke, huh?”

Without replying, Sharon walked over to Gracie and gingerly felt her forehead.

“No fever,” said Sharon kindly, “What’s wrong?”

“Easy there, doc,” Gracie joked, backing away with her mug in hand, “Like I said, just a little stuffy. I’m sure it’ll clear up once I’ve had some fluids.”

“Uh huh,” Sharon replied skeptically, wrinkling her nose at the thought of drinking cayenne pepper. “Is that what you drink at home when you’re sick?”

“Yeah, I guess you could call it a family recipe. You’re lucky I didn’t add the whisky.” Gracie ignored Sharon’s raised eyebrows and continued to talk. “We don’t really take sick days in our house. You just sort of chug hot water or tea, throw on a scarf, and go about your business.”

“You should take a sick day when you’re sick,” Sharon replied patiently. “So we’re going to skip the chores for today and you can just veg out on the couch for a little while. It’ll be nice to take a break anyway. Let me make you something for breakfast.”

“No, no!” Gracie replied immediately, “I can totally help cook. I’m fine, really. Like you said, no fever. Haven’t even lost my voice– see, TA DAAA I’M TALKING,” she rambled.

“You spent the entire week whining about doing chores and now you’re begging to scramble eggs while you’re standing here drinking cayenne pepper and looking like hell.” Sharon didn’t look quite annoyed, but she also didn’t seem totally amused.

“I just don’t want to waste one of my last days here,” Gracie explained as she started taking pots and pans out of Sharon’s cupboards. “I go home on Sunday,” she explained as if Sharon had forgotten the week’s schedule.

“This isn’t an argument. Go sit on the couch while I cook. I don’t want you to have to sit on a sore bottom.” Sharon’s narrowed eyes made Gracie retreat rather quickly. She supposed it would be nice to sit down. She’d only been vertical for 30 minutes and was already feeling sleep tug at her eyelids again. Maybe she really was coming down with something…

Gracie sipped her drink and watched the snow fall out of Sharon’s large picture window as her dominant partner scrambled eggs and poured orange juice. She thought about turning on the TV, but she felt too guilty to watch the news while Sharon cooked and cleaned. When Sharon joined her in the living room, she had prepared a tray full of eggs, bacon, toast, orange juice, and green tea; she had also brought Gracie an assortment of zinc tablets, Tylenol, and anti-histamines.

“Is this really necessary?” Gracie asked, poking at the 4 pills like they were actual poison.

“Take them,” Sharon commanded simply, knowing full well that Gracie didn’t have it in her to resist.

Gracie complied, taking the pills with the orange juice, and then attacking her breakfast like she’d never seen a piece of sourdough in her life. While Gracie worked on filling her belly, Sharon turned on Law & Order: SVU. The two women sat in silence watching the crime TV drama.

“I should run to the store for cough syrup,” Sharon announced after the first episode wrapped up.

“Not more medicine,” Gracie groaned, “I’m going to be in a drug-induced haze.” Sharon rolled her eyes.

“Oh please,” she snapped, “Zinc is a supplement, not a medication. You don’t have to keep taking Tylenol if you don’t have a headache, but trust me when I say that you don’t want your throat to get worse.”

“I can come to the pharmacy with you,” Gracie insisted while stifling a yawn, “I want to pick out a good flavor.”

“You’ll choke down the terrible artificial cherry like everyone else. You’re going to stay here and REST.” Sharon emphasized the point by putting a blanket over Gracie and turning down the volume on the TV in case Gracie decided to sleep. As much as Gracie wanted to argue, sleep didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

I’m just going to close my eyes until Sharon gets back from the store, Gracie told her self as she curled up into the comfortable knit blanket. And close her eyes, she did. By the time Gracie woke up, Sharon had already been to the store and back, made chicken soup from scratch for lunch, shoveled the snow, and organized her mail. Gracie scrambled for her phone to check the time– it was almost 1pm and she was just waking back up. WHAT THE HELL.

Gracie threw the blanket off and stomped into the kitchen where Sharon was slicing a loaf of bread that she had clearly baked herself.

“Ahem,” Gracie said to get Sharon’s attention, “You let me sleep half the day away for no reason. I was supposed to shovel the snow today, and it was my turn to make lunch.”

If Sharon was annoyed at Gracie’s little tantrum, she didn’t show it.

“I’m happy to pitch in when you’re sick, sweetheart. You needed the rest.” Sharon placed a bowl of soup in front of Gracie, along with two buttered slices of fresh white bread. Gracie stopped in her tracks when she smelled the soup. It was divine, just like her own mothers’ used to be. And she noticed that her throat was scratchy and irritated again, making her crave the warmth of the chicken broth in front of her. She slid onto a bar stool and dug in, vowing to pitch in with chores later.

But by the time Gracie had slurped the last of the soup, Sharon had already managed to clean up the kitchen and put in a load of laundry. Gracie’s limbs felt heavy and she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep up. Frustrated and tired, she placed her head on the counter in defeat and rubbed her temples. Sharon seemed to appear out of nowhere and began to rub her back.

“It’s ok, sweet girl,” Sharon said soothingly. “I can tell that you hate to slow down. You’re debating on whether you should throw a fit or just let go and let me take care of you. I assure you, the first path is one of pain and misery; the second is preferable by a mile. I think you’ve done really well at mastering the art of obedience and respect. That’s an important part of submission and a skill that will help you a lot back home. But softening enough to let someone else tend to you is the other side of the coin. It’s equally important. You don’t have to take a spanking before letting someone take care of you. You don’t have to earn it. Does this all make sense?”

Gracie felt her heart pound in her chest. Why was this so hard? She almost wanted to push Sharon’s buttons and earn a scolding or a spanking, only so that Sharon would hold her and take care of her all afternoon. But Sharon was offering to do the latter without the former. Why couldn’t Gracie take the bargain?!

“I don’t know,” mumbled Gracie, “I guess I’ve gotten used to being bossed around by you because I don’t have a choice, I guess, but I’m having a hard time voluntarily letting you take care of me.” Sharon took Gracie’s hand.

“I don’t want to have to spank you to get you to be vulnerable. I mean, I can, but I really don’t want to when you don’t feel well. I don’t want to have to overtly dominate you in order to be able to take care of you.” Sharon frowned and sighed.

“I get it,” Gracie replied quietly. “I think I’m still working on accepting that part of the dynamic. But… do you want to snuggle on the couch?” Sharon beamed.

“I would love to hold you!”

With that, Sharon and Gracie collapsed onto Sharon’s sectional and Grace wiggled into Sharon’s open arms. Sharon played with Gracie’s hair and rubbed her back. Gracie felt herself relax into the positive attention. She felt peaceful.

That night, Sharon ordered several containers of greasy, spicy Thai food for them both to enjoy. Gracie didn’t complain about Sharon paying for the food or cleaning up the cartons after they ate as much as they could. Gracie even let Sharon lead her by hand back to the shower where she insisted on Gracie taking a calming rinse with eucalyptus oil. Gracie simply followed Sharon’s instructions– even on the cough syrup– and enjoyed the feeling of being loved and looked after.

When Sharon finally kissed Gracie on the forehead and bid her goodnight, Gracie knew that Sharon was in charge, but that she didn’t need to make Sharon show it by baiting her into a punishment. It was the most painless lesson she’d learned so far.

Brat Boot Camp pt. 3

Things had been going much more smoothly between Sharon and Gracie. Gracie learned to be honest, to apply herself to her chores, and to avoid mouthing off at the slightest annoyance. Gracie still had a hard time admitting to herself that she needed– and enjoyed– Sharon’s firm guidance. And her temper was far from perfect, too.

On Wednesday, right in the middle of their week together, Gracie resurrected her old bratting ways and was taken to task before she could even process what had happened.

It all started when Sharon suggested a trip to the gym to go swimming and enjoy the sauna. Gracie had mentioned being a lifelong athlete, and that exercise helped quell some of her stress and irritability. Wanting to be accommodating, Sharon suggested that they ditch a few of their scheduled mundane tasks and enjoy a couple of hours at Sharon’s athletic club. The women packed swimsuits and water bottles and headed out of Sharon’s mansion of a house for the first time all week.

“Wow,” Gracie said as Sharon drove along the neighborhood streets, “I forgot what the sky looked like. We’ve been trapped inside forever.”

“It’s behavior boot camp, not a vacation,” Sharon retorted, “We’re not supposed to be dining at Mastro’s and shopping on Michigan Avenue.”

“Yeah yeah,” said Gracie dismissively, just happy that they were doing something fun for once. She was enjoying her time with Sharon immensely (probably more than she’d admit) but she was ready for some time in public to feel like a normal young adult again rather than a captive submissive.

Sharon and Gracie split up at the gym and agreed to meet back in the lobby at noon so that they could go out for lunch before returning home to tackle some curriculum. Sharon was supposed to be reviewing budgeting and saving with Gracie that afternoon, which Gracie was happy to avoid for as long as possible. Gracie started with a run on the treadmill, followed by a long swim in the lap pool, deep stretching, and relaxation time in the sauna. Gracie felt like a whole new woman. She was relaxed and ready to take on the day when she sauntered into the lobby at 12 on the dot, right on time to meet her dominant lady partner.

Gracie gave a smile and a wave when she saw Sharon, but Sharon’s eyes narrowed somewhat ominously. Gracie had showered and changed into dark jeans with giant holes all over them, converse sneakers, and a neon yellow crop top hoodie that said “CHICKS BEFORE DICKS” in large black lettering.

“I have no idea what to say about the outfit choice,” Sharon sighed impatiently, crossing her arms for emphasis, “But none of that is okay. First of all, you’re half naked. Your stomach is hanging out and half of the skin on your legs is exposed by those giant holes. And I’m not taking you to a restaurant in that sweater. You need to change.”

“I don’t have anything to change into,” Gracie whined, feeling herself start to get annoyed. Her outfit was fun and age appropriate. Plus, it was up to 38 degrees. Not even freezing! She practically lived in crop tops and torn denim.

“You don’t have a choice,” Sharon responded kindly but firmly, “This isn’t a negotiation. You’re changing.”

“Well I don’t have extra clothes and I’m fucking hungry,” Gracie spat. “You should have asked what I was packing if you were going to freak the fuck out about the word DICKS.”

“I will not tolerate that language. Your choices include getting a new outfit from the gym’s shop, or changing at home. You have like 3 seconds to make a choice before your choices disappear entirely today, little girl.”

Gracie bristled at being called little girl.

“I’m not hungry. I’ll starve.”

“Fine. We’ll do things the hard way this afternoon. Makes no difference to me.” With that, Sharon grabbed Gracie’s elbow right where it met her upper arm, digging her fingers into a pressure point that Gracie didn’t even know existed. Gracie yelped in pain and tried to wiggle away, but Sharon simply used her grip to steer Gracie toward the parking structure. Once they were mostly out of sight of the other gym goers, Sharon spun Gracie around and landed four loud, sharp warning smacks to hear rear end.

Gracie gasped in horror and looked around to see if anyone had seen.

“WE’RE IN PUBLIC,” Gracie whined, starting to lose her nerve.

“We won’t be if you march your butt to the car and sit in it silently while we drive home,” Sharon pointed out with a self-satisfied smirk.

Sulking, Gracie hopped into the car and settled into the passenger’s seat. As Sharon silently maneuvered the car out of the garage and back up onto the street, Gracie’s annoyance was replaced by guilt and remorse.

Faaaaack, Gracie thought miserably, I ruined our one outing for no reason. Now we can’t enjoy our lunch and we’ll probably never leave the house again. 

Sharon’s calm silence gave Gracie even more anxiety. She wondered how much trouble she was in for the outburst. Feeling smaller by the minute, Gracie leaned her head against the cool glass of the window beside her and twiddled her thumbs nervously in her lap.

“Are you okay?” Sharon asked lightly, glancing at Gracie’s sad, crumped figure at the red light.

