Haven

Chapter Fifty One

Jaida

How I found myself asking Madison to do this I'd never know. But I knew I was doing it, and I wasn't changing my mind.

Part of it came from a conversation with my therapist. She said I might be scared of a maternal figure in a position of authority because my mom never even did that, but after she'd died I was replacing Madison with her in my head and shifting my anger there instead of on Beka.

Which is complete bullshit. I still had the same amount of resentment towards my mother that I'd had when she was alive, now I just felt guilty for it which was completely twisted.

But a part of me felt I owed it to myself to see if Madison could fill that void. And maybe she'd only get better at it when I actually stopped trying to overpower her.

Point being I found myself in this position, having moved to my bedroom, Madison sat on the bed looking like she was about to vomit, me stood in front of her feeling like I was about to vomit.

"We don't have to do this," I finally say, my voice a tiny bit too casual since the woman had taken a wooden hairbrush from her purse on the way up here and held it between her hands, about to burn my ass with it.

She cocks a brow. "Okay," she says, looking like she's making a plan. "If we're doing this, this is your last chance to back out. I'm gonna have to just take control of it and once I start, that's what I'm doing," she tells me, again sounding a little too casual for someone who's planning on paddling my ass.

I shrug. "This may be the most compliant and willing I'll ever be to do this, so I'd say now is your time to shine," I half smirk, and she does briefly smile before painting on a stern look.

Once she does, I feel my own features drop, as nervous butterflies flutter in my stomach. "We've had this conversation with you several times about him being in your room, so I don't actually know what more words can be said on the matter. It's probably best to let this do the talking." She states ominously as she raises the hairbrush, smacking it off the palm of her hand once before putting it aside briefly and parting her legs, pointing to the space in between them, beckoning me forward.

I obey, forcing myself to follow through, even with my heart hammering against my rib cage at an alarming pace.

The next part really got to me. Her manicured hands reached out to the waistband of my sweats, peeling them over my skin to be beaten butt, and taking my panties with them.

A groan of humiliation escaped my lips as my hands shot forward to cover myself, but Madison batted them away, as she began to guide me across her lap.

"Don't try to cover yourself, we're both girls here," she warns me. "A real spanking is best delivered to a bare behind." She tells me, before bringing the wooden hairbrush down on my right butt cheek once, twice, three times, HARD. And immediately repeating the process with the other cheek.

Sooner than I'd have liked, a soft ow escapes my lips, but little did I know that would be the least of my worries.

The hairbrush hurt worse than most implements to me, cause it had a thudding, burning effect, that made you feel bruised immediately. And Madison knew how to lay the smacks.

In a minute she'd laid in about 30 swats, and she stuck to a pattern, three on one side, one on top of the other, then three on the other. Then she'd move to the next area. But the speed and force at which she moved had tears pooling in my eyes and sharp hisses escaping my lips inside that very first minute.

"I probably should have warned that the hairbrush was my fathers weapon of choice, you're about to start benefiting from my own years of having my ass paddled." She says as she three belters onto my right sit spot, causing my leg to kick out in response as another owww slips out.