07 August 2008

Story: I Wanna Go Home!

Misc story.  Sydney is bummed that she's stuck going to day camp instead of getting to lounge around in the air conditioning with her neighborhood friends all summer.  After being a brat all day to the counselors who are only there to make her life more miserable than it already is, Sydney swims into trouble -- literally!  The problem is that, um, her brother is the lifeguard, and he's not too happy about it.

I Wanna Go Home!
by Breanna Carter

I didn’t want to go to day camp. After all, I was 12 years old and practically an adults. My parents had let me stay home so far everyday during the summer, so I’d lived by my own rules. Going to camp would mean I’d have to get up early every morning, I’d have to eat at a certain time, and worst of all, people would be telling me what to do. Wait, no, that wasn’t the worst -- if camp counselors wanted me to do something I didn’t want, I didn’t really have to listen. What could they do to me? Kick me out? Yeah, some punishment… that’s exactly what I wanted! The worst part, then, was that my brother worked there and he would so totally embarrass me. Not to mention that after camp, he’d be taking me to his apartment where I’d have to stay until my dad picked me up -- that was probably even worse than going to day camp!

The first day I huffed and puffed in the car, pouting as my dad tried to convince me that I’d have fun. “I don’t know why you don’t want to go. I would have loved to have the opportunity as a kid to swim and play sports all day with other kids rather than staying cooped up inside all day by myself, “ he said. I didn’t mention that I was rarely “cooped up by myself,” that I spent most of my time riding my bike through the neighborhood or playing at my friend, Lexi’s house, who even took me to her friend’s house to swim a couple of times. No, I didn’t tell my dad that because he would’ve flipped out -- I wasn’t supposed to leave the house without permission and, well, sometimes it’s just easier to just go rather than calling him and waiting for him to call me back (because he’s always busy). And besides, I always make it back before he does.

“It’ll be good for you to get out and get some sun and exercise,” Dad continued.

“I haven’t gotten any all summer so why is it important now,” I scowled.

He gave me a look. “Don’t get an attitude with me, Missy. You’re not too old to fit over my knee,” he warned.

I sank down in my chair, folding my arms grumpily. I stayed like that until we pulled up to the day camp. There was a table in front where two women and a man sat with bright orange T-shirts on. They were smiling happily which made me dread the day even more. Dad pulled up into a parking space. “Get out,” he said.

I shoved the door open and stomped to the table where my dad was now smiling just like the counselors. They handed me a schedule with the list of activities I would be doing for the day, including arts and crafts, soccer, swimming, snacks, lunch, free play, and quiet time. To say the least, I was very unexcited. I hated crafts, sucked at soccer, didn’t care to swim in a pee and germ infested pool, didn’t like their crummy snacks or lunches, didn’t play, and certainly did not need or want quiet time.

“Come on, Sydney, I’ll show you the crafts hut,” one of the women said. She didn’t seem to be too much older than me, probably 18 or 19 like my brother. She had long hair that she wore in a ponytail and a tan complexion.

“Bye, Syd. See ya this evening!” my dad said, waving goodbye as he walked away.

I trudged after the woman, whose name I now saw was Brianna. “So what attracted you to this camp?” she asked me after a few seconds of silence.

I shrugged. “I don’t want to go here. My dad’s making me,” I admitted.

“That sucks. How come?”

I shrugged. “I guess ‘cause my brother works here.”

She nodded. “Well, it’s not so bad I’m sure.”

“What do you do here?”

“I coach soccer.”


“Need money for college.”

I nodded. “My brother’s a lifeguard. He’s working here to pay for his apartment.” I knew that she probably didn’t’ care, but I told her anyway to keep the conversation going.

“What’s your brother’s name?” she asked.


“I could’ve guessed. You two look just alike.”

I scrunched my nose up. I didn’t think my brother and me looked a thing alike, but people were almost always noting our resemblance. I opened my mouth to say something else but Brianna beat me to it. “Well, here we are, the craft hut. This is the first place you’ll be going for the next two weeks,” she said then smiled. “Hope you enjoy it more than you’re expecting. See you during soccer!”

I nodded and pushed the door open to the crafts hut. There was already a group of kids inside -- the middle school kids. They were all crammed in at one long table, huddled over a sign that read “Jubilant Jaguars,” coloring in the letters and chattering. An overly enthused counselor came towards me as I stood in the doorway. “Come on in,” she said. “We’re just making the sign for our spirit rally this morning. What’s your name?”

“Sydney,” I mumbled, now sick of repeating my name to everyone.

“Cool! Come make a nametag for yourself and help make the sign.”

“Whatever,” I groaned. I sat at the corner of the table by myself, not helping with the sign and not making myself a nametag -- I’m not a dog, so I don’t need a nametag!

The rest of my morning was much like the beginning of my day. I didn’t participate in the spirit rally singing songs and cheering like everyone else. I sat on the side lines during soccer and refused to play. Instead of eating my snacks I threw my chips at random people when they weren’t looking and poured my juice on a girl who was getting on my nerves (then she cried to the counselor who scolded me, told me to apologize, and when I wouldn’t she told me I’d have to sit out during swimming, our next activity).

So I sat on the concrete by the pool at the beginning of swim time, watching all of the other kids, my age group and a little younger, having a great time. My brother shook his head when he saw me, but didn’t say anything from the lawn chair he was sitting on near the pool. After a few minutes of watching, I was reprimanded a final time then allowed to go swimming. Come to find out, the littler kids in the pool were from a nearby daycare and they were super annoying, but fun to pester. They whined when you splashed them with water and freaked out anytime you got close to them.

“Would you leave my kids alone please?” one of the daycare workers asked me. I glared at her. How dare she try to tell me what to do!

“Shut up,” I told her. “You can’t tell me what to do!”

“You’re right, I can’t. But I can ask you to leave my kids alone.”

I shot her another evil look, then swam away, being sure to splash her while I was at it. I left the kids alone for a little while, but became humored when I kicked a little boy (accidentally, of course) and his pants came down a little. Through the girls’ laughter he yelled, “Hey! Watch where you’re going!” and tugged his trunks back up.

“Do it again!” one of the girls hollered.

Grinning, I swam away to splash water on the daycare worker (“accidentally”), then came back to tug at the boy’s shorts again. He yelped and the girls laughed again. “Stop it!” he whined.

“Stop it!” I mimicked.

He huffed away and swam to a group of more boys, not telling them about his humiliating experience.

“Do it to the boy with the green goggles,” one girl whispered to me. “He’s always really mean in daycare.”

“What are ya’ll whispering about?” another girl asked.

“She’s going to pull Caleb’s pants down!” the first answered.

“Shhh!” another said, “or Ms. Jennifer will hear and we’ll get in trouble!”

I rolled my eyes. “What’s he do that’s so mean anyway?” I asked.

“He always pulls our hair.”

“And calls us names.”

“And gets us in trouble.”

I nodded, remembering the boys in my grade school classes that did the same thing. Narrowing my eyes, I said, “Yeah, okay.” I swam over to the group of boys. In a quick round, I not only managed to pull down Caleb’s pants, but three other boys’, too. They shrieked like banchees and hurriedly tugged them back up. One of them went crying to their daycare worker.

“S-she pulled down my pants!” he cried.


He pointed at me.

The worker eyed me and shook her head, wandering off to the other side of the pool.

“What a brat,” I muttered then swam towards him. When I arrived by his side, I tugged his shorts down again and pushed him under the water, holding him there. I was so angry that I barely heard the whistle. I didn’t realize what I was doing until he simultaneously kicked me in my privates and my brother yelled “Sydney! Let him go!” I released my grip on him and he came up coughing and gagging. I splashed him in the face once more and Steven hollered, “Sydney!” loudly. “Get out of there right now!” he ordered.

I gave him a where-did-you-get-the-idea-you-can-boss-me-around look. “Whatever,” I said then turned away to notice everyone was watching me, at least everyone within a five foot radius. The daycare worker came for the boy and I heard my brother shouting again.

“Sydney Taylor! Get out! Now!”

“Leave me alone,” I scowled.

Infuriated, Steven dove into the pool and within a second he grabbed ahold of my arm.

“Let go of me!” I ordered, struggling to free myself of his tight grip. He dragged me to the stairs, and continued pulling me out of the water. “Steven! Let go!” I yelled, then began hitting his hand noticing the red mark that was forming on my upper arm.

“You will NOT act like this Sydney Taylor Pepperidge!” he told me, still tugging me along the sidewalk.

“Whatever. Just let me go.”

He shot me the meanest look then I felt a sharp pain in my backside, accompanied by a deafening thunderous sound. It took me a second to realize that he was swatting me and I was yelping like a baby.

“Oww! Steven! What are you doing?! Ow!” I demanded to know.

“Stop this attitude and fighting or I’ll take those bikini bottoms down right here in front of everyone and finish the job,” he warned.

I reached my hand back to rub as he stopped smacking me and resumed walking, still holding onto my upper arm. I blushed noticing that not only were the kids watching me, but now even the adults were staring in my direction, oblivious or apathetic to their impoliteness. He lead me to the changing rooms, where he practically shoved me inside. There were about four changing stalls on the left side of the room, across from three toilet stalls, three sinks, and the showers. I was thankful that he’d chosen the girls’ room to scold me in, but worried because I wasn’t quite sure how he was going to punish me.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he shouted.

I rolled my eyes at him, the initial sting of the spanking having already worn off. That was all it took for him to haul me into a changing stall and swipe my bikini bottoms down in one quick motion.

“Wait! Stop… I didn’t mean it!” I pleaded.