Gracie merely shrugged in response, biting her lip and begging herself not to start crying before she even got the spanking that she knew was coming. Sharon gave Gracie space to think about the position that she was in, driving silently but placing a hand gently on Gracie’s knee to show her that she was still there for her. Gracie’s tense shoulders relaxed at Sharon’s gentle touch, even though her mind was still racing.

When the two pulled back into Sharon’s driveway and headed toward the front door, Gracie hung back a little and held out her hand with a pout. Sharon looked back at Gracie’s hand and felt her heart melt a little.

“Would you like to hold hands?” Sharon asked, even though the answer was obvious.

Gracie nodded. She wanted to be lead again. “Um.. I like when you’re in charge,” Gracie said softly, her facing flushing red hot with humiliation. “I want, uh…” Gracie’s eyes filled with tears and she didn’t finish the sentence, but Sharon knew what she wanted. She wanted to be put in her place so that she could feel like a good girl again and their dynamic could be restored. Sharon firmly grabbed Gracie’s hand and walked her into the house. Since Gracie was suddenly acting like a fish out of water, Sharon took care to give her extra guidance and instructions.

“Shoes off, meet me in my room. You can sit on my bed and wait for me,” Sharon instructed.

Gracie obeyed without a peep. Sharon came in a few minutes after and beckoned Gracie to stand up. Nervous but wanting to show her good behavior, Gracie quickly scuttled over to stand in front of the dominant woman. Very gently, Sharon grabbed the bottom of Gracie’s bright yellow garment and pulled it over her head. Grace let her hands fall awkwardly to her sides, but she stayed quiet and waited for what was next. Predictably, Sharon unbuttoned Gracie’s jeans and slid them down her leg, softly tapping Gracie’s calf to let her know that she needed to lift her foot and step out of the pants.

“Fold them and put them on the bed,” Sharon instructed gently. Gracie folded up her clothes as requested, her work a little sloppy given that she was nervous about Sharon’s watchful eye, and then she returned to standing quietly in front of Sharon, naked and vulnerable.

“Get your suitcase,” Sharon commanded, her voice firm, but still gentle as to not startle the stressed-out submissive. Sharon didn’t believe in using more force than the situation required. Gracie had been naughty, and she’d be punished for it, but she was already showing signs of remorsefulness.

When Gracie came back with her suitcase, Sharon pulled it open and placed it between them.

“We’re going to go through what you packed and I’m going to let you know whether something is appropriate for a young lady of your age to be wearing,” Sharon explained. “There’s not going to be an argument. If I don’t think it’s ok, I’ll set it aside to be donated. Got it?”

Gracie nodded. “Yes, ma’am,” she snuck in for good measure.

“Good girl,” Sharon replied with a genuine smile.

“Are little rips in jeans ok?” Gracie asked genuinely, separating out the extremely ripped pants and the pants with no holes. Sharon regarded the pair with small rips carefully and ultimately let them go back in the keep pile.

“The crop tops have to go, but can the exercise crops for yoga stay?” Gracie asked hopefully.


“Nothing else with profanity,” Gracie confirmed, “I promise.”


Item by item, they sorted out Gracie’s clothes until Sharon was satisfied. As Sharon packed up the donate pile, she overheard the loud rumbling that was starting in Gracie’s stomach.

“I need to feed you before you get punished,” Sharon confirmed with a sigh. She grabbed one of her own sweaters and a thicker pair of socks for Gracie. Instead of handing the garments to Gracie, she put the sweater over Gracie’s head for her, and then stripped off Gracie’s thin athletic socks and replaced them with her thicker wool selections. When Gracie was dressed to her liking, she gave both of Gracie’s fit an affectionate squeeze.

Holding out her hand, Sharon helped Gracie stand up and they headed to the kitchen.

“I’m sorry I ruined our lunch,” Gracie offered, her voice laced with sadness.

“I’m not letting you ruin a thing,” Sharon promised with a small smirk. “I’m going to make some sandwiches for us right now, and we’ll just have to go out for dinner instead. Not Mastro’s,” she winked, “But something good.”

After scarfing down a giant sandwich, a banana, and a glass of bubbly water, Gracie was taken to the living room where Sharon placed her down on the couch.

“I think we’ve had enough time to process your… outburst…,” Sharon reasoned, “So we’re going to skip the corner time. I don’t appreciate you arguing with me in public, and I really don’t appreciate the cussing at me. I know you’re not used to someone having this much control over what you do, but I know that you know the rules and that you broke them this afternoon.”

Gracie nodded silently and let Sharon take Gracie’s hands in her own. Taking a breath, Sharon continued.

“I’m going to put you over my knee and spank you. I’m going to use my hand, and then we’re going to wash your mouth out with soap. After that, you’re going to get six with the belt, ok?”

Gracie’s eyes filled with tears and she tightened her grip on Sharon’s fingers. The belt terrified her, but she didn’t want to argue again; that’s how this whole mess had started. Sharon rewarded Gracie’s cooperating with a small kiss on the forehead. Gracie was amazed that Sharon could remain kind and nurturing even while dishing out a spanking. Since there wasn’t much left to say, Sharon grabbed Gracie around the waist and settled her in the OTK position.

Since Gracie’s bottom was already bare, save for her massively unhelpful thong, Sharon rubbed it just for a moment to get Gracie to relax, and then the spanking began. Gracie tried to focus on breathing and staying still. She felt oddly serene over Sharon’s lap. She liked that it made her feel submissive. Small. Safe.

The warm fuzzy feeling in her gut started to fade as the reality of the warm stinging feeling spreading over her bottom settled in. Gracie gave a few little grunts as the spanking increased in intensity.

SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK. Sharon was pulverizing Gracie’s sit spots, going back and forth between the sensitive area over and over and over again. Gracie wiggled to try and subtly encourage Sharon to smack another spot, but Sharon just held her tighter and continued her relentless assault on Gracie’s tender sit bones.

SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK. “I want you to feel the soreness when you sit for the next couple days,” little girl, “I may not be using an implement, but your bottom is going to be a nice shade of purple by morning.”

Sharon gave Gracie’s sit spots a moment of reprieve by spreading her sharp smacks to the farthest reaches of Gracie’s bare bottom. 5 minutes ticked by painfully slowly. Her whole butt felt like it was under attack by a colony of vicious fire ants. Right when she thought she couldn’t take it any more, Sharon returned to the already bright red sit spots.

“NOOOOO,” Gracie howled, starting to kick her feet angrily. “Please, it hurts so bad, I’m so sorry, please no.”

Sharon didn’t respond. She just kept at Gracie’s sit spots until they were finally showing signs of turning purple. Gracie went limp and let herself cry openly. Satisfied, Sharon gave one last round of smacks to Gracie’s outer booty, and finished with five smacks on each of her upper thighs. Sharon let Gracie cry for a few minutes before pulling her up and giving her a bear hug.

“It’s ok, the worst part is all over, baby love,” Sharon cooed, playing with Gracie’s hair and rubbing her fingers affectionately along Gracie’s belly. Gracie calmed down fairly quickly in Sharon’s arms.

“I’m sorry about the gym,” Gracie hiccuped.

“I know, baby,” Sharon reassured her with a gentle smile. “Let’s get the rest of this punishment over with so that we can move on with our day.”

Gracie sat on the toilet bravely for Sharon while a new bar of soap was lathered up. Sharon set an iphone timer for two minutes and hooked her hand under Gracie’s jaw, forcing her to open up. Gracie squeezed her eyes shut and tried to breathe slowly through her nose as the terrible waxy texture and bitter taste filled her mouth. Sharon just let her bite down on the bar and hold it in rather than truly rubbing the bar across Gracie’s tongue like a real mouth soaping. This girl was making her soft, she thought miserably. When the ordeal was over, Sharon let Gracie rinse and took her to the bedroom for the third and final phase of the punishment.

Sharon helped Gracie lean over the bed, and she went to her closet to get the belt. Gracie desperately wanted to stand up and beg for mercy, but she kept repeating to herself that six licks of the belt would be over in a flash.

“Now please do you best to stay in place. I’ll have to add strokes if you don’t. Not because I want to torture you, but because safety is very important.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Gracie squeaked back.

With that, Sharon pulled her arm back and let the first strike go. It landed a little too softly. Gracie merely breathed out in surprise but didn’t seem hurt. The next stroke was harder. Gracie gasped. Three and four made Gracie yelp in misery as the belt hit her already bruised bottom. Five and six were equally hard but aimed at the barely reddened thighs. It hadn’t been the worst whipping, but Gracie had learned her lesson.

Sharon collected a sniffling Gracie in her arms again and the two of them snuggled and exchanged affection.

“That’s a good sweet princess,” Sharon praised, squeezing Gracie and rubbing her back and arms. “You did so well. It’s all forgiven. Let’s put today behind us and plan an amazing dinner.”

Gracie nuzzled her head into Sharon’s curly hair.

“I like it when you call me princess. And baby. And little girl,” Gracie admitted softly. “I usually hate pet names, but when you do it, it makes me smile.”

“I’m so glad,” Sharon responded genuinely. “I love making you feel good. I don’t love spanking you, actually, but it’s my job, and I love how you’re discovering your soft side.”

“Can we have Mexican for dinner?” Gracie asked, making Sharon laugh with the abrupt topic change.

“Yes, little princess,” Sharon gushed, tickling Gracie and showering her in little kisses, “Anything for you.”


Brat Boot Camp 2- Gracie Gets Spanked

Gracie woke up to a quiet house on Saturday around 8:00. Sharon had given her another two hours to sleep in, but it only took a few minutes for Gracie to become restless. At home, she would have taken out her phone or computer and been in bed for several more hours scrolling social media and watching Youtube clips. Without technology to distract her, she woke up a bit more peacefully and was ready to get out of bed and start the day.

Gracie hopped out of bed and suddenly blushed to herself. She was still completely naked. Unsure of whether she was meant to wear a towel or just walk around naked, she knocked on the inside of her own door to get Sharon’s attention. It took a few seconds before Sharon could process where the knocking was coming from.

“Are you ok in there?” Sharon asked curiously, wondering why Gracie didn’t just open the door and come out.

“Uh.. yeah.. I’m just.. like.. still naked though. So I was wondering if I was supposed to come out naked or put on a towel or something.”

In answer, Sharon opened the unlocked door to Gracie’s room and gave her an amused look. Gracie flinched and moved her hands toward her breasts as if to cover up, but abandoned the attempt halfway because it felt even sillier to try and hide.

“Are you a little embarrassed?” Sharon asked with a small smirk.

Gracie only nodded in response, her face contorted in a look of panic and shame. Sharon’s heart melted a little. Gracie looked so vulnerable and upset.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Sharon reassured Gracie softly. “But we have a lot to do today so why don’t you put on a bra and panties so that you’ll be a little more comfortable. If we have a good day, maybe you can earn some pajamas or another outfit.”

“Thank you,” Gracie squeaked thankfully. She thought guiltily about the tank top that she had taken last night, but she didn’t want to risk losing the bra and panties privilege. She decided to deal with the issue later.

After Gracie was more properly dressed, she and Sharon sad down for breakfast. Sharon had spend the morning making eggs, bacon, and biscuits. Gracie’s mouth watered as she dove in to the hearty fare.

“Thanks for making breakfast,” Gracie gushed with a mouth full of fluffy biscuit.

“No problem,” Sharon laughed in return. “Do you usually make yourself breakfast or does your sister do the cooking?”

“Actually,” replied Gracie thoughtfully, “My sister is always gone when I wake up. I typically eat pop tarts or cereal for breakfast. I make my own lunch and my sister and I usually cook separate dinners. We’re on different schedules and I guess we’re just used to doing our own thing.”

Sharon frowned. “So you live together but you never eat meals together?”

“Not really,” Gracie replied with an indifferent shrug while shoving a full piece of bacon into her mouth.

