First story in the Jessica/Katelyn Series, written by Mackenzie through Katelyn's point of view. Katelyn introduces herself and gives a little background. Then she runs away from her older brother, Robert, who immediately lets her know that endangering her own safety will result in a spanking.
Run Away Smartass
by Mackenzie
When I was 13 years old, the worst thing that could have ever possibly happened to me did… my parents died. That’s right, 13 years old and parents are dead. Now my sister and I are left alone to fend for ourselves, right? Well, not exactly. They sent both of us to live with our older brother, Robert, age 26, married to a man by the name of Daniel, age 27.
Yes, our brother is gay. Is that such a surprise?
It was to my parents. They couldn’t get over it for years. In fact, as I recall, Robert was kicked out of the house for a couple of years when he was 22 and just starting out in medical school. He had to stay at a friend’s whenever he came home. Then, Daniel came into his life and my parents met him. All of a sudden, they let Robert back into their lives. It was like he had never been kicked out in the first place. I really think Daniel made all the difference in the world with regards to that entire situation. Because of Daniel, I finally got a chance to see my brother again without being yelled at mercilessly every time I did go to see him.
And that was the greatest gift I could have ever been given.
Anyone who talks to me knows I’m super close to my brother. For Jessica, it wasn’t the same. She fought with Robert all the time. It was like whenever something went wrong they were at each other’s throats. She must have cried a million times at the mean things he said to her when we were younger. Even after he grew up and stopped saying those things, I don’t think she ever forgave him. By that point, they still had a rocky relationship. It was like stepping on eggshells between the two of them. I’m pretty sure that the moment she stepped into that house after our parents had died, she was more resentful than she had ever been.
But then again, maybe I’m just reading too much into the situation.
The point is, when my sister and I were 13, our parents died and we were sent off to live with our older brother, as he was our closest living relative. It’s as simple as that; no more, no less.
Except that it wasn’t as simple as that.
Because it turns out that Robert and Daniel were both incredibly strict as parents/guardians, as the first time I messed up I got in trouble for it big time. And no, I did not just get a talking to. I thought at the time that they’d ground me because I was too old for anything else. But I guess I was wrong.
I think it was about 2 months after Jessica and I had come to live with him, when I ran away from home for the first time. I had gotten into a fight with Robert, which wasn’t something that happened all that often. In fact, it happened usually once in a blue moon. That’s about how rare it was. I screamed at him a lot about something I barely remember. It was probably something like…
Oh wait, now I remember what it was.
I had wanted to spend a night at a friend’s house but Robert didn’t want me to because there would be no adult at my friend’s house overnight into the following morning. Of course at the time, I thought he was being unreasonable so I yelled and screamed at him; even though he was being incredibly reasonable.
“Robert!” I yelled, “You don’t get it! I really want to spend the night at Melissa’s house!”
“Well, Katelyn, I’m sorry… but you can’t.” he replied.
“Why not?”
“I already talked to Melissa’s mom and she told me there would be no one there overnight and into in the morning. I don’t want you being at that house alone at nighttime and in the morning. It’s not safe.”
“That’s fucking ridiculous!” I shouted at him. “You can’t tell me I can’t go!”
“Watch your mouth, young lady,” he said, pointing his finger. “And I can tell you not to go. I’m your legal guardian. I have every right to tell you what you can and cannot do.”
“Whatever…” I muttered. “I’ll go anyway.”
“No, you will not, Katelyn Rose Parker.”
“Watch me.” I replied as I bolted out the door and just started running down the street; running even as he shouted after me to come back, even as he began running after me. I wouldn’t stop and I didn’t… he grabbed me before I could stop of my own free will.
He turned me around and looked me dead in the eye. “You are in deep trouble, young lady.”
And then he hauled me back home. I followed compliantly, afraid of what would happen if I didn’t. I guess that this was a good thing, because I probably would have gotten it way worse if I hadn’t been compliant.
He pulled me through the front door and slammed it shut, stilling holding tightly to my arm. “Katelyn Rose, do you have anything to say for yourself?”
I looked up at him timidly, not wanting to say anything for fear of incurring his wrath.
“Well, Katelyn, what do you have to say for yourself?”
I said nothing.
“That’s what I thought,” he said. “Follow me.”
He grabbed my hand and took me upstairs to my and Jessica’s bedroom. Jessica wasn’t there. At the time I think she was at softball practice and Daniel, well, Daniel was gone running errands. So it was just me and Robert at home at that time.
The moment we got through the doorway, he slammed the door shut and practically carried to my bed then threw me down on it. “Do you have any idea how stupid what you just did is?”
I looked at him fearfully, “No…” I whispered.
“Well, it was very stupid, Katelyn,” he sighed and sat down next to me. “You can’t run off like that. If you had gotten away from me and kept running you could have gotten hurt very badly. It’s dangerous to be roaming around by yourself at your age and anything could have happened if I hadn’t run after you and caught you.”
I nodded, even though I thought everything he said was bullshit. I didn’t want to be in any more trouble than I already was, so I just swallowed my tongue and shut my mouth.
“I’m going to have to punish you for trying to run off like that,” he said.
“No you don’t…” I whispered.
“Oh yeah, Katelyn, believe me, I do. I wouldn’t be a good brother if I just let you get away with it.”
“Yes you would, Robert.”
“Nice try, Katelyn,” he said. “But I’m still going to have to punish you,” he paused. “I’m going to give you a spanking.”
“A what!?” I asked, practically shouting because I was so shocked.
“You heard me, a spanking.”
“No, no, no… Robert, you can’t!”
“Yes, I can and I am,” he replied. “And don’t even think about fighting back because the last time you did that is what got you into this mess in the first place.”
I whimpered and he stared me down for a moment before telling me, “Pull down your pants, Katelyn Rose.”
“Do I have to?”
“Yes, you have to.”
I whimpered again but complied for fear of getting into worse trouble and pulled down my pants. As soon as I did so he pulled me over his lap and pulled down my panties. Then he started smacking me immediately, without scolding me even a little bit.
You may have thought that I wouldn’t have struggled, but trust me, I tried very hard to get up. I screamed and squirmed and flailed.
“Katelyn Rose, you stay still this moment or I swear I will use more than just my hand.”
“Let me the fuck go, Robert!” I didn’t even care about being compliant anymore. I just struggled as much as I possibly could, until I got up and ran away from him, pulling up my panties and throwing the door open then running down the hallway. In that exact moment, Daniel came through the doorway, keys in hand.
“Katelyn,” he began in an inquiring tone. “What is going on up there?”
I didn’t answer him, I just ran down the stairs and behind his back as Robert followed me, nostrils flaring, “Daniel, don’t let him spank me.”
“Why would he be spanking you, Katelyn?” he asked.
“Because she tried to run away,” Robert replied angrily as he came towards us. “Luckily I caught her before she got too far.” He glared at me.
Daniel stared down at me and I looked back up at him fearfully. “Is this true, Katelyn?” he asked.
Now, I looked down, feeling very guilty. I didn’t say anything.
“Uh huh,” he said. “I thought so. Come on Katelyn,” he said. “Let’s go back upstairs.”
“No, Daniel…” I whined. “You can’t let him spank me.”
“I think it’s a little too late for that, young lady.” What the hell was it with the two of them calling me that today? What, had Daniel suddenly taken it upon himself to be a secondary parent? Oh wait, I guess he was since he had custody over me too. Ha… haha…
Yay for fake laughter.
“Come on, follow me.” Daniel told me.
I followed almost unwillingly, but knew that if Daniel was backing Robert up, I probably shouldn’t fight. So I just let him lead me up the stairs and back into my and Jessica’s bedroom. He sat me down on my bed and Robert came in behind him, arms crossed, nostrils flaring, eyebrows arched down with a glare in his eyes. He definitely wasn’t happy.
“Robert, what exactly happened?” he asked him.
“Well…” he started. “She wanted to spend the night at a friend’s house and I told her no because there wasn’t going to be an adult there during the night into the next morning. Then she proceeded to tell me that she was going to go anyway. I told her no and she said watch me then ran out of the door and down the street. Of course, I caught her, luckily. If I hadn’t she’d probably have gotten hurt.” I harrumphed to that because I wondered what he thought spanking was. That certainly did hurt… a LOT. “So I told her she was going to get a spanking for doing that and she proceeded to fight me during the spanking and then run away from me in the middle of it.”
“Well, Katelyn, you’ve certainly made a grand entrance to today.” Daniel said. I looked down at my feet. “I think that Robert’s justified in spanking you. You deserve it for doing that. What you did could have turned into something dangerous.”
“I’m sorry.” I said.
“Not as sorry as you’re going to be.” Robert replied in regards to that statement.
“You need to let Robert finish doing his job. He’s your guardian and has every right to punish you.”
I whimpered a little bit at that.
“You deserve it, Katelyn,” he said, then to Robert. “I’ll leave so you can finish your business here.”
“Thanks, Dan,” he said as Daniel walked out the door and shut it behind him.
Robert sat down on the bed next to me and said, “Come on, sis, over my lap.” I whined but decided to comply this time, as I didn’t want to get more than I was probably already getting. Also, I probably wouldn’t make such a great escape if I tried to fight back again.
He pulled my panties down again and put his hand on my bottom, resting it there for a split second before raising it in the air and smacking my bottom over and over again, roughly. There was no particular rhythm. It was more sporadic than anything; but rhythm didn’t really matter. It hurt like hell no matter how he was spanking me. And even though this time I didn’t exactly fight, I certainly didn’t keep still. I was kicking and screaming. He was just hitting me so hard!
And trust me… it hurt like hell. You never want Robert to spank you. He does it well… which is bad for me.
I think he must have kept me over his knee for at least 10 minutes before he lifted me up. I immediately put my hands to my backside and started to rub, but a pair of hands caught my own. “You’re not getting off that easily, Katelyn Rose. Remember what I said before?” I shuddered at his question. I did… now. “About how you’d get more if you didn’t stay still? Well, you’re getting more,” he paused. “Wherever that wooden hairbrush of yours is, go get it.”
I nodded, wiping the few tears that had come out of my eyes away, and left to go to the bathroom where I kept a lot of my stuff. It was in the drawer underneath the sink. When I got there, I opened it up and took it out, wishing I could just drop it and run; but I knew if I didn’t get back soon, Robert would definitely use more on me than just this brush. So I ran back to the bedroom and handed it to him, though I wasn’t happy about it.
“Good girl,” he said. “Come on, back over,” he told me, helping me over.
He immediately picked back up where he had left off and just started smacking me over and over again. For about a minute or so, I kept myself together. After that minute or so was over, I was screaming again. I’m sure by that point my bottom was crimson red. It certainly felt that way; it hurt so much. It took me awhile before I finally started crying and even longer before I started full out sobbing. I think that’s when I broke. And I also think that that’s all Robert was looking for, the moment I broke. Because as soon as I was sobbing and muttering apology after apology, he stopped. He gave me two final smacks on each thigh and then stopped.
It wasn’t until I heard his soothing voice that I actually realized he had finally stopped spanking me, though.
“Shh, Katelyn, shh…” he said while he rubbed my back. “It’s okay, baby girl. I’m all finished. I’m not gonna spank you anymore.” He let me cry for a minute or so before he lifted me up and held me close, hugging me tightly.
“I’m sorry, Robert. I’m so sorry.” I finally said in a coherent voice after I had been all cried out.
“It’s ok, baby. Just promise me you won’t do something like that again. If I hadn’t caught you there was potential for something really bad to happen.”
I nodded. “I know. I promise, Robert.”
“I love you, Kate.”
“I know,” I replied. “I love you too.”
He gave me one last hug and a kiss on my forehead before lifting me up onto my feet. I took this as an opportunity to pull up my panties and put my pants back on.
“You should probably get yourself cleaned up so we can go pick up your sister from softball practice.”
I pouted. “I don’t want to go with you to pick up Jessica.”
“Oh really?” he asked. “Well, then I guess you don’t want to go get ice cream either.”
I perked up at that statement, “Okay, never mind. I DO want to go with you to pick up Jessica.”
He laughed. “I knew that would win you over.”
“Whatever” I said as I threw a pillow at him. But the door shut before it could hit him.
The only thing I could hear after that was him laughing down the entire hallway and down the stairs.
This had been the weirdest, most random day of my life.
Oh and for the record... yes, I am a complete sarcastic smartass.
15 January 2010
06 January 2010
Story: The Emo Story
A sad, misc story that I decided to write. Involves the spanking of a college-aged young woman by her friend. And it's sad but sweet. Not going to give anymore of a summary than that :)
The Emo Story
by Breanna Carter
Garth Brooks used to be my get drunk and party music. My best friend and I would drive to Texas with our mixed CD deafeningly loud, air conditioner on full blast, the summer sun in our eyes, talking and giggling about stupid shit. Then I moved to New Jersey. Now it seems the only time I listened to that CD was when I sat alone in my car, drinking a beer and talking on the phone, usually with tears streaming down my face. Like the night my mom called me, and I thought my world ended.
"I've been dreading making this phone call," she said.
I was afraid to ask what had happened. For legit reasons. "What is it?" I said in a half-whisper.
She took a deep breath in, quivering as she began. "Your grandma..." she broke off and my heart dropped. I heard a sob escape.
"Is... is she okay?"
There was a long pause on the end of the line, and I knew the answer to my question. I felt this knot in my throat and it was all of a sudden hard to swallow.
"Mom?" I croaked.
"She died this morning."
"What? You're kidding... tell me you're kidding."
"I'm sorry," she told me. "I don't want you to be upset." Hah, upset was an understatement. "She lived a full and happy life. She wouldn't want you to be upset." She paused, sniffling. "We can get a plane ticket for you to come home tomorrow night."
I nodded even though she couldn't see me, wiping the tears away as they fell.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"Yeah."
There was this long uncomfortable silence as we both held in our emotions. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay, Mom. Look... I need to go... Have a lot of school work."
"Call me if you want to talk," she said.
"Okay. Bye. Love you." Then I hung up the phone.
I stumbled into my apartment, numb-feeling, but not numb enough. I grabbed a beer out of the fridge, plopping down at my kitchen table. Everything was out of focus. My heart was racing. Throat still knotted. This couldn't be true. It had to be some fucked up dream. In a few minutes I'd wake up in a cold sweat, only to find out that none of this happened. Or I'd get a call from a friend saying it had just been a prank. A mean prank, but just a prank. I stared at my phone, waiting for the phone call. When it didn't come, I drank more. I don't know why I drank. I knew it wouldn't make me feel any better.
Yet I drank. I don't know how many beers I'd ingested when I went back to my car, cell phone in one hand, Blue Moon in the other. "Stupid fucking snow," I muttered, kicking at it as I opened the door. "Stupid fucking cold weather. Stupid fucking New Jersey."
I took another swig of my beer and dialed my best friend's number. Actually, I didn't have to dial anything, just press the "T" on my keypad -- T for Tori.
"I hate this town," I told her. "And I miss your face. Listen!" I turned up the Garth Brooks song on my CD. "'I coulda missed the pain, but I'd've had to miss, the danceeee!'" I sang. "Remember our roadtrips?"
"You're fucking crazy," she laughed. "Are you drunk?"
I laughed, too, but the laughter quickly turned into sobbing... uncontrollable sobbing. I told her the news I'd gotten just moments before. I don't know what she said. I don't even know if I gave her much time to talk as I was blubbering the sob story one minute, cussing New Jersey the next.
"Tori. Do I get to see your face when I come home for my g-ma's funeral?" I asked.
"Of course. We can hang out and drive through our old neighborhood again like we used to."
I hung up from her and called an array of other old friends, remembering good times with them and crying and swearing and promising to visit when I came into town. I knew I wouldn't be able to see them, but at the time this didn't matter. Half of them cared, half of them probably just wanted to get my crazy drunk ass off the phone. I threw my empty beer bottle in the backseat of the car and realized I had no more beer. This meant I could do one of two things: I could go to the liquor store, or go to someone who had beer.
I chose the latter.
Cranking up my car, I somehow managed to back out of my parking space and safely out of the parking lot. By the time I got onto the street, I realized how drunk I was and how unsafe of a situation I was putting myself in. But I was a little too tipsy to care. Besides, no one was really out. It's not like anything would happen driving the three blocks to Michael's apartment complex.
And it didn't.
When I pulled into the parking spot -- albeit quite crookedly -- I dialed his number.
"Hey. Do you have any beer?" I asked.
"Hey you. No beer here. What's up?"
"I need some more beer. I'm at your house. Open the door."
"What?" he said. By now I was ambling down the path to apartment #35, trying to walk in a straight line but failing miserably.
"I said I'm here. Open the damn door."
He stuck his head out about the same time I arrived at his doorstep. Clicking his phone shut, he pushed the door open for me to come inside. "Are you drunk?" he asked.
"Fuck my life, Michael," I responded, crashing onto his sofa. "I need more alcohol. Do you have anything at all? Tequila? Vodka? Hypnotic? Anything?"
He closed the door and sat down beside me, lifting my chin to look into his eyes. "Izzy, are you drunk?"
"I had a rough night."
He let go of my chin, softening up. "What happened?"
I began my story, as I had many times that night, explaining the conversation with my mom and ending up on a tantrum about how much I hated being so far away from home. "It sucks up here," I said. "It's all snowy and cold and stupid and I hate it. I should've never come up here for school. If I hadn't come up here, then I could've been with my grandma. I could've taken care of her. And she'd be okay right now," I said, ugly tears falling down my cheeks, fists pounding into the wall. "I hate myself so much."
Michael pulled me in close, holding me against his chest. "I'm here, Izzy," he promised me. "I'm here. Cry it all out."
"I can't do this."
"Yes you can," he assured me, stroking my hair.
"Whatever, I just need more to drink," I told him, pushing myself up.
"I think you've had enough to drink."
"Please, do you have anything?"
"I don't. Come on, let's get some sleep."
"I don't want to sleep," I argued.
He stood up now, speaking to me in a soft tone. "Come on, Iz," he said and held out a hand to me. "It's late and you have a long day tomorrow."
That's when I threw a tantrum, right there in my friend's living room, that ended with me chunking my keys against the wall and finally falling into his arms with muttered apologies. "I don't know what's wrong with me," I cried.
He didn't speak, just kept me close to him, holding me tightly. When I'd finally regained control of my breathing, he walked me to his room. He pulled back the blankets on his bed. "Get in, Iz," he said gently.
Wiping my eyes, I followed his directions like a four year old and snuggled up on his bed, letting him tuck me in. It seemed natural when he kissed me on the forehead. "Everything's gonna be all right," he sang. "Rockabye." He knew that was my favorite song.
The next morning when I woke, my head was throbbing and my hair was matted to my face from having cried so much. Michael was still next to me typing away at his laptop.
"What time is it?" I asked in a hoarse voice.
"Half past eleven."
"Holyshit," I yelped, bolting up. "I missed class."
"Don't worry about it. I emailed your professors for you and told them what happened."
"Y-you did?" I hadn't expected him to do this. I didn't even know he really knew my professors' names, much less email addresses. But I guess since he had taken most of the same classes, it couldn't have been too hard to figure out. Hm.
"Yes."
"What about work? Don't you have to go in today?"
"I called in. Told them I would work from home. Family emergency."
Family emergency. Did he consider me family?
He closed his laptop now and looked at me seriously. "We need to talk, Isabella," he said.
I looked down at my thumbs. "About what?" I hated it when he called me by my full name. Not only 'cause I hated my full name, but also 'cause I knew that meant I was in trouble.
He exhaled, putting his laptop on the floor and throwing an arm around my shoulder, squeezing me gently. "How are you feeling?"
I shrugged. "Been better."
"I'm really sorry about your grandma," he said.
I sniffled, trying to keep my tears on the inside. "Me too."
"I'm worried about you."
"Why?" I asked, still looking at my thumbs.
"Because last night you did something really dangerous. And that worries me."
"Oh."
He lifted my chin to look into my eyes. His were deep blue, just like mine, and were filled with genuine worry and concern. "Why did you drive over here, Izzy?"
I shrugged.
"Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?"
"I guess," I whispered, ignoring the tear that slipped down my cheek.
"I know that this is a hard time for you. Believe me, I know. And I'm here for you ALWAYS. You know that, don't you?"
I nodded.
"Why didn't you just call me? I would've come over, brought you back here. I would've done anything."
I didn't say anything.
"You were completely trashed last night and in absolutely no condition to drive. Not to mention you really weren't in the condition to drink in the first place."
"I know," I muttered softly, closing my eyes as a few more tears fell down.