“How do you not mean it?” he asked, pushing me over his lap. I hadn’t even noticed that he’d sat down. Now I was facing the ground, hands on the floor.

“Because I didn’t,” I answered after he landed the first smack. “I’m sorry!”

“Yeah, I’m sure you are. And I’m sorry that I’m spanking you and there’s no way you can get out of it.”

I whined, squirming as he rained down hard swats on my wet and now throbbing backside. “Owwww…. Steven that hurts!” I gasped, forgetting for a moment that we were in the changing room and only a curtain separated me from anyone who decided to come to the bathroom. “Please, Steve! I’ll be good! Please stop!”

He ignored me, delivering smack after smack, showing no mercy on my reddened posterior. I wiggled and squirmed, kicking as much as I could, given the tiny space we were in.

He finally lifted me up and my hands flew to my backside. It was now warm instead of cool and wet, I could feel the heat radiating. Steven grabbed a hold of my upper arms, staring directly into my eyes. “Believe me, Sydney, this is not over,” he warned me. “You are NEVER to treat an adult with the same disrespect you displayed today. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, or why you decided to pull this stunt today, but I promise you that if you EVER act like this again, I won’t hesitate to spank your bare bottom right there at the pool with everyone watching. Do you understand me?”

I nodded, “Yeah, I understand.”

“When we go back out, you will sit down next to me until I get a break. Then you and I are taking a trip to the office. The disciplinary director has a paddle in there that I think would be very effective in straightening you out. If you’re lucky, that’ll be the last spanking you get today. But the way you’ve been acting, you’re pretty much asking me to get my belt after you when we get home.”

I shook my head. “No… that’s okay, I’ll be good,” I assured him.

He stood up, promptly gave me two hard swats, then said, “pull your bottoms up and let’s go. I expect to hear an apology when we get out there.”

I hurriedly tugged the bikini bottoms up and followed my brother out. On the way I noticed something: my swimsuit didn’t cover up my well-spanked bottom! My face turned as red as my backside that everyone would be able to see in such a short time. I would have hidden out, but Steven gave me a tug and made me follow him out the door.

I apologized to the daycare worker and kids when we arrived outside then was ordered by Steven to sit down next to him. Most of the kids had gone back to swimming, but some of them looked at me as I carefully eased down onto the pavement. The hot concrete made sitting almost unbearable as I was reminded of how tender my backside actually was. I winced, crossing my legs and watching, aware that this would be a long afternoon.


I don’t know how long I sat next to my brother. Long enough that I was almost relieved when the tall lanky guy in red trunks and a black shirt came towards us to allow Steven to go on his lunch break.

“Get your clothes on,” my brother said. “I’ll be waiting outside the changing room.” Then he stalked off to the snack shop, only turning around to tell me I had five minutes to be ready.

My stomach turned flip flops when I entered the same place I’d been spanked in only minutes before. Passing the mirror I saw that my bottom was still pink and now had little indentions from the not-so-smooth concrete. I studied myself for a little while then remembered I only had five minutes. Hurriedly, I grabbed my backpack of clothes and put on my tank top and plaid board shorts. “Why did I have to pick such thin shorts to wear today?” I asked myself out loud. Things were just not in my favor.

I stopped whining and trudged outside where my brother was waiting, hot dog in hand. He said nothing, just began walking, I following shortly behind. We walked down a path leading towards the main office. This was where all of the important issues were dealt with, like kids who’d badly injured themselves, parents who were angry with the camp, employees who weren’t doing their jobs, or the uncontrollable youth (like me). Upon entry, a bored secretary glanced up. Two boys were sitting in chairs against the wall, one with an ice pack on his head, the other a wad of paper towels over his knee. What I assume was the nurse opened a door and led a little girl to the waiting area. “I think she’s fine,” she said to the secretary. “It’s not broken, but keep some ice on it for a little while. And maybe call her parents.” The little girl was holding her wrist with a pathetic look on her face.

“I wanna go home,” she whined.

Me too, I thought.

The nurse called in one of the boys then closed the door behind her. “Can I see Mr. Sysco, please?” my brother asked so suddenly that I jumped a bit.

“Sure,” the secretary answered and pushed down some buttons on her phone.

“Sit down,” Steven demanded, so I plopped down in a chair next to the boy with ice. I waited nervously, watching the excitement of the main office. The secretary called the little girl’s mom, who was now on her way. I could hear Mr. Sysco’s loud laughter even though his door was closed and I didn’t know what was so funny. The boy next to me picked his nose then wiped the booger underneath the chair. I watched the clock on the wall, listening to the ticking, my heart beating faster with every second that passed. Is this what it’s like to be in the principal’s office? I wondered. I wasn’t quite sure if I wanted my brother to emerge from Mr. Sysco’s office and put me out of my misery, or if I wanted the booming laughter to continue as long as possible, so long that it’d be too late for my brother to paddle me.

A door opened and my heart stopped, but it was only the nurse and the boy whose knee was now covered in a big Band-Aid. The nurse chatted with the secretary for a moment and another door opened. This time it was the front door and two counselors and kids came in. One of the counselors was Brianna and she was holding a crying girl. The other counselor I recognized from the snack shack. She had a little boy at her side who claimed that his head hurt.

The another door opened. This time it was to Mr. Sysco’s office. I blushed deeply as the stern-looking man came into the small office and my brother beckoned me forth. All eyes were on me as I took the walk of shame from the chair to the disciplinarian’s office. I wondered what they were thinking, if they knew I was about to get a spanking just like a little kid. If they didn’t already know, it probably wouldn’t take them long to figure it out seeing as the walls were anything but soundproof. The thought of that made me blush even deeper!

“Today,” Steven said, referring to the fact that I was creeping slowly to my impending doom. I picked up the pace slightly, hoping there’d be some way to talk him out of it.

I felt the eyes staring at me even after Steven pulled the door shut. There was a big desk in the middle of the office with a comfortable-looking chair behind it, undoubtedly Mr. Sysco’s chair. In front of the desk sat two not-so-comfortable-looking chairs next to a bookcase with pictures on it. I decided to plop myself on one of those chairs.

“I don’t know why you’re sitting down,” Steven said.

“I figured we could try to rationalize this out without using physical punishment.”

He laughed -- yes, actually laughed! -- and sat on the side of the desk. “Oh? Do tell me then: how do you want to handle this ‘rationally’?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Maybe you could lecture me?”

“Well, I believe you’ve already been lectured at least once today at the pool, and obviously it didn’t work. So why would it work now?” I opened my mouth to answer, but it was a rhetorical question and he didn’t give me a chance. “But if you want lectures, then okay. You know what I’ve been hearing all day?” I shook my head. “Counselors talking about how much of an attitude you’ve had, how awful you’ve been acting, how disrespectful you’re being. One counselor even said that Mr. Sysco should *really* paddle you!”

I blinked. “They really said that?”

“Oh yeah,” he answered, now moving behind the desk. “I’ve heard all about your day today and I’m not pleased. And then you try to drown a little boy in the pool? Don’t you realize you could’ve killed him?” he asked, voice getting louder.

“I- I didn’t think about that…” I stammered.

“Didn’t think about it?” he yelled. “Is that what you’d tell the boy’s parents at his funeral? Is that what you’d tell the judge when he’s sending your ass to jail?”

I looked at the floor, now a well-reprimanded little girl. But he didn’t stop.

“Tell me, Sydney: What if he had died?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, tear falling to the floor.

He took a deep breath in and steadied himself. “Look, there are rules for a reason -- I know the counselors went over the rules before letting you swim. And you’re not stupid, Sydney. You know not to push anyone under water, whether you’re mad or not. There is no excuse for what you did today.”

I sniffled, wiping a tear away.

“And when I, or any counselor, tell you to do something, you are to do it without any talkback, questions, or fighting… Look at me,” he ordered and I lifted my head, locking eyes with his. “If I find out you’re not following directions the counselor will be sending you to Mr. Sysco for some swats, and when we get home you will see that those swats are nothing compared to what I will give you. Do you understand?”

I nodded sullenly.

“You also will not be swimming the rest of this week, but instead will be copying down the pool rules while everyone else swims. If you are on your best behavior, you will earn your swimming privileges back. Got it?”

I nodded again.

“As for now,” he began, opening the top drawer of the desk, “you are going to be getting twenty swats: ten over your shorts and ten on the bare bottom.” I guess when he’d said paddle, I’d thought of a ping pong paddle or something similar. But what he pulled out looked more like a fraternity paddle. “Stand up,” he said sternly, but I was glued to the chair. He came around the desk, paddle in hand. “Any day now.”

“I’m sorry,” I whined.

“I know. Now stand up.”

“But Steven… haven’t I been punished enough already?”

“I’m not telling you again, Sydney. I won’t hesitate to make the whole spanking bare bottom or to add swats.”

“Please don’t do this,” I begged.

He grabbed my upper arm and hauled me out of the chair. “Over the desk and no stalling or I’ll take the shorts down right now.”

Whining, I pushed myself over the desk, covering my face in my hands. My ears were burning with embarrassment as I remembered that there was quite a crowd outside. If I could hear Mr. Sysco’s laughter and voice, the sound of paddle-meeting-bottom would definitely be audible, even from the farthest corner of the office. I groaned just as I felt (and heard) the first swat. It took everything in me not to scream out.

“The behavior you displayed today is totally unacceptable, Sydney,” he told me, then swatted me again, this time so hard that I cried out.

People are listening, I reminded myself, biting my lower lip as the third blow landed right on my sit spots.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled to my older brother, a tear or two slipping down my cheeks.