Sharon took a sip of her coffee thoughtfully. Maybe if Gracie and her sister spent some positive time together, their relationship wouldn’t consist of so much bickering. She made a mental note to address it later.

When Gracie finished eating, she cleaned up her dishes without being asked and even started to wipe up the counter and rinse of the baking sheet. Sharon made sure to praise Gracie for her thoughtfulness, and Gracie beamed in response.

After breakfast, Sharon and Gracie worked together on a number of chores. Gracie learned the art of vacuuming, dusting, tidying up. It actually wasn’t terribly hard, and it wasn’t boring because Gracie was allowed to play music on her phone and the two women passed the time by chatting.

“Do you think that you and your sister could work together on some of this stuff,” Sharon asked as the two headed to the kitchen for a second cup of coffee after most of the chores were done.

“Yeah, I think so,” Gracie offered with a small smile. “If I live there, I should help out. I should have learned how to vacuum a long time ago.”

“You are extremely intelligent,” Sharon said firmly, giving Gracie a warning look, “Your sister let you play stupid about not knowing how to do chores for too long. I’m going to email her tonight and let her know all of the fabulous housekeeping that you are capable of now. Clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gracie smiled, burying her face in her coffee cup. She never thought that she would enjoy the feeling of accomplishment that came with doing chores, but she had been in a good mood all day.

“Now,” Sharon explained, “We can take a little break. I’m going to catch up on some emails. After lunch we have a few more things to do.”

After Sharon retreated to her bedroom, Gracie used a few minutes to text some of her friends and let them know that she was alive and well. They all thought she was traveling in order to work on some interviews for a story. She wasn’t in the mood to peruse social media, though. Gracie felt bad about the tank top situation. Without giving herself time to think twice, she grabbed the t shirt from her room and marched into Sharon’s room, where her caretaker for the week was sitting at her desk focused on typing. Hearing Gracie’s footsteps, Sharon turned around expectantly.

“What’s up?” Sharon asked, swiveling her chair around to face Gracie.

Gracie held out the tank top without saying anything.

“What’s that?” Sharon asked, confused.

“I took it out of my bag last night without asking. I didn’t wear it. I felt too guilty. But I shouldn’t have taken it at all,” Gracie said, looking at the carpet in shame.

“Ok,” Sharon sighed slowly, processing the admission. “Thanks for telling me.”

Sharon paused to think about the situation. The offense wasn’t that bad. Gracie had actually been adjusting to her submissive position fairly well given the suddenness of the transition. But Sharon needed to set the tone, so it was important that she follow through with punishment.

“You know I have to punish you,” Sharon explained calmly, “But I’m proud of you for telling me and for not wearing the shirt to bed. Why don’t you go stand in that corner over there and spend a few minutes thinking about what compelled you to break the rules. You’re going to get a hand spanking. It’s going to hurt, but it’s not the end of the world. I expect you to be a good girl and stay still for me during the spanking. When it’s over, we can put this behind us and you can focus on earning your clothes back the right way.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gracie replied contritely. “So… I just go stand over there?” she clarified, looking a bit puzzled.

Sharon laughed. “Yes, you go stand with your nose facing the corner and try not to fidget. And think about why you’re there!”

Gracie had never stood in a corner, but it was sort of awkward. It was humiliating to press her face into the wall while Sharon kept typing at her computer. Gracie felt like a little kid. Gracie started to pick at the wall with her right hand.

“Stop fidgeting,” came Sharon’s sharp command. “Put your hands behind your back.”

Gracie complied with a silent internal groan. It felt like corner time lasted all day. It was really 5 minutes.

When corner time was over, Sharon told Gracie to come to the bed. Sharon was sitting on the end of the mattress, pointing to the spot on the floor between her legs. Gracie stood in front of Sharon and looked into her disappointed eyes.

“Ok, little one,” Sharon explained calmly, “Why do I have to spank you?”

“I lost the privilege of having my stuff by mouthing off, and then tried to break that rule by sneaking behind your back. That breaks trust and I should have followed the rules.”

“Precisely,” Sharon stated, taking Gracie’s hands gently in her own. “I care about you very much and will do everything possible to make sure that you feel safe and supported while you’re here. But I am 100% in charge and every time you disobey me, a swift consequence will follow. Clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Gracie was biting her lip nervously and her body language was screaming trepidation, but she was cooperating.

“Good, over my lap then,” Sharon stated as she helped Gracie settle over her knees.

Sharon settled her left arm on Gracie’s lower back and used her right hand to gently peel down Gracie’s panties. Gracie wiggled a little and whimpered in embarrassment, but to her credit she didn’t protest verbally. In reward, Sharon took a moment to rub the nervous girl’s bottom and upper thighs.

“Is this your first spanking?” Sharon asked before beginning.

“Mhmm,” Gracie squeaked miserably.

“Just stay still, sweetie,” Sharon cooed, “Spankings hurt, but you’re totally safe.”

With that, Sharon lifted her hand and brought it down sharply on Gracie’s upturned bottom. It stung, but not terribly. The first 10-20 smacks were more surprising than painful. Just when Gracie began to think that adult spankings weren’t so horrible, Sharon began to spank a little harder and a burning sensation spread in Gracie’s behind. A few smacks were one thing, but being repeatedly hit in the same area caused a fire to spread rapidly across her cheeks. Gracie was already starting to wiggle and it had barely been two minutes.

“Breaking a rule will never be worth the punishment that comes with it,” Sharon scolded, interrupting Gracie’s thoughts. “You will always end up being VERY sorry.”

“I’m sorry now,” Gracie wailed as Sharon continued to rain down hard smacks on each of her cheeks in turn. Sharon was alternating between the left and right cheek, hitting every spot from the uppermost corners of Gracie’s bottoms to the tippy tops of her thighs. Gracie took deep, gasping breaths and danced desperately across Sharon’s lap. Sharon simply held Gracie tighter and continued.

Left, right, left left left, right. Repeat. Gracie’s bottom had taken on a nice pink hue.

“It hurts so baaaaaaad,” Gracie gasped desperately, “Please no more. I get it. I won’t break a rule ever again.”

“I hope not,” said Sharon evenly. But her spanking continued until Gracie’s bottom had gone from light pink to a definite pink-red. Slowing down, Sharon took one more chance to deliver a lecture.

“Disobedience is not tolerated,” Sharon explained again. “I will punish you reliably every time. Our day didn’t have to include a spanking, but until you stop being stubborn and accept that my word goes, you’ll be finding yourself in this position.”

Sharon thought about making Gracie count the last 10 smacks, but the girl was crying hard and Sharon felt like it would be better to wrap up mercifully. Aiming at Gracie’s sit spots, Sharon smacked each cheek five consecutive times at full strength, causing Gracie to let out a heartbreaking wail. When she finished, Sharon immediately scooped Gracie up into a hug and started to shush her.

“It’s ok, it’s all over. Clean slate, baby. I forgive you,” Sharon rubbed Gracie’s back as she whispered to her, and peppered the top of her head with kisses. Gracie melted into Sharon’s affection, curling up in her lap and nuzzling her tear-stained face into Sharon’s shoulder. Gracie continued to mumble apologies while Sharon rubbed her back and assured her that it was all over.

When Gracie finally calmed down, Sharon helped Gracie stand up and took Gracie’s small, cold hand delicately in hers. Sharon’s hands were soft and gentle, so unlike the raging pain they had caused minutes before. Leading Gracie by hand to the bathroom, she helped Gracie wash her face with cool water.

“Let’s have you wear some sweatpants,” Sharon suggested kindly. “Some people get a little chilled after a spanking. It’s normal. I want you to be warm and have a little protection for your rear end. It will still hurt to sit, but it won’t bruise as much if we keep it nice and covered.”

Gracie nodded thankfully as she slipped on her comfy sweats. She had never felt so cared for even though her butt was throbbing. Tears still in her eyes, Gracie held out her arms to Sharon for another hug. Sharon happily obliged and gave Gracie a firm, affectionate squeeze.

“Let’s go make a can of soup for lunch,” Sharon suggested, stroking Gracie’s hair and brushing a rogue tear from her cheek. “You can have as much affection as you need, but I want you to eat something right now.”

Nodding again, Gracie slipped her hand into Sharon’s and let Sharon lead her to the kitchen. Gracie wasn’t sure why she was feeling so vulnerable and clingy, but she hovered right around Sharon as she heated up the soup and poured it into bowls. Sharon didn’t mind. She treated Gracie to plenty of gentle touch and kind smiles. They had a long 5-6 days left together, but Sharon already noticed how calm and sweet Gracie could be when she knew someone else was in charge.

Maybe Gracie would go back home a changed girl, after all. Changed, or sore, or both.

Brat Boot Camp

Gracie dragged her duffel bag lazily through the wisps of snow still gently layering the cracked sidewalk. She stared up in disdain at the beautiful gothic-style house in front of her. It was three stories tall with with dark windows and adorned with gas lamps. By all accounts, it was beautiful. Gracie, however, did not want to be here. She had been signed up for a programme against her will in which young girls and boys went to live with a strict same-gender caretaker for the week in order to (ostensibly) learn discipline and respect. Gracie used to watch the World’s Strictest Parents t.v. show and make fun of all of the loser teens on the show and the nerdy families who took them in. This was different. Brat Boot Camp was for older brats– those in college and even beyond. Anyone could nominate you for Brat Boot Camp, including a parent, a boss, a lover, a friend, or even yourself. Gracie was 27 and still living with her older sister, who had nominated her for the program given that Gracie still spent most of her time drinking and mouthing off when she wasn’t working on her journalism degree.

Gracie wrapped her thin cardigan more tightly around her shoulders. It wasn’t quite so cold in her hometown, and she had left in a torrent of curse words when her sister tried to force her to pack a warmer jacket. With a hesitant sigh, Gracie raised her fist and knocked. She listened intently for sound on the other side of the massive door. Eventually, she heard a calm voice announce “coming,” followed by the door opening with a soft swoosh. Standing in front of Gracie was a woman who looked to be about 40 years old. She was only slightly taller than Gracie, but had a wider build with curvy hips and ample breasts. She had long curly hair and deep green eyes. Gracie could’t be more opposite with her stick straight figure, long black hair, and dark almond-shaped eyes.

“You must be Gracie. I’m Sharon,” the woman announced, her tone polite and pleasant.

“Nice to meet you,” Gracie replied, letting her heavy duffel bag fall to the ground and kicking the snow off of her black army-style boots.

“Why don’t you come in and get settled, and then we can talk about the house rules,” Sharon suggested, sizing Gracie up silently as she slipped off her cardigan.

“Uhm. Ok. Guess you don’t waste any time,” Gracie said, suddenly annoyed and uneasy. “I haven’t fucking taken my shoes off but sure, let’s talk about everything I’m not allowed to do this week. Awesome.”

Sharon knew better than to take the bait. She raised her eyes and crossed her arms, casually leaning against the wall in front of Gracie.

“Well first of all,” said Sharon firmly, “You won’t be talking to me like that at all this week. It’s completely unacceptable. You’re a grown woman. I don’t actually care if you curse. But you aren’t going to curse at me, and you aren’t going to give me that sort of attitude again. You can apologize and then express yourself more maturely if you have a concern about what I’m telling you to do.”

Gracie couldn’t argue with the logic. She had sort of gone off for no reason. But, on the other hand, how goddamn annoying that this woman was already talking about rules before Gracie had taken more than one step into the house. Like she already thought Gracie was going to be a fuckup before she had even opened her mouth. Gracie’s stubborn side prevailed again.

“Sorry you’re annoying,” Gracie said dryly.

Sharon’s expression remained unchanged.

“Ok,” Sharon said casually, shrugging her shoulders and giving a slight smirk. “When you’re ready to come into the house, you can apologize. Until then, we can stand here all night. I ate a late lunch. I’ll be fine.” With that, Sharon settled into her comfortable position against the wall.