He let go of my chin and hugged me tightly. "You know I love you, kiddo," he said in a gentle voice. "You've been a great friend of mine ever since we met in Philosophy 101 three years ago."
I couldn't help but laugh slightly at that statement. I remembered being a freshman, my first time ever in New Jersey, sitting next to the hott senior in one of the most boring classes ever. We'd clicked instantly because of our interest in sociology, and he'd helped me get through my first year of homesickness and procrastination. And I'd helped him get an A on his research study. And all because of that first semester philosophy class.
"I've seen you grow so much," he continued. "And you're almost finished. You're almost there. Are you going to throw that all away now? What if you'd have been in an accident? Gotten hurt? Gotten killed? And this close to graduating... this close to being the first college graduate from your family... all for what?"
"To kill the pain."
"Isabella, this isn't killing the pain," he said. "And you know it. It's just numbing it. And if one of those things had happened, it would've just added more, wouldn't it?"
I nodded, crying now. "I'm sorry. I just... I don't know. I don't even have a good excuse. It just hurts so much."
He pulled away from me now, wiping my tears away and looking me in the eyes. "I know it does. But there are other ways to deal with that, okay? Ways that won't jeopardize your life and well being."
I nodded again. I noticed his eyes were also filling with tears. It felt awful to make him worry so much.
"Promise me you won't do this again?"
"I promise."
He swallowed hard and leaned back against the wall, staring at the ceiling.
Was that all? He was just going to scold me a little? I thought that I must've been dreaming.
But he didn't say anything else. And I wasn't quite sure how to take it. If it'd been under any other circumstances, he would've worn my ass out -- literally. How do you think I made it through three years of college? My bare backside had felt the wrath of his belt more times than I'd like to admit. Otherwise I would've probably flunked out long ago.
"Michael?" I said in a weak voice.
"Yes?"
"Are you gonna... um... spank me?"
He sighed. "I don't want to," he answered.
"I don't want you to either."
There was a bit of an awkward silence.
"But maybe you should?" I said in a questioning tone.
"Maybe I should," he repeated.
I nodded. "I feel kinda guilty."
"I don't know if right now is the time... After all you've been through... It seems kinda cruel."
I shook my head. "It's not." I wanted to tell him that the endorphin rush would be amazing and just the general feeling of being cared-for would make up for any physical pain I would have to endure, but I didn't really know how to say it. And besides, all it took was a pathetic look into his eyes and I think he knew. But that's 'cause he knew me so well anyway.
He stood up and took my hand, pulling me up with him. We walked to the living room where he sat down on the sofa and I stood in front of him. He tugged at the button on my jeans, took down the zipper, and pulled my pants down to my knees. Then he held out his hand. "Come on, Izzy. Over my lap."
I did as told, grabbing a hold of his hand to help me over and positioning myself as comfortably as possible. I buried my face in my arms. I felt him peel my panties down, then rest a cool hand on my bare bum.
"Do you have anything to say before I get started?" he asked.
He always asked this question before he started the spanking -- I guess it was an attempt to get me to admit to any other wrongdoings before he went on with what he was doing. Or maybe it was so he could see how sorry I really was for what I'd done. At any rate, my answer was the same as usual: "No."
He lifted his hand and began the spanking. At first it was pretty mild. He spanked methodically with a slow pace, working his way from my sit spots to the top of my bottom, covering both cheeks. The spanking became harder as he progressed, but he took his time, never quick to rush the punishment along.
I squirmed slightly with each swat, crying out a little every so often, but was mostly subdued. He didn't scold me much during the actual spanking, mostly because he knew I couldn't listen much with so much pain being inflicted upon my posterior region.
"Ow... okay... ahh, oww! Michael, ow! I'm sorry!"
"I'm glad to hear that," he said. "I'm sorry, too. Sorry about your grandmother, and sorry that you've earned this spanking." Just 'cause he was sorry, though, doesn't mean that he stopped. And he didn't. If anything, he started spanking harder.
"Okay okay owww!" I said, reaching back now. "I won't do it again."
He caught my hand, holding it to the small of my back but continuing the spanking. "I know you won't do it again." He then gave me a flurry of swats to my sit spots and stopped, releasing my hand and resting his once again on my bum. "You know how come I know you won't do it again? Because I know that you realize how much of a danger you put yourself in. And I know that you realize how much I care about you. And I also know that you're going to have a painful reminder of what will happen if you ever pull a stunt like this again. Stand up."
I pushed myself up, standing beside him, chewing on my lower lip. Tears threatened to spill out from my eyes, but I tried my damnedest not to let them.
"Go get the wooden spoon."
Ugh. I hate the damn wooden spoon. Probably more than I hate his belt.
"Get movin'," he said, giving me a hearty swat to my thigh.
Whining, I scampered to the kitchen, opening the silverware drawer. There were actually two wooden spoons in there, but only one of them was actually used for cooking. The other was especially reserved for warming my backside. It made me cringe when I saw it. I tried to tell myself that I deserved this and I'd feel better afterwards when I was all forgiven. That didn't convince me to get it.
In fact, I think the only thing that convinced me to get it was Michael's soft but stern voice saying, "today, Isabella."
I looked over at him, then back down in the drawer. The spanking spoon was bigger and heavier than the cooking spoon. I wondered what he'd do if I brought him the wrong one. Eh, probably wear me out with 'em both. Not worth chancing.
I picked up the damn spanking spoon and closed the drawer, then hobbled back towards him. "Do you really hafta use that?" I whined.
"Yes, ma'am, I do," he said. "And you know I do. Come on, back over." He helped me across his lap.
"I think I've learned my lesson with just the hand spanking," I said, my final pathetic attempt to get out of this.
He didn't even respond to me. I should've known he wouldn't.
Or I guess he did respond... just not in the way I wanted. He responded with the wooden spoon. It came crashing down, causing me to wince and squirm right away. I tried to think of something other than the awful fire that had been ignited on my bottom, but it proved to be very difficult. I tried singing comforting songs to myself in my head... you know, like Mary Had a Little Lamb... but only got to the third or fourth word before the pain distracted me. I couldn't help but reach back again.
"Please," I begged.
He held onto my hand, continuing the spanking. He was so methodic with his swats -- I felt each one loud and clear.
"I'm sorry," I pleaded, left hand threatening to reach back now since he had my right one already restrained.
"I don't want to ever hear of you putting yourself in jeopardy like that again, Young Lady, do you understand me?"
The use of "Young Lady" made my stomach drop. And it made it impossible for me to answer any way other than "yes, sir."
He increased the intensity of the swats and I kicked slightly, squirming to dodge, but my efforts to get the spanking to cease were futile. He continued on and on for what seemed like hours. The pain was becoming unbearable. But I wasn't going to break. I wasn't going to cry. I don't know why I'm stubborn like this.
Except then he said: "I worry about you, Izzy."
And I broke down.
"When you do things like this, it makes me worry more."
I'd never meant to worry him, and I certainly didn't want to make him worry more. I didn't even feel worth worrying about most of the time. But he still worried.
"I care about you like you're my own little sister."
As if my first break down wasn't enough, I was now sobbing like a small child. This was his cue to give the last few swats... not that I could really feel them by this time anyway... and then he set the spoon down and rubbed my back.
"I'm sorry," I choked out.
"I know, baby. I know." He scooped me into his arms then, sitting me on his lap (yes, I winced at sitting on my well-spanked and tender bottom) and holding me close. He rocked me back and forth, ignoring the fact that my face was red, puffy, and ugly. He just held onto me. And that's what I needed. And that's how I stayed until I had calmed down enough and my breathing was steady again.
"My flight home is going to suck," I said, glancing up at him.
His eyes met mine and he smirked slightly. "Yeah, it is. It really is."
The Emo Story
by Breanna Carter
Garth Brooks used to be my get drunk and party music. My best friend and I would drive to Texas with our mixed CD deafeningly loud, air conditioner on full blast, the summer sun in our eyes, talking and giggling about stupid shit. Then I moved to New Jersey. Now it seems the only time I listened to that CD was when I sat alone in my car, drinking a beer and talking on the phone, usually with tears streaming down my face. Like the night my mom called me, and I thought my world ended.
"I've been dreading making this phone call," she said.
I was afraid to ask what had happened. For legit reasons. "What is it?" I said in a half-whisper.
She took a deep breath in, quivering as she began. "Your grandma..." she broke off and my heart dropped. I heard a sob escape.
"Is... is she okay?"
There was a long pause on the end of the line, and I knew the answer to my question. I felt this knot in my throat and it was all of a sudden hard to swallow.
"Mom?" I croaked.
"She died this morning."
"What? You're kidding... tell me you're kidding."
"I'm sorry," she told me. "I don't want you to be upset." Hah, upset was an understatement. "She lived a full and happy life. She wouldn't want you to be upset." She paused, sniffling. "We can get a plane ticket for you to come home tomorrow night."
I nodded even though she couldn't see me, wiping the tears away as they fell.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"Yeah."
There was this long uncomfortable silence as we both held in our emotions. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay, Mom. Look... I need to go... Have a lot of school work."
"Call me if you want to talk," she said.
"Okay. Bye. Love you." Then I hung up the phone.
I stumbled into my apartment, numb-feeling, but not numb enough. I grabbed a beer out of the fridge, plopping down at my kitchen table. Everything was out of focus. My heart was racing. Throat still knotted. This couldn't be true. It had to be some fucked up dream. In a few minutes I'd wake up in a cold sweat, only to find out that none of this happened. Or I'd get a call from a friend saying it had just been a prank. A mean prank, but just a prank. I stared at my phone, waiting for the phone call. When it didn't come, I drank more. I don't know why I drank. I knew it wouldn't make me feel any better.
Yet I drank. I don't know how many beers I'd ingested when I went back to my car, cell phone in one hand, Blue Moon in the other. "Stupid fucking snow," I muttered, kicking at it as I opened the door. "Stupid fucking cold weather. Stupid fucking New Jersey."
I took another swig of my beer and dialed my best friend's number. Actually, I didn't have to dial anything, just press the "T" on my keypad -- T for Tori.
"I hate this town," I told her. "And I miss your face. Listen!" I turned up the Garth Brooks song on my CD. "'I coulda missed the pain, but I'd've had to miss, the danceeee!'" I sang. "Remember our roadtrips?"
"You're fucking crazy," she laughed. "Are you drunk?"
I laughed, too, but the laughter quickly turned into sobbing... uncontrollable sobbing. I told her the news I'd gotten just moments before. I don't know what she said. I don't even know if I gave her much time to talk as I was blubbering the sob story one minute, cussing New Jersey the next.
"Tori. Do I get to see your face when I come home for my g-ma's funeral?" I asked.
"Of course. We can hang out and drive through our old neighborhood again like we used to."
I hung up from her and called an array of other old friends, remembering good times with them and crying and swearing and promising to visit when I came into town. I knew I wouldn't be able to see them, but at the time this didn't matter. Half of them cared, half of them probably just wanted to get my crazy drunk ass off the phone. I threw my empty beer bottle in the backseat of the car and realized I had no more beer. This meant I could do one of two things: I could go to the liquor store, or go to someone who had beer.
I chose the latter.
Cranking up my car, I somehow managed to back out of my parking space and safely out of the parking lot. By the time I got onto the street, I realized how drunk I was and how unsafe of a situation I was putting myself in. But I was a little too tipsy to care. Besides, no one was really out. It's not like anything would happen driving the three blocks to Michael's apartment complex.
And it didn't.
When I pulled into the parking spot -- albeit quite crookedly -- I dialed his number.
"Hey. Do you have any beer?" I asked.
"Hey you. No beer here. What's up?"
"I need some more beer. I'm at your house. Open the door."
"What?" he said. By now I was ambling down the path to apartment #35, trying to walk in a straight line but failing miserably.
"I said I'm here. Open the damn door."
He stuck his head out about the same time I arrived at his doorstep. Clicking his phone shut, he pushed the door open for me to come inside. "Are you drunk?" he asked.
"Fuck my life, Michael," I responded, crashing onto his sofa. "I need more alcohol. Do you have anything at all? Tequila? Vodka? Hypnotic? Anything?"
He closed the door and sat down beside me, lifting my chin to look into his eyes. "Izzy, are you drunk?"
"I had a rough night."
He let go of my chin, softening up. "What happened?"
I began my story, as I had many times that night, explaining the conversation with my mom and ending up on a tantrum about how much I hated being so far away from home. "It sucks up here," I said. "It's all snowy and cold and stupid and I hate it. I should've never come up here for school. If I hadn't come up here, then I could've been with my grandma. I could've taken care of her. And she'd be okay right now," I said, ugly tears falling down my cheeks, fists pounding into the wall. "I hate myself so much."
Michael pulled me in close, holding me against his chest. "I'm here, Izzy," he promised me. "I'm here. Cry it all out."
"I can't do this."
"Yes you can," he assured me, stroking my hair.
"Whatever, I just need more to drink," I told him, pushing myself up.
"I think you've had enough to drink."
"Please, do you have anything?"
"I don't. Come on, let's get some sleep."
"I don't want to sleep," I argued.
He stood up now, speaking to me in a soft tone. "Come on, Iz," he said and held out a hand to me. "It's late and you have a long day tomorrow."
That's when I threw a tantrum, right there in my friend's living room, that ended with me chunking my keys against the wall and finally falling into his arms with muttered apologies. "I don't know what's wrong with me," I cried.
He didn't speak, just kept me close to him, holding me tightly. When I'd finally regained control of my breathing, he walked me to his room. He pulled back the blankets on his bed. "Get in, Iz," he said gently.
Wiping my eyes, I followed his directions like a four year old and snuggled up on his bed, letting him tuck me in. It seemed natural when he kissed me on the forehead. "Everything's gonna be all right," he sang. "Rockabye." He knew that was my favorite song.
The next morning when I woke, my head was throbbing and my hair was matted to my face from having cried so much. Michael was still next to me typing away at his laptop.
"What time is it?" I asked in a hoarse voice.
"Half past eleven."
"Holyshit," I yelped, bolting up. "I missed class."
"Don't worry about it. I emailed your professors for you and told them what happened."
"Y-you did?" I hadn't expected him to do this. I didn't even know he really knew my professors' names, much less email addresses. But I guess since he had taken most of the same classes, it couldn't have been too hard to figure out. Hm.
"Yes."
"What about work? Don't you have to go in today?"
"I called in. Told them I would work from home. Family emergency."
Family emergency. Did he consider me family?
He closed his laptop now and looked at me seriously. "We need to talk, Isabella," he said.
I looked down at my thumbs. "About what?" I hated it when he called me by my full name. Not only 'cause I hated my full name, but also 'cause I knew that meant I was in trouble.
He exhaled, putting his laptop on the floor and throwing an arm around my shoulder, squeezing me gently. "How are you feeling?"
I shrugged. "Been better."
"I'm really sorry about your grandma," he said.
I sniffled, trying to keep my tears on the inside. "Me too."
"I'm worried about you."
"Why?" I asked, still looking at my thumbs.
"Because last night you did something really dangerous. And that worries me."
"Oh."
He lifted my chin to look into my eyes. His were deep blue, just like mine, and were filled with genuine worry and concern. "Why did you drive over here, Izzy?"
I shrugged.
"Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?"
"I guess," I whispered, ignoring the tear that slipped down my cheek.
"I know that this is a hard time for you. Believe me, I know. And I'm here for you ALWAYS. You know that, don't you?"
I nodded.
"Why didn't you just call me? I would've come over, brought you back here. I would've done anything."
I didn't say anything.
"You were completely trashed last night and in absolutely no condition to drive. Not to mention you really weren't in the condition to drink in the first place."
"I know," I muttered softly, closing my eyes as a few more tears fell down.
He let go of my chin and hugged me tightly. "You know I love you, kiddo," he said in a gentle voice. "You've been a great friend of mine ever since we met in Philosophy 101 three years ago."
I couldn't help but laugh slightly at that statement. I remembered being a freshman, my first time ever in New Jersey, sitting next to the hott senior in one of the most boring classes ever. We'd clicked instantly because of our interest in sociology, and he'd helped me get through my first year of homesickness and procrastination. And I'd helped him get an A on his research study. And all because of that first semester philosophy class.
"I've seen you grow so much," he continued. "And you're almost finished. You're almost there. Are you going to throw that all away now? What if you'd have been in an accident? Gotten hurt? Gotten killed? And this close to graduating... this close to being the first college graduate from your family... all for what?"
"To kill the pain."
"Isabella, this isn't killing the pain," he said. "And you know it. It's just numbing it. And if one of those things had happened, it would've just added more, wouldn't it?"
I nodded, crying now. "I'm sorry. I just... I don't know. I don't even have a good excuse. It just hurts so much."
He pulled away from me now, wiping my tears away and looking me in the eyes. "I know it does. But there are other ways to deal with that, okay? Ways that won't jeopardize your life and well being."
I nodded again. I noticed his eyes were also filling with tears. It felt awful to make him worry so much.
"Promise me you won't do this again?"
"I promise."
He swallowed hard and leaned back against the wall, staring at the ceiling.
Was that all? He was just going to scold me a little? I thought that I must've been dreaming.
But he didn't say anything else. And I wasn't quite sure how to take it. If it'd been under any other circumstances, he would've worn my ass out -- literally. How do you think I made it through three years of college? My bare backside had felt the wrath of his belt more times than I'd like to admit. Otherwise I would've probably flunked out long ago.
"Michael?" I said in a weak voice.
"Yes?"
"Are you gonna... um... spank me?"
He sighed. "I don't want to," he answered.
"I don't want you to either."
There was a bit of an awkward silence.
"But maybe you should?" I said in a questioning tone.
"Maybe I should," he repeated.
I nodded. "I feel kinda guilty."
"I don't know if right now is the time... After all you've been through... It seems kinda cruel."
I shook my head. "It's not." I wanted to tell him that the endorphin rush would be amazing and just the general feeling of being cared-for would make up for any physical pain I would have to endure, but I didn't really know how to say it. And besides, all it took was a pathetic look into his eyes and I think he knew. But that's 'cause he knew me so well anyway.
He stood up and took my hand, pulling me up with him. We walked to the living room where he sat down on the sofa and I stood in front of him. He tugged at the button on my jeans, took down the zipper, and pulled my pants down to my knees. Then he held out his hand. "Come on, Izzy. Over my lap."
I did as told, grabbing a hold of his hand to help me over and positioning myself as comfortably as possible. I buried my face in my arms. I felt him peel my panties down, then rest a cool hand on my bare bum.
"Do you have anything to say before I get started?" he asked.
He always asked this question before he started the spanking -- I guess it was an attempt to get me to admit to any other wrongdoings before he went on with what he was doing. Or maybe it was so he could see how sorry I really was for what I'd done. At any rate, my answer was the same as usual: "No."
He lifted his hand and began the spanking. At first it was pretty mild. He spanked methodically with a slow pace, working his way from my sit spots to the top of my bottom, covering both cheeks. The spanking became harder as he progressed, but he took his time, never quick to rush the punishment along.
I squirmed slightly with each swat, crying out a little every so often, but was mostly subdued. He didn't scold me much during the actual spanking, mostly because he knew I couldn't listen much with so much pain being inflicted upon my posterior region.
"Ow... okay... ahh, oww! Michael, ow! I'm sorry!"
"I'm glad to hear that," he said. "I'm sorry, too. Sorry about your grandmother, and sorry that you've earned this spanking." Just 'cause he was sorry, though, doesn't mean that he stopped. And he didn't. If anything, he started spanking harder.
"Okay okay owww!" I said, reaching back now. "I won't do it again."
He caught my hand, holding it to the small of my back but continuing the spanking. "I know you won't do it again." He then gave me a flurry of swats to my sit spots and stopped, releasing my hand and resting his once again on my bum. "You know how come I know you won't do it again? Because I know that you realize how much of a danger you put yourself in. And I know that you realize how much I care about you. And I also know that you're going to have a painful reminder of what will happen if you ever pull a stunt like this again. Stand up."
I pushed myself up, standing beside him, chewing on my lower lip. Tears threatened to spill out from my eyes, but I tried my damnedest not to let them.
"Go get the wooden spoon."
Ugh. I hate the damn wooden spoon. Probably more than I hate his belt.
"Get movin'," he said, giving me a hearty swat to my thigh.
Whining, I scampered to the kitchen, opening the silverware drawer. There were actually two wooden spoons in there, but only one of them was actually used for cooking. The other was especially reserved for warming my backside. It made me cringe when I saw it. I tried to tell myself that I deserved this and I'd feel better afterwards when I was all forgiven. That didn't convince me to get it.