He popped me again on the sit spots and I let out a grunt, still biting my lip. “Sorry that you did it, or sorry that you got caught?” he asked, hitting the same spot again and causing an even louder grunt to emerge from my lips.

“For everything,” I answered, nearly breaking down when he swatted me again.

“Then I guess I’m assured that you will be obeying from now on, right?” Cue that next swat.

“Yessssss,” I groaned.

He finished up the ten swats then set the paddle down. So far, I had done pretty well with containing myself, but as he lifted me up, I knew that I would soon be sobbing like a baby. All I could hope was that the group of people in the hallway had dispersed.

“Shorts down,” he ordered.

I wanted to whine and plead, but after all, he was the one with the paddle and the way my bottom already felt, I really didn’t want him to add anymore swats. I couldn’t help but plead with my eyes, though, as I slowly unbuttoned my shorts, then slid them down to the floor. He gently pushed me back over the desk, then tugged my panties down to meet my shorts.

“Steven…..” I whispered, feeling a cool breeze on my pink bottom.

He didn’t respond. I heard him pick the paddle back up and a shiver crept down my spine. Only ten more swats, I pep talked myself. Then it’s all over.

Ten swats is like an eternity, especially on the bare bottom. The first swat landed hard, right in the middle of my bottom. By the third smack, I was crying. By the fifth, I was screaming and he was hitting my thighs and sit spots. By the sixth, I lost count and knew that my dignity was lost and not only could the entire office hear me, but probably half of the camp.

I heard Steven put the paddle back down, then he helped my panties back up and brought me in for a hug. I buried my face into his chest, crying my eyes out. “I’m so so sorry,” I cried.

“I know, Sydney,” he whispered, stroking my hair. “I know.”

I rubbed my bottom as I cried, feeling how hot it was from the spanking. If I had thought the earlier spanking was bad, this one was worse! And I was sure there would be plenty more of this if I ever did the same thing again. In other words, I better watch my mouth and do as told… at least while around Steven.

As I stopped crying, Steven told me I could replace my shorts, then sit in one of the chairs across from Mr. Sysco’s desk. Apparently the disciplinary director wanted to have a word with me before going back to camp. I had the feeling that this time, he wouldn’t be laughing like earlier.

Steven opened the door and called out, only to come back in with Mr. Sysco.

“Hello, Sydney,” the man said, taking a seat behind his desk.

I shifted in my seat, wincing at the pain in my backside. “Hi,” I said in a tiny voice.

“I see you’ve become acquainted with my paddle,” he said, smirking slightly.

I blushed and didn’t answer.

“I just wanted to let you know that your behavior will not be tolerated at this camp. I’m sure your brother has already told you that I will not hesitate to paddle you myself if we have anymore instances like today. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, dropping my head and not wanting to hear anymore of this. “It won’t happen again,” I assured him.

“I hope not. I also hope that you will actually be participating in the rest of today’s activities.”

I groaned. The last thing I wanted to do was participate in more baby games. Of course, I wasn’t going to tell him that. “Yes, I will be participating.”

“Good,” he answered. “Then I won’t see you back here anytime soon?”

I shook my head.

He nodded to Steven who said, “come on” and I followed him out the door. There weren’t many people in the office anymore, but I kept my head down anyway so as not to have to look anyone in the eyes. When we got back outside Steven said, “just behave the rest of the day, please?” he asked, almost begging. “I will,” I promised. “And for the next two weeks I will, too.”

He smiled. “I’m glad,” he said, then put an arm around my shoulder. “I’ll walk you to the café for lunch.”

I nodded, following my older brother and still rubbing my throbbing backside. This would be a long afternoon!

06 August 2008

Story: Studying Abroad Chapter 2

Part of the Carlos/Danielle series.  A continuation of Danielle's studying abroad adventures.  She and Emi go out for the night and kind of don't exactly abide by Carlos's rules.  No spanking yet, but definitely a leadup.

Studying Abroad -- Chapter 2
by Breanna Carter

We sat there and watched the festivities. The kids whacked the crap out of the piñata until it finally burst open and everyone ran to collect the candy and toys. Emi and I had been eyeing the cake for quite sometime and after the piñata they sang and passed out pieces. It was delicious.

Finally, it was time to go.

"Que vas hacer esta noche? [what are you going to do tonight?]" Emi asked as Carlos and I stood.

"Nada. [Nothing.]"

"Entonces, voy a ir al cine si quieres ir conmigo. [So, I'm going to go to the movie if you want to go with me.]"

I grinned. "Si, claro," I replied, giving her my number. Carlos had disappeared so I wasn't sure if I could actually go or not, but I didn't bother trying to explain that to her. I just waved goodbye and met my family at the car.

"That was fun," I told my brother. "How come we never have anything like that for you?"

"Because I'm not 11."

"Doesn't mean you can't have a piñata. I want one for my birthday."

He gave me a look as if I were too old for one.

"And Edgar was gorgeous."

This time he rolled his eyes before saying, "you're such a girl."

"I know. Isn't it lovely?"

He smiled but didn't answer.

I watched out the window, still shifting on my aching bottom and replaying the day's events in my head. All of the people I'd met -- family, Edgar, the bitchy girl, Valeria, and Emi -- the cultural festivities... and my stupid self getting into a fight. Oh well, at least I hadn't said the forbidden phrase which Carlos had made me promise not to say unless I wanted to be slapped... and I didn't.

"Hey Carlos... am I still in trouble?" I asked suddenly.

He glanced at me. "Do you think you should be?"

"I really hate that question."

He gave a slight smile. "Well, have you learned your lesson about fighting?"

"Yes! Definitely. I never want to be spanked in public again."

"Then I guess you're not in trouble. Why do you ask?"

"Because Emi asked if I wanted to go see a movie tonight."

He shrugged. "I suppose that's okay. As long as you don't stay out too late."

"Me? Stay out late? I wouldn't dare think of such a thing!"

I was relieved knowing that I wasn't getting seconds and skipped into the house shortly after pulling into the driveway. I was excited... it'd been a fairly good day so far and I'd met a new friend which was ultra-spiffy. Sure, Carlos was okay to hang out with, but he was my brother. Of course it got old after a while.

I took a quick nap only to be interrupted by the phone being shoved on my ear and Carlos telling me I had a phone call. It was Emi. The conversation was mildly interesting because I was dead asleep and neither of us has perfected our Spanish. Finaly I realized the movie was at 8:30 and I'd never heard of it before. We decided to meet downton in front of a church. Spectacular.

I pushed myself out of bed and took a shower. I had to pretty myself up in case there was some gorgeous guys that wanted to pick up an American. I sat down for an early dinner with Carlos (because it was about 7:30 and we usually ate at 8:30...) whom I promised I'd be home by midnight. He didn't go for that and we finally compromised with 11:30... just in case the movie was longer, or she wanted to get ice cream afterwards, or I got lost on the way home.

Then I said, "why don't you go out tonight? There's plenty of bars, huh? And you can get in? You can call a cousin or something."

He shrugged. "I was thinking about it."

"I'll go with you."

"I don't think you want to do that. You know how over-protective I can get."

"This is true..."

"But one day we'll go out. Whenever you're more confident with your Spanish."

I nodded wondering when that would be. "Or since you're over-protective, maybe I can go with Emi."

"We'll see. But not tonight."

Damn. Oh well, it was a good try.

I finished up my quesadilla and put the plate in the sink. "Hasta luego, bro."

"See ya. No later than 11:30..."

"Right-O," I answered already walking outside. I threw my purse over my shoulder. It had two things I couldn't live without: a camera and umbrella. Ever tried walking 30 minutes in pouring rain? It's not pleasant. And it had rained almost every night since my arrival.

Emi was at the church as promised, on time by Mexican standards, about ten minutes late by American. Of course, I, too, had become accustomed to arriving late, so it was no problem. We made small talk on our way up the mountain to the theater. We saw "Just My Luck" which was dubbed but fairly easy to understand because the plot was so predictable. I made a mental note to check it out again once I got home.

When we got out of the theater, Emi asked me if I wanted to go to a bar.

Carlos had said not tonight and I couldn't help but remember how I ran into him last time I did something like that, so I almost said no. Almost.

"Si, pero tengo que ir a mi casa a las 11. [Yes, but I have to go home at 11.]"

She nodded and dragged me to a bar called "Bar Ocho." It was pretty small, but had three floors. We went to the second and smushed ourselves into a tiny table on the side. The room wasn't so crowded, but very smokey and loud. A waitress came by and we both ordered a beer. No IDs checked. I was in Heaven!

We had two beers a piece and chatted about our hometowns, what things we missed and what things we didn't. I learned that the drinking age in Japan is 20. We taught each other cuss words. It was fantastic. When I looked at my watch and saw it was only 11, I decided to get a third beer. I knew it would take at least 15 minutes to get home, probably closer to 25. But I wasn't concerned. More than likely because of the two beers I had drank.

Emi and I talked about school starting the following Monday. We were in the same level of Spanish and would be taking most of the same classes. Our grammar and conversation class were at the university, but the rest of our classes were at the prepatoria school. We were both taking history and art, but she was taking literature whlie I was in psychology. We both hoped for good-looking guys, but didn't hold our breath.

When we finally paid our bill, it was 11:30. I was going to be late, but Carlos would live with it. There were tons of people out and I contemplated going to one of the clubs with booming techno, but now wasn't the time to push my luck.

Emi's house wasn't too far from mnie. It was cool, not having to walk home alone the whole way.