Gracie bit her lip, unsure of what her next move should be. She crossed her arms as well and simply stared back at Sharon in silence. It felt like they had been staring at each other for 10 minutes, but it had probably barely been one. It was already uncomfortable. Gracie rolled her eyes and tried to find something on the ceiling to stare at. She focused on breathing in and out slowly. Tick, tock, tick tock. Seconds felt like minutes. Time dragged on. Sharon didn’t budge.

“Pick up your duffel bag,” Sharon finally said softly.

Relieved that she had won the standoff, Gracie scooped her duffel bag up and looked at Sharon expectantly, waiting to be shown to her room for the week.

“Oh, you can keep standing there,” Sharon clarified. “I just don’t want your crap all over my floor. Your bag is wet from the snow. You’ll hold it until you apologize, and then we can go to your room and put it down.”

Gracie stared at her incredulously. This was not going to happen. Gracie put the bag on the floor defiantly.

“Oh no,” said Gracie, “I’m not standing here holding my fucking bag. It’s heavy!”

“Two choices,” Sharon stated, still calm as ever. “Hold your bag, or I’ll take it and lock it in my room and you won’t see your belongings for the rest of the week.”

“So I’ll walk around naked all week?” Gracie asked sarcastically.

“We’ll manage,” said Sharon, again refusing to take the brat bait.

Not knowing what else to do, Gracie shifted her bag into a more comfortable position on her shoulder and resumed her silent staring routine. She had spent all day walking around an airport. Her feet were tired and her shoulder was already aching from the strap of her bag. Setting her jaw in a firm line, Gracie vowed to persevere. This lady would have to give up eventually.  Several more minutes ticked by. Gracie was too embarrassed to shift the bag around– she didn’t want to show that she was struggling. But damn, her shoulder was really starting to ache. Another few minutes went by before Gracie felt herself slowly going crazy from the silence and the pain in her shoulder.

Gracie dramatically let the bag fall to the floor and then sat her body on top of it and buried her head in her hands.

“You’re crazy,” Gracie announced, looking up at a somewhat amused Sharon. “You’re literally insane. You can’t have my bag and I’m not fucking standing here holding it all day either.”

Without saying anything, Sharon crouched down next to Gracie. Carefully, she reached around and pinched the skin on Gracie’s side directly under her left ribcage. She didn’t pinch hard, but it was enough to make Gracie yelp in pain and fall backwards off the duffel bag. Sharon then yanked the duffel bag off the ground and retreated silently into the house.

“STOP, WHAT THE FUCK,” Gracie shouted, wondering if she should follow Sharon, but being suddenly unsure of whether she dared to push the boundaries further. It wasn’t going well. Sharon was gone for a few minutes. Gracie could hear footsteps going up the stairs and coming back.

“Now,” said Sharon with a tired sigh as she appeared back in the entryway of the house, “Are you ready to apologize and come sit down inside, or are we going to keep digging a deeper hole?”

“You took my bag,” Gracie stated with a slight pout.

“Like I said I would, yes” Sharon nodded. “You’ll get your things back when you show me that you can behave. Right now, I just want an apology for how you spoke to me almost 45 minutes ago. We can waste all evening with us just standing here for all I care, but I will get an apology.”

Gracie desperately wanted to break, but Sharon’s cockiness was grating on her. She thought she was going to dominate Gracie that easily. She thought wrong.

“Can we compromise and I apologize after dinner?” Gracie asked, hoping to gain any ground she could.

“Uhm… no,” said Sharon with the pretense of thoughtfulness. “You can apologize in the next two minutes or you can go stand on the porch in the cold until you change your mind. I’m counting.”

“You can’t make me stand outside,” Gracie whined, “I’ll get sick. I have no jacket!”

“Not if you apologize you won’t,” Sharon suggested. “You control how long you’ll be out there. Or you can apologize now and stay inside here.”

“Ok, ok,” Gracie relented finally, remembering how the bitter cold felt against her skin through the thin cardigan. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. It won’t happen again.”

Gracie still felt annoyed but hoped that her apology was genuine enough. In response, Sharon gave her a smile and stepped aside to let her in.

“It’s going to be a long week if everything is that difficult,” Sharon said simply, retreating into her spacious living room and settling on the couch.

Gracie didn’t reply. She just followed Sharon silently and settled into a recliner across from her.

“I’d like to know a little more about you,” Sharon said softly after a long, silent pause. “The email that I got didn’t say much. Where are you from. What’s going on?” Gracie crossed her arms and looked down at the soft cream-colored carpet. “Uh..,” she mumbled, “I live in Alexandria, Virginia. I live with my older sister, Charity. She’s a veteran and she works for the government doing drug enforcement. I’m going to school to be a journalist. I don’t go to campus that much though. I do fine in school, I guess, but I don’t do very well working within a hierarchy. I want to freelance so that I can be my own boss. But right now I don’t necessarily make money so that’s why I live in my sister’s condo. That’s pretty much it.”

“And why did your sister think you needed to fly halfway across the country and spend a week with me?”

“As you can see, I can be a little stubborn. I don’t do well with authority. I don’t disagree that I’m a bit of a brat. And I supposed I’m old enough to start taking responsibility,” Gracie offered, her voice barely audible on the last few words.

Sharon and Gracie spent time talking and getting to know one another. Gracie actually found Sharon to be pleasant and funny when she wasn’t making her stand in a doorway holding a heavy object. The house rules were simple enough: clean up after yourself, tell the truth, do what you’re told, respond with “yes, ma’am” or “no, ma’am,” don’t talk back, no electronics after midnight, no sleeping in past 10am, and no drugs or cigarettes. This was all doable for Gracie. She wasn’t a smoker, and she wasn’t one to sleep in too late anyway. Maybe the week wouldn’t be as terrible as she thought.

“There’s one more thing,” Sharon added slowly. Gracie’s enthusiastic nodding ceased on a dime.

“Ok… shoot,” Gracie said with suspicious narrowed eyes.

“If you break a rule or you are acting like a disrespectful brat, you’re going to be treated like one,” Sharon explained. “I’m not going to make you stand in the doorway again, but there will be a consequence and you won’t like it. Namely, you’re going to be spanked. You might also be sent to the corner, or made to write lines, or I might soap your mouth out for backtalk. I could take away privileges like your phone or even your right to pick your own clothes. We can have earlier bedtimes. The possibilities are endless, but I do believe in corporal punishment and you should basically know that if you act like a child, you’ll be treated like one.”

Gracie went pale. “Spanking?” she repeated simply, ignoring everything that had come after that dreaded word.

“Yes, spanking,” Sharon echoed calmly. “I’m not going to beat you, but a spanking is going to hurt. We’ll talk about what happened, and then you’ll bend over and I’ll spank your bare bottom with my hand, or possibly something like a hairbrush or belt if that’s necessary to get the point across.”

“Ohmygosh that’s so embarrassing,” Gracie whined with her mouth agape.

“I imagine so, yes.”

Gracie nodded feebly and chose to keep her other questions to herself. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.

After having some time to settle in, Gracie met Sharon in the dining room. Sharon had made a vegetarian lasagna and a salad for dinner. Gracie thanked her host for cooking and dug in happily, the two women talking about travel, journalism, pets, and everything in between. They were talking like two old friends and Gracie felt perfectly at ease. As dinner wrapped up, Sharon begin to gather up the plates.

“You are going to help with the dishes,” Sharon announced.

“Ok!” Gracie replied enthusiastically, hoping that she could build goodwill to protect her from the humiliation of a spanking if she slipped up later. “But I’ve never done them before so I don’t know how,” she announced with wide eyes.

Sharon dropped her chin and fixed Gracie with a serious stare.

“So you have never helped your sister clean up at home?” Sharon demanded.

“No,” Gracie mumbled, losing confidence in her newfound chore enthusiasm.

“Ok,” Sharon replied firmly, “We are going to have a lot to learn this week! I’ll help get you started and you can finish the rest. You just have to prewash them before putting them in the dishwasher. Tomorrow maybe we can work on laundry and dusting.”

“What fun Saturday,” Gracie moaned miserably.

With one sudden, sharp swat to Gracie’s behind, Sharon pointed toward the kitchen and Gracie ran off to do her job.

The rest of the evening proceeded normally. Gracie helped with cleanup, and then she and Sharon shared a glass of wine and a bowl of chocolate ice cream over a documentary. The two women did have a lot in common (their love for documentaries, the obsession with sweets at the end of the day, passion for protecting the environment, and they both loved going to hatha yoga). If Sharon wasn’t so bossy, Gracie thought, they could be best friends. It was nearly 11:30pm when Sharon finally turned the t.v. off.

“You have 30 minutes to get all of the texting and web surfing out of your system,” Sharon stated with a yawn, “Then you can either read in your room or get some sleep. But we’re getting up and doing chores tomorrow, so I don’t recommend being up all night. I’m going to my room to read, but bring me your phone by midnight, ok?”

“Why can’t my phone stay in my room overnight. I won’t use it,” Gracie pouted pathetically.

Sharon grabbed Gracie’s chin and looked her directly in the eyes.

“Little girl,” she said firmly, “When I tell you something, it’s an order, not an argument. I think you need to try a “yes, ma’am” and an apology for pouting.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry,” Gracie relented quickly, “But can I please have pajamas and my tooth brush out of my bag?”

“Hmm,” Sharon smiled playfully, “Well hygiene is important so you can definitely have your toothbrush. But it’s pretty warm in here, so I don’t think you need pajamas. Maybe you can earn your pajamas and a couple of outfits back tomorrow by behaving all day.”

“YOU CANNOT MAKE ME WALK AROUND NAKED,” Gracie shrieked. “Oh my gosh, please, at least just a sleep shirt,” she begged.

Sharon raised her eyebrows and said nothing. Gracie bit her lip and stared back in terror. This woman was a brick wall. She was getting nowhere with her.

“Grab your brush and get your phone to me by midnight,” Sharon instructed, patting Gracie’s knee affectionately.

Frowning, Gracie disappeared to Sharon’s bedroom and found her bag in the corner. She whipped out her toothbrush and toothpaste, and then silently listened to see where Sharon was. She could hear her washing the wine glasses and bowls in the kitchen. Slowly unzipping the main compartment of her bag, Gracie snuck out a clean t shirt and tucked it under the shirt she was wearing. She would put it on to sleep in and take it off before heading down to breakfast in the morning. Smiling at how easy it was to sneak one past Sharon, she brushed her teeth and took a long, hot shower. Wrapping herself in a towel, Gracie combed out her long, dark hair and applied some lotion to her face and arms. When it was 11:58, Gracie scooped up her cell phone and padded toward Sharon’s room. She was still wrapped in a towel.

Sharon was sitting on her bed, thin reading glasses balanced gently on her nose. She looked up at Gracie and gave her a small smile. Gracie handed over her cell phone with one hand, the other hand clutching the towel for dear life.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Sharon responded, setting Gracie’s phone on her nightstand. “Do you have everything you need? Is there anything that you want to discuss before bed?”

“No, everything is fine, ma’am” Gracie replied.

“Great. Well then I’ll see you in the morning. Since you don’t have an alarm, I’ll knock on your door at 10 sharp if you aren’t awake before then.”

“Ok, goodnight,” Gracie whispered, backing out of Sharon’s room and retreating down the hall.

She felt a weird emotion creeping up. Was it… guilt? For breaking a rule? Or, perhaps, fear of a consequence? Gracie hated rules and she didn’t know the first thing about guilt or consequences. What was happening? In the safety of her room, Gracie fondled the stolen shirt in her hands. With a shrug, she let the shirt fall to the floor and climbed under the covers stark naked. Before she could even think about what had gotten into her, she was fast asleep…

End of Chapter 1.