In fact, I think the only thing that convinced me to get it was Michael's soft but stern voice saying, "today, Isabella."
I looked over at him, then back down in the drawer. The spanking spoon was bigger and heavier than the cooking spoon. I wondered what he'd do if I brought him the wrong one. Eh, probably wear me out with 'em both. Not worth chancing.
I picked up the damn spanking spoon and closed the drawer, then hobbled back towards him. "Do you really hafta use that?" I whined.
"Yes, ma'am, I do," he said. "And you know I do. Come on, back over." He helped me across his lap.
"I think I've learned my lesson with just the hand spanking," I said, my final pathetic attempt to get out of this.
He didn't even respond to me. I should've known he wouldn't.
Or I guess he did respond... just not in the way I wanted. He responded with the wooden spoon. It came crashing down, causing me to wince and squirm right away. I tried to think of something other than the awful fire that had been ignited on my bottom, but it proved to be very difficult. I tried singing comforting songs to myself in my head... you know, like Mary Had a Little Lamb... but only got to the third or fourth word before the pain distracted me. I couldn't help but reach back again.
"Please," I begged.
He held onto my hand, continuing the spanking. He was so methodic with his swats -- I felt each one loud and clear.
"I'm sorry," I pleaded, left hand threatening to reach back now since he had my right one already restrained.
"I don't want to ever hear of you putting yourself in jeopardy like that again, Young Lady, do you understand me?"
The use of "Young Lady" made my stomach drop. And it made it impossible for me to answer any way other than "yes, sir."
He increased the intensity of the swats and I kicked slightly, squirming to dodge, but my efforts to get the spanking to cease were futile. He continued on and on for what seemed like hours. The pain was becoming unbearable. But I wasn't going to break. I wasn't going to cry. I don't know why I'm stubborn like this.
Except then he said: "I worry about you, Izzy."
And I broke down.
"When you do things like this, it makes me worry more."
I'd never meant to worry him, and I certainly didn't want to make him worry more. I didn't even feel worth worrying about most of the time. But he still worried.
"I care about you like you're my own little sister."
As if my first break down wasn't enough, I was now sobbing like a small child. This was his cue to give the last few swats... not that I could really feel them by this time anyway... and then he set the spoon down and rubbed my back.
"I'm sorry," I choked out.
"I know, baby. I know." He scooped me into his arms then, sitting me on his lap (yes, I winced at sitting on my well-spanked and tender bottom) and holding me close. He rocked me back and forth, ignoring the fact that my face was red, puffy, and ugly. He just held onto me. And that's what I needed. And that's how I stayed until I had calmed down enough and my breathing was steady again.
"My flight home is going to suck," I said, glancing up at him.
His eyes met mine and he smirked slightly. "Yeah, it is. It really is."
16 December 2009
Story: Random Short Story
Misc story. Katie didn't finish an important assignment. Uhoh. Can't guess what her older brother's gonna do about that.
Random Short Story
by Breanna Carter
My heart thumped loudly inside my chest... so loudly that I almost couldn't hear the rain pattering outside. I glanced at my clock, chewing on my lip and wishing desperately for this to all be over. All this waiting was eating me alive... knowing that I was in a heap of trouble and there was no way to get out of it. And knowing what was coming, especially since it was well-deserved. And the worst part was that even though I was ready to get it over with, I didn't want it to happen at all.
Those minutes spent in my room alone felt more like hours, as I'm sure was part of the reason that Steven had sent me there to begin with. To think about what I'd done to get me in this situation. To keep me fretting over my impending punishment. It was certainly working. I almost jumped three feet in the air when he finally opened my bedroom door, belt in hand.
"Why didn't you finish your paper, Katie Analise?" he asked me sternly.
I looked up at him, still chewing on my lower lip. "I dunno..." I was all I could muster.
His blue eyes bore into mine as he leaned in. "You don't know?" he asked. "That paper is a fourth of your grade! How do you not know why you didn't finish it? There has to be a reason."
He paused, still staring at me. My throat was dry and heart racing. And the silence was killing me. He knew why I hadn't finished my paper... why did he insist on me saying it out loud? "Because I waited too long to do it," I finally choked out after the painful silence. "I procrastinated so long that when I finally started to work on it last night I was too far behind and couldn't get it all finished and I didn't want to tell you so I decided to just take the point deduction..." I hadn't known that high school teachers still called guardians when major assignments hadn't been turned in on time.
"So you lied to me."
My stomach sank and I looked down at the floor. "I didn't mean to..."
"You didn't finish your paper and then you lied to me about it," he said. "And I'm disappointed in you for that. I trusted you to keep up with your work and trusted you to come to me if you were having any problems. And you completely broke that trust, Katie." He paused, lifting my chin up to meet his gaze. "You are a smart girl and you know better than to do what you did."
"I'm sorry..." were the only words that could escape my mouth.
He nodded. "I would believe that a lot more if this subdued behavior had been displayed earlier this afternoon when I first questioned you about this. Stand up and pants down," he ordered.
"But please... Steven..." I cried.
"You didn't seem too concerned with the consequences earlier when you were lying and mouthing off to me. I told you what would happen if you kept up, didn't I?"
He was right... but that didn't make this any easier. After all, I was 16 years old, and what 16 year old gets spanked? And yeah, maybe I had gotten a little mouthy and sassy and "too big for my britches"... but that's what teenagers do, right? And Steven would just have to accept that!... Or not.
"Stand up and pants down," he repeated.
"But..."
"Now."
"But Steve--"
"Stand. Up. And. Pants. Down," he said firmly, giving me a look that told me I better do as told or suffer greater consequences.
I wiped the tears away from my eyes and pushed myself off of the bed. Nervously, I fiddled with the button on my jeans, staring up at him with a puppy-dog look and wishing that he'd change his mind about spanking me. But I knew he wouldn't. Steven never changed his mind about anything.
"Do I have to take them down?" I whined.
"Yes."
"But..." I didn't even have time to finish my plea before he was grabbing my upper arm and swatting me hard on the backside.
"Get them down, Katie Analise," he scolded.
I nervously pushed them down to my knees, blushing with embarrassment that my older brother was seeing me like this. Not that he cared, or that he was really even paying attention. But just the fact that I was so... I dunno... exposed... it was awful.
He helped me over the bed, still holding that damn thick, heavy leather belt in his hand.
"I'm sorry," I said in a near-whisper.
"I know you are," he replied.
I buried my face in my hands, trying to breathe and forget about what was happening... trying to imagine a happy place. Hah. So much for that. I heard the belt being raised high in the air and then felt the leather bite into my flesh and I yelped louder than I thought I could and reached back to prevent more swats. But Steven was prepared. He grabbed my wrist and kept ahold of it, continuing to rain down swats on my poor battered backside.
"Owwww, okay, ahhhoowwwww!!! I'm sorry!!!" I protested.
"I am not pleased with your behavior, Katie," he told me as he continued to crash the belt down.
"I knowwwww I'm sorry!" I assured him.
"I am VERY disappointed in you for acting this way. Because you know better than this. You are sixteen years old and a bright young lady. I should be able to trust you to get your homework finished on time. But mostly, I should be able to trust that if you do mess up, you'll fess up. I DO NOT tolerate lying," he lectured, giving me some extra hard licks with the belt to emphasize certain words.
And me? Yeah, I was crying, babbling incoherently, muttering apologies any second I had enough breath to do so.
"Are you learning your lesson?" he asked me.
"Yes sir!!!!" I nearly shrieked. And I'm not one to throw "sir" out there to just anyone.
He stopped for a moment, releasing my hand. I desperately wished that he was finished, that he'd decided bare bottom wasn't necessary, but yeah, in what life time would that happen? He was just stopping to pull my panties down, tugging them to my knees to accompany my jeans.
"And you better find something to do with that attitude you brought home today, young lady," he told me, crashing the belt down again and, once again, taking hold of my wrist. He gave me five quick lashes and continued: "because this is how I deal with attitudes and backtalk. Understood?"
Insert blubbered apologies and promises here.
But the spanking didn't stop. He wasn't convinced yet and instead of giving in to my pleas, he continued the spanking, crashing the heavy leather onto my bottom more times than I could count, and scolding me more to make sure that I understood that what I'd done was wrong. And finally, FINALLY, he set the belt down and released my wrist and took a deep breath. I was sobbing... my pillow was basically soaked with my tears. The apologies were delivered between sobs.
I imagine this was about the time that he rain his fingers through his hair and sat down next to me, placing a hand on my back and massaging it gently. And shortly thereafter, he began speaking to me in a soothing tone, letting me know that it was all over now and that he accepted my apology. As I began to calm down a little, he helped my panties up and I sat up, almost falling into a hug. He kissed my forehead. "I love you, kiddo," he said gently.
"Love you too," I sniffled back.
"Are you ready to work on your paper now?" he asked.
Truthfully, I wasn't. I didn't want to work on the paper any more then than I had in the weeks prior. But I wasn't about to tell him that. So I just nodded and pulled my pants up, wincing as the material touched my aching backside. "It hurts," I whined.
"I think that's the idea. And you've had this one coming for a while."
Ouch. Truth hurts though.
I went to the bathroom and washed my face, then met Steven at the dining room table. Unfortunately, I had to sit on a hard wooden chair to finish my work. But fortunately, I got the paper finished and actually ended up getting a B on it -- only points taken off for handing it in late!
Random Short Story
by Breanna Carter
My heart thumped loudly inside my chest... so loudly that I almost couldn't hear the rain pattering outside. I glanced at my clock, chewing on my lip and wishing desperately for this to all be over. All this waiting was eating me alive... knowing that I was in a heap of trouble and there was no way to get out of it. And knowing what was coming, especially since it was well-deserved. And the worst part was that even though I was ready to get it over with, I didn't want it to happen at all.
Those minutes spent in my room alone felt more like hours, as I'm sure was part of the reason that Steven had sent me there to begin with. To think about what I'd done to get me in this situation. To keep me fretting over my impending punishment. It was certainly working. I almost jumped three feet in the air when he finally opened my bedroom door, belt in hand.
"Why didn't you finish your paper, Katie Analise?" he asked me sternly.
I looked up at him, still chewing on my lower lip. "I dunno..." I was all I could muster.
His blue eyes bore into mine as he leaned in. "You don't know?" he asked. "That paper is a fourth of your grade! How do you not know why you didn't finish it? There has to be a reason."
He paused, still staring at me. My throat was dry and heart racing. And the silence was killing me. He knew why I hadn't finished my paper... why did he insist on me saying it out loud? "Because I waited too long to do it," I finally choked out after the painful silence. "I procrastinated so long that when I finally started to work on it last night I was too far behind and couldn't get it all finished and I didn't want to tell you so I decided to just take the point deduction..." I hadn't known that high school teachers still called guardians when major assignments hadn't been turned in on time.
"So you lied to me."
My stomach sank and I looked down at the floor. "I didn't mean to..."
"You didn't finish your paper and then you lied to me about it," he said. "And I'm disappointed in you for that. I trusted you to keep up with your work and trusted you to come to me if you were having any problems. And you completely broke that trust, Katie." He paused, lifting my chin up to meet his gaze. "You are a smart girl and you know better than to do what you did."
"I'm sorry..." were the only words that could escape my mouth.
He nodded. "I would believe that a lot more if this subdued behavior had been displayed earlier this afternoon when I first questioned you about this. Stand up and pants down," he ordered.
"But please... Steven..." I cried.
"You didn't seem too concerned with the consequences earlier when you were lying and mouthing off to me. I told you what would happen if you kept up, didn't I?"
He was right... but that didn't make this any easier. After all, I was 16 years old, and what 16 year old gets spanked? And yeah, maybe I had gotten a little mouthy and sassy and "too big for my britches"... but that's what teenagers do, right? And Steven would just have to accept that!... Or not.
"Stand up and pants down," he repeated.
"But..."
"Now."
"But Steve--"
"Stand. Up. And. Pants. Down," he said firmly, giving me a look that told me I better do as told or suffer greater consequences.
I wiped the tears away from my eyes and pushed myself off of the bed. Nervously, I fiddled with the button on my jeans, staring up at him with a puppy-dog look and wishing that he'd change his mind about spanking me. But I knew he wouldn't. Steven never changed his mind about anything.
"Do I have to take them down?" I whined.
"Yes."
"But..." I didn't even have time to finish my plea before he was grabbing my upper arm and swatting me hard on the backside.
"Get them down, Katie Analise," he scolded.
I nervously pushed them down to my knees, blushing with embarrassment that my older brother was seeing me like this. Not that he cared, or that he was really even paying attention. But just the fact that I was so... I dunno... exposed... it was awful.
He helped me over the bed, still holding that damn thick, heavy leather belt in his hand.
"I'm sorry," I said in a near-whisper.
"I know you are," he replied.
I buried my face in my hands, trying to breathe and forget about what was happening... trying to imagine a happy place. Hah. So much for that. I heard the belt being raised high in the air and then felt the leather bite into my flesh and I yelped louder than I thought I could and reached back to prevent more swats. But Steven was prepared. He grabbed my wrist and kept ahold of it, continuing to rain down swats on my poor battered backside.
"Owwww, okay, ahhhoowwwww!!! I'm sorry!!!" I protested.
"I am not pleased with your behavior, Katie," he told me as he continued to crash the belt down.
"I knowwwww I'm sorry!" I assured him.
"I am VERY disappointed in you for acting this way. Because you know better than this. You are sixteen years old and a bright young lady. I should be able to trust you to get your homework finished on time. But mostly, I should be able to trust that if you do mess up, you'll fess up. I DO NOT tolerate lying," he lectured, giving me some extra hard licks with the belt to emphasize certain words.
And me? Yeah, I was crying, babbling incoherently, muttering apologies any second I had enough breath to do so.
"Are you learning your lesson?" he asked me.
"Yes sir!!!!" I nearly shrieked. And I'm not one to throw "sir" out there to just anyone.
He stopped for a moment, releasing my hand. I desperately wished that he was finished, that he'd decided bare bottom wasn't necessary, but yeah, in what life time would that happen? He was just stopping to pull my panties down, tugging them to my knees to accompany my jeans.
"And you better find something to do with that attitude you brought home today, young lady," he told me, crashing the belt down again and, once again, taking hold of my wrist. He gave me five quick lashes and continued: "because this is how I deal with attitudes and backtalk. Understood?"
Insert blubbered apologies and promises here.
But the spanking didn't stop. He wasn't convinced yet and instead of giving in to my pleas, he continued the spanking, crashing the heavy leather onto my bottom more times than I could count, and scolding me more to make sure that I understood that what I'd done was wrong. And finally, FINALLY, he set the belt down and released my wrist and took a deep breath. I was sobbing... my pillow was basically soaked with my tears. The apologies were delivered between sobs.
I imagine this was about the time that he rain his fingers through his hair and sat down next to me, placing a hand on my back and massaging it gently. And shortly thereafter, he began speaking to me in a soothing tone, letting me know that it was all over now and that he accepted my apology. As I began to calm down a little, he helped my panties up and I sat up, almost falling into a hug. He kissed my forehead. "I love you, kiddo," he said gently.
"Love you too," I sniffled back.
"Are you ready to work on your paper now?" he asked.
Truthfully, I wasn't. I didn't want to work on the paper any more then than I had in the weeks prior. But I wasn't about to tell him that. So I just nodded and pulled my pants up, wincing as the material touched my aching backside. "It hurts," I whined.
"I think that's the idea. And you've had this one coming for a while."
Ouch. Truth hurts though.
I went to the bathroom and washed my face, then met Steven at the dining room table. Unfortunately, I had to sit on a hard wooden chair to finish my work. But fortunately, I got the paper finished and actually ended up getting a B on it -- only points taken off for handing it in late!
01 September 2009
Story: Beach Party
Misc story. Jennifer seems to care more about partying since she went to grad school than she does about actually going to class. Fortunately, she has a mentor who knows the appropriate remedy to that.
Beach Party
by Breanna Carter
It was 4:27am when my phone began vibrating in my pocket. I was lying on the beach, stoned out of my mind, giggling with my best friend from school. I don’t even know what we were giggling about. Probably something random, like the way the moon glowed behind the clouds, or how I wanted to write on the ocean with a neon green pen. Then the phone started jiggling the change next to it, and Amy looked at me.
“Your phone’s ringing,” she said seriously.
I stopped laughing, blinked, then burst out into giggles again, trying to fish the phone out of my pocket.
“Who’s callin’ ya so late? Don’t they know tonight is party night?” Half priced drinks night at the bar was always party night for Amy and me. Who cares that it was a Thursday night, and I had class at 8am the next morning. It wasn’t like I needed that class much anyway.
“It’s Matt,” I said, groaning a little before answering.
“Where are you, Jennifer?” he asked. I’m sure his tone was irritated, but I was too high to care.
“On the beach, by the ocean,” I answered, giggling again and playing Connect The Dots with the stars.
He sighed. “It’s 4:30 in the morning and you’re on the beach? Seriously?”
“It’s actually 4:27,” I told him.
“And you have class tomorrow. Haven’t we talked about this before?”
“Class is lame. Partying is so much cooler.”
“We’ll talk about this when you’re not inebriated. For now, get back to your apartment.”
“I’m not…”
“Now, Jennifer,” he said firmly.
Eck… when he used my full first name like that, in that sharp voice, it meant he was quite frustrated with me. “Okay, fine,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Only for you, though.”
“Back to your apartment and into your pjs. Set your alarm then go to bed. Understood?”
“Goodnight, Matt,” I said, not even bothering to wait for an answer before hanging up. “We should go back to the apartment,” I told Amy.
She nodded, understanding that Matt was kind of my big brother, and if he told me to go home, it was in my best interest to do so. “Lame-o Matt spoiling our fun,” she muttered, but giggled anyway. “It’s okay, though, it is pretty late. And I have to work tomorrow.”
We pushed ourselves up and trudged through the sand towards our apartments, which were conveniently 50 yards from the beach. We said our goodbyes and I shoved my door open, careful not to wake my roommate as I put my pjs on. I didn’t bother setting my alarm, just fell onto my bed and snuggled in my blankets.
The next morning I woke up to a knock on my front door. I ignored it and put the blankets over my head to try to block out the sunlight and noise, but the knocking continued. I groaned, “shut uppppppp” and “go away!” before finally rolling out of bed and opening the door. I noticed the bright sunlight before I realized that Matt was standing right there.
“I figured as such,” he said, pretty much pushing me out of the way to get inside the apartment.
“Most people wait for an invitation before they come inside,” I muttered.
He wasn’t amused. “Your class started two hours ago. I called you this morning to make sure you were up and ready, but you didn’t answer. And now I see why.”
I closed the door and shivered slightly. He was pretty pissed off at me as displayed by his demeanor and the fact that he’d driven all the way out to pay me a visit this early in the morning -- he lived about three hours away and worked graveyard shift, so it was obvious that he’d left almost right after work.
“Come here,” he ordered.
“Wait, Matt, I can explain…” I began, except I couldn’t really explain, so I don’t even know why I tried.
“I don’t need an explanation. You stayed up all night partying and neglected, once again, to go to your class. Keep this up, Young Lady, and you’re going to fail.”
“I won’t fail. I’ll get a doctor’s excuse. I’ll say I was sick.”
He shook his head. “Grad school doesn’t want your excuses, Jennifer.” He sat down on the couch. “Come here.”
“Matt, nooo!” I whined, backing away and covering my bottom. “What if my roommate comes home?”
His eyes narrowed and I could tell that my pleas were not helping my case any. “Get over here, now!”
I began whining, near tears, not wanting to get what I completely and totally deserved -- a good spanking. “Matt, I promise I’ll do better.”
He stood up, seizing my upper arm and pulling me towards the sofa. “I’ve heard enough of your promises,” he told me as he sat and practically threw me over his lap.
“Pleaseeeee,” I begged.
He tugged at my pj pants and panties, sending them to my knees. “This is the second time you’ve missed this class since school started, Jennifer,” Matt said, slapping my bare bottom hard and fast.
“Oowwwww, Matt! I’m sorry!” I yelped, biting my lower lip so I didn’t cry out too much.
“You’re paying way too much money for this to throw it away. All of this partying you’re doing is going to stop,” he stated simply, letting my sit spots and thighs feel his wrath for a minute or two.
“Okayyy! I’ll stop partying!” I whined, kicking and squirming to dodge smacks.
