Stay-At-Home Brat

Suitable For A Spanking

I made an attempt to be as charming as possible on our way home to worm my way out of what was to come, or at least abate it. As you can guess, it was all in vain. The punishment—or funishment—is inevitable. Despite it being more of a funishment than a serious punishment, I anticipate it to be on the harsher end of the spectrum.

Sebastian walks in my way as I am to step into the cabin. ''You're not going inside yet, little miss,'' he declares.

I look up at him sharply. ''Why?''

''You're going to fetch a good switch—suitable to spank your bottom with,'' he enunciates.

A blush crawls up my cheeks. ''There's no such thing as a switch suitable for that.'' I still can't say certain words aloud, including the s-word. I can think of the word without ceasing to function but not pronounce it. Saying it will literally trigger a blush strong enough to set fire to my face, and that's not how I want to leave this earth.

''I found a whole bundle of them last year. Have you forgotten about the birching?''

Huffing and flushing, I look down at my sandy feet. ''How do I know it's good? You should come with me so I can test it out on you first.''

He seizes my arm, propelling me around and toward the chairs and tables on our little sundeck. Amid my forceful yet futile struggle against ending up across his knee, I hear one of the dogs bark shrilly behind me, followed by Sebastian braying at me. I'm confused, but then I feel my left flip-flop having fallen off my foot. That's my least concern, though, as I am now upended over his lap—stuck and chagrined.

''You can't do that!'' A smack comes with his telling-off.

''What did I do!?'' I whine, flapping my legs. ''Also, get my shoe before the dogs gnaw on them!''

''You kicked so much that your shoe flew off your foot and hit her head!''

I feel sorry for Jenna, but I can not stop myself from laughing at it. I doubt it hurt her as the shoe is light. He doesn't think anything is funny about this, and he gives me a flurry of hard, quick swats on the seat of my skirt while scolding me for hurting the dog. His dogs are basically his babies, and he is the overprotective mother who will snap at anyone disrespecting them.

The smacks stop downpouring when I manage to stifle my giggles, and I hope that's all, but then I feel my long, flowy skirt lift. I am overcome by acute embarrassment, remembering that I don't wear any knickers. I took off my sodden bikini bottoms before going in the car, and since he didn't let me into the cabin, I didn't get a chance to put new ones on.

''That's a spanking itself,'' he declares. ''However, I reckon that will be too much on you in one night.''

I'm not disputing that because arguing for more spankings is stupid. The short but hard spanking I already got left my ass smouldering, so this isn't boding well for me. There's another chair before me that I try to reach by walking my hands on the wooden deck and elongating my body. If I can't get out of this spanking, I want to at least support my upper body because dangling over somebody's knee, with your bare ass pointing at the sky, is one of the most undignified positions you can be in.

He catches me before I get my hands on the chair and pushes it aside. ''You stay down there.''

I huff, and once I return to the dangly, undignifying position, he resumes the spanking. A slap on my right cheek starts a sequence of alternating, solid smacks that feel endless. His grip around my waist constricts as my hips begin to evade the spanks by wriggling. I deeply wish I had a bed or a pillow to smother the squeals and whimpers. If it's already reached this point; how am I going to handle the next step?