More Holidays, More Problems

If one thing was true about Ellie (other than her being a brat), it’s that she LOVED holidays. This December, Ellie got double the holidays since Ellie’s family celebrated Christmas and Candice celebrated Hanukkah. Ellie had moved into Candice’s home before fall classes resumed, and their shared living space was now decorated with a gorgeous Menorah and a twinkling Christmas tree. The couple would spend Hanukkah hunkered down in Chicago, eating sweets and latkes and cuddling in the light of the Menorah. They were then planning a trip to the UK to celebrate Christmas with Ellie’s family for about 5 days, a trip that was making Ellie increasingly agitated. She spent a lot of time stressing over whether her parents would like Candice or– more importantly– whether Candice would like her family. Since Ellie was done with classes for the semester, she had too much time to sit around and worry. Worry, decorate, worry, shop, bake, shop, worry, shop… Ok, so the worrying and shopping were pretty equally divided.

Ellie was glad that Candice was on-call at the hospital on this particular cold, wintery Saturday, because the number of packages piling up at the door was getting a little concerning. Ellie hadn’t quite realized how much online shopping she had been doing lately until UPS, Fedex, USPS, and any other delivery service you can imagine started showing up periodically with piles of boxes. With a sheepish smile, Ellie would sign for the packages and then run around trying to hide the evidence. Ellie wanted her family to accept Candice, so she might have gone overboard on gifts for them. A new guitar for her younger brother, a $400 espresso machine for her sister, box seats at the theatre for her parents, expensive sweaters for the grandparents and gourmet dessert baskets for the aunts and uncles; piles of stuffed animals and dolls for the kiddos. She had done the same for Candice’s family for Hanukkah. She had dropped nearly $2,000 on gift cards, cookie baskets, jewelry, and even a toddler Tesla for one of Candice’s nephews. She hadn’t even thought about what to buy Candice yet, but certainly her student loans wouldn’t be paying off many more holiday gifts.

Technically, Candice and Ellie had an agreed-upon budget. Ellie lived on student loans and wasn’t good at keeping track of her finances. Candice didn’t mind footing the bill on most of their expenses, but she did like to see Ellie be responsible and conscientious about how much was coming in and going out. Ellie hadn’t asked if the budget applied to the holidays, but it was better to ask forgiveness than permission, right?

After tucking away the rest of the packages, Ellie heated up some eggnog on the stove and laid down on the couch to watch the Grinch movie. She enjoyed a relaxing day in her pajamas, thinking about how excited everyone would be to open their gifts. Around 7pm, Ellie heard the door rattle. Her dominant girlfriend was back from her shift at the hospital. Sitting up with a grin, Ellie ran over to greet Candice with a hug and a kiss. There was a light dusting of snow over Candice’s gorgeous curly hair and her puffy winter jacket.

“Hi, baby girl,” Candice cooed warmly as she stepped inside and whipped off her hat and gloves, “How was your day?”

“Fine,” Ellie chirped, “I can’t believe I get a whole month off. I cleaned the house for us and I got groceries, too.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” Candice smiled, “Did you grab today’s mail? Let me check the box before I take my shoes off and then we can make some dinner together.”

Ellie felt herself get a little pale. Were there any small packages in the mailbox that she had missed? Maybe some jewelry or a small electronic? She couldn’t even remember what she had ordered. Luckily, when Candice plopped the mail on their dining room table, it was just a bunch of boring envelopes. Ellie breathed a silent sigh of relief and offered to start chopping vegetables to make a stir fry. The two women shared a bottle of red wine while they cooked dinner and enjoyed a romantic winter evening chatting and laughing at the dining room table.

“I’ve been in the hospital all day,” Candice announced eventually, “I need to shower.”

“Ok,” Ellie replied cheerfully, “I’ll do the dishes and then shower after you.”

Candice stood up to take her plate to the sink, stopping to kiss Ellie all over the side and top of her head. “I love this domestic version of you,” Candice joked affectionately, “Maybe you can skip school next semester.”

“Ha..ha.. yeah,” Ellie laughed nervously, thinking about how all she did was spend money when she was bored at home, “Domestic Ellie is so… good.”


After Ellie’s shower, she wrapped herself up in her new Kate Spade robe (a little holiday gift to herself), and combed her long brown hair out. She slipped on a new pair of slipper socks (nothing like new socks!) and headed back to join Candice in the living room. Ellie expected to find her girlfriend on the couch, but instead Candice was sitting at the dining room table with her glasses on, eyes narrowed over the mail in front of her. Candice’s brow was furrowed and she looked unhappy. Ellie’s heart nearly stopped.

“Babe..?” Ellie ventured tentatively.

“Come here,” Candice said softly but dangerously.

Ellie slowly drifted over to her girlfriend’s side, wondering what was up. Suddenly, she looked down at the table and saw the American Express bill in Candice’s hands. F***ck. Ellie had opted for online billing so that Candice wouldn’t have to see this month’s damage. Apparently she’d made her selection too late. With a dire expression on her face, Candice slid the bill toward Ellie.

“I’m going to have you explain this to me,” she said flatly.

“Ah, oh, uhm,” Ellie stuttered uselessly, her mind racing and heart pounding. Candice shifted her body so that she was facing Ellie straight-on. Her hands were folded calmly in her lap and she peered up at Ellie through her glasses. She looked so serene, but Ellie could see a storm brewing behind her bright green eyes. Candice could outstare anyone. She continued to stare at Ellie without moving an inch. The effect was sexy and also terrifying.  Sucking in a breath, Ellie tried again.

“You see,” she squeaked, “I was taking care of some holiday stuff for our families and I was going to talk to you about it but you’ve been busy and, you know, it’s the holidays and I wanted our families to have nice stuff…” Ellie’s voice got quieter with every word, and tears began to form in the back of her eyes. She knew there was no excuse. Candice looked furious.

“I’ve been too busy for you to ask me about spending $5,000?” Candice demanded, her mouth set in a thin line.

“Well, I guess not. I don’t know,” Ellie mumbled lamely, looking at the carpet and wringing her hands nervously.

“What is your budget?” Candice demanded.

“I need permission for purchases over $200, and I can’t spend more than $500 in one month without checking with you,” Ellie recited quickly.

“Is that confusing or unfair?” Candice asked, her tone a devastating combination of hurt and angry.

“No, ma’am,” Ellie whispered, hunching over in an effort to disappear.

“I want to go over this bill with you,” Candice explained, “But first I want to hear an apology, and then you’re going to stand in the corner.”

“I’m so sorry, Candice,” Ellie began, still staring at her own feet.

“Look at me,” Candice demanded, her voice soft but firm.

Taking a deep breath, Ellie looked up into her disappointed girlfriend’s eyes and explained how terribly sorry she was. “It was terrible judgment; it just got out of hand so quickly,” Ellie explained miserably. Nodding curtly, Candice pointed to the corner in the back right corner of their living room. Not daring to argue, Ellie slipped off and stood with her nose pressed against the wall and her hands clasped tightly behind her back. She didn’t move an inch to show Candice that she was taking the punishment seriously.

While Ellie waited in the corner, Candice went to the kitchen to get herself a glass of water. That little girl had really done it this time. The way that she had blown the budget showed a serious lack of respect, and her failure to communicate was a huge violation of trust. Ellie had never gone over the budget before. She was normally very mindful and complaint, asking Candice even about little purchases like lattes or fitness classes. She wondered what had gotten into the little brat this season. Candice let Ellie reflect in the corner for 10 full minutes before sitting down on the couch and calling her over.

“Come see me when you’re ready,” Candice called out, giving Ellie the option to stay in the corner and calm down for a couple extra minutes if she needed. Ellie chose to take a few deep breaths and then shuffle over the stand in front of Candice. Candice took Ellie’s hands so that she wouldn’t be able to fidget.

“Ell,” Candice said softly, “I’m going to punish you, but after that we need to figure out what we’re going to do about this situation. After your spanking, we’re going to sit down and go over every item on the credit card statement. Moving forward, I’m going to swap your credit card for a debit card for the next few months. That way I can see everything you purchase on a day to day basis until you can earn my trust back. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” agreed Ellie simply, her bottom lip quivering already.

“Good,” said Candice warmly, “Come here.” She pulled Ellie over her lap and pushed her silky robe up past her hips. Wrapping her left arm around Ellie’s waist, Candice lifted her right hand and wasted no time getting into the spanking. There was seemingly going to be little warm up, as Candice started hard and only smacked harder as she went on. Candice spanked Ellie’s upturned bottom from the uppermost corners of her cheeks to her sit spots to her sensitive thighs. It only took a few minutes for Ellie to start squirming and whimpering. Candice continued to hit in an unpredictable pattern, and the warmth in Ellie’s rear grew into a full-on fire.

“You’re hitting so hard,” Ellie gasped, her breath growing heavy already.

Without replying, Candice lifted her right leg and used it to pin down both of Ellie’s legs so that she was completely immobilized. Candice started to pick up the pace, raining down hard smacks in rapid succession. Occasionally, she would hit each sit spot 5 times in a row while Ellie wiggled and cried in pain.

“You will NEVER blow the budget that egregiously without telling me again. If you do, you’ll lose every card that you have and be paying for things with a weekly cash allowance,” Candice explained harshly, “Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am!!” Ellie exclaimed hissing while Candice hit her harder still.

Candice slowed her hand slightly and gave Ellie a chance to breathe. She rested her stinging hand on Ellie’s hot bottom, assessing the temperature and color of the skin. Ellie’s bottom was quickly turning red, but it wasn’t looking terrible yet.

“Shh shh,” Candice offered softly, picking up the wooden spoon that she had swiped from the kitchen while Ellie was in the corner. Ellie tried to turn around to see what was coming, but Candice softly placed her hand on the back of Ellie’s head, instructing her to stay in place. Ellie knew the wooden spoon as soon as she felt its sharp sting.

“Arghhh,” she shouted miserably, feeling thankful that she couldn’t thrash with Candice holding down her legs so firmly. The spoon hit Ellie’s already sore bottom, managing to make it feel like 10,000 tiny bee stings at once. Desperately, she reached her right hand back and wiggled her fingers to get Candice’s attention.

“Will you hold my hand?” Ellie whined pathetically.

Candice grasped Ellie’s hand and gently pinned it to her back, her warm fingers wrapping around Ellie’s. She let Ellie squeeze her left hand as her right hand continued to bring the spoon down over and over. Ellie’s red bottom was now covered in angry red and white splotches. Candice slowed down and started hitting Ellie’s thighs and sit spots in with slow, deliberate strokes.

“You should get 4,500 of these for how over budget you went,” Candice explained cooly, “So rest assured that if we have to have this conversation again, you won’t be sitting for a month.” Ellie whimpered her understanding. After about 10 more smacks, Candice took a break and rubbed Ellie’s sizzling backside. Ellie wondered whether the punishment was over. As if reading her mind, Candice let go of Ellie’s legs and arm so that she could help her stand.

“We’re almost done,” Candice explained softly, wiping a few tears off of Ellie’s red face. Candice felt a little sorry for the girl, but knew that she had to drive the point home. Realizing there was more, Ellie let herself sob freely again.

“I know baby, I know,” Candice soothed, holding and rubbing Ellie’s hands while she tried to calm down. “Meet me in our bedroom, ok? I’ll be up in a few minutes. I want you to stand in the corner and think a little more about why I’m having to spank you.”

“Ok,” Ellie groaned miserably, still crying and taking jagged breaths. “I’m really sorry though,” she added.

“Yeah, I know,” Candice offered gently, “You’re going to be ok. Do you want to pick out a stuffie for corner time?” Candice asked.

Ellie’s crying slowed. Ellie, despite being 27, adored her stuffed animal collection and often hugged them for comfort when she was angry or sad or scared. It was a sensory thing. She loved playing with their fur and feeling the soft cotton against her chest. If she was taking her punishment well, Candice often relented and allowed her to hold one of her comfort objects. Feeling thankful, Ellie nodded back at her girlfriend, looking very childlike and adorable with her pouty face and sniffle.

