Stay-At-Home Brat

The Strap

So much is happening at the minute—in the story and in IRL 😅 You can read ahead in this book on Ream as always (https://reamstories.com/emory). Otherwise, maybe we will "see" each other in the next update of Back In My Day, hopefully, some day next week.

Sophia's POV

I'm back at home after the weekend away. I had a lovely time, and we have even planned on going there again with Alexander and possibly Oliver soon. I look forward to that. And before anybody starts teasing me about Archie being the reason; no! You're all stupid to think so. *Huffing...*

Anyhow, being home means getting back to routine. For Sebastian, it was easy to get up and go to work Monday morning. For me, it's been a bit of a struggle. Despite me, idling away the days, Sebastian has been easy on me these past couple of days. Chores are never fun unless you have Oliver by your side, but he's at school as Sebastian's apprentice.

I managed to do the laundry today, which I think is an accomplishment deserving of a reward. The reward I gave myself was watching a new TV show. He told me earlier that we could watch the show together in the evening, but of course, I didn't listen to that. I intended only to watch one episode and then get on with the rest on my to-do list. As you probably are guessing, I got stuck in front of the TV and indulged in a whole season.

Sebastian caught me red-handed when he came home from work. 

Considering his going-easy-on-me approach, I wasn't too concerned about getting in trouble at first. Unfortunately, that appeared to no longer be the case. The air began to fill with a cloud of tension, and my carefree mood was replaced with trepidation. He ushered me into his library and took out the red leather strap, and that's where we are now...

''...How many minutes was the episode?'' He looks down at me with a stern look, having the effect of shrinking me.

''42 minutes,'' I answer sheepishly. ''You're not going to give me 42 x 12 licks, are you?'' I don't know how many that is, but I assume it's too much to be administered safely.

''No, I will give you 42,'' he declares. ''I can only tolerate idleness for so long.'' He gestures to me to bend over the desk, but I freeze, and my gaze fixes on the strap, lying there. ''...Bend over now, Sophia,'' he prompts.

When he lays his hands on my shoulders, I feel like my body softens a little. I tentatively lean forward and plant my palms and elbows on the wood. A shiver goes through me as he pulls my joggers and underwear down for me, provoking the embarrassment to mount. Every muscle in my body tense up in apprehension, glimpsing him pick up the strap in the corner of my eye. Maybe he's setting an example when he doesn't idle and delivers the first strike within a beat; the leather lands sharply with a loud crack. A succession of them comes, and I clench my jaw and squeal at the potent burn it incites. I must've forgotten how fierce this strap is since last time because, after merely 10 licks, I feel done with it.

He continues to swing the strap vigorously, inflicting more weals from the top to my upper thighs. Every lick feels like it torches a stripe of fire in a new area until there's no part left that feels like it's not ablaze. The only positive thing about this is that he is going fast—yet not carelessly—because that means, it will be over sooner.
At 25, my hips start living their own life and won't listen to me when I try to be still. I can't stop myself from twisting away. Firstly, to dodge the leather, which is futile. Secondly, to cope with the pain roaming and growing.

''Move your hands forward and clasp the opposite edge.'' He puts a hand on my lower back and gives me a quick rub, reminding me there's less than half left. That's still a lot!

I do as he says, understanding that it will prevent me from reaching back and accidentally getting my fingers whipped. Before resuming, he strokes his hand over my welted skin. I can't tell if he has abnormally cold hands, or if I'm actually on fire. I reckon the latter is the most credible. That's how it feels. I feel like I have a deep ache with a fire on top.
My first cry escapes at the 30th lash. I bounce up and down on my toes as the pain shoots up and down my legs. He places a heavy hand on my back again, and I squeeze my lips tight and close my eyes. I try my best to focus on my breathing according to his instructions for the last dozen. Each time the strap snaps on me, I get the urge to push myself upright, and as it intensifies with each lash, I fight myself to stay still and bent over the desk. ''...I'm sorry!'' I weep.

For the last five licks, he holds a hand on my back to help me be still. Then, without dawdling, he hauls me up to stand in front of him as he normally does and lifts my chin with a finger. I flush hotly, imagining the tears trickling down my cheeks could boil up. His face is set in the same stern expression as before, but his eyes are sympathetic. I learned after some time; that the punishments don't only pain me but also him. 

''Why?'' he asks deeply.

''I was being lazy and didn't take my responsibilities as seriously as I should have.'' My apology is sincere, and behind the typical embarrassment that always comes with a spanking; I believe he can see my genuine remorse.

He croons, ''Right,'' and wipes away tears as he skims my left cheek with his thumb. ''I will cook us dinner whilst you get some rest, but from now on, I expect you to be responsible and hard-working again.'' His voice has lost all hardness and returned to his normal casual tone, which starts to relax me as well.

''Yes,'' I snivel, losing focus for a moment. My bum throbs intensely after the thorough strapping. I can still feel a few more welts or bruises form under the surface, and I can only imagine what it'd look like in the mirror tomorrow. ''...I promise.''

Will she hold her promise? I think she will... for a while at least 😂 Also, for you who've read the previous books; hasn't she matured quite a bit? She would be so contrary and bitter with Sebastian 🤍