He held onto me tightly so that I wasn’t squirming so much and kept spanking. “I’m going to make sure of it,” he said -- classic line.
“I really will stop!!” I promised.
“I know you will.”
I held on tightly to the couch cushions, still kicking slightly, and crying out at each swat that landed on my upturned bottom. It hurt soooo much and I just wanted him to stop already but nothing I was saying seemed to be helping!
“Partying will be reserved for the weekends, Young Lady, is that clear?”
“Yes, sir!”
“And during the week, I expect you to be in by 11, and in bed by midnight unless I tell you otherwise, got it?”
I wasn’t really in a position to argue, even though I wanted to. “Yessss I got it!” I assured him, kicking my legs a little.
He stopped and I exhaled, glad that he was finished. Only he wasn’t. He readjusted my undies and pjs, then helped me up. I reached back to rub, but he gave me a look and I stopped. “Go outside to my car and get the paddle.”
“The… paddle?” I asked, chewing on my lower lip and giving him a pathetic look.
He nodded and pointed towards the door.
“But…” I began, only to be interrupted by a firm swat to my already sore bottom. That got me going. I scurried towards his car, fetched the god-awful paddle, hid it as best as I could so that no passer-bys would see it, and ran inside. He held out his hand, asking for the small wooden paddle. “Do you really have to use this?”
He chuckled slightly, ignoring my question. “Over my lap, kiddo.”
I whined, but complied in an effort to make this easier on myself. “You know I hate the paddle.”
“That’s the point,” Matt said, discarding my pjs and panties once again and resting the paddle against my backside. “Maybe after a good spanking with this you’ll decide to start going to class, huh?” he asked, giving me a hard Pop! and sending my hands flying back to my backside. “That’s not where your hands are supposed to be, Young Lady,” he scolded, popping my thigh.
“Owwww! I’m sorry,” I shrieked, hesitating to move my hands away, but after another prompt swat on the other thigh, I did as I was supposed to. “Owww, Matt, please. I really hate that paddle.”
“Then I assume I will be getting my point across.” He landed a flurry of hard smacks which got me kicking and crying out very quickly.
“You are! I promise you are, pleaseee stopp!” I begged, squirming to try to dodge smacks, but being very unsuccessful. I reached back again only to get my wrist pinned against my back in the process, and some uber hard smacks to my thighs. I tried my hardest not to cry, but it was useless. After about a minute with that stupid paddle, tears began to spill from my eyes. I couldn’t even beg for him to stop anymore ‘cause I was crying too hard. And it’s not like it would’ve helped anyway.
“I don’t want to ever hear of you skipping a class again,” he said finally, giving me a quick two swats on each sit spot and sitting the paddle down. I sobbed into my hands, trying to wipe the tears away as hurriedly as they fell, but no such luck. Then he helped my clothes back up and held me in his arms.
“I’m s-sorry,” I hiccupped, burying my face into his chest.
He kissed my forehead, holding me tightly. “I know, little one. You gotta stop messing around so much, though. You’re old enough to know better than to party so much and skip out on classes.”
I nodded -- he was right, I did know better, but sometimes play was more fun than work, and I wasn’t ready to be responsible yet. Not that it mattered… looked like he had other ideas in mind. Sniffling a final time, I wiped the rest of the tears away and gave him a big hug. “Thank you,” I said in almost a whisper.
He smirked. “You’re welcome. Now get dressed so you can get to school and find out what you missed.”
I pouted for a split second, just enough to get “the look,” then did as I was told.
Beach Party
by Breanna Carter
It was 4:27am when my phone began vibrating in my pocket. I was lying on the beach, stoned out of my mind, giggling with my best friend from school. I don’t even know what we were giggling about. Probably something random, like the way the moon glowed behind the clouds, or how I wanted to write on the ocean with a neon green pen. Then the phone started jiggling the change next to it, and Amy looked at me.
“Your phone’s ringing,” she said seriously.
I stopped laughing, blinked, then burst out into giggles again, trying to fish the phone out of my pocket.
“Who’s callin’ ya so late? Don’t they know tonight is party night?” Half priced drinks night at the bar was always party night for Amy and me. Who cares that it was a Thursday night, and I had class at 8am the next morning. It wasn’t like I needed that class much anyway.
“It’s Matt,” I said, groaning a little before answering.
“Where are you, Jennifer?” he asked. I’m sure his tone was irritated, but I was too high to care.
“On the beach, by the ocean,” I answered, giggling again and playing Connect The Dots with the stars.
He sighed. “It’s 4:30 in the morning and you’re on the beach? Seriously?”
“It’s actually 4:27,” I told him.
“And you have class tomorrow. Haven’t we talked about this before?”
“Class is lame. Partying is so much cooler.”
“We’ll talk about this when you’re not inebriated. For now, get back to your apartment.”
“I’m not…”
“Now, Jennifer,” he said firmly.
Eck… when he used my full first name like that, in that sharp voice, it meant he was quite frustrated with me. “Okay, fine,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Only for you, though.”
“Back to your apartment and into your pjs. Set your alarm then go to bed. Understood?”
“Goodnight, Matt,” I said, not even bothering to wait for an answer before hanging up. “We should go back to the apartment,” I told Amy.
She nodded, understanding that Matt was kind of my big brother, and if he told me to go home, it was in my best interest to do so. “Lame-o Matt spoiling our fun,” she muttered, but giggled anyway. “It’s okay, though, it is pretty late. And I have to work tomorrow.”
We pushed ourselves up and trudged through the sand towards our apartments, which were conveniently 50 yards from the beach. We said our goodbyes and I shoved my door open, careful not to wake my roommate as I put my pjs on. I didn’t bother setting my alarm, just fell onto my bed and snuggled in my blankets.
The next morning I woke up to a knock on my front door. I ignored it and put the blankets over my head to try to block out the sunlight and noise, but the knocking continued. I groaned, “shut uppppppp” and “go away!” before finally rolling out of bed and opening the door. I noticed the bright sunlight before I realized that Matt was standing right there.
“I figured as such,” he said, pretty much pushing me out of the way to get inside the apartment.
“Most people wait for an invitation before they come inside,” I muttered.
He wasn’t amused. “Your class started two hours ago. I called you this morning to make sure you were up and ready, but you didn’t answer. And now I see why.”
I closed the door and shivered slightly. He was pretty pissed off at me as displayed by his demeanor and the fact that he’d driven all the way out to pay me a visit this early in the morning -- he lived about three hours away and worked graveyard shift, so it was obvious that he’d left almost right after work.
“Come here,” he ordered.
“Wait, Matt, I can explain…” I began, except I couldn’t really explain, so I don’t even know why I tried.
“I don’t need an explanation. You stayed up all night partying and neglected, once again, to go to your class. Keep this up, Young Lady, and you’re going to fail.”
“I won’t fail. I’ll get a doctor’s excuse. I’ll say I was sick.”
He shook his head. “Grad school doesn’t want your excuses, Jennifer.” He sat down on the couch. “Come here.”
“Matt, nooo!” I whined, backing away and covering my bottom. “What if my roommate comes home?”
His eyes narrowed and I could tell that my pleas were not helping my case any. “Get over here, now!”
I began whining, near tears, not wanting to get what I completely and totally deserved -- a good spanking. “Matt, I promise I’ll do better.”
He stood up, seizing my upper arm and pulling me towards the sofa. “I’ve heard enough of your promises,” he told me as he sat and practically threw me over his lap.
“Pleaseeeee,” I begged.
He tugged at my pj pants and panties, sending them to my knees. “This is the second time you’ve missed this class since school started, Jennifer,” Matt said, slapping my bare bottom hard and fast.
“Oowwwww, Matt! I’m sorry!” I yelped, biting my lower lip so I didn’t cry out too much.
“You’re paying way too much money for this to throw it away. All of this partying you’re doing is going to stop,” he stated simply, letting my sit spots and thighs feel his wrath for a minute or two.
“Okayyy! I’ll stop partying!” I whined, kicking and squirming to dodge smacks.
He held onto me tightly so that I wasn’t squirming so much and kept spanking. “I’m going to make sure of it,” he said -- classic line.
“I really will stop!!” I promised.
“I know you will.”
I held on tightly to the couch cushions, still kicking slightly, and crying out at each swat that landed on my upturned bottom. It hurt soooo much and I just wanted him to stop already but nothing I was saying seemed to be helping!
“Partying will be reserved for the weekends, Young Lady, is that clear?”
“Yes, sir!”
“And during the week, I expect you to be in by 11, and in bed by midnight unless I tell you otherwise, got it?”
I wasn’t really in a position to argue, even though I wanted to. “Yessss I got it!” I assured him, kicking my legs a little.
He stopped and I exhaled, glad that he was finished. Only he wasn’t. He readjusted my undies and pjs, then helped me up. I reached back to rub, but he gave me a look and I stopped. “Go outside to my car and get the paddle.”
“The… paddle?” I asked, chewing on my lower lip and giving him a pathetic look.
He nodded and pointed towards the door.
“But…” I began, only to be interrupted by a firm swat to my already sore bottom. That got me going. I scurried towards his car, fetched the god-awful paddle, hid it as best as I could so that no passer-bys would see it, and ran inside. He held out his hand, asking for the small wooden paddle. “Do you really have to use this?”
He chuckled slightly, ignoring my question. “Over my lap, kiddo.”
I whined, but complied in an effort to make this easier on myself. “You know I hate the paddle.”
“That’s the point,” Matt said, discarding my pjs and panties once again and resting the paddle against my backside. “Maybe after a good spanking with this you’ll decide to start going to class, huh?” he asked, giving me a hard Pop! and sending my hands flying back to my backside. “That’s not where your hands are supposed to be, Young Lady,” he scolded, popping my thigh.
“Owwww! I’m sorry,” I shrieked, hesitating to move my hands away, but after another prompt swat on the other thigh, I did as I was supposed to. “Owww, Matt, please. I really hate that paddle.”
“Then I assume I will be getting my point across.” He landed a flurry of hard smacks which got me kicking and crying out very quickly.
“You are! I promise you are, pleaseee stopp!” I begged, squirming to try to dodge smacks, but being very unsuccessful. I reached back again only to get my wrist pinned against my back in the process, and some uber hard smacks to my thighs. I tried my hardest not to cry, but it was useless. After about a minute with that stupid paddle, tears began to spill from my eyes. I couldn’t even beg for him to stop anymore ‘cause I was crying too hard. And it’s not like it would’ve helped anyway.
“I don’t want to ever hear of you skipping a class again,” he said finally, giving me a quick two swats on each sit spot and sitting the paddle down. I sobbed into my hands, trying to wipe the tears away as hurriedly as they fell, but no such luck. Then he helped my clothes back up and held me in his arms.
“I’m s-sorry,” I hiccupped, burying my face into his chest.
He kissed my forehead, holding me tightly. “I know, little one. You gotta stop messing around so much, though. You’re old enough to know better than to party so much and skip out on classes.”
I nodded -- he was right, I did know better, but sometimes play was more fun than work, and I wasn’t ready to be responsible yet. Not that it mattered… looked like he had other ideas in mind. Sniffling a final time, I wiped the rest of the tears away and gave him a big hug. “Thank you,” I said in almost a whisper.
He smirked. “You’re welcome. Now get dressed so you can get to school and find out what you missed.”
I pouted for a split second, just enough to get “the look,” then did as I was told.
15 March 2009
Story: Temper Tantrum
Part of the Terrence/Brianna series. You can always count on Brianna to have a good temper tantrum every so often. She and Terrence have different views about what she should do for college, and it turns into such a horrible fight that Bri takes off to Ana's, crying her eyes out. She is greeted, instead, by Ashton who teaches her a lesson she'll never forget. Okay, maybe she will forget it, but it sounded good anyway!
Temper Tantrum
by Breanna Carter
After our trip to Mexico, I was obsessed with going to school in Guanajuato, where Alex would be going. I researched the university on the internet, bought a Spanish workbook to teach myself the language, and emailed Alex hopeful messages that I would be in Mexico by the fall. Terrence didn’t know anything about this… he knew that I was interested in going to Mexico, and that I’d considered going to college down there, but he had his heart set on me going to a private liberal arts college in the town we lived in. I, however, was not going to that school.
I came home from Ana’s house one Saturday evening to find Terrence sitting on the sofa, more elated than I’d seen him since he’d decided to get married.
Raising my eyebrows, I said, “what’s up with you?”
He smiled and shoved an envelope in my hands. It was from the school that he wanted me to go to.
“Oh,” I said, my voice solemn. I looked at the unopened letter, wondering what the contents would reveal. It was either an acceptance letter, or a rejection letter, and part of me really hoped that it was the latter. It would be a lot easier to convince Terrence to let me study in Mexico if I didn’t have a school in town waiting for me.
“Well? Open it!” he said, a little too excited for his own good.
Biting my lower lip, I tore the envelope open, subconsciously wishing for rejection (hey, there’s a first time for everything!). The letter fell out, revealing not only that I’d been accepted, but I’d also received a soccer scholarship that paid for the majority of my college expenses. Wow. I glanced up at Terrence, my heart skipping a beat.
“What’s it say?” he asked, reminding me of Ana on the airplane just weeks earlier wanting to know what Alex had said in the letter he’d written me.
I handed the letter to him, slumping down on the couch, wondering what to do. How would I ever convince him to let me move to Mexico now?
“This is great, Brianna!” he said, after reading the letter, playfully punching me on the shoulder and grinning wildly. Then he stopped, realizing that I was kind of bummed. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I dunno… I really kinda wanted to go to school in Mexico…” I said honestly. I’d given up on lying to Terrence after our last lying fiasco.
My brother chuckled slightly. “Really? Mexico? Why?”
I looked at him, wondering why he found this so amusing. “Because that’s where I want to go,” I said, probably cocking a little too much attitude for my own good.
“Brianna, you can’t go to school in Mexico,” he said, still seeming slightly entertained by the idea.
“Why not?” I asked, standing up now and becoming angrier by the moment.
“Because that’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard come from your mouth. You don’t speak Spanish, you don’t know anyone in Mexico, and how would you get your stuff down there? Where would you live? How would you pay for all of that?”
“I can learn Spanish and I know Alex!” I claimed. “And I’m going to go to school in Mexico and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
Terrence shook his head. “You can’t be serious.”
“Watch me,” I muttered and walked off to my room, locking the door behind me. Why couldn’t he just be on my side? Why couldn’t he take me seriously? Why was this all a joke to him?
I punched my pillow a couple of times and then flopped myself on my bed, glaring angrily at the ceiling. This totally wasn’t fair. But I could only dwell on it in my room for so long… so I decided to grab my soccer ball and kick it around for a little while to let out some aggression. Then Terrence would know I was serious.
We didn’t talk about it again for a long time. I didn’t bother mentioning it to him because I didn’t want to fight. And besides, it’d be better if I had a plan. So I requested information from the university in Guanajuato, and began looking at visa information so that I could get Mexico’s equivalent to our green card. I decided while I was requesting information that I should go ahead and request info from the Mexican Consulate. Then I realized that I could just go to Dallas and fill out all the paperwork.
I called Ana. “Roadtrip to Dallas?” I asked.
“What? Is there a concert or something?”
I giggled. “Not exactly, although I bet I could find one. I want to go to the Mexican Consulate up there and fill out the paperwork to get a visa.”
“Oooh, so you’re going to do it without telling Terrence?” she wanted to know. I could hear her door shutting, and I was picturing her hiding herself in her room to gossip with me about the trouble I was going to get myself into.
“Yeah, of course I am. I’m eighteen now, so it doesn’t matter what he says. I can do whatever I want,” I said, pausing before adding, “so you wanna go with?”
I could hear her smiling. “Of course I wanna go with! When do you wanna go?”
I pondered that for a moment. Skipping school would be a bad idea, because undoubtedly I’d get caught and in loads of trouble… been there, done that. When was the next holiday? Good Friday… but they would probably be closed on Good Friday… Maybe we’d have to go with the skipping school idea… or maybe I’d just have to wait until Memorial Day. “I dunno. Whenever. I just want to make sure I can get a visa. I have to study in Mexico, Ana. You don’t understand.”
Anastasia giggled. “You’re in lo-ove!” she teased. “Miss Cynic has been broken!”
I rolled my eyes. “Shut up.”
“Hehe, I just love teasing you about it. But yeah, I’m up for a roadtrip. Just let me know, k?”
So my plan was beginning to unfold. I would apply to the school, and upon acceptance, apply for my visa. Alex offered for us to rent an apartment together, which was only about 800 pesos a month, or 80 American dollars. He also told me that I would be able to get a job at one of the local clubs working nights and weekends. That, along with money I would be saving, would be able to hold me over. I could do it.
Terrence, however, almost flipped out when he saw the information I’d requested from the university. “Brianna, do you not realize that we don’t have the money for you to do this? Are you just not thinking about it? Where are you going to live? How are you going to pay for rent? How are you going to buy food?”
“I already…” I began, but was abruptly cut off.
“And it’s dangerous! Mexico is a very dangerous and corrupt country. Have you even considered that? Have you even looked into it?” These were obviously rhetorical questions, so I just glared at him and let him continue his tirade. “I don’t know where you’re getting these ideas that you’re going to move to another country to study. You have a full paid scholarship to go to a great school here in town. And you’re going to give that up, what, to go shack up with some guy in Mexico?”
That statement did more than anger me… it hurt. Hurt a lot. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I snapped.
“Well then explain to me why you came up with this great idea to go to school in Mexico.”
“Because I WANT to, Terrence. Because I hate this fucking town, I hate this fucking state, and I hate this fucking country. I don’t want to be here anymore, and I certainly don’t want to live in this fucking house for another four years of my life. I’m eighteen years old and it’s time for me to get my own life. Can’t you see that?”
He was a bit shocked at my tone of voice and the type of language that I’d used with him, and I was sort of surprised that he didn’t slap me for saying those things. “Brianna, I realize that you’re eighteen and ready to move on. But you can live on campus here in town and it’ll be just like going away to school…”
“I don’t WANT to go there! What part of that do you not understand?”
“Well then I’d be happy to look into some other colleges with you. But you’re not going to Mexico.”
“I *am* going to Mexico. I don’t care what you say.”
He groaned exasperatedly. “So you’re just going to fuck up your life, huh?” he asked. “You’re going to fuck up your life for some kid in Mexico. Seriously. That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard of.”
There he went again, blaming my wanting to move on Alex, when really only about 10% of the reason I wanted to go was for him. Instead of explaining that to him, though, I threw a tantrum. “GODDAMMIT!” I shouted, pushing the lamp off of the end table. “I’M NOT GOING FOR A FUCKING BOY!” I took the phone book off of the coffee table and threw it across the room.
“Brianna Nicole!” Terrence yelled, grabbing me by the arm.
I pulled away. “LEAVE ME ALONE! FUCK YOU! I HATE YOU!” I said, tears streaming down my face. I turned the coffee table over, grabbed my keys, and looked him dead in the eyes. “I hope I don’t make it back home,” then left, slamming the door behind me.
By the time I was at my car, I was sobbing. I couldn’t even breathe because I was crying so hard. Terrence had come outside to tell me to come back, but I sped off, screeching my tires without even meaning to. I made it to Ana’s house in record time, tears still streaming down my face and my eyes red and puffy. I pounded on the door, wanting nothing more than for someone to be on my side. I wasn’t even sure if Ana would understand, but at least she wouldn’t criticize me like my own brother had.
Ashton pushed the door open. Instantly, a look of worry spread across his face. “Brianna…?”
“I need to see Ana.”
He pulled me inside. “She’s not home, Bri. What happened? What’s wrong?”
I began crying again. “Me and Terrence got into a fight,” I choked out between sobs, falling into his arms. He closed the door behind us and lead me to the couch where we sat down and he held me close.
“What happened, Bri? What’d you fight about? It’s okay, little one. I’m here. Talk to me.”
I took a deep breath in to help make the crying go away. I sniffled, then wiped my eyes. “He was just really mean to me,” I said finally.
He raised his eyebrows and tucked a lock of hair behind my ears. “Continue,” he urged on.
I finally just spit out everything that’d happened… I wanted to sugarcoat what I’d said to my brother, but I couldn’t -- I could never lie to Ashton. He could see right through me… and besides, I felt kinda guilty about what I’d done.
Ashton didn’t interrupt. He listened to me until I looked up at him with pathetic eyes, wondering what to do now.
“Oh, Brianna, what are we going to do with you?” he asked, hugging me slightly. “You have to *talk* to Terrence. How’s he ever going to understand your point of view if you hide everything from him and then when he approaches you about it you just yell and throw stuff? That’s not cool.”
