Based off of this photo:
Picture Yourself Here
by Breanna Carter
"Mom, I don't want to go!" I pouted, pulling my hair back in a ponytail.
"I don't want to hear it, Jessica," Mom answered, running through the house trying to find her purse. "I told you weeks ago that we were to have dinner with your grandma and grandpa."
"But I don't want to see them. I want to hang out with Maria!"
"If you don't stop this complaining, I'm going to turn you over my knee and spank you, do you understand me?"
"Yes, ma'am," I muttered, defeated. I know it sounds weird that a 14 year old still gets spanked from her mom sometimes... trust me, it even sounds weird to me, and i'm that 14 year old. But she didn't seem to find it weird. Actually, she didn't spank me til she split up with my dad and had to have a babysitter. It was Maria's older brother, actually, who babysat me. I agree... it does sound like a fruity job for a guy... and we never actually called him my babysitter. It just happened that one day I was hanging out with Maria when my mom needed to go somewhere, so Diego offered to watch me. Then Maria and I got into some trouble -- I must've been nine or ten years old -- and Diego spanked us both... Pants and panties down, over his knee, whapping the shit out of my bottom. Then he told my mom... then she spanked me again. And since then, I've been getting it.
Not that I mind at all that Diego spanks me sometimes. He's actually a cutie. He's twenty years old and goes to a community college, watching Maria most of the time because her father has two jobs and really is only home to sleep. But anyway... Diego is cute. He's from Mexico so he has a cute Spanish accent, and he even talks to Maria in Spanish sometimes, though Maria knows English just as well as Spanish. Diego's a nice guy -- unless he's spanking you.. Though I'd MUCH rather him spank me than my mom.
I'm rambling now. I can't help but think about that everytime Mom offers to give me a spanking. How it's Diego's fault it all started... but I'm not sure I'd take it back if I had the chance.
"Are you ready?" Mom yelled from the living room.
I growed and pushed open my door, putting my cell phone in my pocket. "Yes, Mom... remember... you were the one who wasn't ready."
Mom rolled her eyes at me then walked outside, car keys in hands. I took it upon myself to punch the wall at having to go to this dinner with grandma and grandpa. Not that they bothered me that much, just hanging out with my friend seemed much more exciting, and they always mention my father. No, I haven't seen or heard from him, and I hate admitting it. And my mom hates admitting it, because she doesn't want her parents to know that she screwed up so much.
"Get rid of this attitude, Young Lady," Mom told me when I got in the car.
"It's such a beautiful day outside," I pouted.
"You'll get to go out when we get back home. We're not going to be gone that long."
I shook my head and stared out the window, engrossed in the trees and traffic passing by. Every so often I'd see other families with teenagers in the car. Why is it necessary that parents make our lives miserable?
We finally arrived at Applebee's and my grandparents were already there. My grandma made it known that I was her lovely granddaughter and kissed me on the cheek right there in front of everybody. I tried not to roll my eyes. Both grandparents were firing questions at me one after another, even when the waitress walked us to the table. They were the same old questions... how's school, how's your love life, do you have a boyfriend, are you still making good grades? I couldn't help but blush when we passed by this group of people from my school.
We sat at a table in the middle of the room, so everyone could see me suffering through lunch with my grandparents. I ordered a Dr. Pepper but secretly wished it were something alcoholic and almost whispered to my waiter to pleaseeeeee grace me with some whiskey. But I didn't. I hadn't even really drank before, just knew that my mom wanted whiskey in stressful situations.
I guess dinner was going fine until our food was brought out. I was still noticing the kids from my school staring at me and laughing every so often, so my face was feeling really hot. Then my grandma asked it.
"So, Jessie, tell me... have you heard from your father lately?"
I glared at my mom. I knew what she wanted me to say -- I talked to him not too long ago. But I was so aggravated and pissed at her, I didn't care if they knew. "No, Grandma... haven't talked to him in years, no matter what Mom wants you to think."
"That is not true, Jessie, you just talked to him a few days ago."
"Well, if I did, you must have drugged me because I don't remember talking to him, nor do I remember talking to him all the other times I've told them that I have."