“Ok, get going,” Candice responded, giving Ellie a tap on her warm bottom as she scuttled up the stairs.


Candice found Ellie in the front left corner of their bedroom clutching her stuffed chicken and sniffling slightly. Ellie had abandoned her robe and was standing there wearing only fuzzy socks and a bright red behind. Observing her figure from the back, Candice felt herself getting aroused and a bit distracted. Trying to stay focused, she called Ellie from the corner and instructed her to bend over the bed.

The bed was a little tall, so Candice had Ellie lay on the bed and propped her hips up with two pillows. She let Ellie continue clutching her stuffie as she went over to the closet and pulled down a smooth brown belt. Ellie heard the belt without looking up and started begging.

“I’m in so much pain, Candice,” she wailed, “Please don’t do the belt, I can’t do it, I won’t spend any money ever again but NOOOOOO BELT.”

“Honey,” Candice said calmly, “You’re only getting 12 strokes with the belt. Just as a reminder that trust and respect are the foundation of our partnership, and the spending this month was out of control, even if your heart was in the right place. After every stroke, I want you to tell me that you won’t break our spending rules.”

Ellie nodded her understanding and squeezed her eyes shut as Candice raised the belt. The first stroke came down right across the middle of her already-sore cheeks.

“AHHHHHHH, ow, uhn… I will not break our spending rules,” Ellie practically screamed. The second stroke followed and Ellie repeated her phrase. When the third stroke landed across her lower bottom, Ellie hopped off of the pillows and shouted out.

“You have 5 seconds to get back in place before we start over,” Candice said evenly, “Five… four…”

Ellie needed no further prompting. She flung herself back onto the pillows and repeated, “I will not break our spending rules.”

Four and five came along, with Ellie gasping in pain but staying in place. After the sixth stroke, Candice gave Ellie a break by giving another small lecture. “The holidays are about family, not buying peoples’ love. I’d love to hear why you found it necessary to go so overboard. Maybe we can write everyone a really nice card instead of spending a fortune on them. My family is going to love you whether you buy them a bunch of junk or not, and I don’t intend to bribe your family into liking me. They will or they won’t. The only thing that matters is how much I love and care about you, Ell. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I know,” Ellie said, feeling defeated, “I got it in my head that everyone would accept us and support us if we gave them nice gifts, but that’s dumb. They should support us regardless and gifts should be something special, not just a waste of money.”

“Good girl,” Candice agreed, “I’m going to finish up.”

The last six strokes came one after the other, and Ellie repeated her phrase one final time. With that, Candice dropped the belt and collapsed next to her submissive lover on the bed. She pulled Ellie into her arms and stroked and soothed her, kissing her head and whispering about what a sweet girl she was and how much she was loved. Ellie buried her tear-streaked face in Candice’s shoulder and allowed herself to be held.

“I forgive you, baby girl, it’s all going to be ok, let me take care of you,” Candice cooed.

As much as Candice wanted to make love to her gorgeous partner, she saw that Ellie was looking sleepy. The lovemaking would have to wait, as would their discussion about Ellie’s bill. Candice lovingly helped Ellie put on a nightgown and brush her teeth. Tucking her in, Candice cuddled Ellie up and played with her hair until Ellie fell sound asleep.

Now, Candice thought, let’s see where the brat hid all of those gifts. I deserve that cookie basket…

What Attitude Will Get You

Ellie woke up to the pitter patter of raindrops and squeezed her eyes shut hard. A dreary fall Sunday was meant for sleeping in. Ellie pulled the fluffy white down comforter over her head and curled up into a satisfied ball. Before she could drift back off to sleep, she heard the sound of her girlfriend’s footsteps on the stairs. Ellie held her breath- maybe she’ll think I’m asleep, Ellie thought, though she didn’t have much hope.

Candice had been Ellie’s official girlfriend for just over a month. They had met in Candice’s exam room. Ellie found the stern doctor to be smart, beautiful, and strong; she loved the way that Candice had a soft spot for her, and the way that Candice made her feel safe by holding her accountable. Candice had no doubt that Ellie was a spoilt brat at times, but she loved the way that Ellie truly cares about people, her high energy level, and the puppy dog eyes that she looked up at Candice with when she knew she was in trouble. The two were a perfect match.

“You need to get out of bed, it’s 10:00,” Candice ordered, her voice laced with exasperation.

“It’s 8:00 on the West Coast,” Ellie’s muffled voice argued from beneath the covers.

Losing patience, Candice took a fistful of comforter in her hand and ripped it off of Ellie’s thin frame.

“Up. Now. Or you can roll over and we can start the day with a spanking instead.” Candice looked like she meant business. Starting to feel nervous, Ellie scampered out of bed and headed to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

“Yeesh, ok!” she pouted, shooting Candice a dirty look.

After brushing her teeth and hair, Ellie stomped down the stairs dramatically and sat down at the breakfast table.

“Can I have coffee,” she groaned, adding a hasty “Please!” when she saw Candice’s narrowed eyes.

“What woke you up on the wrong side of the bed?” Candice asked, feeling both confused and increasingly annoyed, “You were fine when we went to bed.”

“I don’t know,” Ellie admitted with another pout, pulling her coffee cup oved and taking a large gulp of the scalding liquid. “Bad dreams, maybe?”

“You’re being a brat because you had bad dreams?” Candice asked incredulously.

Ellie sighed again. Truthfully, she didn’t know. She woke up and realized that Candice had slipped out of bed. She wanted to snuggle and didn’t like waking up alone, as small as it seemed. The tiny, tiny annoyance ruined her entire mood. She just felt off, and she knew she was pushing her luck with the brattitude.

“Would you like to help me rake the leaves? It’s pretty nice out,” Candice suggested.

“Not my leaves, not my problem,” Ellie mumbled into her coffee cup.

“Excuse me?” Candice asked menacingly, “Would you like to repeat that?”

“I DONT LIVE HERE” Ellie spat emphatically, “I don’t want to do your chores.”

“Mind telling me what’s wrong?” Candice pressed, trying to remain patient.

“I- ugh- I don’t know,” Ellie admitted, burying her head in her hands, “I’m all moody for no reason. I, er, I think… I think I need, or, you know, I’d like for you to.. uh.. spank me.” Ellie felt her face turn crimson at the admission. Who had she become, asking for spankings??

Candice was silent at first. Ellie hadn’t been spanked for a few weeks. She was being a sweetheart to Candice and was doing great in school, and she even got into yoga and meditation. Candice hadn’t needed to spank her for anything.

“Sweetie, you normally want to avoid spankings,” Candice explained softly, “But I’m happy to provide one if that’s what you think you need.”

“Sometimes my mood gets off,” Ellie explained, looking down at her hands in shame, “And it centers me when I can know that you’re in control.”

“That I am, baby girl,” Candice smiled warmly, “Come over here and get those pajamas off.”

With that, Candice scooped Ellie up and carried her to the living room. Sitting on the couch, Candice gave Ellie a chance to take her pajama bottoms off and fold them. When Ellie was ready, she reached out for Candice’s hand, which Candice took gently in order to lower Ellie over her knees.

Taking a breath, Candice rubbed Ellie’s bottom and upper thighs.

“Have you been getting enough attention from me?” Candice asked Ellie.

“Oh yes, plenty,” Ellie confimed.

“So you just craved some reassurance that I care about you and won’t let you spiral?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ellie confirmed again.

Since there was nothing further to discuss, Candice began bringing her hand down on Ellie’s bottom in sharp smacks, one after the other. She covered both sit spots, and made sure to deliver the occassional strike to the thighs. A nice heat was building, and Ellie’s cheeks were turning pink. Candice applied a bit more strength so that Ellie was hissing and wiggling with every smack. Candice’s hand quickly grew warm and sore.

“Ellie, get up and go get the hairbrush from the bathroom counter please,” Candice instructed calmly.

“Wait, what?!” Ellie exclaimed, “No, please, I don’t want it to hurt so badly,” she squeaked, her panic rising.

“Sweet girl,” Candice warned in a low voice, “You don’t have choices when I start spanking you. Your choice is to obey. You wanted this spanking, but you aren’t in charge of it.”

Frustrated, Ellie began to cry, but she went upstairs and got the hairbrush. She brought it back to Candice and handed it over with her right hand while she used her left hand to wipe tears away from her eyes through her sobs.

“Ellie,” Candice said calmly, “You are perfectly fine, ok?”

“Ok,” Ellie nodded, still shuddering and crying.

“My, we are emotional,” Candice whispered sympathetically. “Get back over my lap, we’ll just do 30, ok?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ellie sniffled.

Climbing back over Candice’s lap, Ellie hugged a pillow and took a breath.

Without warning, the heavy wooden brush came down fast and hard.

“OWWS,” Ellie screamed, “one!”

“You don’t have to count,” Candice conceded.

Two, three, four, five, and six came down in rapid succession, causing Ellie to wiggle and gasp in pain. The brush was setting fire to her behind. She could already feel the soreness setting in. Candice kept a nice rhythm, alternating between cheeks. By 20, Ellie had gone limp and simply squeezed the pillow harder. Candice eased up on the last 10 and then put the brush aside. Not saying anything, she rubbed Ellie’s back and hair.

When she was ready, Ellie sat up and threw her hand’s around Candice’s neck, burying her face in Candice’s curly hair.

“All better, munchkin,” Candice asked affectionately, giving her girlfriend all of the snuggles she needed.

“Yes,” sighed Ellie, “Thank you. Next time I need some toppy attention, I’ll let you know sooner and without the ‘tude.”

“Great,” Candice teased with a wink, “I’d appreciate that. Does this mean you’ll do the leaves after all?”

With a mischevious grin, Ellie went in for a kiss. Hey, a girl can always try distraction where bratting fails!


Better Late Pt. II

After the eventful appointment, Ellie couldn’t sleep a wink. As annoyed as she was with everyone bullying her into the check-up, she had to admit that she’d been holding in a lot of anxiety and loneliness. She had been burying herself in books and junk food semester after semester, and hadn’t even thought of going on a date. Candice’s exam may have been unpleasant, but it felt good to have some toppy attention. Ellie’s long term dominant girlfriend and broken up with her when she moved to the States for psychology school. They had been struggling with communication anyway, and the distance was just going to be too much. Ellie understood, but the breakup was extremely painful nonetheless. She was hungry for attention… any type of attention. Ok, maybe not a speculum in her you-know-what, but there was something about Candice’s concern and control that made Ellie feel jello-y on the insides. Around 2:00 in the morning, Candice took a double shot of Nyquil to lull herself to sleep. She woke up the next morning to her 7:30 alarm still groggy, but oddly light and happy, as well.

Hastily throwing her tangled hair into a bun, Ellie prepared two toaster strudels (Pillsbury was the best part of living in America!) and grabbed Candice’s business card from her purse. Her heart thumping, she separated her phone from it’s charger and unlocked it with shaking hands. Surely it was too early to text Candice? She’d look desperate at this point. It hadn’t even been 24 hours. Plus, normal people sleep in on Saturdays. Ellie’s impatience got the best of her- she wouldn’t be able to focus until she reached out.

Ellie: Good morning. Thank you for the appointment yesterday. I am writing to let you know that I’m still interested in

She paused. She texted with her ex-girlfriend about spanking all the time, but suddenly she felt embarrassed and awkward. Biting her lip, she deleted her text and rephrased it.

Ellie: Hi! Hope I’m not waking you up. I just wanted to let you know that I appreciated the appointment yesterday and I still want what I said I wanted yesterday. 

Hmm… maybe too vague? Third time’s the charm.

Ellie: Good morning! Hope I’m not waking you up 🙂 I really appreciated all of your support yesterday. I’m sorry I wasn’t very kind to you or your staff. I’d like to get together this weekend and “discuss” things the way you mentioned yesterday. 