I pouted. “But he wasn’t nice to me either!”
“He’s on the defensive. How did you feel when he just randomly told you about how he was going to get married?” I was about to answer, but Ashton stopped me. “Now think about how he feels when you randomly tell him you’re going to move to Mexico -- miles away from home -- and that you’re planning on living with a guy that Terrence hasn’t even ever met. And you both know that your money situation isn’t the best… so what if something happens to you while you’re down there? It’s not like he has the money lying around to fly to Mexico.” He paused. “He just wants you to think about everything before you go. He doesn’t want you to make a hasty and ignorant decision.”
I didn’t like that Ashton was taking my brother’s side, but what could I have expected? He’s a stupid older brother, too, so of course he was going to take Terrence’s side. “Whatever, Ashton, you’re just like him,” I said, pushing away from him.
Ashton pulled me back towards him and looked me in the eyes. “I’m not taking his side,” he said, staring at me so deeply that it made my stomach churn. “I’m talking to you rationally and calmly, and I expect you to do the same with me, do you understand?”
I hmphed and folded my arms.
“Someone needs an attitude adjustment.”
“No one’s on my side, Ashton. It’s not fair.”
“We’re all on your side. That’s why we’re worried about you. Do you not see that?”
“Whatever,” I said.
“Say that one more time and I’m taking you over my knee, Young Lady,” he said sternly, causing me to shiver a little.
“Then no, I don’t see that. All I see is everyone trying to run my life for me, and I’m ready to run my own life. I’m sick of being treated like a child. I’m sick of everyone thinking I’m too stupid to make my own decisions.”
“The way you’re acting right now, I can see why someone would treat you like a child -- you’re acting like a bratty 12 year old when she doesn’t get her way.” He paused. “If you want Terrence to treat you like an adult, then you have to act like one. First you have to see where he’s coming from… he’s worried about you. He wants the best for you. He doesn’t want you to screw up your life. Then you have to think seriously about that, and you have to look at all aspects of moving so far away. You do have to consider what he’s talking about… the money, a place to stay, safety, what’s going to happen if you and Alex get into a fight. You have to weigh everything out. Then talk to him about it rationally. Tell him your plan.”
That sounded like way too much to do. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. Ashton was making perfect sense, but it was all too complicated and I didn’t want to do all of that. So I told him.
“Well, then you’ll keep being treated like a child,” he concluded.
“I’m going to Mexico anyway,” I told him. “I don’t care what anybody else says.”
“That’s very irresponsible and childish of you.”
“Whatever.” Oops…
Ashton didn’t take his time in pulling me over his knee.
“Wait, Ashton! I didn’t mean that, it slipped out.”
“Yeah, I’m sure it did,” he said, flipping up my skirt and tugging my panties down to my knees. “I’m sick of your attitude, though, and I’m sure Terrence is, too. After the way you’ve been acting today, this is the least of what you deserve.” He began raining down smacks on my upturned bare bottom.
“Owwww, Ashton! Please! Stop!”
“I’m not stopping until that attitude of yours is gone. I don’t care if I’m here spanking you all night.”
“Ashtonnn,” I begged, kicking my legs and reaching back to block the smacks, to which he grabbed my wrist and pinned it against the small of my back.
His ears seemed deaf to my pleas. “You’ve been very disrespectful and bratty since before you walked in that door, Brianna Nicole, and I’m not putting up with it. If you’re going to act like a child, then I’ll treat you like one.” He paused, increasing the speed and intensity of the smacks. “You’re eighteen years old, Young Lady, it shouldn’t take spanking you to get through to you. We should be able to talk like rational adults, shouldn’t we, Brianna Nicole Carter?”
“Yessss owwww Ashton! Please no more!”
“You haven’t learned your lesson yet,” Ashton said.
“I have!” I promised him, crying out in pain and knowing that my backside was already reddening. “Please I’ve learned my lesson!”
“What have you learned, then?”
I whined and tried to think of what he wanted me to say. “I’ve learned to stop being so bratty.”
He began spanking harder. “You’ve got a long ways to go with this spanking,” he said.
I didn’t like the sound of that… my bottom was already throbbing and I just wanted him to stop already -- it wasn’t fair that he was spanking me! After all, it was me that everyone was against… why couldn’t he just understand and accept my point of view?
“I can’t believe you,” he lectured. “Throwing tantrums like a three year old just because you don’t get your way. And then coming over here and acting the way you did. I was trying to be calm and rational with you, but you still insisted on acting like a child.”
“Owwww please, Ashton. I’m sorry,” I wailed.
“You’re sorry that you’re getting spanked,” he answered.
Well, he was kind of right… that really was the only thing I was sorry about at the moment…
He let go of my wrist and lifted me up for a minute. He looked me straight in the eyes. “I want you to get into that corner and think about what you’ve done. Not only the way you talked to and disrespected your brother, but also the way that you disrespected me. And I want you to think about what you could’ve done differently. I know that Terrence isn’t always in the right, and it’s unrealistic to think that someone is going to always be right, including you, Young Lady. So I want you to think about how you can deal with him when he’s in the wrong.” Ashton then walked me to the corner and planted my nose in it. “Hands behind your back… no rubbing,” he ordered, and walked away.
I leaned my head against the wall. This all really sucked. I hated standing in the corner like I was an eight year old. Gah. He was really treating me like a kid! This totally wasn’t fair. Such boredom, staring at the nicely painted wall.
So what could I have done differently? How could I have reacted when Terrence had flipped out on me? I guess I could’ve stayed calm and explained to him why I wanted to move. Or I could’ve just sat down and talked to him about it from day one instead of hiding it from him and avoiding the conversation. I could’ve been more open to his ideas and suggestions… but he was yelling them at me and being stupid. I guess I could’ve talked to him about that, too. I could’ve just tried harder. And I could’ve been a little nicer to Ashton, who was just trying to help. Ugh, I guess the corner time was pretty effective, because by the time Ashton came back I felt really small, and was actually somewhat remorseful for what I’d done.
“Come here, Brianna,” he ordered, and I turned around to see him sitting on the couch, brush in hand.
Oh God, not that…
“Well? What’d you decide?” he asked.
I bit my lower lip and told him of my thought processes. He nodded every so often, agreeing with everything that I’d said. “Terrence was wrong for getting so upset with you, but you were also wrong in the way you retaliated, Brianna.”
I nodded. “I know. I feel bad about it now.”
“When we get finished here, I want you to go back home and have an actual conversation with him. I want you to sit him down and tell him to give you a few minutes to speak without interrupting you. And I want you to apologize for what you said, and then I want you to explain how you feel to him, understood?”
I whined a little. Talking with Terrence was the last thing I wanted to do. Not that it mattered -- even if Ashton hadn’t ordered me to do it, I’m sure Terrence would’ve wanted to talk to me anyway.
“Come on, little one, get back over my knee,” he said. “I told you what would happen if you said ‘whatever’ to me again, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” I murmured, and lay back over his knee. I braced myself, wishing in that moment that I was anywhere but in my current position.
“Drop the attitude, got it?”
I nodded, feeling the first blow with the hairbrush. I yelped, bracing myself for the next swats, crying out as each smack bit into my flesh. He peppered my cheeks, covering my entire bottom with quick and sharp swats. I was kicking and squirming like crazy.
“Oooowwww Ashton… I’m sorrrrrrryyyyy!” I yelped, kicking my legs up so that he’d stop spanking me.
He pushed my feet back down and said, “stop kicking,” then continued the spanking.
“But it hurtssssss.”
“Good. Maybe you’ll remember this next time I give you a warning… and the next time that you want to get an attitude.” He continued the spanking, slightly harder and faster than before, hitting my sit spots and occasionally my thighs. “Are you starting to learn your lesson?”
“Yesssssssss,” I howled, now crying into the cushions as I reached my hand back to block. He didn’t miss a beat in pinning my hand back, and just kept raining down the smacks.
“You’re too old to be acting like this,” he scolded.
Tears were now streaming down my face as I yelled, “I knowwwwwwwww, I’m sorry!” My backside had to be dark red by this point… it hurt so badly!!
He landed a few final swats to my sit spots and thighs, then sat the brush down on the couch next to him. He let go of my hand and rubbed my back as I cried everything out.
“It’s okay, baby girl,” Ashton said, lifting me up and holding me tightly. “Shhh, it’s over now.” He stroked my hair softly, allowing my tears to stain his shirt.
“I’m s-sorry,” I stammered.
“I know,” he said. “I know you are. Now you just need to talk to Terrence. And everything will work out, I promise.”
I smiled in spite of everything, wiping my tears away and steadying my breathing. “Are you sure everything will work out?”
He nodded. He lifted me off of his lap and patted my bottom. I pulled my panties back up and let him embrace me tightly. “This time you’re going to actually talk to Terrence, right?”
“Yes, I am. I promise. It’s not like he’d let me go without talking to him anyway.”
Ashton smiled and ruffled my hair. “Good girl,” he said. “Now get going. I bet he’s worried sick about you.”
I stalked out of his house and saw that my cell phone had ten missed calls and three new voicemails when I got inside my car. All from Terrence I’m sure. I called him back and let him know that I was alive, that I was sorry, and that I was coming home so we could talk. It would make my evening longer than it’d already been, but hopefully it’d be worth it in the long run. Besides, I’d already promised Ashton that I’d do it, so now I really had to.
Temper Tantrum
by Breanna Carter
After our trip to Mexico, I was obsessed with going to school in Guanajuato, where Alex would be going. I researched the university on the internet, bought a Spanish workbook to teach myself the language, and emailed Alex hopeful messages that I would be in Mexico by the fall. Terrence didn’t know anything about this… he knew that I was interested in going to Mexico, and that I’d considered going to college down there, but he had his heart set on me going to a private liberal arts college in the town we lived in. I, however, was not going to that school.
I came home from Ana’s house one Saturday evening to find Terrence sitting on the sofa, more elated than I’d seen him since he’d decided to get married.
Raising my eyebrows, I said, “what’s up with you?”
He smiled and shoved an envelope in my hands. It was from the school that he wanted me to go to.
“Oh,” I said, my voice solemn. I looked at the unopened letter, wondering what the contents would reveal. It was either an acceptance letter, or a rejection letter, and part of me really hoped that it was the latter. It would be a lot easier to convince Terrence to let me study in Mexico if I didn’t have a school in town waiting for me.
“Well? Open it!” he said, a little too excited for his own good.
Biting my lower lip, I tore the envelope open, subconsciously wishing for rejection (hey, there’s a first time for everything!). The letter fell out, revealing not only that I’d been accepted, but I’d also received a soccer scholarship that paid for the majority of my college expenses. Wow. I glanced up at Terrence, my heart skipping a beat.
“What’s it say?” he asked, reminding me of Ana on the airplane just weeks earlier wanting to know what Alex had said in the letter he’d written me.
I handed the letter to him, slumping down on the couch, wondering what to do. How would I ever convince him to let me move to Mexico now?
“This is great, Brianna!” he said, after reading the letter, playfully punching me on the shoulder and grinning wildly. Then he stopped, realizing that I was kind of bummed. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I dunno… I really kinda wanted to go to school in Mexico…” I said honestly. I’d given up on lying to Terrence after our last lying fiasco.
My brother chuckled slightly. “Really? Mexico? Why?”
I looked at him, wondering why he found this so amusing. “Because that’s where I want to go,” I said, probably cocking a little too much attitude for my own good.
“Brianna, you can’t go to school in Mexico,” he said, still seeming slightly entertained by the idea.
“Why not?” I asked, standing up now and becoming angrier by the moment.
“Because that’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard come from your mouth. You don’t speak Spanish, you don’t know anyone in Mexico, and how would you get your stuff down there? Where would you live? How would you pay for all of that?”
“I can learn Spanish and I know Alex!” I claimed. “And I’m going to go to school in Mexico and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
Terrence shook his head. “You can’t be serious.”
“Watch me,” I muttered and walked off to my room, locking the door behind me. Why couldn’t he just be on my side? Why couldn’t he take me seriously? Why was this all a joke to him?
I punched my pillow a couple of times and then flopped myself on my bed, glaring angrily at the ceiling. This totally wasn’t fair. But I could only dwell on it in my room for so long… so I decided to grab my soccer ball and kick it around for a little while to let out some aggression. Then Terrence would know I was serious.
We didn’t talk about it again for a long time. I didn’t bother mentioning it to him because I didn’t want to fight. And besides, it’d be better if I had a plan. So I requested information from the university in Guanajuato, and began looking at visa information so that I could get Mexico’s equivalent to our green card. I decided while I was requesting information that I should go ahead and request info from the Mexican Consulate. Then I realized that I could just go to Dallas and fill out all the paperwork.
I called Ana. “Roadtrip to Dallas?” I asked.
“What? Is there a concert or something?”
I giggled. “Not exactly, although I bet I could find one. I want to go to the Mexican Consulate up there and fill out the paperwork to get a visa.”
“Oooh, so you’re going to do it without telling Terrence?” she wanted to know. I could hear her door shutting, and I was picturing her hiding herself in her room to gossip with me about the trouble I was going to get myself into.
“Yeah, of course I am. I’m eighteen now, so it doesn’t matter what he says. I can do whatever I want,” I said, pausing before adding, “so you wanna go with?”
I could hear her smiling. “Of course I wanna go with! When do you wanna go?”
I pondered that for a moment. Skipping school would be a bad idea, because undoubtedly I’d get caught and in loads of trouble… been there, done that. When was the next holiday? Good Friday… but they would probably be closed on Good Friday… Maybe we’d have to go with the skipping school idea… or maybe I’d just have to wait until Memorial Day. “I dunno. Whenever. I just want to make sure I can get a visa. I have to study in Mexico, Ana. You don’t understand.”
Anastasia giggled. “You’re in lo-ove!” she teased. “Miss Cynic has been broken!”
I rolled my eyes. “Shut up.”
“Hehe, I just love teasing you about it. But yeah, I’m up for a roadtrip. Just let me know, k?”
So my plan was beginning to unfold. I would apply to the school, and upon acceptance, apply for my visa. Alex offered for us to rent an apartment together, which was only about 800 pesos a month, or 80 American dollars. He also told me that I would be able to get a job at one of the local clubs working nights and weekends. That, along with money I would be saving, would be able to hold me over. I could do it.
Terrence, however, almost flipped out when he saw the information I’d requested from the university. “Brianna, do you not realize that we don’t have the money for you to do this? Are you just not thinking about it? Where are you going to live? How are you going to pay for rent? How are you going to buy food?”
“I already…” I began, but was abruptly cut off.
“And it’s dangerous! Mexico is a very dangerous and corrupt country. Have you even considered that? Have you even looked into it?” These were obviously rhetorical questions, so I just glared at him and let him continue his tirade. “I don’t know where you’re getting these ideas that you’re going to move to another country to study. You have a full paid scholarship to go to a great school here in town. And you’re going to give that up, what, to go shack up with some guy in Mexico?”
That statement did more than anger me… it hurt. Hurt a lot. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I snapped.
“Well then explain to me why you came up with this great idea to go to school in Mexico.”
“Because I WANT to, Terrence. Because I hate this fucking town, I hate this fucking state, and I hate this fucking country. I don’t want to be here anymore, and I certainly don’t want to live in this fucking house for another four years of my life. I’m eighteen years old and it’s time for me to get my own life. Can’t you see that?”
He was a bit shocked at my tone of voice and the type of language that I’d used with him, and I was sort of surprised that he didn’t slap me for saying those things. “Brianna, I realize that you’re eighteen and ready to move on. But you can live on campus here in town and it’ll be just like going away to school…”
“I don’t WANT to go there! What part of that do you not understand?”
“Well then I’d be happy to look into some other colleges with you. But you’re not going to Mexico.”
“I *am* going to Mexico. I don’t care what you say.”
He groaned exasperatedly. “So you’re just going to fuck up your life, huh?” he asked. “You’re going to fuck up your life for some kid in Mexico. Seriously. That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard of.”
There he went again, blaming my wanting to move on Alex, when really only about 10% of the reason I wanted to go was for him. Instead of explaining that to him, though, I threw a tantrum. “GODDAMMIT!” I shouted, pushing the lamp off of the end table. “I’M NOT GOING FOR A FUCKING BOY!” I took the phone book off of the coffee table and threw it across the room.
“Brianna Nicole!” Terrence yelled, grabbing me by the arm.
I pulled away. “LEAVE ME ALONE! FUCK YOU! I HATE YOU!” I said, tears streaming down my face. I turned the coffee table over, grabbed my keys, and looked him dead in the eyes. “I hope I don’t make it back home,” then left, slamming the door behind me.
By the time I was at my car, I was sobbing. I couldn’t even breathe because I was crying so hard. Terrence had come outside to tell me to come back, but I sped off, screeching my tires without even meaning to. I made it to Ana’s house in record time, tears still streaming down my face and my eyes red and puffy. I pounded on the door, wanting nothing more than for someone to be on my side. I wasn’t even sure if Ana would understand, but at least she wouldn’t criticize me like my own brother had.
Ashton pushed the door open. Instantly, a look of worry spread across his face. “Brianna…?”
“I need to see Ana.”
He pulled me inside. “She’s not home, Bri. What happened? What’s wrong?”
I began crying again. “Me and Terrence got into a fight,” I choked out between sobs, falling into his arms. He closed the door behind us and lead me to the couch where we sat down and he held me close.
“What happened, Bri? What’d you fight about? It’s okay, little one. I’m here. Talk to me.”
I took a deep breath in to help make the crying go away. I sniffled, then wiped my eyes. “He was just really mean to me,” I said finally.
He raised his eyebrows and tucked a lock of hair behind my ears. “Continue,” he urged on.
I finally just spit out everything that’d happened… I wanted to sugarcoat what I’d said to my brother, but I couldn’t -- I could never lie to Ashton. He could see right through me… and besides, I felt kinda guilty about what I’d done.
Ashton didn’t interrupt. He listened to me until I looked up at him with pathetic eyes, wondering what to do now.
“Oh, Brianna, what are we going to do with you?” he asked, hugging me slightly. “You have to *talk* to Terrence. How’s he ever going to understand your point of view if you hide everything from him and then when he approaches you about it you just yell and throw stuff? That’s not cool.”
I pouted. “But he wasn’t nice to me either!”
“He’s on the defensive. How did you feel when he just randomly told you about how he was going to get married?” I was about to answer, but Ashton stopped me. “Now think about how he feels when you randomly tell him you’re going to move to Mexico -- miles away from home -- and that you’re planning on living with a guy that Terrence hasn’t even ever met. And you both know that your money situation isn’t the best… so what if something happens to you while you’re down there? It’s not like he has the money lying around to fly to Mexico.” He paused. “He just wants you to think about everything before you go. He doesn’t want you to make a hasty and ignorant decision.”
I didn’t like that Ashton was taking my brother’s side, but what could I have expected? He’s a stupid older brother, too, so of course he was going to take Terrence’s side. “Whatever, Ashton, you’re just like him,” I said, pushing away from him.
Ashton pulled me back towards him and looked me in the eyes. “I’m not taking his side,” he said, staring at me so deeply that it made my stomach churn. “I’m talking to you rationally and calmly, and I expect you to do the same with me, do you understand?”
I hmphed and folded my arms.
“Someone needs an attitude adjustment.”
“No one’s on my side, Ashton. It’s not fair.”
“We’re all on your side. That’s why we’re worried about you. Do you not see that?”
“Whatever,” I said.
“Say that one more time and I’m taking you over my knee, Young Lady,” he said sternly, causing me to shiver a little.
“Then no, I don’t see that. All I see is everyone trying to run my life for me, and I’m ready to run my own life. I’m sick of being treated like a child. I’m sick of everyone thinking I’m too stupid to make my own decisions.”
“The way you’re acting right now, I can see why someone would treat you like a child -- you’re acting like a bratty 12 year old when she doesn’t get her way.” He paused. “If you want Terrence to treat you like an adult, then you have to act like one. First you have to see where he’s coming from… he’s worried about you. He wants the best for you. He doesn’t want you to screw up your life. Then you have to think seriously about that, and you have to look at all aspects of moving so far away. You do have to consider what he’s talking about… the money, a place to stay, safety, what’s going to happen if you and Alex get into a fight. You have to weigh everything out. Then talk to him about it rationally. Tell him your plan.”
That sounded like way too much to do. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. Ashton was making perfect sense, but it was all too complicated and I didn’t want to do all of that. So I told him.