"You wait a minute right there, Missy.." she began, but I retaliated.
"Don't even start with me, Mom. I told you I didn't want to come eat stupid dinner with you guys, that I had already made plans and you didn't even respect my wishes, so why should I respect yours."
"I am your mother, Young Lady."
"I don't give a shit," I answered, which was a mistake. Instead of slapping me across the face like I deserved, prayed for, she grabbed my left arm and pulled me over her knee. "No! Mom! Stop!" I squealed.
She didn't say anything. If I thought my face was red before, it was REALLY red now. I put my hands back to block her from spanking me, but she grabbed them tightly, restraining me.
"Mom! Please," I said in a whisper, knowing that the whole restuarant was probably watching. She slapped me over my pants about ten or twelve times, all the while I'm biting my lip and my face is strawberry red and I want to cry from being so embarrassed. She didn't keep me there long, obviously realizing that this was more embarrassing than either of us wanted.
She lifted me up and whispered sternly in my ear, "You go to the restroom right now, Jessica, and wait for me. I'll be in there in a minute to give you the rest."
I wanted to cry upon hearing that, but didn't argue for fear of being spanked in public again. Most of the people had resumed to eating by this time, so I just shuffled out while my mom muttered apologies to my grandparents.
My stomach growled. I'd been so hungry and only was able to eat half of my meal. I pushed open the door to the bathroom and noticed there were two stalls. It'd be my luck that someone else would come in there while I was being spanked. Oh how I much preferred to be spanked by Diego. In fact... if it could get met out of being spanked by my mom, I'd BEG him to spank me... even with his belt, or the yardstick... anything but my mom! Not to mention Diego spanks MUCH harder... and he's a guy, so it's embarrassing. But I hate it so much more when my mom spanks me.
My mom came in the restroom after letting me suffer for only a minute or two. She rolled up her sleeve and dragged me to the handicapped stall.
"Mom, please... I'm sorry. I've learned my lesson."
"Oh no you haven't," she said, locking the door and putting the seat down on the toilet, then sitting down.
"Please don't spank me here! Anyone could walk in!"
"I don't care. Pull down your pants and panties and get over here, Jessica."
"Mom! Please! Can't we compromise? Diego can even spank me when I get home!"
"I'm already contemplating that. Now... do as I say or I'll spank you again when we get home, right before Diego does."
I pouted. "Can't we do that without this spanking?"
"I"m going to give you to the count of three," she told me.
With that, I cried and pulled down my jeans, then my panties. She roughly grabbed my arm and pulled me over her lap. She didn't wait, though. She started the spanking... smacking my bottom as hard as she possibly could, which was harder than I'd imagined.
"Ohhh, Mommy, please!" I begged, feeling like I was three or four.
She didn't listen, just kept on spanking, even when we heard the door open to the bathroom. I kicked my legs furiously, holding my hand over my mouth so they couldn't hear me wailing. Someone went into the stall next to mine and I couldn't help but squeal a little, even with my hand over my mouth. I was grunting the whole time, then the bathroom door opened again and I knew that now two people were listening to my spanking. My mom STILL didn't stop, however, only spanked harder.
Then, as if it wasn't bad enough she was spanking and two people were inside, she began spanking my sit spots as hard as possible, and then smacked my thighs for about a minute straight. The two people were still in the bathroom, undoubtably just for the show, THEN my mom stopped and I thought it was over so I rolled off of her lap.
"Get back over my knee right now, Young Lady. I am NOT finished with you!" my mom yelled.
I blushed profusely and groaned back over her lap, wanting to beg, but my pride not allowing it, since people were listening. She reached down in her purse and grabbed her plastic hairbrush that she'd brought with her. She crashed it down on my backside and I let out a howl, listening to the snickers of the people inside the restroom.
"You will not use that type of language, Jessica, do you understand me?"
"Yes, ma'am! Yes, ma'am!" I wailed.
She crashed the damn hairbrush down on my bottom a dozen or so more times, then lifted me up. I was a sobbing mess and hurriedly pulled up my pants and panties. She replaced the brush in her purse and I heard the two people leave the restroom.
