Bad Little

Stubborn

I was told by you that I wasn't allowed to go to see those new horror movies without you because the previews had frightened me. I had explained that you had work and my friends could only go that night. You still told me no. I acted like a grumpy brat and earned myself corner time which pissed me off more but I kept it inside. I even kissed you bye-bye.

Once you had left, I sat on the sofa and had my friends come over. As soon as they arrived I was playing with the TV remote, trying to order the films up. With a frustrated sigh I gave up when the system started asking for a password, which you hadn't given me since you knew I'd order movies you wouldn't approve of, like "Magic Mike". And expensive porn.

Seeing my disappointment my friends had the idea of sneaking me out so we could go into town to watch the film at the cinema instead. Courtney told me it wasn't a good idea, but I was already thinking about it, remembering the corner time you'd given me, as well as my frustration over the password. After I moment's thought, I finally made my decision and went with them. Little did I know you had the neighbors checking in on me, having told them I was feeling ill and needed to stay in, and as soon as I left the house you got the call telling you I was gone and that I'd been seen leaving with some other girls. You knew exactly where I was going and could've stopped me right then, but instead you decided to allow me to get a little fun from my misbehaviour.

After the film, my friends came back to the house for a while, and after an hour of chatting about the film, comparing our favourite scenes and complaining about the worst bits, they girls left, waving goodbye as I saw them out the door. You arrived home late, well past my bedtime to find me sitting on the living room couch with all the lights on, too scared to go to bed. My body is trembling all over from fear as the memory of the film haunted me.

This was the last straw, I'd been breaking rules all month long. although all small things and you'd had enough of my rebellious ways. Stepping up to me, and before I can say anything, you tell me with a strict, cold voice that you know exactly what I've been upto. Gripping me by my arm you drag me to my bedroom, telling me that even though you're tired and I'm frightened, I've been very naughty and deserve a bedtime spanking.

I begin to cry and you tell me that it won't work this time as you bend me over your knees. Sniffling, I think to myself that at least it will only be a hand spanking, and that won't be too bad. Lifting my nighties you slowly pull down my girly panties, leaving my bare bottom on full display. I whimper and wiggle a little, trying to protect myself from you to no avail, one of my arms is pinned against you as you pull me tightly onto your lap and with your strong hand you grab my other arm tightly, holding it in place against my back as I try to get away.

You began spanking me nice and hard, your strong hand coming down on my buttocks in a relentless flow of rapid blows. I squirm on your lap as you keep hitting my backside, my sore cheeks getting more and more painful with each strike, until after around 50 strokes you finally stop. Relaxing I think you're finished, my raw backside throbbing painfully from your beating, but you tell me that I count the next fifteenth as you reach over to the nightstand and pick up my favourite hairbrush. (https://madeheart.com/media/productphoto/658/34416538/066_DSC_0901.jpg)

I whine and wiggle more, gasping and crying out as I feel the hard crack of the wooden brush. Between my sobs I call out the numbers loudly, not wanting a single blow to not count. The first few hurt, but not too badly, but as you continue the pain in my butt grows until I'm squirming in your lap, desperate to get away from the next strike as you bring the brush down hard again and again. As I sob and cry out as you continue, stopping only when I miss count to correct me and hit again, even harder. Tears are streaming down my face by the end and having missed count twice I'd received seventeen total hits with the brush before you finally let up.