“Well, then you’ll keep being treated like a child,” he concluded.
“I’m going to Mexico anyway,” I told him. “I don’t care what anybody else says.”
“That’s very irresponsible and childish of you.”
“Whatever.” Oops…
Ashton didn’t take his time in pulling me over his knee.
“Wait, Ashton! I didn’t mean that, it slipped out.”
“Yeah, I’m sure it did,” he said, flipping up my skirt and tugging my panties down to my knees. “I’m sick of your attitude, though, and I’m sure Terrence is, too. After the way you’ve been acting today, this is the least of what you deserve.” He began raining down smacks on my upturned bare bottom.
“Owwww, Ashton! Please! Stop!”
“I’m not stopping until that attitude of yours is gone. I don’t care if I’m here spanking you all night.”
“Ashtonnn,” I begged, kicking my legs and reaching back to block the smacks, to which he grabbed my wrist and pinned it against the small of my back.
His ears seemed deaf to my pleas. “You’ve been very disrespectful and bratty since before you walked in that door, Brianna Nicole, and I’m not putting up with it. If you’re going to act like a child, then I’ll treat you like one.” He paused, increasing the speed and intensity of the smacks. “You’re eighteen years old, Young Lady, it shouldn’t take spanking you to get through to you. We should be able to talk like rational adults, shouldn’t we, Brianna Nicole Carter?”
“Yessss owwww Ashton! Please no more!”
“You haven’t learned your lesson yet,” Ashton said.
“I have!” I promised him, crying out in pain and knowing that my backside was already reddening. “Please I’ve learned my lesson!”
“What have you learned, then?”
I whined and tried to think of what he wanted me to say. “I’ve learned to stop being so bratty.”
He began spanking harder. “You’ve got a long ways to go with this spanking,” he said.
I didn’t like the sound of that… my bottom was already throbbing and I just wanted him to stop already -- it wasn’t fair that he was spanking me! After all, it was me that everyone was against… why couldn’t he just understand and accept my point of view?
“I can’t believe you,” he lectured. “Throwing tantrums like a three year old just because you don’t get your way. And then coming over here and acting the way you did. I was trying to be calm and rational with you, but you still insisted on acting like a child.”
“Owwww please, Ashton. I’m sorry,” I wailed.
“You’re sorry that you’re getting spanked,” he answered.
Well, he was kind of right… that really was the only thing I was sorry about at the moment…
He let go of my wrist and lifted me up for a minute. He looked me straight in the eyes. “I want you to get into that corner and think about what you’ve done. Not only the way you talked to and disrespected your brother, but also the way that you disrespected me. And I want you to think about what you could’ve done differently. I know that Terrence isn’t always in the right, and it’s unrealistic to think that someone is going to always be right, including you, Young Lady. So I want you to think about how you can deal with him when he’s in the wrong.” Ashton then walked me to the corner and planted my nose in it. “Hands behind your back… no rubbing,” he ordered, and walked away.
I leaned my head against the wall. This all really sucked. I hated standing in the corner like I was an eight year old. Gah. He was really treating me like a kid! This totally wasn’t fair. Such boredom, staring at the nicely painted wall.
So what could I have done differently? How could I have reacted when Terrence had flipped out on me? I guess I could’ve stayed calm and explained to him why I wanted to move. Or I could’ve just sat down and talked to him about it from day one instead of hiding it from him and avoiding the conversation. I could’ve been more open to his ideas and suggestions… but he was yelling them at me and being stupid. I guess I could’ve talked to him about that, too. I could’ve just tried harder. And I could’ve been a little nicer to Ashton, who was just trying to help. Ugh, I guess the corner time was pretty effective, because by the time Ashton came back I felt really small, and was actually somewhat remorseful for what I’d done.
“Come here, Brianna,” he ordered, and I turned around to see him sitting on the couch, brush in hand.
Oh God, not that…
“Well? What’d you decide?” he asked.
I bit my lower lip and told him of my thought processes. He nodded every so often, agreeing with everything that I’d said. “Terrence was wrong for getting so upset with you, but you were also wrong in the way you retaliated, Brianna.”
I nodded. “I know. I feel bad about it now.”
“When we get finished here, I want you to go back home and have an actual conversation with him. I want you to sit him down and tell him to give you a few minutes to speak without interrupting you. And I want you to apologize for what you said, and then I want you to explain how you feel to him, understood?”
I whined a little. Talking with Terrence was the last thing I wanted to do. Not that it mattered -- even if Ashton hadn’t ordered me to do it, I’m sure Terrence would’ve wanted to talk to me anyway.
“Come on, little one, get back over my knee,” he said. “I told you what would happen if you said ‘whatever’ to me again, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” I murmured, and lay back over his knee. I braced myself, wishing in that moment that I was anywhere but in my current position.
“Drop the attitude, got it?”
I nodded, feeling the first blow with the hairbrush. I yelped, bracing myself for the next swats, crying out as each smack bit into my flesh. He peppered my cheeks, covering my entire bottom with quick and sharp swats. I was kicking and squirming like crazy.
“Oooowwww Ashton… I’m sorrrrrrryyyyy!” I yelped, kicking my legs up so that he’d stop spanking me.
He pushed my feet back down and said, “stop kicking,” then continued the spanking.
“But it hurtssssss.”
“Good. Maybe you’ll remember this next time I give you a warning… and the next time that you want to get an attitude.” He continued the spanking, slightly harder and faster than before, hitting my sit spots and occasionally my thighs. “Are you starting to learn your lesson?”
“Yesssssssss,” I howled, now crying into the cushions as I reached my hand back to block. He didn’t miss a beat in pinning my hand back, and just kept raining down the smacks.
“You’re too old to be acting like this,” he scolded.
Tears were now streaming down my face as I yelled, “I knowwwwwwwww, I’m sorry!” My backside had to be dark red by this point… it hurt so badly!!
He landed a few final swats to my sit spots and thighs, then sat the brush down on the couch next to him. He let go of my hand and rubbed my back as I cried everything out.
“It’s okay, baby girl,” Ashton said, lifting me up and holding me tightly. “Shhh, it’s over now.” He stroked my hair softly, allowing my tears to stain his shirt.
“I’m s-sorry,” I stammered.
“I know,” he said. “I know you are. Now you just need to talk to Terrence. And everything will work out, I promise.”
I smiled in spite of everything, wiping my tears away and steadying my breathing. “Are you sure everything will work out?”
He nodded. He lifted me off of his lap and patted my bottom. I pulled my panties back up and let him embrace me tightly. “This time you’re going to actually talk to Terrence, right?”
“Yes, I am. I promise. It’s not like he’d let me go without talking to him anyway.”
Ashton smiled and ruffled my hair. “Good girl,” he said. “Now get going. I bet he’s worried sick about you.”
I stalked out of his house and saw that my cell phone had ten missed calls and three new voicemails when I got inside my car. All from Terrence I’m sure. I called him back and let him know that I was alive, that I was sorry, and that I was coming home so we could talk. It would make my evening longer than it’d already been, but hopefully it’d be worth it in the long run. Besides, I’d already promised Ashton that I’d do it, so now I really had to.
Story: Not Normal
Misc Story. Jenn decides to party it up with her best friend, and by party it up, I mean get drunk and high. Right before her older brother's concert that she's going to. Nevermind that she's not old enough to drink, and Ben is totally against her smoking weed. The night only gets worse when she gets in a fight during the concert, successfully averting all the attention to herself. Including Ben's.
Not Normal
by Breanna Carter
I’m not normal. And by “not normal” I’m not referring to the fact that I live with my older brother in the boonies of Louisiana, or that my brother’s in a band that’s starting to get popular, or even that I seem to be attracted to emo guys. By “not normal” I mean that whenever I smoke weed I get all defensive and pissy… and “normal” people just get happy and hungry (okay, so I do get hungry… but whether or not that’s a side effect of the drugs, who knows). When I’m high I don’t get all philosophical, I get political and start debates. Why? I don’t know… I’m seriously the only person I know like that. Everyone else seems to get a kick out of it… Well, almost everyone else.
So my brother was performing at a concert downtown, and my best friend, Audrey, and I decided to go together. Of course, she’d just scored some good shit from a friend of a friend, and we couldn’t wait to try it… and besides, we couldn’t smoke it at the show anyway… so we smoked it in the car on the way.
“Tonight is going to be the shit,” Audrey said, picking the seeds and stems out of her bag of marijuana.
“I hope so,” I answered, pulling into an empty church parking lot and turning my lights off.
Audrey packed our pipe with the weed, then lit up, taking a hit. I watched intensely, waiting for her reaction. “Well?”
She exhaled, smiling. “Hellz yeah,” she whispered, handing me the pipe and lighter.
She was right… the only way to describe the grass was “hellz yah.” It was that fucking awesome.
The drive to the concert was blurry, as we were just jamming to happy techno music and dancing around like crazy. When I was talking about the normal stoned person, I’m referring mostly to her… she’s the happy, dancey, hungry one…
“I’m hungry,” I said suddenly.
“Loser. I so said I was hungry like ten minutes ago.”
I pulled up to Wendy’s. “Mmmm, Bacon Cheeseburger,” I muttered.
“Ooh, chicken nuggets!” she yelped.
“Strawberry shake…” I said.
“M&Ms!”
I blinked. “They don’t have M&Ms here…”
She giggled.
The drive thru worker asked for our order and we must’ve spent like $10 a piece there… between frosties and cheeseburgers and chicken… yeah, we could’ve gone broke.
We munched on our food on the way to the concert, now listening to one of my cds instead of her happy techno music. I was in the zone when we arrived downtown… and by in the zone, I mean I was totally gone. I don’t know how I parallel parked.
Did I mention this was my brother’s concert? Yeah, I’m stupid, I know.
Audrey and I somehow managed to stumble into the concert and pay our entrance fee (yeah, even though we were related to the band we had to pay… crappy, right?). There were quite a few people around as it was the “end of summer” concert. That meant that everyone from the local high schools were around to party it up one last time before school started back… that we weren’t the only intoxicated people at the concert… that some kind of trouble was bound to break out.
Everything started out smoothly. The opening band was a bore, so I passed the time slurping on an icee and eating a Twix bar. The second band was kickass, so I carried my happy ass to the middle of the floor and let out some aggression in the mosh pit. During the break between the second and third bands, Audrey dragged me to the car for some more weed and we made a quick run to Baskin Robins across the street for some spectacular ice cream. When we came back, we met up with some friends from school who were carrying around a bottle of water and a carton of orange juice. Yeah, it so wasn’t water. By the time our brothers’ band started playing, we’d drank a little too much of that “water” and orange juice and now were beyond intoxicated. I moshed a little more, maintaining my balance a little too well for someone who wasn’t sober.
When the band stopped, Audrey and I took a break at the snack bar, giggling about different things. She was always pretty good at keeping me happy, whether I was intoxicated or not, so you can imagine the shock when I suddenly became infuriated. You see, I was sitting there and I overheard this douche bag guy behind me.
“Yeah, girls shouldn’t be in mosh pits… they could get hurt.”
My eyes narrowed and I turned around abruptly. “What the fuck, yo,” I began. “What do you mean girls could get hurt… you stupid little boys get hurt more often than we do.”
He was a bit shocked that I was talking to him, which I can’t really blame him. He hadn’t really been talking to me to begin with. But nonetheless, he answered. “That’s ‘cause all the guys go easy on the girls. They don’t want to hurt you. Y’all need to have your own mosh pit.”
I shoved him. “Look you pansy, you need to shut your fuckin’ mouth before I get all ghetto on your ass.”
“Jenn! Stop!” I heard Audrey say, putting a hand on my shoulder, but I could hear the laughter in her voice.
“What the fuck is your problem?” the guy said, standing and acting like he was about to hit me so I’d be scared or something. Yeah, didn’t work.
I stood up and shoved my chair out of the way, not caring that he stood about a foot taller than me. “You’re my fucking problem, you sexist jackass.”
“Oooh, it’s a feminazi. I’m sooooo scared.”
That did it… I hauled back and punched him in the face, so hard that it startled him and he stumbled back into the chair. Before he had the chance to say anything again, I pushed him as hard as I could.
He stood up, pushing me and sending me flying into Audrey’s arms. She was cackling like crazy, and patted me on the shoulders. “Dude, seriously,” she said, but before I let her finish her sentence, I was up again and hitting Jackass, ignoring the fact that people were starting to congregate around us. I punched him again, shoved him again, took a couple of slaps and pushes, kicked him in the shin, took a punch to my cheek, then was about to begin choking him whenever I felt myself being pushed away.
“You better keep your fucking mouth shut!” I yelled, resisting whomever it was who was pushing me back. I also saw that someone was holding him back.
“You fucking cunt!” he yelled back. “Come on! Hit me, you bitch!”
I tried to run after him, but whoever was holding onto me was a lot stronger than I was. “You just wait, you fucking asshole. You fucking wait!”
“Jennifer! Shut the hell up!” I heard from behind me, then someone grabbed my upper arm and pulled me away. I turned to see my brother, Benjamin, standing there.
“I’ll kill him,” I mumbled, still trying to break away.
Ben tugged me back to him and said, “Chill out.”
I looked at him, trying to make sense of what was going on and wondering what the pain was that I felt on my right cheek. “I will beat the fuck out of him,” I said through clenched teeth to Ben.
So much was happening around me that I was dazed and confused. Audrey was still trying to contain her giggles and the guy was still yelling shit at me and police were talking to different people in the room.
“I think I’m going to be sick…” I mumbled to Ben, fanning myself.
He said something to someone next to me, and then dragged my dizzy self outside to sit on the ground for a moment. I leaned my head against the brick wall, trying to make everything stop spinning. I could hear Ben and his bandmate Mark talking softly and puffing on cigarettes. I don’t know what they were talking about, nor how long I was out there before Audrey bumped into me.
I opened my eyes, staring at her.
She burst into giggles again. “That was classic,” she told me.
“My face hurts.”
“That’s cause you got owned.”
“What the fuck ever.”
“You kicked some ass,” she admitted.
“I know, right. Fuckhead. Fucker. I hate him. I’ll kick his ass again.”
She giggled again. “I’m sleeeeepy,” she groaned and leaned her head against my shoulder.
I leaned my head on top of her head and closed my eyes, dozing off for a minute when I felt my foot being kicked. I immediately woke up, prying my eyelids open to see an officer towering over me and my brother at his side.
“What’s up?” I asked.
The officer smiled and introduced himself, then said that he just wanted to ask me some questions. I tried to be as polite as possible… in Louisiana, southern manners go a long way. I did admit that I threw the first punch, but that I was provoked. He then proceeded to ask if I wanted to press charges, and I thought about it for a second, but Ben gave me a look as if saying I better not. I guess if I had pressed charges, the guy would’ve pressed charges on me, too. So I said, “No, sir, I think everything should be okay. It won’t happen again.”
He smiled again, scribbling down something in his little notebook and thanking me for my time, admonishing me to stay out of trouble. I wish it would’ve been that easy with Ben. Hah… he wasn’t even mad at me… he was beyond mad. You know, that point where they’re so pissed off that they won’t even yell at you? That was Benjamin.
“Let’s go,” he ordered, stomping out a cigarette.
“Aww, but Ben… I wanna hear the last band,” I whined.
“Now,” he said, giving me a stern look that quickly shut me up.
I looked at Audrey who was sitting next to me in a daze. “Come on,” I told her. “We gotta go.”
“Audrey’s brother is going to take her home, because neither of you need to be driving.”
I pushed myself up. “What? Why the hell not?”
“Let’s go,” he ordered again.
I folded my arms. “I’ll take Audrey home then meet you at the house.”
He inched in towards me, “You are fucked up beyond belief. Don’t think I’m stupid and don’t notice it.” He paused, giving me a minute to let my stomach sink before adding, “Now, you can either come with me the easy way or the hard way. Your choice.”
“Whatever,” I said, shoving him out of the way and walking past him to his car.
He followed behind me, probably restraining himself from embarrassing the both of us in public. Not that I could really blame him if he did… I kind of deserved it… but at the time I would’ve hated him for it.
He unlocked the doors to his car and I crawled in the backseat like a child upset with his mother about something stupid. I folded my arms and pouted, staring out the window until my eyes became heavy and I slumped over, my forehead against the front seat. By the time we arrived at my house, I was lying down on the backseat, dead asleep.
“Get up,” Benjamin told me, but he sounded far off. It took a couple of times before I realized that he was talking to me and I wasn’t dreaming and that I was still stoned out of my mind.
I followed him inside the house, and that’s when he let out everything he’d been holding in since pulling me from that fight earlier in the day.
“What the hell, Jennifer,” he bitched. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Right now I’m just standing here,” I told him.
Hah… I’m glad that he’s the older brother and not me… I couldn’t have put up with myself, for real. “What were you thinking? Smoking weed, drinking alcohol, picking a fight… are you crazy?”
I shrugged, trying to walk off because he was giving me a headache, but he grabbed my upper arm and pulled me back.
“And you were driving while intoxicated, too, weren’t you?” he asked.
“Yeah, but whatever, Ben. I’m sure you’ve done it before, too.”
“Actually I haven’t,” he said, turning me to face him.
“Okay, okay, Saint Benjamin. I apologize. Can I go to bed now?”
“Do you not realize what you did?!?” he asked, now yelling. “Of course you don’t realize what you did… you’re as high as a kite!”
“Dude, tone it down. You’re giving me a headache,” I mumbled.
He grabbed my chin, putting his face in mine so that I would concentrate on what he was saying. “You were this close to getting arrested tonight. And all for what, some marijuana and some asshole saying that you should stay out of his mosh pit?”
I didn’t say anything, just looked into his angry dark brown eyes, not getting the full effect of what I’d done yet.
“You embarrassed me,” he added. “You disrespected me. You broke the law.”
Short sentences were working to his advantage. I was starting to understand what he was saying. “I’m sorry,” I said.
“Yeah, I’m sure you are.” He let go of my chin. “Go to bed.”
I ambled to my room, changing into my pjs and plopping down on my bed. I pulled my phone out of my pant’s pocket to send a text message to Audrey, but by the time I opened the message, I was dead asleep.
When I awoke the next morning, my head was throbbing and my cheekbone was sore. It was hard opening my eyes and my throat was dry. This could only mean one thing: I’d smoked and drank too much.
I wanted a glass of water, but I was scared that Benjamin would be up and I wasn’t quite ready to face him yet. Instead, I lay in bed and pieced the night back together. Of course parts were missing, but after about ten minutes of remembering, I realized that I’d fucked up big time.
I rolled back over and closed my eyes, wanting more sleep. The longer I slept, the more time I had before having to face my older brother.
I couldn’t have been lying there more than ten minutes when the door opened. I tried to fake sleeping, but I’ve always been bad at that, even during naptime when I was in kindergarten. So within seconds my eyes were open glancing at him.
He was wearing baggy jeans and a T-shirt, an army cap on the top of his head. Ben isn’t a very intimidating guy… he’s only about 5’10” and although he’s stocky, he’s not grossly muscular or anything. And usually he wears a friendly face… even when he’s not smiling he just has the face of a nice guy. But, I don’t know, that morning, I felt my stomach twist into knots and all of a sudden I was worried. It wasn’t so much that he was livid… it was the fact that he had a board in his right hand.
I immediately wished that I’d have faked sleeping a little better. Not that it would’ve mattered because he probably would’ve waken me up anyway. Maybe I could’ve faked dead…
“We need to have a talk,” he said.
By the look in his eyes, I was thinking by “talk” he intended on letting the board do most of the talking.
But I sat up anyway, a solemn and worried look on my face. “I’m sorry,” I began. “I didn’t mean to get into a fight… I didn’t mean to do all of those things… I’m sorry…”
He sat down next to me, placing the board on the bed then reaching up to touch my cheek bone where I was hurting. “That bastard hit you pretty good,” he said.
I nodded.
“Jennifer,” he began, sighing and looking away. “I don’t even know what to say.” He looked back at me.
“I’m sorry,” I said again.
“So I’ve heard.”
There was an uncomfortable silence.
I looked around my room, trying not to look at the board that was sitting on my bed and undoubtedly about to be applied to my backside.
“You smoked weed,” he said. “What did I tell you about drugs?”
“Not to do them…”
“Do you remember what happened last time you smoked?”
I nodded. Yeah, how could I forget… how could any 16 year old forget her first spanking… especially when it was given to her at 16 years old!