"Get cleaned up and come back to the table to finish your dinner. We'll talk to Diego when we get home."
I nodded and mom left the restroom. I hung out in there for a long time, hoping someone else would come in and I could hide behind them when I went back outside. But no one did. I washed my face and tried to hide the fact that I'd been crying. That didn't work too well either.
I finally mustered up the courage to go back and sit down at my table. Of course it hurt to sit, but I tried not to wince so badly when I did. I apologized to my grandparents and finished my meal, not looking anyone in the eyes. I was so damn embarrassed.
Finally, after what felt like hours, my mom announced that we should get going, because she needed to take care of somethings. My grandma gave me a hug and apologized for getting me into trouble, but I whispered back that it was my fault. She told me that she loved me, then my grandpa gave me a hug, too.
The ride back home was just as quiet as the ride there. My mom just smoked cigarettes and kept the radio off, clearly gathering her thoughts. Instead of pulling into my driveway like I'd expected, though, she pulled into Diego's driveway. I began crying once again, though I was thankful it was him spanking me for the final time instead of my mom.
"Get out," she told me and I followed her up the front steps to Diego and Maria's house. She knocked on the door and my friend answered. She noted that I was crying before my mom said anything. "May I please see your brother," my mom said.
Maria said sure then then left the doorway, calling to her brother in Spanish. He came to the door seconds later. "What's up?" he asked.
"Diego, my daughter has been really disrespectful today, and I know that no spanking can make an impression on her like yours can."
He looked at me and I hung my head, not having it in me to face his eyes.
"If you don't mind, would you teach her a lesson about disrespect and foul language."
He nodded.
"Just send her home when you finish," she told him, because we only lived a few houses down.
"Okay," he answered, then put a hand on my back, pushing me inside. "Go to my room," he told me and it reminded me of this keychain I saw once that said "You've been naughty, go to my room." If only *that* was the kind of naughty he was talking about.
I shuffled to his room, sniffling and tears escaping every so often. I heard Maria ask him what happened and he just brushed her off. He closed the front door after my mom started her car and sped off, then followed me to his room.
I plopped down on the bed. He had such a cool room... it sucked that I had to see it in such a light. Especially sucked that I'd be looking at his carpet more than him. He didn't give me much time to look around, though, because before I knew it, he came inside carrying the yardstick.
"Diegoooo," I wailed. "Noooooo!"
"I haven't even started the spanking yet and you're already begging!" he teased, leaning the yardstick against his computer desk. "What in the world happened? Your mom only gets me to spank you when you've done something really really bad," he said.
He sat down next to me on the bed and I lay my head on his shoulder, still sobbing. I went into a long spill about how mom had spanked me in front of everyone and I didn't feel like I deserved it, even though she had warned me about foul language before. He rubbed my back and listened to me, waiting for my conclusion before he spoke.
"She spanked you right there, in the restuarant, and everything?"
I nodded.
"And then again, in the bathroom? Where people were listening?"
I nodded again.
He shook his head. "And she still wants me to spank you?"
A final time, I nodded.
"She's right that you shouldn't use that type of language, though," he said, though he was on my side. "So I guess you deserve it."
"Please not too hard, Diego."
"I intend to make quite an impression," he told me, which didn't mean much. He always made quite an impression.
He stood up then stood me up, undoing my jeans and slipping them to the floor, then leaning me over his bed, tugging down my panties as well.
"I don't expect to hear that type of language from you again?" he asked.
"Nooo," I cried.
I felt the breeze on my already aching bottom when I heard him taking the yardstick.
"I'm glad to hear that," he told me, then pressed down on my back to keep me leaning over the bed. He lifted the yardstick high in the air and cracked it against my backside, causing me to yelp. He only did that a couple of times, enough to make a few clear stripes on my bottom so Mom would be pleased. Then he yanked up my panties and hugged me. "Now, pull up your pants, run home, and give your mom the most horrible story about how severely you were spanked, okay?"
I nodded, not wanting to let go of his hug. I wanted to get home before the tears dried up, so she'd think it was a lot worse than it was, so I just waved to my friend, promising to call her later, then ran home to show my mom the damage.
No comments:
Post a Comment