There. That was perfect. Ellie hit send and took a deep breath. She slathered icing on her second toaster strudel, but before she had even taken a bite, she saw the telltale “typing” dots on the screen of her iPhone. SHIT. The doctor was responding already. Ellie held her breath in anticipation.

Candice: Good morning, Ellie. Thanks for your kind message. How about 2:00 this afternoon? Please send me your address. 

Ellie felt a rush of dizziness wash over her, but it was the good kind of dizzy- the kind that lets you know that you’re excited about something. Ellie still had 6 hours until the visit, so she decided to spend some of her time tidying the apartment. The pile of dishes was put away, the carpets were vacuumed, and the bathroom was scrubbed from top to bottom. After all of that, it was barely noon. Ugh. Ellie flopped down on her couch and stared at the ceiling. She was too nervous/excited to study, and she didn’t need to do any more cleaning. Suddenly, she knew what she wanted to do.

Picking up her phone, Ellie opened WhatsApp and sent her ex-girlfriend Gia a message.

Ellie: Can u talk? Everything’s ok.. mostly.. I just want to talk about something

Gia: I’m calling now.

Ellie smiled to herself. Gia was fiercely loyal and endlessly kind. Their friendship had survived the breakup, and for that Ellie was certainly grateful.

“Heyyyyyyy,” Ellie squealed when she answered Gia’s call, “It’s so good to hear your voice.”

“I know,” Gia sighed, “It’s been forever. What’s up, babe?”

“I’m having a girl over today.” There was an awkward pause as she realized that it was a weird thing to lead with. Would Gia be jealous after all this time? Turns out, her fear was unfounded.

“OH MY GOD PLEASE TELL ME A GIRL GIRL. LIKE A DATE,” Gia practically screamed, “You’ve been a straight up hermit, dude, I thought you were never going to get back out there. I was feeling terrible.”

“It’s not a date. Well, not a romantic date. She’s my doctor. My gynae, actually. But she’s spanking me. It’s complicated. I went in for a routine check-up and one bratty comment lead to another and the next thing you know she threatened to spank me. Obviously I almost died. I mean… how weird. So I basically just said sure. She looked sort of shocked, like she didn’t think I’d even react. So she’s coming over today to… you know. And she’s pretty, but I don’t know anything about her. We hardly talked about anything other than my boobs and my vagina, which is actually a great start to normal lesbian dates but a pretty un-promising start on a date with a gynae.” The story came out in one big rush, and after finishing, Ellie listened impatiently for Gia’s advice.

“Wow. Just… wow,” Gia finally said with a whistle, “That is totally wild. She has to be a little into you if she’s coming over to beat your butt. And I mean, it’s a cute butt, so she’ll have to be into you by the end of the day,” Gia teased.

“I don’t know,” Ellie whined, “Maybe she sees me as a daughter or something. She’s like, 15 years older than me at least.”

“Just be yourself, El. You’re a good one. I miss you lots. Let’s Facetime later tonight, ok?”

“Ok,” Ellie grumbled, “I’m going to take a hot bath and maybe take a shot of whiskey to calm myself.”

“Ellie,” said Gia in a low, threatening voice, “We don’t solve anxiety with alcohol, and you should NOT be drinking before a stranger spanks you. Please tell me you won’t.”

“Fine, fine,” Ellie snapped, “Everyone is in their toppy groove lately. Bossy here, bossy there.”

“Be good and it won’t be a problem,” Gia laughed, “Update me soon, babes.”

“Will do. Bye!” Ellie chirped, hanging up the phone with a smile on her face. Even a quick chat with Gia could calm her nerves. By the time Ellie finished her promised bath and drank a cup of hot tea (instead of whiskey), it was 1:45 and the final countdown was on. Ellie sat on the couch and looked between her phone and the door. Finally, she heard the apartment buzzer cry out at 1:58.

Racing to the door, she pulled it open and smiled shyly as Candice ascended the stairs.

“Hi!” Ellie offered with a soft smile. “Thanks for coming, doc.”

Candice smiled back as she stepped into the apartment.

“Nice to see you’re in a better mood,” she commented teasingly, giving Ellie’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

“Ah… yeah,” Ellie giggled shyly, “I find it’s best to be, you know, polite when someone is going to…” Ellie trailed off nervously but Candice offered her a reassuring smile.

“You’ll be just fine,” Candice promised kindly, “Let’s have a seat and chat.”

Ellie lead the way to the couch and sat down gingerly, staring up expectantly at her dominant counterpart. She knew this might be a one-time thing, but letting someone else call the shots was already having a subduing effect on her. She was slipping into the subby role that she occupied with Gia, at least when she wasn’t on a bratting rampage.

Candice settled in next to her and fixed her with a serious expression.

“My discipline spankings hurt,” Candice said solemnly, “But I trust you know that if you have experience with spanking. I spank hard and for as long as I think is necessary. Once I get you in position, you don’t have any more choices. You can use a safe word, or you can cooperate fully with the discipline. There will be no middle ground. I’m not going to injure you, but you’re going to be very sore. You deserve that, though, don’t you?”

Ellie gulped nervously. The intensity had escalated quickly. Candice meant business.

“Ah, y-yes, ma’am, I understand,” Ellie choked out in a horse whisper.

“Undress,” Candice commanded simply. “Just from the waist down is fine.”

Ellie complied quickly, and then stood awkwardly in front of Candice, waiting for further instruction. Candice angled herself toward Ellie and opened her legs.

“Kneel right here,” she commanded, pointing to a spot on the carpet between her legs. Ellie followed the instruction and looked up at Candice submissively, feeling increasingly small and nervous about going through with this.

“Good girl,” Candice praised, lifting her hand and running it through Ellie’s freshly-combed hair. “Why don’t you start with telling me a little more about yourself. What’s up with you neglecting your doctor’s appointments? You seemed like you were upset about more than the speculum yesterday.”

Ellie melted into Candice’s touch. She closed her eyes and let herself enjoy the feeling of Candice playing with her hair. Taking a deep breath, she began to explain about everything- the move to America to grow up a bit, the psychology program where she made great friends and enjoyed her classes but deeply missed her parents and her country, the breakup, the way that having to manage all of her own appointments and decisions was crushing her… everything. When she finished, she kept her eyes down on the carpet and leaned her head into Candice’s leg.

“And yesterday a lot of it just got taken out on you,” Ellie finished explaining, “And I’m sorry. But when you threatened to spank me…” her voice became high pitched with embarrassment and emotion, “I guess I just felt relieved. Like finally someone was offering to take care of me, even though you were actually just threatening me with a sore butt.”

Candice leaned over and rubbed Ellie’s back, giving herself time to process Ellie’s story.

“Thank you for sharing all of that,” Candice finally said, “Can you sit up and look at me, please? That’s it. Good girl. I understand. I’m fairly experienced with dishing out discipline, and most people feel the way that you do- the experience is painful, but it makes people feel secure and protected. It wipes the slate clean so that you can tackle your shortcomings and try again. We are definitely on the same page there. So, I think it’s time for me to show this naughty bottom what happens when you hold in your feelings for THREE YEARS and neglect your own health. Get up and lay over my lap.”

Ellie stood up on weak legs and carefully lowered herself over Candice’s strong thighs. Candice easily adjusted Ellie’s thin frame while raising her left knee so that Ellie’s bottom was adequately elevated. She rubbed Ellie’s bottom for just a moment, and then suddenly the hand was gone and back with a vengeance.

“Ooooof,” Ellie hissed, “I wasn’t ready for that.”

“You don’t have to be ready. You just have to be still.” With that final warning, the spanks started in earnest. Apparently Candice doesn’t believe in warm ups. She got each of Ellie’s sit spots a solid 10-15 times each, over and over on the same increasingly searing spot. When Ellie was howling in pain, Candice branched out and started to pepper the rest of her shaking bottom with swats. She alternated between right and left cheeks, and occasionally smacking the upper thighs. Ellie’s gasps and moans could hardly keep up with the pace of the punishment.

“Aghhh, I forgot how terribly this hurts,” Ellie gasped out, her eyes already stinging with tears, “You’re hitting too hard.”

“I am most certainly not hitting too hard if you’re feeling so chatty,” Candice replied dryly, picking up the pace and returning to the excruciatingly sore sit spots. Ellie thrashed and groaned in pain in response. Without skipping a beat, Candice moved so that her right leg was on top of both of Ellie’s flailing legs, and she pressed her left forearm firmly into Ellie’s upper back. Ellie was completely trapped. She tried to wiggle her hands free to get some leverage, but Candice was having none of that. She twisted both of Ellie’s arms painfully behind her back and pinned them down against her torso.

“I know all sorts of very uncomfortable positions and pressure points,” Candice threatened ominously. “You don’t want to irritate a doctor who has control of your body. Trust me on this one.”

With that, Candice returned to spanking Ellie’s bottom mercilessly. Unable to move an inch, Ellie just relaxed and let herself sob. It hurt so badly, but she couldn’t go anywhere. Eventually, the sobs of pain morphed into sobs of relief. It felt so good to have nothing to control for once. She felt oddly protected despite the fire burning on her backside. Sensing her resistance die down, Candice slowed down her spanking so that she was only smacking Ellie’s bottom every 3 seconds or so. Each spank still landed with purpose and sent ripples of pain through the thoroughly punished rump. Shaking and crying, Ellie prayed that the spanking would end soon. Her bottom was way out of shape! Finally, Candice’s hand stopped coming down, and she placed it gingerly on Ellie’s lower back.

“Shh, shh,” Candice soothed calmly, “I know. I know that was a hard spanking. I warned you, but brats never truly understand until their bottom is on fire. You’re okay. We’re almost done. I want you to tell me what you’re going to do differently from now on, and if I like your answer, we’re done with the punishment.”

“I’m going to start taking care of myself,” Ellie gasped between sobs. “I’m going to start making regular appointments with my health care providers, and I’m going to start talking to my friends about my feelings more. I’m going to get out and be social even if I want to stay home and watch TV. And if I feel frustrated, I can go on a jog or journal or communicate how I’m feeling instead of treating people like crap… I think that’s all…”

“Very good. Very good girl,” Candice cooed, rubbing Ellie’s back gently. “Let’s sit up and calm down,” she suggested, helping Ellie sit up and get comfortable on the couch.

“Sssssssss,” Ellie hissed as her bottom touched the soft couch cushions, “It HURTS,” she frowned, trying to wiggle into a more comfortable side-sitting position.

Candice wiped Ellie’s tear-soaked hair off of her face and smiled sympathetically.

“I know,” Candice conceded. “I might rub some lotion on it before I leave if I’m feeling nice,” she promised with a wink.

“Do you spank all of your patients?” Ellie asked with a pout.

“None so far. I only spank people that I really like,” Candice responded with a smirk. “I don’t usually mix business and pleasure. You were a special case.”

“Pleasure?!” Ellie exclaimed, “You tried to kill me! This was torture, not pleasure.”

“Oh?” Candice asked with a sultry smile, “Well maybe we can still get to the pleasure part.” She put her hand behind Ellie’s neck and leaned in ever-so-slightly as if to go in for a kiss. She stopped halfway though and looked at Ellie seriously with her gorgeous brown eyes.

“You can say no,” Candice said seriously, “I know it’s been a strange two days for you.”

“YES,” Ellie said flatly, practically launching her face toward Candice’s and pressing her mouth against Candice’s surprised lips. The two women kissed passionately, and Ellie’s body weight pushed Candice onto her back. Laying down, the two women made out passionately while Candice gently pulled Ellie’s hair. Coming up for air, Candice separated from Ellie and fixed her with another serious stare.

“You know I can’t be your doctor after this, right?” Candice asked tentatively.