He turned my head so that we made eye contact. “And not only were you high, but you put yourself in danger of getting hurt or arrested. What if the guy would’ve pressed charges? What if he had hurt you? What if you’d been pulled over while you were smoking? Or if you’d had a wreck? And don’t tell me that you weren’t driving while high because I know you were, Jennifer.”
I didn’t say anything. The words he was saying were causing guilt pains inside of me and a tear slipped down my cheek.
“And to top it off, you were very disrespectful to me after the incident.” I could see anger begin to flare in his eyes, remembering the words I’d said to him the night before. “You popped off one too many times, shoved me out of the way…” he shook his head. “You were practically begging for me to give this to you last night,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated. It was like that was the only thing I knew how to say.
He picked up the board. “Get over my lap,” he ordered.
Tears streamed down my face. “Please, Benjamin. Please don’t do this… I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean it, I promise. Please.”
“I told you this would happen, Jennifer Anne. I told you what would happen if I found out you were smoking weed again. You knew the consequences, and now you have to face them.”
“I know, but I wasn’t thinking. Please Benjamin. Give me one more chance. Please.”
He shook his head. “Get over my lap.”
I buried my face in my hands for a minute, crying and shaking, not wanting to be punished. Wasn’t it enough that my head ached and that I’d gotten punched? Hadn’t I learned my lesson?
Benjamin grabbed my upper arm and helped me over his lap. “Please,” I begged a final time, to be answered with a cool breeze on my bottom: he’d pulled down my pj pants and panties.
“I’m not going to tolerate drugs, Jennifer Anne, and you know it,” he told me.
I buried my face into the sheets of my bed, crying from embarrassment and the fear of what was about to happen to me. He rested the board against my bare skin for a moment. Just feeling the wood on my bottom reminded me of my first spanking, when I’d only gotten swatted with it a couple of times. The way that it made a loud popping sound when crashed against my bottom… the way I shrieked after each blow, even though I’d already gotten my warm up with his hand… the way he scolded me for smoking marijuana and promised me a long spanking with the board if I ever did anything so stupid again. Why hadn’t I thought of that before smoking with Audrey?
He delivered the first deafening blow and I howled, reaching my hands back. He must’ve been expecting it because he quickly grabbed my wrists, pinning them down and popping me again. He didn’t give me much time to recover before he began peppering the swats on my poor bottom, gaining a definite rhythm. Two times concentrated on the right cheek, two times on the left, one swat in the middle of my bottom, two times on my right sit spot, two times on the left. The sound was thunderous, and I was wiggling and squirming and crying like crazy.
“Bennnnnn I-I’m sorryyyyyyy!” I wailed, tears falling down my face.
He paused for a second. “You will NOT smoke weed,” he told me, giving me a hard POP! for emphasis. “And you won’t pick fights *POP!*, and you certainly won’t disrespect me again like you did last night *POP!*. Do you understand me? *POP!*”
“Oooowwww, yesss,” I howled, kicking. “I’m s-sorry.”
But he wasn’t finished. He maintained a steady pace again, now concentrating more on my sit spots than before. He knew that’s where it hurt the most.
“Pleaseeeeeeee,” I begged to his deaf ears.
“I honestly can’t believe you,” he lectured. “You could’ve killed yourself or someone else.” He kept up the spanking as he spoke. “What you did was completely irresponsible and dangerous…” I know he said more after that, but I was in so much pain, and I was squirming and wiggling and moving around so much that I couldn’t concentrate on anything but my backside being walloped.
Through the lecturing and paddling, he stopped for a moment, allowing me to regain myself… for a second anyway. “Was it worth it?” he asked.
“Noooo,” I whined, sobbing into my bed sheets.
He popped me square in the middle of my bottom. “Jennifer, you’re my little sister and I love you. And I trust you to do the right thing. When you do something stupid like this, you break my trust,” he said, delivering another stinging blow. “It makes me wonder if you should even have a car at all.”
I cried harder. Please don’t let him take my car away!
“It makes me wonder if I should be breathing down your neck watching every move you make.”
“I-I’m s-sorry,” I stammered through the tears.
He popped me again. “You’ve said it enough times. Do you really mean it?”
“Y-yessssss,” I promised.
He gave me another whack and put the board down, allowing me to cry for a minute before lifting me up. Ouch… it hurt to stand up. I reached back to touch my throbbing bottom and felt how hot it was. And my sit spots were definitely bruising, ‘cause they hurt so badly.
Benjamin pulled me in for a hug, sitting me down on his lap and holding me tightly. “I love you, little sis,” he whispered. “I don’t like you doing dangerous things.”
I nodded, just letting him hold me and not saying a word. And he let me stay like that while I cried out all of the pain I was feeling.
“You okay?” he asked me a few minutes later.
“Yeah… I’m sorry…” I said again. “I’m sorry for smoking again, and putting myself in danger.”
He kissed my forehead. “I know, baby girl. Come on… get cleaned up and we’ll go get your car.” Sensing my smile, he added, “that doesn’t mean you’ll be driving it anytime soon.”
I didn’t argue, though. It was pretty dumb to smoke and drive, so I kinda deserved it. Besides, Audrey had a car.
Not Normal
by Breanna Carter
I’m not normal. And by “not normal” I’m not referring to the fact that I live with my older brother in the boonies of Louisiana, or that my brother’s in a band that’s starting to get popular, or even that I seem to be attracted to emo guys. By “not normal” I mean that whenever I smoke weed I get all defensive and pissy… and “normal” people just get happy and hungry (okay, so I do get hungry… but whether or not that’s a side effect of the drugs, who knows). When I’m high I don’t get all philosophical, I get political and start debates. Why? I don’t know… I’m seriously the only person I know like that. Everyone else seems to get a kick out of it… Well, almost everyone else.
So my brother was performing at a concert downtown, and my best friend, Audrey, and I decided to go together. Of course, she’d just scored some good shit from a friend of a friend, and we couldn’t wait to try it… and besides, we couldn’t smoke it at the show anyway… so we smoked it in the car on the way.
“Tonight is going to be the shit,” Audrey said, picking the seeds and stems out of her bag of marijuana.
“I hope so,” I answered, pulling into an empty church parking lot and turning my lights off.
Audrey packed our pipe with the weed, then lit up, taking a hit. I watched intensely, waiting for her reaction. “Well?”
She exhaled, smiling. “Hellz yeah,” she whispered, handing me the pipe and lighter.
She was right… the only way to describe the grass was “hellz yah.” It was that fucking awesome.
The drive to the concert was blurry, as we were just jamming to happy techno music and dancing around like crazy. When I was talking about the normal stoned person, I’m referring mostly to her… she’s the happy, dancey, hungry one…
“I’m hungry,” I said suddenly.
“Loser. I so said I was hungry like ten minutes ago.”
I pulled up to Wendy’s. “Mmmm, Bacon Cheeseburger,” I muttered.
“Ooh, chicken nuggets!” she yelped.
“Strawberry shake…” I said.
“M&Ms!”
I blinked. “They don’t have M&Ms here…”
She giggled.
The drive thru worker asked for our order and we must’ve spent like $10 a piece there… between frosties and cheeseburgers and chicken… yeah, we could’ve gone broke.
We munched on our food on the way to the concert, now listening to one of my cds instead of her happy techno music. I was in the zone when we arrived downtown… and by in the zone, I mean I was totally gone. I don’t know how I parallel parked.
Did I mention this was my brother’s concert? Yeah, I’m stupid, I know.
Audrey and I somehow managed to stumble into the concert and pay our entrance fee (yeah, even though we were related to the band we had to pay… crappy, right?). There were quite a few people around as it was the “end of summer” concert. That meant that everyone from the local high schools were around to party it up one last time before school started back… that we weren’t the only intoxicated people at the concert… that some kind of trouble was bound to break out.
Everything started out smoothly. The opening band was a bore, so I passed the time slurping on an icee and eating a Twix bar. The second band was kickass, so I carried my happy ass to the middle of the floor and let out some aggression in the mosh pit. During the break between the second and third bands, Audrey dragged me to the car for some more weed and we made a quick run to Baskin Robins across the street for some spectacular ice cream. When we came back, we met up with some friends from school who were carrying around a bottle of water and a carton of orange juice. Yeah, it so wasn’t water. By the time our brothers’ band started playing, we’d drank a little too much of that “water” and orange juice and now were beyond intoxicated. I moshed a little more, maintaining my balance a little too well for someone who wasn’t sober.
When the band stopped, Audrey and I took a break at the snack bar, giggling about different things. She was always pretty good at keeping me happy, whether I was intoxicated or not, so you can imagine the shock when I suddenly became infuriated. You see, I was sitting there and I overheard this douche bag guy behind me.
“Yeah, girls shouldn’t be in mosh pits… they could get hurt.”
My eyes narrowed and I turned around abruptly. “What the fuck, yo,” I began. “What do you mean girls could get hurt… you stupid little boys get hurt more often than we do.”
He was a bit shocked that I was talking to him, which I can’t really blame him. He hadn’t really been talking to me to begin with. But nonetheless, he answered. “That’s ‘cause all the guys go easy on the girls. They don’t want to hurt you. Y’all need to have your own mosh pit.”
I shoved him. “Look you pansy, you need to shut your fuckin’ mouth before I get all ghetto on your ass.”
“Jenn! Stop!” I heard Audrey say, putting a hand on my shoulder, but I could hear the laughter in her voice.
“What the fuck is your problem?” the guy said, standing and acting like he was about to hit me so I’d be scared or something. Yeah, didn’t work.
I stood up and shoved my chair out of the way, not caring that he stood about a foot taller than me. “You’re my fucking problem, you sexist jackass.”
“Oooh, it’s a feminazi. I’m sooooo scared.”
That did it… I hauled back and punched him in the face, so hard that it startled him and he stumbled back into the chair. Before he had the chance to say anything again, I pushed him as hard as I could.
He stood up, pushing me and sending me flying into Audrey’s arms. She was cackling like crazy, and patted me on the shoulders. “Dude, seriously,” she said, but before I let her finish her sentence, I was up again and hitting Jackass, ignoring the fact that people were starting to congregate around us. I punched him again, shoved him again, took a couple of slaps and pushes, kicked him in the shin, took a punch to my cheek, then was about to begin choking him whenever I felt myself being pushed away.
“You better keep your fucking mouth shut!” I yelled, resisting whomever it was who was pushing me back. I also saw that someone was holding him back.
“You fucking cunt!” he yelled back. “Come on! Hit me, you bitch!”
I tried to run after him, but whoever was holding onto me was a lot stronger than I was. “You just wait, you fucking asshole. You fucking wait!”
“Jennifer! Shut the hell up!” I heard from behind me, then someone grabbed my upper arm and pulled me away. I turned to see my brother, Benjamin, standing there.
“I’ll kill him,” I mumbled, still trying to break away.
Ben tugged me back to him and said, “Chill out.”
I looked at him, trying to make sense of what was going on and wondering what the pain was that I felt on my right cheek. “I will beat the fuck out of him,” I said through clenched teeth to Ben.
So much was happening around me that I was dazed and confused. Audrey was still trying to contain her giggles and the guy was still yelling shit at me and police were talking to different people in the room.
“I think I’m going to be sick…” I mumbled to Ben, fanning myself.
He said something to someone next to me, and then dragged my dizzy self outside to sit on the ground for a moment. I leaned my head against the brick wall, trying to make everything stop spinning. I could hear Ben and his bandmate Mark talking softly and puffing on cigarettes. I don’t know what they were talking about, nor how long I was out there before Audrey bumped into me.
I opened my eyes, staring at her.
She burst into giggles again. “That was classic,” she told me.
“My face hurts.”
“That’s cause you got owned.”
“What the fuck ever.”
“You kicked some ass,” she admitted.
“I know, right. Fuckhead. Fucker. I hate him. I’ll kick his ass again.”
She giggled again. “I’m sleeeeepy,” she groaned and leaned her head against my shoulder.
I leaned my head on top of her head and closed my eyes, dozing off for a minute when I felt my foot being kicked. I immediately woke up, prying my eyelids open to see an officer towering over me and my brother at his side.
“What’s up?” I asked.
The officer smiled and introduced himself, then said that he just wanted to ask me some questions. I tried to be as polite as possible… in Louisiana, southern manners go a long way. I did admit that I threw the first punch, but that I was provoked. He then proceeded to ask if I wanted to press charges, and I thought about it for a second, but Ben gave me a look as if saying I better not. I guess if I had pressed charges, the guy would’ve pressed charges on me, too. So I said, “No, sir, I think everything should be okay. It won’t happen again.”
He smiled again, scribbling down something in his little notebook and thanking me for my time, admonishing me to stay out of trouble. I wish it would’ve been that easy with Ben. Hah… he wasn’t even mad at me… he was beyond mad. You know, that point where they’re so pissed off that they won’t even yell at you? That was Benjamin.
“Let’s go,” he ordered, stomping out a cigarette.
“Aww, but Ben… I wanna hear the last band,” I whined.
“Now,” he said, giving me a stern look that quickly shut me up.
I looked at Audrey who was sitting next to me in a daze. “Come on,” I told her. “We gotta go.”
“Audrey’s brother is going to take her home, because neither of you need to be driving.”
I pushed myself up. “What? Why the hell not?”
“Let’s go,” he ordered again.
I folded my arms. “I’ll take Audrey home then meet you at the house.”
He inched in towards me, “You are fucked up beyond belief. Don’t think I’m stupid and don’t notice it.” He paused, giving me a minute to let my stomach sink before adding, “Now, you can either come with me the easy way or the hard way. Your choice.”
“Whatever,” I said, shoving him out of the way and walking past him to his car.
He followed behind me, probably restraining himself from embarrassing the both of us in public. Not that I could really blame him if he did… I kind of deserved it… but at the time I would’ve hated him for it.
He unlocked the doors to his car and I crawled in the backseat like a child upset with his mother about something stupid. I folded my arms and pouted, staring out the window until my eyes became heavy and I slumped over, my forehead against the front seat. By the time we arrived at my house, I was lying down on the backseat, dead asleep.
“Get up,” Benjamin told me, but he sounded far off. It took a couple of times before I realized that he was talking to me and I wasn’t dreaming and that I was still stoned out of my mind.
I followed him inside the house, and that’s when he let out everything he’d been holding in since pulling me from that fight earlier in the day.
“What the hell, Jennifer,” he bitched. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Right now I’m just standing here,” I told him.
Hah… I’m glad that he’s the older brother and not me… I couldn’t have put up with myself, for real. “What were you thinking? Smoking weed, drinking alcohol, picking a fight… are you crazy?”
I shrugged, trying to walk off because he was giving me a headache, but he grabbed my upper arm and pulled me back.
“And you were driving while intoxicated, too, weren’t you?” he asked.
“Yeah, but whatever, Ben. I’m sure you’ve done it before, too.”
“Actually I haven’t,” he said, turning me to face him.
“Okay, okay, Saint Benjamin. I apologize. Can I go to bed now?”
“Do you not realize what you did?!?” he asked, now yelling. “Of course you don’t realize what you did… you’re as high as a kite!”
“Dude, tone it down. You’re giving me a headache,” I mumbled.
He grabbed my chin, putting his face in mine so that I would concentrate on what he was saying. “You were this close to getting arrested tonight. And all for what, some marijuana and some asshole saying that you should stay out of his mosh pit?”
I didn’t say anything, just looked into his angry dark brown eyes, not getting the full effect of what I’d done yet.
“You embarrassed me,” he added. “You disrespected me. You broke the law.”
Short sentences were working to his advantage. I was starting to understand what he was saying. “I’m sorry,” I said.
“Yeah, I’m sure you are.” He let go of my chin. “Go to bed.”
I ambled to my room, changing into my pjs and plopping down on my bed. I pulled my phone out of my pant’s pocket to send a text message to Audrey, but by the time I opened the message, I was dead asleep.
When I awoke the next morning, my head was throbbing and my cheekbone was sore. It was hard opening my eyes and my throat was dry. This could only mean one thing: I’d smoked and drank too much.
I wanted a glass of water, but I was scared that Benjamin would be up and I wasn’t quite ready to face him yet. Instead, I lay in bed and pieced the night back together. Of course parts were missing, but after about ten minutes of remembering, I realized that I’d fucked up big time.
I rolled back over and closed my eyes, wanting more sleep. The longer I slept, the more time I had before having to face my older brother.
I couldn’t have been lying there more than ten minutes when the door opened. I tried to fake sleeping, but I’ve always been bad at that, even during naptime when I was in kindergarten. So within seconds my eyes were open glancing at him.
He was wearing baggy jeans and a T-shirt, an army cap on the top of his head. Ben isn’t a very intimidating guy… he’s only about 5’10” and although he’s stocky, he’s not grossly muscular or anything. And usually he wears a friendly face… even when he’s not smiling he just has the face of a nice guy. But, I don’t know, that morning, I felt my stomach twist into knots and all of a sudden I was worried. It wasn’t so much that he was livid… it was the fact that he had a board in his right hand.
I immediately wished that I’d have faked sleeping a little better. Not that it would’ve mattered because he probably would’ve waken me up anyway. Maybe I could’ve faked dead…
“We need to have a talk,” he said.
By the look in his eyes, I was thinking by “talk” he intended on letting the board do most of the talking.
But I sat up anyway, a solemn and worried look on my face. “I’m sorry,” I began. “I didn’t mean to get into a fight… I didn’t mean to do all of those things… I’m sorry…”
He sat down next to me, placing the board on the bed then reaching up to touch my cheek bone where I was hurting. “That bastard hit you pretty good,” he said.
I nodded.
“Jennifer,” he began, sighing and looking away. “I don’t even know what to say.” He looked back at me.
“I’m sorry,” I said again.
“So I’ve heard.”
There was an uncomfortable silence.
I looked around my room, trying not to look at the board that was sitting on my bed and undoubtedly about to be applied to my backside.
“You smoked weed,” he said. “What did I tell you about drugs?”
“Not to do them…”
“Do you remember what happened last time you smoked?”
I nodded. Yeah, how could I forget… how could any 16 year old forget her first spanking… especially when it was given to her at 16 years old!
He turned my head so that we made eye contact. “And not only were you high, but you put yourself in danger of getting hurt or arrested. What if the guy would’ve pressed charges? What if he had hurt you? What if you’d been pulled over while you were smoking? Or if you’d had a wreck? And don’t tell me that you weren’t driving while high because I know you were, Jennifer.”
I didn’t say anything. The words he was saying were causing guilt pains inside of me and a tear slipped down my cheek.
“And to top it off, you were very disrespectful to me after the incident.” I could see anger begin to flare in his eyes, remembering the words I’d said to him the night before. “You popped off one too many times, shoved me out of the way…” he shook his head. “You were practically begging for me to give this to you last night,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated. It was like that was the only thing I knew how to say.
He picked up the board. “Get over my lap,” he ordered.
Tears streamed down my face. “Please, Benjamin. Please don’t do this… I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean it, I promise. Please.”
“I told you this would happen, Jennifer Anne. I told you what would happen if I found out you were smoking weed again. You knew the consequences, and now you have to face them.”
“I know, but I wasn’t thinking. Please Benjamin. Give me one more chance. Please.”
He shook his head. “Get over my lap.”
I buried my face in my hands for a minute, crying and shaking, not wanting to be punished. Wasn’t it enough that my head ached and that I’d gotten punched? Hadn’t I learned my lesson?
Benjamin grabbed my upper arm and helped me over his lap. “Please,” I begged a final time, to be answered with a cool breeze on my bottom: he’d pulled down my pj pants and panties.
“I’m not going to tolerate drugs, Jennifer Anne, and you know it,” he told me.
I buried my face into the sheets of my bed, crying from embarrassment and the fear of what was about to happen to me. He rested the board against my bare skin for a moment. Just feeling the wood on my bottom reminded me of my first spanking, when I’d only gotten swatted with it a couple of times. The way that it made a loud popping sound when crashed against my bottom… the way I shrieked after each blow, even though I’d already gotten my warm up with his hand… the way he scolded me for smoking marijuana and promised me a long spanking with the board if I ever did anything so stupid again. Why hadn’t I thought of that before smoking with Audrey?
He delivered the first deafening blow and I howled, reaching my hands back. He must’ve been expecting it because he quickly grabbed my wrists, pinning them down and popping me again. He didn’t give me much time to recover before he began peppering the swats on my poor bottom, gaining a definite rhythm. Two times concentrated on the right cheek, two times on the left, one swat in the middle of my bottom, two times on my right sit spot, two times on the left. The sound was thunderous, and I was wiggling and squirming and crying like crazy.