I glanced at my watch a last time when I arrived in front of my house. It was closer to midnight than 11:30. Oops. I slowly inserted my key into the gate, idly wnodering if everyone was asleep. I could pass for being a little tipsy and didn't want anyone to know. No such luck... Carlos was downstairs in the kitchen watching tv and peeked his head out of the door when I walked in.

Just stay in there... I silently begged.

"I know you know you're past curfew but I'm sure you have a great excuse," he said, getting up and walking towards me.

Great... I knew I couldn't pull this one off. "Um... I'm in Mexico? That's my excuse?"

He shook his head. "What did I tell you about going to bars?"

"I didn't go..."

"I said, what did I tell you about going to bars?" he repeated.

"Not tonight," I said.

"Exactly. And I know that's where you were because you reek of cigarette smoke and I can smell the beer on your breath."

I decided not to argue this point.

"I know you're going to do ths nightlife while you're here... that's a given. But I don't appreciate you doing something after I specifically said not to. Much less joining that with coming in 30 minutes late." He paused, clearly angered. I still didn't say anything, remembering how only hours earlier I'd been spanked. "Are you going for two spankings in two days? Is that it?"

"No," I answered.

"Well you're certainly getting it, Young Lady. First thing tomorrow morning."

I winced, reaching back to rub my bottom. "But, Carlos..."

"Don't argue. Just go to bed."

I hung my head like a pouting puppy and walked past my brother up the stairs, half-expecting him to swat me one on the way.

The next morning I woke with drool dripping down my face and the sound of cars and buses out my window. I groaned when I saw it was only nine. There must've been about thirty loud buses that had passed int he last ten minutes. I gave up all hopes on ever going back to sleep and rolled out of bed. Then I remembered that I was going to get spanked and almost crawled back into bed.

Everyone else in the house seemed surprised to see me emerging so early. Grandma and Carlos were both in the kitchen chatting and watching tv. Upon my arrival, Grandma grabbed a chair and dragged me to it and set the placemat and silverware.

"Aye, you're up early," she said then went to cooking something.

"The buses are really loud," I answered.

She and Carlos both laughed. I took this as my chance to persuade my brother not to spank me.

"Carlos... look... I'm sorry about last night," I stammered uncomfortably. I expected him to say something, but he didn't. I wasn't sure if he wanted me to continue. I took my chances anyway: "It's just that Emi wanted to go to this bar and it was on our way home and I figured that she'd just get a drink then we'd go and I didn't think it'd be a problem." I paused and he still didn't say anything. "I was just curious, that's all. I wanted to see what it was like." Was I digging myself into a hole?

Finally he said something. "It's not the fact that you went that bothers me, just that you did so after I told you not to. And you came home late. You'll be here four months, you can wait until your Spanish gets better before you barhop. You can wait until you know the city a little better before you go roaming around in the middle of the night."

I nodded as grandma asked Carlos what was going on. He explained my coming in late, omitting the part about the bar and drinking which I was pleased about.

I thumped my foot nervously, heart pounding as I prepared myself to ask the question that would seal my fate. Grandma was now responding to what Carlos had said but I wasn't quite sure what she was saying. I couldn't tell if she was on my side or his.

Finally they stopped talking when she handed me breakfast. "Carlos... are you still going to spank me?" i asked shivering then quickly taking a bite of my eggs. I could hear grandma putting tortillas in the microwave. Carlos was thinking. Was this a good sign? On the tv a commercial for toothbrushes filled my head. Please say no, I silently begged.

He sighed. My foot was still thumping. "I would really consider not spanking you, but seeing as you deliberately disobeyed me twice yesterday, I'm sensing a pattern and it's time to break it."

There it was. My fate was sealed. I was getting it.

"When I tell you not to do something it's not just to hear myself talk, Danielle. It's for a reason. And if you choose not to listen, you'll just have to accept the consequences."

Grandma placed the tortillas next to me. I'd stopped eating momentarily to stare at my brother, but quickly began eating again at the sight of warm tortillas. I loaded them with beans and eggs, eagerly stuffing the food into my mouth. When I'd told my mom about this breakfast combination she didn't think it sounded very appetizing. But it was delicious. And at that moment it was helping me keep my mind off of the punishment.

Story: Studying Abroad, Chapter 1

Part of the Carlos/Danielle series.  Danielle is starting her year abroad in Mexico with her step-brother and his family.  They go to a birthday party where Danielle can only understand half of the Spanish and still manages to get herself into trouble.  (Excuse the excessive Spanish.  Thought I'd edited that up a while ago, and apparently I hadn't.)

Studying Abroad
Chapter 1

Music blared in my room as I looked at the outfits laying in front of me.

"Danielle, hurry up," Carlos called, rapping on the door.

We hadn't even been in Mexico for a week and I was already going to a birthday party. It was one of Carlos's 900 cousins that I hadn't met who was turning 11, so it'd be nothing spectacular, but still fun. The only problem was that I had no idea what to wear.

I opened the door to find my brother standing irritably. I dragged him inside, wearing my pjs. "What should I wear?"

He laughed. "No one cares. It's just a birthday party. You can wear that if you really want."

"You're absolutely no help," I told him.

He rummaged through my clothes and found jeans and a T-shirt. "Wear this."

"It'll be okay?"

He nodded. "And don't forget your swimsuit." As he ruffled my hair and walked out, I realized how muc hcloser we'd gotten since we'd crossed the border. Guanajuato was his hometown, at least it had been a place he'd lived for a long time as a kid, so he enjoyed taking me around and showing me different parts of the city. Not only that but since my Spanish was terrible, he had to help me out when everyone talked to me and had to teach me how to say important things. So in the five days we'd been there, we became more like good friends than brother and sister.

I slipped on the jeans and T-shirt over my swimsuit and pulled my hair back into a ponytail. I checked myself out in the mirror one last time, pleased with how I looked, then stalked downstairs where everyone was waiting for me.

"Lista?" Mrs. Rivas asked.

I nodded.


I followed them to the red car that waited in the driveway for us. Mr. Rivas drove, of course, and Carlos and I slipped in the backseat teasing and joking around with each other. He was almost a different person in Mexico. I could see the pride in his eyes for his country, even through the poverty and hardships. And he was so much more relaxed... less tense. Of course, everything in Mexico is so laid-back anyway, so that probably had a lot to do with it.

"So will they have a piñata and everything?" I asked, bouncing excitedly.

"Just wait and see."

"But Carlos! You gotta tell me!"

He grinned. "You'll see once we get there. Enjoy the anticipation. That's half the fun."

I pouted, but not for long. "So whose birthday is it?"


"Like I know who that is."

"It's grandma's sister's grandson."

"Right. So where's the party at?"

"You ask too many questions," was his answer and he turned away to look out the window.

"That's okay, I didn't wanna know anyway," I said, looking out my own side. I'd walked around the city enough to recognize some landmarks, but most of the stuff seemed new and different. It was so weird actually going somewhere in a car.

Carlos talked to our grandparents for a little while and I didn't pay enough attention to try to figure out what they were talking about. I just watched outside, observing and admiring the beauty. So much prettier than Texas... or the stereotypes of Mexico. Colorful houses were nestled in the mountains. The roads were narrow and winding, weaving through the mountains, high enough to see miles away. I painted the image in my head.

We pulled in front of a colonial-looking building. It was raining so grandpa dropped us off at the doorway and I followed grandma inside (she insisted that I call her that instead of señora Rivas). It was a clubhouse and the room was huge. There were tables set up on one side and a blow-up slide set up on the other. A woman greeted us, the Mexican way, with a handshake and kiss on the cheek. She was grandma's sister. I was then introduced to tons of more people, none of whose names I would have remembered if you'd asked me later.

I whispered in Carlos's ear, "are we going swimming?"

"Yeah, just wait a few minutes. Let's say hi to everyone first."

I almost told him that saying hi to everyone was one of the last things I wanted to do, but kept my mouth shut. This was his family, he hadn't seen them in a while, he wanted to catch up. I can live with that.

After about 30 minutes of talking (well, I was just listening, still too self-conscious to talk), eating hot dogs, and watching kids almost plummet to a horrifying death from the top of the blow-up slide, my dream-guy walked in the door. He looked to be around my age, was wearing jeans and a decent button-down shirt, a pound of gel in his hair to keep it standing up. I was moving in on this guy.

I nudged Carlos. "Who's that?"

He looked up. "Oh, that's Edgar, another one of the cousins."

"He's close to my age," I said.

"A bit older, but yeah, pretty close."

He was greeting everyone at the table next to us and my heart almost stopped when he turned and smiled at me. Yay!

"Hola," he said to me after greeting all of his family at the other table.

I blushed and returned the salutation.

Carlos explained that I was his little sister and we were here to study a few months. He seemed impressed.

He got a hot dog then sat down at the conveniently empty seat next to me and we chatted for a while. It was a nice way to practice my Spanish, and nice for him to practice his English. He wanted to konw about the U.S., which places I'd visited, how I liked Mexico so far, which school I was going to, etc. etc. etc. He offered to give me a tour of the city, show me the fun clubs and stuff (I had to ignore my brother's evil glare when we talked about that) and help me learn more Spanish. I didn't point out that Carlos coulddo all of that. I also didn't realize that I was making an enemy -- a girl across the room who'd been staring at us the whole time Edgar had been around.

Finally, one of the girls at my table wanted to go swimming so I offered to join her. Edgar declined due to his lack of swimsuit and I couldn't convince him to just wear his clothes. He and Carlos did, however, decide they'd at least come outside and watch.

The pool was full of kids I didn't know, but being the only American around, they flocked to me quickly. Valeria (my new friend) and I stripped down to our swimsuits as thousands of questions were fired at me. "Where are you from? What's your name? How do you say my name in English?" Then they wanted to play a game with me and I noticed that everyone in the pool was crowded around me with the exception of two girls, maybe a year or two younger than me, glaring in my direction.