“Mmm,” said Ellie with a mischievous smirk, “I guess that’s fine, but you know, I am a litttttle worried about how my you-know-what is doing after yesterday’s experience. You ARE a doctor and, you know, you’re like right here, sooo maybe you could check it out?” Ellie grinned as she guided Candice’s hand between her legs.

“You are BAD!” Candice exclaimed with a hearty laugh. “But let’s see how you’re doing.” With that, Candice slipped two fingers into Ellie’s moist center, biting Ellie’s lip as she felt around. Ellie let out a low groan.

“Oh my goooood,” Ellie moaned, “Unfff… you know your way around in there. It’s not fair,” she gasped as Candice easily found all of Ellie’s most sensitive spots. Ellie could feel herself getting more and more wet, and her groans got louder and more desperate. She could barely form a thought as she writhed against Candice in pleasure. She let herself be taken right up to the edge, groaning with abandon and giving in to all of Candice’s expert movements. In no time at all, she was screaming and gasping as she climaxed against Candice’s hand. Candice immediately began to caress Ellie’s hot backside as she whimpered in bliss.

“Oh my god,” was all that Ellie could repeat, burying her head in Candice’s curly hair and trying to catch her breath. “I can’t compete with that,” Ellie said finally. Candice laughed in response.

“Maybe I’ll make another house call next week and you can try. For now, I’d like to see you take a nap. You look exhausted.”

Ellie pouted and tried to reach her hand between Candice’s legs to persuade her otherwise. Candice caught her hand firmly and pressed it behind Ellie’s back. With a one quick pinch to her bottom, Ellie was gasping in pain again.

“You need to be a good listener,” Candice whispered softly into Ellie’s ear. “Or you’re going to be getting more pain and less pleasure from now on. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’m. Understood,” Ellie responded earnestly, looking up at Candice innocently. She was completely under Candice’s spell and it felt amazing. With one swift motion, Candice lifted Ellie off the couch and carried her around the corner to her room. She set her carefully on the bed and pulled the covers up over her.

“Text me when you wake up,” Candice whispered with a gentle kiss to Ellie’s head, “I want to know that you’re ok.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ellie responded with a smile and a yawn. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll see you soon, darling girl,” Candice promised. And with that, she quietly retreated out of the house, her heart glowing with excitement. Candice hadn’t been this excited about another woman in a long time. She couldn’t wait to see what her sweet, naughty Ellie would get up to next.



Better Late Than… Oh Wait

Hi guysssss. The Melissa stories aren’t wanting to be written lately. They’re a bit of a struggle. But I really like the whole doctor-dom dynamic, so here’s a new doctor-patient lesbian spanko story for ya’ll. 


Ever since moving to the United States from the U.K., Ellie didn’t favor having to make trips to the doctor or dentist. The NHS healthcare system was so easy and familiar, and having to pick private doctors that work with your insurance plan was a big hassle. Ellie had tried to navigate the insurance company websites when she first arrived in the Windy City (aka Chicago), but it gave her a huge headache.  When a two-week bout of bronchitis brought her into an urgent care clinic, Ellie admitted to the intake nurse that she hadn’t seen any sort of doctor in almost 3 full years. Horrified, the nurse insisted that Ellie get a full check up then and there, and she wrote her a referral to a local gynecologist.

“You have to get a well-woman exam,” the nurse scolded, “You’re 25 years old- women’s health checkups are essential for preventing ovarian, cervical, and breast cancers. And you need to get to a dentist yesterday.”

Referral crumpled in her now-sweaty hands, Ellie scuttled out of the office feeling annoyed. She felt completely fine, other than the bronchitis. Maybe she wouldn’t even pick up her prescriptions. Ice cream and hot tea had never let her down…

Nevertheless, after hearing about her health situation on the phone that night, Ellie’s mother doubled down and insisted she’d stop paying her phone bill if she didn’t get to a doctor ASAP. Feeling trapped, Ellie made an appointment online with the gynecologist and sent her mom a screenshot of the appointment confirmation email.

“Hope everyone is happy,” Ellie thought bitterly as she went to bed that night, “Now I have to let some creep shove his hand up my you-know-what for no reason.”

When the time for the appointment rolled around a few weeks later, Ellie felt herself growing nervous. She took to Google to explore what even happens at a “well woman” check-up. The Google search revealed ghastly photos of the tools used for a pap smear, and Ellie may have read one too many horror stories from women who’d had bad experiences with their exams. Ellie nearly considered skipping the appointment, but then she remembered how much she didn’t want to be paying her own phone bill while also juggling rent and tuition at psychology school.

Ellie showed up at the right office and shoved her plastic insurance card at the receptionist.

“Name?” the receptionist asked without looking up from her computer.

“If you can read, my name is on the card,” Ellie huffed impatiently. She knew this appointment was a mistake. These people were idiots! She was not going to let any of them manhandle her nether regions.

With a pointed glare, the receptionist click-clacked on the keyboard with her extra long hot pink nails. After what felt like hours of typing and glaring, the receptionist shoved her card back and said, “Follow the nurse back to your room.”

Ellie was taken down a winding hallway to a clean, spacious room lined with pamphlets about STDs, cervical cancer, and breastfeeding. She was instructed to undress from the waist down and was handed a thin blue sheet to cover up with. Ellie peeled her clothes off delicately and folded them neatly on a nearby chair. From there, she climbed up gingerly onto the exam table and placed the sheet over her naked lap. It didn’t do much to preserve her sense of modesty or dignity, but it was something.

Ellie waited and waited, and she couldn’t hear a peep coming from outside of the room. After 25 minutes had passed, the doctor finally entered with a harsh knock on the door. Ellie took a deep breath, ready to tell this dude just how annoyed she was. But when the door opened, Ellie found herself staring at a short woman with tightly curled hair and a kind, round face. Ellie’s facial expression morphed from irritation to surprise.

“Sorry I’m late,” the woman responded with an apologetic shrug and a tired sigh, “Another patient had an emergency this morning and we got off track. But I’m Dr. Candice Miller.”

Dr. Miller extended her hand and Ellie shook it meekly. “Nice to meet you,” Ellie mumbled.

“I’m told that you’ve never had a pap smear,” Dr. Miller announced seriously, sliding on her gloves and rattling a tray of scary looking equipment around.

“And looking at all of those very fun metal implements,” Ellie stated coldly, “I’m reminded of why I’ve put it off for so long.”

The doctor smiled sympathetically and slid over to sit in front of Ellie.

“No one looks forward to their well-woman exam, but I’ll be as gentle as possible and I’ll describe everything I’m doing. I’ll check your breasts first to make sure that there aren’t any unusual lumps. After that, I’ll do a quick pelvic exam, followed by the actual pap smear. That will involve using a speculum to open you up, and I’ll take a small sample of your cervix for testing. It might feel a little funny, but it shouldn’t really hurt. Then we’ll go over your health history and talk about birth control. Does that all sound good?”

“Like a carnival, really,” Ellie sneered.

Dr. Miller raised her eyebrows but didn’t respond to Ellie’s sour attitude. Working quickly and professionally, she slipped her hand under Ellie’s shirt and bra and felt quickly around Ellie’s small, perky breasts.

“No lumps,” she announced, withdrawing her gloved hand and moving back between Ellie’s legs. “Try to relax for this part though, you’re just going to feel my fingers” Dr. Miller said gently.

“Arghhh,” Ellie exclaimed as the doctor stuck a cold, gloved hand into her most intimate parts. The exam wasn’t exactly a slow serenade. Ellie squirmed uncomfortably as the doctor put pressure on her insides.

“No abnormalities,” the doctor continued, “Any pain?”

“I guess not,” mumbled Ellie bitterly, “But it didn’t feel great.”

“Almost done,” Dr. Miller reassured, grabbing the terrifying looking speculum. Ellie squeezed her eyes shut and tried to count slowly to ten while taking deep breaths. Before she had even reached 9, the doctor announced that they were all done.

“Oh,” Ellie sighed in relief, “That’s it?”

“Yes, other than a few questions,” the doctor smiled back. Her chipper attitude was grating on Ellie’s nerves for some reason. Dr. Miller slid over to her computer and began typing.

“Are you currently sexually active?” Dr. Miller inquired.

“I’m single. I’ve had sex before, but I don’t have a partner right now and I don’t just hook up with anything that moves. But I would have sex again with the right person.” Ellie blushed at how stupid she sounded. The doctor hadn’t reacted at all, though.

“How many sexual partners have you had?” Dr. Miller continued.

“Uh.. is that important?”

“Yes,” Dr. Miller sighed, beginning to show a bit of impatience.

“2 men and 4 women,” Ellie mumbled in embarrassment. Not even her mom knew that she had been gay since the end of college. Dr. Miller, however, showed no outward sign of homophobia.

“Have you always used protection,” she asked?

“With the two men I used a condom, yeah, but with women there isn’t really a need for protection.”

“That’s not true,” Dr. Miller scolded with a furrowed brow, “Lesbians can transfer STDs and other infections to one another, and there are ways–”

“Ok are you some expert on lesbians now?” Ellie interrupted impatiently. Dr. Miller turned and faced Ellie, her arms crossed impatiently.

“I have a medical degree that says I’m an expert in all sorts of sex, and you have an attitude that says you’re a little unsure about taking responsibility for your sexual health,” Dr. Miller snapped harshly, her light brown eyes boring into Ellie. “I don’t care who you have sex with, but I get paid to educate you on doing it safely. I hope that you can be mature enough to participate in the conversation.”

“So now I’m immature?” asked Ellie, her blood boiling, “Well at least I always show up on time to places.”

Dr. Miller stood up and walked over to Ellie. There was fire behind her previously calm eyes.

“I won’t tolerate being disrespected in my own practice,” Dr. Miller explained calmly but firmly. “If you were my daughter and had spent nearly 3 years avoiding medical appointments while having sex without any understanding of disease transfer, you wouldn’t be sitting for WEEKS.”

Ellie bit her lip nervously. She felt tears stinging her eyes. The difficulty of living away from her family, combined with her anxiety surrounding health issues and the vulnerability that today had caused, sent a sudden waive of emotion rushing over her. Ellie began to cry softly. She had taken her nervousness and embarrassment out on Dr. Miller and her staff for no reason.

“I’m s-so sorry,” Ellie gushed, “I didn’t want to come at all because I thought people would judge me for being a lesbian, and I was worried that maybe something was wrong after all. I took my fears out on you in the wrong way after you were so kind to me.”

Dr. Miller appeared sympathetic once more.

“There, there,” she hushed, handing Ellie a tissue. “Why don’t we make a follow-up appointment next week to go over the results of your tests, and we’ll discuss safe sex when you’re in a better place emotionally.”

“Ok,” Ellie agreed with a sniffle. “But you can do it if you want.”

“Do what?” Dr. Miller clarified.

“Spank me,” said Ellie flatly. “I know the threat was probably just you blowing off steam, but I deserve a spanking, really. My ex-girlfriend would have totally spanked me if I had been neglecting my health and mouthing off to people. Not that you’re my girlfriend. My mum used to spank me to. I’m used to it; I’ve always been hard-headed and bratty. It works for me.” Ellie blushed deeply in humiliation, but Dr. Miller looked calm and thoughtful.

“I shouldn’t have threatened you in the office,” she conceded, “It was unprofessional. How about you think about it this weekend, and if you still think you deserve a spanking, I’ll make a little house call and we’ll get it done.”

Ellie nodded her understanding and blew her nose. Dr. Miller handed her a business card and scrawled her cell phone number on the back.

“It was very nice to meet you, Ellie,” the doctor said with a warm smile, “Even if I was a few minutes late.”

“It’s no big deal,” Ellie mumbled with a shy smirk, “Thanks for the help. I’ll… uh.. text you this weekend, I guess.”

“I look forward to it. Now please get dressed and go enjoy your Friday.”

With that, Dr. Miller left the office and Ellie was left holding her business card and wondering what on EARTH she’d gotten herself into…


to be continued very soon 🙂