“Bennnnnn I-I’m sorryyyyyyy!” I wailed, tears falling down my face.
He paused for a second. “You will NOT smoke weed,” he told me, giving me a hard POP! for emphasis. “And you won’t pick fights *POP!*, and you certainly won’t disrespect me again like you did last night *POP!*. Do you understand me? *POP!*”
“Oooowwww, yesss,” I howled, kicking. “I’m s-sorry.”
But he wasn’t finished. He maintained a steady pace again, now concentrating more on my sit spots than before. He knew that’s where it hurt the most.
“Pleaseeeeeeee,” I begged to his deaf ears.
“I honestly can’t believe you,” he lectured. “You could’ve killed yourself or someone else.” He kept up the spanking as he spoke. “What you did was completely irresponsible and dangerous…” I know he said more after that, but I was in so much pain, and I was squirming and wiggling and moving around so much that I couldn’t concentrate on anything but my backside being walloped.
Through the lecturing and paddling, he stopped for a moment, allowing me to regain myself… for a second anyway. “Was it worth it?” he asked.
“Noooo,” I whined, sobbing into my bed sheets.
He popped me square in the middle of my bottom. “Jennifer, you’re my little sister and I love you. And I trust you to do the right thing. When you do something stupid like this, you break my trust,” he said, delivering another stinging blow. “It makes me wonder if you should even have a car at all.”
I cried harder. Please don’t let him take my car away!
“It makes me wonder if I should be breathing down your neck watching every move you make.”
“I-I’m s-sorry,” I stammered through the tears.
He popped me again. “You’ve said it enough times. Do you really mean it?”
“Y-yessssss,” I promised.
He gave me another whack and put the board down, allowing me to cry for a minute before lifting me up. Ouch… it hurt to stand up. I reached back to touch my throbbing bottom and felt how hot it was. And my sit spots were definitely bruising, ‘cause they hurt so badly.
Benjamin pulled me in for a hug, sitting me down on his lap and holding me tightly. “I love you, little sis,” he whispered. “I don’t like you doing dangerous things.”
I nodded, just letting him hold me and not saying a word. And he let me stay like that while I cried out all of the pain I was feeling.
“You okay?” he asked me a few minutes later.
“Yeah… I’m sorry…” I said again. “I’m sorry for smoking again, and putting myself in danger.”
He kissed my forehead. “I know, baby girl. Come on… get cleaned up and we’ll go get your car.” Sensing my smile, he added, “that doesn’t mean you’ll be driving it anytime soon.”
I didn’t argue, though. It was pretty dumb to smoke and drive, so I kinda deserved it. Besides, Audrey had a car.
01 September 2008
Story: Boarding School
Misc story (originally posted in my website's 'zine' that only made it to one issue. sorry about that lol). Sam breaks into her girlfriend's dorm room and finds out some disturbing information. It causes a loud commotion that stirs the teacher on duty. After a tearful confession and angst-driven meltdown, Sam must pay the consequences of breaking the rules.
Boarding School
M/f
The scream echoed through the hallways of El Colegio Internacional de Paraguay. It was a piercing scream, that of a girl in distress. Actually, it was my own scream, right after I read the letter that my girlfriend’s lover had written to her. A letter that not only proved that I was being cheated on, but that while Andrea had been too ashamed to even mention me to her parents, she was taking her lover home over the weekend. A letter that told me that while Andrea and I hadn’t gotten past kissing, she and her lover had rounded third base and were getting ready to make it to home plate, if you know what I mean.
My best friends had been standing outside the door, keeping watch, as it was waay past curfew at our boarding school, even if it was a Friday night. Being caught out of our dorms would get us in tons of trouble, but if a teacher found out that I’d borrowed (well, stolen) a key from the prefects, we’d be in even more trouble. But when my friends heard the scream, they came rushing in.
“What is it?” Yumi asked, worried about me.
“Sam, you’re going to get us in trouble screaming like that!” Carrigan added.
“That BITCH!” was all I could say. I ripped the note in half, then began throwing the rest of the contents in the box. I ripped up the pictures she had of the two of us, the letters I’d written her, and finally broke the necklace that I’d given her for her birthday. I chunked the box across the room, then began ripping the sheets off of her bed, ripping the posters off of the wall, still screaming and cussing her out.
Yumi touched my arm to get me to calm down, but I pushed her away and continued destroying Andrea’s room, just like she’d destroyed me.
“Sam,” I heard Carrigan say, now in a pleading voice, “you’re waking people up.”
“I don‘t care,” I shouted, now pushing everything off of Andrea’s dresser onto the floor. Some girls from down the hall were now crowded in the doorway, watching my tantrum. I now moved to the closet, ripping her clothing from the hangers and throwing items across the room. I tore the shirt that she’d worn on the first day we’d met… a shirt that I’d cherished so much at one point in time.
Suddenly, the girls scattered from the doorway, and I heard a male voice uttering Spanish down the hallway. Obviously, someone had gone to whatever teacher was on duty for the night and he was now headed our way.
“Go hide,” I whispered to Yumi and Carrigan, who ran towards the bathroom.
“What is going on in here!” I heard.
I didn’t answer, just stood there, fists balled up, not even realizing that tears were streaming down my face.
Emanuel appeared in the doorway, hands on his hips in anger. But when he saw me, he softened up a little, and instead of being pissed, he was more disappointed.
“Samantha? What are you doing?” he asked me.
Emanuel wasn’t just any teacher… he was my orchestra teacher and my advisor. That meant that we knew each other really well. He wasn’t just one of those teachers that you see every day in class, but they don’t know anything about you in real life… No, Emanuel knew all about me… not because he had to, but because he wanted to. He really cared about the life of a confused lesbian teenager. He wanted to help me out. The down side to that is that while my friends might have gotten away with a demerit and maybe a couple of licks with the strap, I was in for a heart to heart, a lecture, and then a good whipping. Great.
“I asked you a question,” Emanuel said, now entering the destroyed room.
“Nothing,” I answered.
He shook his head at me. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go talk in my office.”
I shivered slightly, knowing that a “talk” in his office was going to be more than just a talk. And it was already after midnight and I was drained emotionally and physically… why couldn’t we just have this “talk” another day? Or just forget about it altogether?
Instead of saying anything, I just allowed him to lead me out of the room, turning off the light and shutting the door behind us. Some of the girls were peeking out of their rooms when we emerged, hoping to see him spank me right there in the room, but they were out of luck.
“Vayanse a dormir!” he scolded them. “There’s nothing to see here unless you want to take a trip to my office, too.” All of the doors shut in unison. “Come on,” he told me.
I followed him down the hallway, then downstairs. Finally, he began digging his keys out of his pocket and I realized we were in front of his office door. He opened it, motioning for me to go inside.
“So tell me what’s going on,” he demanded, closing the door behind us, then taking a seat behind his desk.
But I didn’t sit down. I stood there, still angry with the world, trying to hold in the rage I had inside of my body.
He didn’t say anything, just stared at me, waiting. I knew him well enough to know that we weren’t going anywhere until I spilled everything, and he wasn’t going to beg me to speak. I debated in my head whether or not to tell him the truth, whether or not to tell him what was really going on. Of course, I knew that if I didn’t tell him, eventually he’d figure it out anyway. Besides, he wasn’t judgmental, and it’d probably do me a little good to get out everything.
I plopped down on the chair. “Andrea’s cheating on me,” I mumbled, holding my head in my hands. “She was ashamed of me… said that her parents wouldn’t allow her to date another girl… that they’d freak out… that she had to keep me a secret. Then why the fuck is she taking her lover to visit her parents?” I banged my fist against the chair, but Emanuel said nothing, just let me continue. “Why do I even have to be at this damn school,” I began, getting angry all over again and picking up the box of tissues that sat on the table next to me. I threw the tissue box to the ground, standing up now. I don’t even know what I started bitching about next, probably Paraguayan culture and gender inequality and how it isn’t fair that homosexuals, bisexuals, transsexuals, etc are looked down upon. I practically started throwing a fit right there in his office, toppling over the chairs, throwing the magazines, and finally throwing myself onto the floor, curling up in a ball and crying.
I don’t know how long I stayed there on the floor like that, but after a few minutes I realized that I was acting like a four year old. I was just so angry… at myself, at the world, at Andrea… at everyone. But now wasn’t the time to throw shit around my teacher’s office. Now was the time to face my consequences for stealing a key, being out past curfew, and trashing someone’s room.
I pushed myself up off the floor and fixed the chairs back, wiping the tears out of my eyes. I picked up all of the magazines and the box of tissues, and put them back in their place. Then, like a big girl, I sat down in the chair and looked at Emanuel with pathetic eyes.
“Come here,” he said softly, holding his arms out and standing up.
When you don’t have your own family around, you find people to substitute for you… and I guess Emanuel was a good substitute for an older brother… I stood up and walked towards him, letting him embrace me for a minute.
“I’m sorry things aren’t going well for you, Samantha,” he told me, then sat down and pushed my hair out of my eyes. “I know you’re upset about Andrea. What can I do to help you?”
I shrugged. “Nothing I guess.”
He nodded, leaning back in his chair, thinking about something. “Monday I’m going to make a few calls for you. Asuncion is a big city, and there’s bound to be something out there.”
I wasn’t quite sure what he was talking about, so I just didn’t say anything.
He now looked back at me. “But that still doesn’t change the fact that you snuck into Andrea’s room after curfew. It’s wrong to go through someone else’s personal things, but on top of that you violated school rules.”
I hung my head, staring at the floor.
He lifted my chin with the tips of his fingers, staring me in the eyes. “Samantha, I am very disappointed that you would act so immature. You’re fifteen years old, you know better than to do what you did.”
I nodded.
“I’m going to write you up for what you did.” Noticing my sullen look, he added, “I have to, Sam. You broke three rules in one night. But I will give you a choice as to whether you’ll be punished tonight or tomorrow. I know it’s late and you’re probably ready to go to bed.”
The thought of being punished made me cringe. I bit my lower lip and squirmed a little, resisting the urge to cover my backside. “Might as well go ahead and get it over with tonight,” I choked out in a whisper.
“All right,” he said, standing up again. “You know the procedure.”
I nodded, walking to the other side of the desk and whimpering slightly as I bent over it. He grabbed the strap and came towards me.
“Samantha, why are you being punished?” he asked.
Nervously, I answered, “because I was out past curfew… and broke into someone’s room…” I lay my head down on the desk, covering my eyes as if I were at the doctor’s office and didn’t want to watch the nurse give me a shot.
I felt him lift my skirt up and braced myself for the first blow. And even though I was expecting it, it still somehow caught me by surprise.
“Oowwww!!” I shrieked, not moving from my position.
He crashed the strap down again, this time on my sit spots, and I howled in pain. After the third swat, I was bawling like a baby.
“Emanuel, I’m sorrryyyyy,” I cried, bawling my hands up in fists to keep myself from reaching back.
“I know you are,” he said, giving me another couple of blows, closer and closer to my thighs which were unprotected by my panties.
“Ayyyeeeee, Emanuel…. Pleaseee no more,” I begged, lifting my leg up in a kick.
He ignored my pleas and placed his hand on the small of my back to keep me from squirming too much. “Five more,” he said, then landed them all quickly in a row.
I remained over the desk, crying into my arms. It had been a pretty crappy night… first finding out that my girlfriend had been cheating, then getting whipped…
Emanuel let my skirt back down and lifted me up. He wiped the tears out of my eyes, looking at me. “I know it’s been a tough night for you,” he said. “But things’ll get better, Sam. We’ve come a long way in the last thirty years, and your country has, too. One day you’ll have all the rights that heterosexuals have… maybe in thirty years, girls your age will take their freedom for granted.”
I nodded. “I hope so.”
“Come on, I’ll walk you back to your room.”
I smiled. “Thanks.”
Boarding School
M/f
The scream echoed through the hallways of El Colegio Internacional de Paraguay. It was a piercing scream, that of a girl in distress. Actually, it was my own scream, right after I read the letter that my girlfriend’s lover had written to her. A letter that not only proved that I was being cheated on, but that while Andrea had been too ashamed to even mention me to her parents, she was taking her lover home over the weekend. A letter that told me that while Andrea and I hadn’t gotten past kissing, she and her lover had rounded third base and were getting ready to make it to home plate, if you know what I mean.
My best friends had been standing outside the door, keeping watch, as it was waay past curfew at our boarding school, even if it was a Friday night. Being caught out of our dorms would get us in tons of trouble, but if a teacher found out that I’d borrowed (well, stolen) a key from the prefects, we’d be in even more trouble. But when my friends heard the scream, they came rushing in.
“What is it?” Yumi asked, worried about me.
“Sam, you’re going to get us in trouble screaming like that!” Carrigan added.
“That BITCH!” was all I could say. I ripped the note in half, then began throwing the rest of the contents in the box. I ripped up the pictures she had of the two of us, the letters I’d written her, and finally broke the necklace that I’d given her for her birthday. I chunked the box across the room, then began ripping the sheets off of her bed, ripping the posters off of the wall, still screaming and cussing her out.
Yumi touched my arm to get me to calm down, but I pushed her away and continued destroying Andrea’s room, just like she’d destroyed me.
“Sam,” I heard Carrigan say, now in a pleading voice, “you’re waking people up.”
“I don‘t care,” I shouted, now pushing everything off of Andrea’s dresser onto the floor. Some girls from down the hall were now crowded in the doorway, watching my tantrum. I now moved to the closet, ripping her clothing from the hangers and throwing items across the room. I tore the shirt that she’d worn on the first day we’d met… a shirt that I’d cherished so much at one point in time.
Suddenly, the girls scattered from the doorway, and I heard a male voice uttering Spanish down the hallway. Obviously, someone had gone to whatever teacher was on duty for the night and he was now headed our way.
“Go hide,” I whispered to Yumi and Carrigan, who ran towards the bathroom.
“What is going on in here!” I heard.
I didn’t answer, just stood there, fists balled up, not even realizing that tears were streaming down my face.
Emanuel appeared in the doorway, hands on his hips in anger. But when he saw me, he softened up a little, and instead of being pissed, he was more disappointed.
“Samantha? What are you doing?” he asked me.
Emanuel wasn’t just any teacher… he was my orchestra teacher and my advisor. That meant that we knew each other really well. He wasn’t just one of those teachers that you see every day in class, but they don’t know anything about you in real life… No, Emanuel knew all about me… not because he had to, but because he wanted to. He really cared about the life of a confused lesbian teenager. He wanted to help me out. The down side to that is that while my friends might have gotten away with a demerit and maybe a couple of licks with the strap, I was in for a heart to heart, a lecture, and then a good whipping. Great.
“I asked you a question,” Emanuel said, now entering the destroyed room.
“Nothing,” I answered.
He shook his head at me. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go talk in my office.”
I shivered slightly, knowing that a “talk” in his office was going to be more than just a talk. And it was already after midnight and I was drained emotionally and physically… why couldn’t we just have this “talk” another day? Or just forget about it altogether?
Instead of saying anything, I just allowed him to lead me out of the room, turning off the light and shutting the door behind us. Some of the girls were peeking out of their rooms when we emerged, hoping to see him spank me right there in the room, but they were out of luck.
“Vayanse a dormir!” he scolded them. “There’s nothing to see here unless you want to take a trip to my office, too.” All of the doors shut in unison. “Come on,” he told me.
I followed him down the hallway, then downstairs. Finally, he began digging his keys out of his pocket and I realized we were in front of his office door. He opened it, motioning for me to go inside.
“So tell me what’s going on,” he demanded, closing the door behind us, then taking a seat behind his desk.
But I didn’t sit down. I stood there, still angry with the world, trying to hold in the rage I had inside of my body.
He didn’t say anything, just stared at me, waiting. I knew him well enough to know that we weren’t going anywhere until I spilled everything, and he wasn’t going to beg me to speak. I debated in my head whether or not to tell him the truth, whether or not to tell him what was really going on. Of course, I knew that if I didn’t tell him, eventually he’d figure it out anyway. Besides, he wasn’t judgmental, and it’d probably do me a little good to get out everything.
I plopped down on the chair. “Andrea’s cheating on me,” I mumbled, holding my head in my hands. “She was ashamed of me… said that her parents wouldn’t allow her to date another girl… that they’d freak out… that she had to keep me a secret. Then why the fuck is she taking her lover to visit her parents?” I banged my fist against the chair, but Emanuel said nothing, just let me continue. “Why do I even have to be at this damn school,” I began, getting angry all over again and picking up the box of tissues that sat on the table next to me. I threw the tissue box to the ground, standing up now. I don’t even know what I started bitching about next, probably Paraguayan culture and gender inequality and how it isn’t fair that homosexuals, bisexuals, transsexuals, etc are looked down upon. I practically started throwing a fit right there in his office, toppling over the chairs, throwing the magazines, and finally throwing myself onto the floor, curling up in a ball and crying.
I don’t know how long I stayed there on the floor like that, but after a few minutes I realized that I was acting like a four year old. I was just so angry… at myself, at the world, at Andrea… at everyone. But now wasn’t the time to throw shit around my teacher’s office. Now was the time to face my consequences for stealing a key, being out past curfew, and trashing someone’s room.
I pushed myself up off the floor and fixed the chairs back, wiping the tears out of my eyes. I picked up all of the magazines and the box of tissues, and put them back in their place. Then, like a big girl, I sat down in the chair and looked at Emanuel with pathetic eyes.
“Come here,” he said softly, holding his arms out and standing up.
When you don’t have your own family around, you find people to substitute for you… and I guess Emanuel was a good substitute for an older brother… I stood up and walked towards him, letting him embrace me for a minute.
“I’m sorry things aren’t going well for you, Samantha,” he told me, then sat down and pushed my hair out of my eyes. “I know you’re upset about Andrea. What can I do to help you?”
I shrugged. “Nothing I guess.”
He nodded, leaning back in his chair, thinking about something. “Monday I’m going to make a few calls for you. Asuncion is a big city, and there’s bound to be something out there.”
I wasn’t quite sure what he was talking about, so I just didn’t say anything.
He now looked back at me. “But that still doesn’t change the fact that you snuck into Andrea’s room after curfew. It’s wrong to go through someone else’s personal things, but on top of that you violated school rules.”
I hung my head, staring at the floor.
He lifted my chin with the tips of his fingers, staring me in the eyes. “Samantha, I am very disappointed that you would act so immature. You’re fifteen years old, you know better than to do what you did.”
I nodded.
“I’m going to write you up for what you did.” Noticing my sullen look, he added, “I have to, Sam. You broke three rules in one night. But I will give you a choice as to whether you’ll be punished tonight or tomorrow. I know it’s late and you’re probably ready to go to bed.”
The thought of being punished made me cringe. I bit my lower lip and squirmed a little, resisting the urge to cover my backside. “Might as well go ahead and get it over with tonight,” I choked out in a whisper.
“All right,” he said, standing up again. “You know the procedure.”
I nodded, walking to the other side of the desk and whimpering slightly as I bent over it. He grabbed the strap and came towards me.
“Samantha, why are you being punished?” he asked.
Nervously, I answered, “because I was out past curfew… and broke into someone’s room…” I lay my head down on the desk, covering my eyes as if I were at the doctor’s office and didn’t want to watch the nurse give me a shot.
I felt him lift my skirt up and braced myself for the first blow. And even though I was expecting it, it still somehow caught me by surprise.
“Oowwww!!” I shrieked, not moving from my position.
He crashed the strap down again, this time on my sit spots, and I howled in pain. After the third swat, I was bawling like a baby.
“Emanuel, I’m sorrryyyyy,” I cried, bawling my hands up in fists to keep myself from reaching back.
“I know you are,” he said, giving me another couple of blows, closer and closer to my thighs which were unprotected by my panties.
“Ayyyeeeee, Emanuel…. Pleaseee no more,” I begged, lifting my leg up in a kick.
He ignored my pleas and placed his hand on the small of my back to keep me from squirming too much. “Five more,” he said, then landed them all quickly in a row.
I remained over the desk, crying into my arms. It had been a pretty crappy night… first finding out that my girlfriend had been cheating, then getting whipped…
Emanuel let my skirt back down and lifted me up. He wiped the tears out of my eyes, looking at me. “I know it’s been a tough night for you,” he said. “But things’ll get better, Sam. We’ve come a long way in the last thirty years, and your country has, too. One day you’ll have all the rights that heterosexuals have… maybe in thirty years, girls your age will take their freedom for granted.”
I nodded. “I hope so.”
“Come on, I’ll walk you back to your room.”
I smiled. “Thanks.”
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