We agreed on Marco Polo, which was interesting enough to try and explain in Spanish. It was a lot of fun until I was the one running around like a maniac and suddenly felt myself being pushed in the water. After almost drowning, I looked to see the two girls laughing at me. "Oops!" one said. "Perdón! Sorry!"

The kids wanted to keep playing but I declined politely and joined Valeria. "Quien son? Who are they?" I asked, nodding to te two girls who were now joining the game.

"No las cognozco pero creo son amigas de Miguel. I don't know them but I think they're Miguel's friends."

I didn't tell her that I had no idea who Miguel was. "Creo que no les gusto. I don't think they like me."

She shrugged. "Es porque hablaste con Edgar. Y les gusta él. It's because you talked to Edgar. And they like him."

Oh so that's what it was -- they had a crush on the guy who was talking to me. Jealous bitches.

"Y tambien eres Americana. Tienes mas atención de las. And also because you're an American. You're getting more attention than them."

Oh? They want attention? I'll show them attention. This is war.

We stayed to ourselves for a little while, occasionally talking to a passerby. A little girl wanted to throw around a little plastic ball with us so we did that.. then I had a grand idea... and "accidentally" threw it too far, whapping one of the bitches in the nose.

She yelped and held her nose, checking to see if it was bleeding. Valeria and I were snickering. "Oops... Perdón," I said.

She checked her nose again then chunked the ball back at me, but I ducked in time. She was carrying on and on, yelling at me in Spanish like I could understand her.

I decided to take this time to test out some of the words I'd recently learned: "Callate, zorra," I said, which is basically saying "shut up, slut."

Her eyes widdened and she lurched forward, knocking me backwards and under water. I brought her down with me and we wrestled until we needed a breath and noticed Carlos yeling at us. I'm not sure what he said beyond "stop," but it was enough to get her to huff, splash water in my face and say in perfect English, "I'm not finished with you."

Carlos gave me a look and said, "cool it."

I shrugged him off and went back to Valeria to talk about the girl and ways to get her back. I should've done as my conscience suggested and just left her alone, but part of me knew that she was just awiting for a vulnerable moment to attack again.

After a few minutes of peacefulness, Carlos was back talking to some family and the girl grabed her towel and flipflops to go inside. I noticed taht she'd left her clothes next to the pool. Why give her the chance to attack me first?

I showed Valeria my plan and she stood on the lookout -- any sign of Carlos or the bitch looking, just throw my shoe at me. That'd get my attention. I crept out of the pol and towards her stuff, sitting nearby on a chair Valeria gave me a thumbs-up from the pool and I grabbed the girl's things and quickly slipped back into the pool, everything in my arms. The two of us giggled as I soaked her things. Have fun riding home in this!

We dispersed from the pile of clothes shortly after we were sure that they were good and wet. We should've gone inside, but we just had to see her reaction. So when she finalyl came outside, Valeria tapped me on the arm and we watched intently. She searched for her things like a mother hen who'd lost her egg. Giving up, she finally took off her shoes and towel and jumped in the pool. By this time Valeria and I were choking on laughter. The girl noticed this and looked around for what was so funy, finally seeing her clothes floating around. Needless to say, she wasn't happy. She picked them up and threw them at me, cussing and crying like you wouldn't believe. She then swam towards me to retrieve her clothes, promptly slapped me and left. I was stunned and embarrassed. To top it off, Carlos was standing right there and ordered me out of the pool. I promised Valeria that I'd be back soon.

My brother spared me anymore embarrassment than necessary and ushered me to a secluded area.

"What did I tell you?" he asked.

"To cool it, but..."

"Leave her alone, Danielle. You're acting like a seven year-old"

"She started it."

"I don't care. I'm finishing it. Keep it up and I'll spank you right here, and don't think I won't."

He was glaring at me angrily, but I didn't understand the big dea, especially when she was the one who pushed me first! And then she slapped me... the bitch. Besides, Carlos wouldn't really spank me there -- it was just an idle threat, right?

"Do you understand?" he asked.

"Yeah," I murmured, then walked off.

It was bad enough that the girl slapped me, worse that Carlos lectured me, and even worse when I came back and the girls were mocking me. Valeria suggested we go back inside to avoid more conflict, but I wasn't finished yet. I didn't know what I'd do, but I knew it'd have to be worth it if Carlos decided to carry out his threat.

The girl and her friend eventually got tired of provoking me into another fight and stopped mocking me. And Carlos went back to talking to people. And Edgar disappeared. Valeria and I were just swimming around. She was still half-expecting me to do something, even though neither of us had a clue. Then the girl moved a perfect distance from the diving board. With a good enough jump, I could land right on top of her and could always use the excuse that I hadn't seen her.

Valeria must've seen the look in my eyes. "Que pasa?"

I held up my finger to tell her to wait a minute as I climbed out of the water.

"Que estás haciendo?" she whispered.

"Vamos a ver," I replied, quietly climbing onto the diving board. I judged the distance from where I was to her. Perfect. Taking a deep breath, I braced myself, one hope, two hop, three -- jump! I sailed through the air, everything in slow motion. I stretched out to do a belly flop and she looked up in horror, ducking just in time for my body to crash into hers. I heard everyone gasp right before I went under water. I was smiling when I came to the surface again.

"Perdón, no te ví," I apologized.

"Mentirosa!" she answered, pushing me.

Before I had the chance to push back, Carlos was there, like a coach on the sidelines at a football game. He was just waiting, not yelling or anything. I glanced in his direction then pushed her back. "Danielle!" he yelled.

She pushed me again and within minutes we were at it. We were pushing, wrestling, biting, pulling hair -- you name it. People were yelling from all around, but it didn't stop us. In fact, we'd have probably gone on forever had someone not pried us apart. I don't know who it was, I couldn't really see straight from all of the adrenaline, but he must've been strong because he handed me to Carlos who carried me kicking, struggling, and dripping wet to the bathroom.

"I don't understand what your fascination with fighting is," he said as I rubbed my face where I'd been hit a few times. He tried to lock the door, but it was broken. I'd figured he was just going to yell at me, but then he put the lid of the toilet down and sat, dragging me over.

"Wait... you're not gonna..." I began and broke off.

"I told you I would, didn't I?"

"But... the door isn't locked!"

"I don't care," he replied and pushed me onto his lap, disregarding my bikini bottom immediately and smacking me hard.

I hadn't expected it to hurt so much, but since I'd been swimming and my backside was wet, it stung like crazy! "Ow, Carlos! Wait!"

"Wait? You could've killed her! Broken her neck!" he fussed, spanking even harder.

"Owwies, it was an accident!"

"Accident my ass," he responded, then "move your hands," when I reached back.

"Please," I begged, "not here," not moving my hands.

He sighed exasperatedly and moved them for me. "I told you I'd spank you if you did anything else."

"But not here," I gasped, squirming like crazy over his lap. "People might listen!"

"Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is for me to have my little sister a guest at a party and still picking fights?"

I bit my lower lip to keep from yelping too loudly. "I knowww... I'm sorry!"

"I don't believe you are," he told me, moving down to my sitspots. I howled in pain, covering my mouth with my hands so if anyone was listening they wouldn't get the satisfaction of knowing how much pain I was in.

I don't know how long he kept up, just that it hurt so much he restrained one hand while I bit my other hand. And I was kicking furiously. When he stopped I breathed a sigh of relief.

"We'll talk about this when we get home," he assurred me, pulling my bottoms back up and lifting me.

I wiped the tears away from my still crying eyes and gave him a hug. I then washed my face and turned around, looking at my bottom in the mirror. This set me off crying again. As if it wasn't bad enough I'd gotten spanked, everyone could see it, too!

"Carlos, please don't make me go back like this. Please bring me my towel," I begged.

He shook his head. "Nope. That's part of the punishment. Besides, look at me"

I glanced over and noticed that his pants were covered in water -- it looked like he hadn't made it to the bathroom in time. I giggled.

"At least you can use the hand dryer," I offered.

"And I'm wearingm y swimsuit. But I also didn't do anything punishable like you, kid sis."

I pouted.

He took off his jeans to reveal the swimsuit underneath then stuck them under the dryer. I leaned against the cool sink trying to let it ease my throbbing bottom.

"I didn't want to hurt her," I told him.

He looked back. "I know, but you could have done some pretty bad damage. Besides, it's just the fact that you were acting like a kid and kept on after I warned you. You know that's not the right way to act, much less at a party that you were invited to by someone you don't even know. What kind of impression do you think that gives them about us? About Americans?"

I nodded. "You're right. Wish I would've thought about that."

He took his jeans out from under the dryer and inspected. THey were dry enough for him 'cause he slipped them back on. I glanced at my bottom again and arranged my swimsuit so you couldn't see as much red. It didn't look as bad.

The two of us walked out together and I was triple self-conscious wanting to cover my bottom but not wanting people to wonder why I was doing it. So I just hurried over to my towel thankful that the girl hadn't thrown my clothes into the water. I put my clothes on over my swimsuit and went inside where they were about to get ready for the piñata. At least Edgar had been inside during the fight.

We sat at a different table this time. I eased gently onto the chair while Carlos introduced me to those I hadn't met.

"Vas a estudiar?" one lady asked, then went on to explain she was hosting a student from Japan. As if she'd known we were talking about her, the student suddenly appeared at my side, hotdog in hand. I knew instantly that I was going to like her -- she just had those vibes. She plopped down next to me as everyone explained that I was an exchange student, too. Then we figured out we were going to go to the same school.

"Y como te llamas?" I eventually asked.

"Emi. Y tu?"

"Daniela. Y hablas inglés?"

"No," she answered, then began laughing which made me laugh because she was so funny.

Story: Studying Abroad, Prologue

Part of the Carlos/Danielle series.  The introduction to Danielle's trip abroad.

Studying Abroad

The table was littered with empty Corona bottles as I danced to the pulsating music with the most gorgeous Mexican I'd ever seen. I had a beer in one hand and with the other I was touching his side. He was smiling big and we were just dancing and having fun.

"You are so hott," I told him.

"I know," he replied. At that point it seemed like everything was being sucked away and suddenly I realized it was just a dream. I sighed but smiled anyway. My eyes were still closed and I tried to go back to sleep but started feeling really uncomfortable for some reason. I shifted then peeled my eyes open only to find my step-brother over me grinning wildly.

"Holyshit," I said, jumping up and putting my hand over my thumping heart. "Give me a heart attack why dontcha..."

He was still smirking and I idly wondered why he was in my room when it was still dark outside. "But I'm so hott I'd have given you a heart attack anyway," he teased.

I blushed and chunked a pillow at him. "Leave me alone!" I whined.

He giggled and threw it back at me. "It's 4:30 and our plane leaves in about two and a half hours. Which means you have, like, five minutes to get ready."

"Ohmigod!" I yelped, jumping out of bed. "It's Tuesday! We're going to Mexico!" I danced around the room happily then hugged Carlos. "Yay! I'll be ready really really soon!" I assured him, pushing him out of the room and blinding myself with the light. I'd lain out my clothes the night before (or a few hours ago, actually) so I scooped them into my arms and hopped into the shower. I washed off quickly then dressed myself and met my family in the kitchen in no time.

"That *was* quick," Carlos said. "If only you were that fast every morning!"

"Shut up," I muttered.

"Danielle, are you sure you want to go?" my mom asked for the thousandth time. "You could just stay a couple of weeks then transfer back here..."

"Mom, chill. I'll be fine. And besides, I'll have dear old Carlos and family around." Of course, I knew her concern wasn't my support system but rather that I'd be spending the entire semester in Mexico and she'd miss me terribly.

"You know if you get homesick you can just come home, right?"

"Yes, Mom, I know..." I groaned, rolling my eyes.

My mom opened her mouth to continue, but Juan, my step dad, stopped her. "She'll be okay," he assured.

"I know, I've just never been without her this long before," mom replied, near tears.

"But you're coming to visit. It'll be fine, Mom."

She smiled, wiped a tear away and sat a plate of eggs and bacon in front of me. "And listen to your brother while you're there, okay? And Mr. and Mrs. Rivas. And don't go out too much."

"Mom, you're freaking out. I'll be fine..." I promised, eating my breakfast. Carlos just laughed at the whole situation and I wished that Juan would start giving him a hard time. After all, Carlos was the college student and would probably party more than me! (Yeah right..)

We finished breakfast then drove to the airport. On the way there we got another speech and Carlos and I acted ten years younger as we mimicked our parents. When we finally got there my mom was almost to tears. Carlos and I were so ecstatic that we just grabbed our luggage and headed inside. We said our last teary goodbyes, showed our IDs, then headed to our terminal. I was shaking with anxiety -- I wasn't a big fan of airplanes and I'd never been away from home for this long before. Although Carlos's grandparents were as much family as ayone else that I'm actually related to. They'd kept in touch with Carlos and Juan after their daughter, Carlos's mom, died, and had always been a big part of my life. So when Carlos decided to study abroad and stay with them, I looked into an exchange program, too, then practiced my Spanish as much as possible. And now the day was here -- we were about to go to Guanajuato, Mexico, and we'd be gone from English-speakers and fast food for months... only not so much. There are so many Americanized cities in Mexico that I wasn't even worried about being homesick.

The plane touched down about two hours after we'd taken off. I, for one, was ecstatic. I'd only visited the Rivas's once at their house in Guanajuato and didn't even get to stay very long. Not to mention there's hardly any mountains remotely close to where I live so I was jumping in my seat and hitting Carlos. He was doing a really good job of pretending that he didn't know me.

I followed my step-brother through the airport, mouth dropped, letting him do all of the work. I got stopped at customs and they started speaking to me so quickly that I didn't understand what was going on. Luckily they had enough experience with Americans and pointed me to a table for someone to check my bags. I swore that I'd kill Carlos if he ever made me do anything like that again.

We took a taxi from the airport to his grandparents' house. I was really nervous (as I had been with most drivers since I'd acquired my own license) but dealt okay. In no time we were in front of the house.

This'll be my home for the next four months, I thought to myself as Carlos knocked on the gate. I clutched tightly onto my suitcases, heart pounding. Maybe this was a mistake.

Mrs. Rivas opened the door and upon seeing us, ran towards the gate. "Carlos! Daniela!" she shrieked, allowing our entry and kissing us both. I peered up at her two story house which was so awesome to me -- I'd never lived in one before! She rushed us inside and called to her husband to help me with my things, all the while talking to Carlos so quickly that I could only understand bits and pieces.

I lugged my suitcases into my room. It was upstairs, at the end of the hallway and had a picture window facing the street. They let me have some time to rest up and unpack mythings. I put away some clothes and put pictures around the room. I dug out the snackfood that I'd smuggled in my suitcase. Then I plopped on my bed and stretched out, soaking everything in. Nope, coming here definitely wasn't a mistake.

02 August 2008

Story: Chemicals

Misc story.  This is one of my favorites.  Gabriela (Gabi) and her friends are celebrating the end of the school year with loud music and speed.  It's a great time until the cops crash the party.  And then Gabi makes some bad decisions that make even her older brother want to spank her.  So he does.

by Breanna Carter

Can you please point me to your chemicals?
I need to feel like I’ve got rocks in my eyelids.
The only superhero I’ve ever known was you, about 5 years ago.
It was you about 5 years ago.
~Armor for Sleep~ 

The last day of school is a day for parties. It doesn’t matter if it’s the last day of first grade, tenth grade, or college… it’s a party day. Remember when you were a little kid and that last day was especially reserved for fun? I remember being in third grade and having a fiesta, equipped with chips and salsa, Mexican hats, and a piñata. Of course, as you get older, the parties begin to differ. In middle school we just hung out all day, listening to our portable cd players and gossiping about summer plans. In high school we had parties after school… parties at a friend’s house, late at night, with lots of illegal substances involved. The last day of school my tenth grade year was just that: five teenaged girls in one lone apartment, staying up all night and popping speed -- the same fun factor as piñatas were in third grade.

“Oooh! I have a song that you’ll absolutely LOVE!” my friend, Jessica, shrieked as the pills we’d taken only a few minutes before started to kick in. She danced to the song that was already playing as she walked to the cd player to be our DJ for the night, seeing as it was her apartment we were crashing. Lucky bitch… her parents actually gave her the apartment to herself sometimes. Some of us weren’t so fortunate… my older brother, Carlos, was ALWAYS home!

My best friend, Laura, nudged me. “Hey,” she whispered, “are you feeling it yet?”

Truthfully, I wasn’t quite sure because I’d never taken speed before. Things seemed a little out of focused and rushed, but I wasn’t sure if it was because of the adrenaline, placebo effect, or the actual drug. I went with the former, whispering back to Laura, “I don’t think so. Are you?”

She shook her head. “Let’s go for a smoke. It’ll help time pass.”

I nodded and followed her out to the balcony, cigarette pack in one hand, lighter in the other. It was nerve racking, standing there just waiting… waiting for some little white pill to do something majestic to me, something so majestic that I would be talking to my friends about it for years after. It would be known as “my first time” and like Jessica and the other girls, all of whom were 17 or 18 and had taken speed before, I would recall this experience in every party thereafter and shake my head while claiming that it would never be the same.

Laura and I didn’t talk, just puffed on one of the hundreds of cigarettes we would puff through in the night, taking in the warm evening air and listening to the crickets in the distance. We could hear the music inside and Jessica singing along, which was mildly entertaining for a couple of minutes.

After finishing the first cigarette, we lit another and Laura started tapping her foot. I didn’t really notice it at first, until it started getting on my nerves a bit. Then I realized that I felt this rush of energy and I started moving around, too, although I was twitching instead of tapping. “Holy shit,” I muttered, gripping a hold of the railing on the balcony to keep myself from falling over.

“You okay?” Laura asked as if she were far away. I looked up to see her through the dizziness and giggled. I couldn’t even muster up the strength to let her know that I was fine, just feeling a little goofy. She didn’t care, though… she’d forgotten by then because she was giggling, too.

We stepped the cigarettes out and went back inside where the music was loud and Jessica was dancing and singing. Selena was singing along, smoking a cigarette on the sofa, and Chloe was washing dishes. I dove into the couch, lying my head on Selena’s lap.

“What ya say, Gabi girl? You havin’ fun?” she asked, blowing smoke out of her nose.

I nodded my head, unable to sit still. Jessica seemed to be having a good time dancing, so I decided to join her. We joined hands and swung around, falling into a fit of giggles. Did I say this was the equivalent to a piñata party? I was wrong… this was so much better.

“Love Shack!” Jessica squealed, turning the volume up louder. It was the 80s hit and we knew all of the words to the whole song. Everyone was so excited that we all danced around, even Chloe left her dishwashing to join us.

“The love shack is a little old place, where, we can GET TOGETHER!!!” we shouted. “Love Shack baaabyyyy!”

Selena twirled me around and I fell, knocking over something in the process, but I couldn’t tell you what. Nor did I care. We were just having fun. Laura helped me back up, both of us cackling so much that we could barely hold ourselves up. I lit another cigarette and tried to stay out of everyone else’s way so I wouldn’t burn them. I observed the crowd for as long as possible, not quite sure what was going on with my head. Is this what drugs really felt like? Is this what they had all been talking about for so long? Did I like this? I wasn’t quite sure about any of the answers, too fucked up to make sense of my thoughts.

As the song ended, everyone bummed a smoke from me and we sat around the coffee table, puffing away and chattering about everything but nothing. The music wasn’t as loud by now (I’m not sure who turned it down), but every so often someone would begin singing and the rest would join in. Jessica had some damn good cds.

After about three cigarettes a piece, and moving nowhere in our conversation, Chloe pushed herself up. “I LOVE THIS SONG!” she shouted, and turned the volume up all the way. If I had been in my right mind, I would have ordered her to turn it down. After all, it was after two o’clock on a Thursday night and some people wanted to sleep. Unfortunately, I wasn’t in my right mind. And neither was anyone else. So instead of turning the music down, we danced and sang some more, spinning around and trying not to break anything else.

We didn’t stop after that first song. Or the second one. Or the third. We were like the energizer bunnies: we kept going and going and going and going and going. And then there was a loud pounding on the door. I didn’t even hear it. It was Selena who pushed through us and pried the door open, revealing not one, but two uniformed men.

Everyone stopped dancing. Jessica turned the music off. It was silent, except the occasional puff of a cigarette from my mouth… or was it Laura’s mouth?

I don’t know what the officer said, I let Selena deal with that. Something along the lines of disturbance calls and identification and whose apartment and could they search. Laura hit me and said “Give him your license.”

I dug in my pocket and handed it over, not quite sure why they needed it.

“Ma’am, you do realize that the smoking age is 18, right?” he asked.

I nodded, not getting his point. Then I realized I had a cigarette in my mouth. Shit! I quickly stubbed it out.

He shone a flashlight in my eyes and I looked away. “Have you taken anything?” he asked me. I didn’t like that he was talking to me now. I preferred for him to talk to Selena or anyone else, but not me!

Instead of waiting for my answer he talked softly to the other officer then moved inside. They wandered around, shining their flashlights around, looking for any pieces of evidence. I don’t know what came over me, but all of a sudden I knew I had to get out of there. I bolted from the apartment, running outside, then down the stairs. I ran through a maze of cars, faster than I’d ever run before, then onto the grass towards the highway. I heard noises behind me, but just ignored them, running as fast as I could.

I was almost there, almost to the highway when all of a sudden -- THUD! -- I was pushed to the ground. At first I thought someone was attacking me and was prepared to fight back, but as I felt the cold steel around my wrists, I knew that I wasn’t being attacked, but arrested.


He lifted me up, out of breath, then radioed the other officer: “I got her.”

Double shit.

Were the handcuffs really wrapped tightly around my wrists? Was his hand really on my shoulder, pushing me forward? Was he really taking me to the police car? A police car?! Did he really just open that door and shove me inside?

Triple shit.

I leaned my head back against the backseat of the squad car, shifting my position so my arms wouldn’t hurt so much. What the hell had I done? What was going on?

I closed my eyes, trying to steady my spinning head, then opened them back up, glancing out of the window. Another squad car was now arriving and the officers were putting Chloe and Jessica inside, the two girls who were 18. Only they weren’t in handcuffs. They didn’t make a run for it like one stupid girl I know.

Another car arrived as the other sped off. This one was reserved for Laura and Selena. I wondered why I had to sit alone when all I wanted to do was chit chat with someone. I just needed some company. I’d have to invent an imaginary friend just to keep myself occupied.

I began tapping my foot impatiently, just ready for them to take me to juvi so I could get in a cell and talk to someone. Or at least walk around. This waiting thing was killing me.

After what seemed like hours, the two officers that interrupted our party got into their car. In third grade I’d never had this problem… no one ever tried to stop our parties.

“How are you this evening?” I asked the officers as they settled in.

The guy in the passenger’s seat, the one who had chased me down, gave me a weird look. Then he looked at his co-worker who shrugged, and turned back around to face the front, ignoring my question entirely.

I sighed. “Please talk to me,” I begged.

“Look… Gabriela, is it?” the driver asked me.

I nodded. “Yes, Gabriela is right.”

“It’s nearly three o’clock in the morning, and we’re pretty tired. It’s been a long night, and your party made it longer for us. So we don’t really feel like talking, okay?”

“Blah, you’re no fun then,” I answered. “No one ever ruined our parties in third grade.”

He didn’t ask what I was talking about, probably because he was too irritated. I don’t know if I dreamt it or not, but I think he and the other officer were talking about “teenagers these days.” I was under the impression that both of them had teen girls about my age, and they were all of a sudden worried that they were doing drugs. Whatever. A big whatever.

Of course, I wasn’t saying whatever when the officers took me into the station right behind Laura and Selena. By this time I was getting a little scared, the pills having worn off a little by this time. I sat in the waiting area by the officer, whose name I read to be “P. Johnson.” Selena was next to me on the hard white bench, looking more nervous than I felt. I wanted to comfort her, but the stillness of the room warned me against that.

By the time Selena was escorted to the room, I felt like I was dying. I needed a drink of water, my foot wouldn’t stop thumping, and I was beginning to feel like crashing. Officer P. Johnson stayed at my side the entire time, even when the juvi people talked to him, saying stuff like “busy night” and “times have changed.”

“Gabriela Marquez,” a bored woman called and Officer P. Johnson released the handcuffs, then practically pushed me into a small office. The bored woman handcuffed my left hand to her desk and began reading my charges to me. Disturbing the Peace. Possession of Tobacco. Possession of Controlled Substances. Resisting Arrest. I was apparently lucky that there were so many children who murdered and raped, because otherwise I’d have a spot in a jail cell next to a butch princess named Bubba. Could she have the number of my parent or guardian so s/he could come pick me up?

Sure, ma’am. His name is Carlos Marquez. He’s a probation office who has to work at the ass crack of dawn, so he’s probably sleeping right now, but what do I care? I’m still high as a kite and just want to see my brother so I can chat with someone, and maybe he can get me a glass of water.

I hope I didn’t really say everything I was thinking. Not that it mattered. She dialed the number that I’d recited by heart and I listened to it ringing. At first I thought it was because I could just hear really well, but then I realized that it was because it was on speaker phone.

The words exchanged were jumbled up. They were a mixture of my charges and Carlos’s sleepy voice, wondering where the hell I was. He was on his way… he’d be there as soon as he could make it.

Good. I’d have someone to talk to finally.

The woman escorted me to a holding cell where my friends and one other girl sat. Even better… someone close to my age to talk to! But they weren’t into talking.

The girl I didn’t know was the first to go. She was crying, pushing her dirty blonde hair out of her eyes. The guy who picked her up was tall and fairly young, with his messy brown hair covering his angry eyes. She scurried out of the holding cell, crying even harder.

Poor kid. She couldn’t have been older than 14.

Since no one was talking to me, I decided to lie down on the floor for a bit. My head was still spinning and I just needed some sleep. Just needed to get out of this horrible nightmare of police and handcuffs and jail cells and all of that mess.

“Gabriela Marquez!” I heard a voice shout.

I peeled my eyes open to see that the dream hadn’t gone away. I was still in the damn holding cell and the woman who had called Carlos was now standing in the doorway, beckoning me forth. At first I found it difficult to push myself up, but then when I looked around, I realized that I was the only hoodlum left and my brother was only inches behind the bored lady. After noting this, it was significantly easier to get myself off the floor.

The bored lady released me into Carlos’s care with a ticket telling me when my court date was. As we walked out of the door, I was about to tell him how happy I was to finally see him when he said, “if I thought you’d feel it, I’d spank you right here, right now.”

Um… maybe better not to express happiness at this time. Try regret, sorrowfulness, remorse, anything but happiness. “I’m sorry,” I said. Well, I tried.

“Not yet you’re not. Get in the car.”

It was a little difficult to get the door open because my hands were shaking so much, but I didn’t dare tell my brother that. I just tried to steady my body and grip the handle for long enough to get the damn thing open.

He started the car and I nervously buckled my seatbelt.

“So what’d you do tonight?” I asked.

He glared at me.

Hmm… okay, try a different approach. “I love you, Big Bro! You’re the best! Thank you for rescuing me from jail!”

“Gabriela, just shut up. It’s late, I’m tired, I have to work in the morning. I’m a little less than happy right now, and I’d prefer if you’d just keep your mouth shut.”

Fine, I didn’t want to talk to you anyway. I hope I didn’t say that out loud.

“You did,” Carlos said.

“Huh? Oh, I did? Oops. Sorry. I’ll try to shut my mouth now.”

I closed my mouth and leaned my head back, shutting my eyes. My wrists still hurt where the handcuffs had been. But it was only a dream… in a few minutes I’d wake up and be at Jessica’s house, puffing on a cigarette and listening to music.

“Gabriela, I’m not carrying you in. So get up,” I heard. The voice was distant, and I wasn’t even sure this person was talking to me. They must’ve been talking to another person named Gabriela, because they were so far away. “Gabi! Get up!” the voice demanded, and I felt my body being shaken. I thought about opening my eyes, but it required too much energy. I didn’t have anymore of that.

Whoever said they weren’t carrying the other Gabriela certainly didn’t mind carrying me, because moments later I felt myself being hauled up, and thrown over a shoulder. It was very uncomfortable, especially when my backside was swatted, but I still didn’t move. If this mysterious Gabriela-caller wanted to carry me and swat me, I didn’t mind, so long as he let me sleep.

I woke up the next morning with a pounding headache, an angry older brother storming through the house, and a comfy bed inviting me to sleep in it longer. My door swung open at exactly 6:17am and there Carlos stood, dressed in his probation officer uniform, hands on his hips.

“Gabriela Marquez, you’re one lucky girl, you know that?”

I groaned in response.

“I didn’t spank you last night because I knew you wouldn’t be able to feel it. I can’t spank you this morning because then I’ll be late. But you can bet your ass that I’m going to spank you this evening when I get in and you’re going to be one sorry little girl, do you understand me?”

Although a groan wasn’t the most appropriate response in the world, I couldn’t really muster up enough strength to utter anything else.

He walked off, not bothering to shut the door back. I would have shut it myself, but I was too sleepy, and cranky, and didn’t feel well. I just needed more sleep.

The second time I woke the house was silent. I had kicked my blankets off of me sometime during the morning and now I was just lying in my bed clad only in the T-shirt I’d worn the night before and my panties. I tried to piece the night together in my head as I pushed myself off of the bed, heading towards the bathroom to wash my face. Little by little everything started coming back to me. The fun part, with the pills and the dancing and singing, and then the crappy part, with the police and the jail and Carlos coming to pick me up.

I shuffled through the house after washing my face, then lazily plopped down on the couch. I felt sick to my stomach and my head still ached, but mostly I was worried. Worried about my legal problems, and worried about what Carlos had told me early in the morning: I was going to get spanked. And when I say spanked, I don’t mean a few swats over the jeans just for emphasis… I mean pants and panties down, lying face down on the bed, lashes with the belt. Just thinking about it makes me shiver.

I decided to watch tv instead of worrying myself with my impending punishment. Those happy cute families are always more interesting than real life anyway. I mean, really, do those types of families actually exist? If I were a character in a family-oriented show, my parents would sit me down and talk to me and discuss the dangers of drugs with me, and I would cry and tell them I’m sorry, and they would ground me for a couple of weeks, then we would cry together and hug and the ending credits would begin. Unfortunately, I’m not part of that sappy family story.

Instead, Carlos slammed the door when he came home. He pointed his finger at me and said in a stern voice, “You’re in BIG trouble.”

Heh, as if I couldn’t figure that one out.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing taking drugs?” he asked, walking towards me, hands on his hips. “Taking drugs, smoking cigarettes, resisting arrest, and disturbing the peace. What the hell was going through your mind?”

“I- I don’t know,” I stammered stupidly.

“Don’t know, huh? I guess you also didn’t know that drugs are illegal did you?”

I didn’t answer that question.

“And you also didn’t know that the rest of that shit was illegal? And you probably didn’t know that the cops called me at 3:30 this morning, less than three hours before I had to get up to go to work.”

I looked down at the floor, biting my lower lip.

“I still would like to know what the hell you were thinking,” he said after a moment of silence, now walking in front of me and lifting my chin up so I had to look in his eyes.

I didn’t have an answer. I didn’t know what I was thinking.

“Smoking,” he said, counting on his fingers, “drugs, loud music, RUNNING from a police officer. Are you crazy? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

I shook my head.

“Trying to get yourself put in jail?”

Shook my head again.

“Then what, Gabriela? Then what were you trying to do?”

I swallowed a lump in my throat. “N-nothing,” I said, lower lip quivering. “I was just trying to have fun.”

“FUN?!” he shouted, and I jumped a little. “Fun, huh? Just trying to have a little bit of fun.” He shook his head, getting angrier by the moment.

“I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I didn’t realize the music was so loud… that the cops were going to come…” I began, but was quickly cut off. I saw the hand coming towards my face first, then heard the loud clap against my skin, then felt my cheekbone burn. Instantly, I reached up and cupped my hand over it, now crying.

“Just pull down your pants,” he ordered. “You don’t even realize what you’ve done, do you? Pull them down!”

I hurriedly stood up and unbuttoned my jeans, sliding them down to the floor and stepping out of them. He grabbed my upper arm, hauling me to my room, letting go of me once we were at my bed. I saw him begin to unbuckle his belt through my tears, and that just made my crying worse.

“Please, Carlos, I’m sorry. Please no.”

“Lay down,” he replied, sliding the belt out of the loops of his pants, then folding it over, finally laying my pillow down in the middle of the bed.

I wanted to resist, to beg him not to spank me, but after all, he was the one holding the belt, and he was bigger and stronger than I would ever be. I would never win that fight. I suddenly wished that I was one of the kids in one of those families they show on tv.

“NOW!” Carlos ordered, swinging the belt so that it lashed against my panty-clad bottom.

I yelped and did as ordered, lying over my pillow. I held onto the bed sheets, closing my eyes tightly, praying that he would at least allow me the dignity of keeping my panties up. Yeah right. He tugged them down to my knees instantly and I didn’t even have time to enjoy the cool air on my naked bottom before he started spanking me.

When I was a kid I used to think the first blow was the worst because it always caught me by surprise. But this day, I changed my mind. The second blow was just as bad, as was the third, and fourth. He didn’t even give me time to regain myself between the lashes, just kept crashing his damn belt down onto my poor pitiful bottom. I was writhing in pain.

“I don’t know what the hell was going on through your mind last night, Gabriela,” Carlos scolded after a few smacks, then gave me another lick. “Are you ready to start making funeral arrangements?” he asked, hitting me a few more times before I could catch my breath.

“Noooo, Carlos… I’m sorry!” I wailed.

“Sorry, huh? Sorry for what?” he asked.

“For doing something so stupid.”

“Stupid is right,” he answered, crashing the belt several times onto my throbbing bottom. “You could have KILLED yourself, Gabriela.”

“I knowwwww,” I answered, kicking my legs and sobbing, gripping tighter onto the sheets.

“You’re going to throw your life away if you get messed up in drugs.”

I bit my lip to keep from screaming out as he spanked me, now hitting my sit spots and every so often catching my thigh. My backside felt like it was on fire!

“And then running from the police!” he said, getting angrier and hitting me really hard a couple of times. “I have never heard of anyone doing something so completely and utterly stupid!” After saying that, he lost himself in spanking me for a little while and quit with the lectures. Not that it mattered… by that time I was in so much pain that I could barely concentrate on his words anyway. Maybe he realized that and that’s why he stopped talking.

I don’t know how long I lay there with the belt biting into my bottom… it felt like hours! When he finally stopped, he put his belt back on, sighed, and sat down next to me. I was bawling like a three year old whose candy had been stolen. He patted my back for a second then said, “I’ll give you a chance to regain your composure and wash up. Then I want to speak with you in the dining room.”

I nodded, still crying as he walked out.

If I had felt guilty during the day, I felt even worse now. Carlos had been right… I could ruin my life with drugs, especially when I do something like running from the police. Who knew that one could be so stupid and get into so much trouble by just taking one little pill?

Who knew that Carlos could swing the belt so hard? My bottom still ached after I’d cried myself out. And it really hurt whenever I stood up. I realized why whenever I took a peek in the mirror before pulling my panties up: my bottom was bruised all over, but mainly in the sit spot areas! I wouldn’t be able to sit comfortably for a long time. I guess that was the point.

I tugged my panties up and hobbled to the bathroom where I washed my face and cleaned up. Then I hobbled to the dining room where my brother was sitting at the table, a yellow tablet of paper in front of him.

“Have a seat,” he said.

I eased down into the chair, wincing as my tender flesh met the hard wood of the chair.

“I got two of your charges dropped.”

“You did?” I asked, kind of surprised. I guess that was the benefit of having a probation officer for an older brother.

He nodded. “I got the smoking and disturbing the peace charges dropped. But we need to have a little talk about this. Since when did you start smoking?”

I shrugged. “A couple of weeks ago.”

“Well, it’s stopping today. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And the drugs?”

I shook my head. “Last night was my first time, I promise. And the last time,” I added.

He nodded. “Good.” He sighed and leaned back against his chair. “Gabriela, I just care about you, okay? I don’t want you messing up your life with drugs and problems with the law. I see drug addicts every day. They’re underweight, look like shit, don’t have a home, have lost everything. You’re too smart to be like that. Don’t you realize what you could have done?”

I nodded.

“That’s why they’re illegal.”

“I know, Carlos. I just wasn’t thinking… but if something like this ever happens again, I’ll think about it,” I assured him, rubbing my bottom.

He smiled and pushed the yellow notepad towards me. “I got those two charges taken off so they wouldn’t be on your record, and so hopefully you won’t have to spend time in the detention center. Of course, after a couple of weeks, you would probably rather be there than here…” he said. “Here’s a list of the chores I expect you to complete until your court date. And I also want you to know that you’re not allowed to leave the house until further notice. Any questions?”

I glanced at the piece of paper in front of me. Chores would be a bitch, especially with a sore bottom, but I don’t think I had much of a choice. So I just shook my head and took the notebook with me to retrieve my pants. I read my first chore: “Mow the lawn.” Fun. So I slipped my shoes on and headed out the back door, noting the slight smirk on Carlos’s face. He always hated yard work, and now he had an excuse not to do it. I winced when I bent down to crank the mower and realized that my “first time” was definitely memorable, but the spanking would be something I’d leave out of my future story-tellings.

Disqus for Breanna's Story World

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...

True Story: A Friend's Visit

Happy 4/20!   As any reader of my fiction stories knows, getting spanked for the use of mind-altering substances is probably my favorite sce...