PT 63: A Serious Spanking

Your democratically elected discipline session begins now… (alternative version for those capable of behaving themselves in polls still to come.)

“No, I don’t understand, that’s the whole damn problem!” You yell the words at her, throwing caution to the wind.

Grisham’s brow lifts with a hint of incredulity. “You’re really going to push this, huh? Okay, little girl,” she says. “Let me help you understand.”

Your feet hit the ground and her hands go from holding your shirt, to pulling it open. Buttons pop off and fly across the room as she tugs the garment from your arms and then goes to work on your pants.

“What the hell!? What are you doing?” Your squeak of protest hits a new register.

“This is a cadet’s uniform,” she says. “And you’re not a cadet, so you shouldn’t be in it. As for a soldier’s uniform, well, you haven’t earned that. So I guess you’re going to be in your panties until you do.”

She keeps stripping you, her strong hands taking total control of your body as you wriggle and writhe. She has no problem whatsoever handling you even as you resist, your twisting and struggling only helping her to get you nearly naked. Your pants come down, along with your socks and shoes until you’re standing in nothing but your underwear – and that’s when things get bad.

Grisham sits on the bed and pulls you over her lap. Her fingers stretch over your bottom, grasp the hem of your panties and pull them up into the crevice of your cheeks so your butt is bare. She starts spanking you hard and fast, her palm beating against your bottom with a sting that makes your whole body contort, your legs kicking furiously but to no avail. One arm around your waist is all that it takes to pin you in place as she spanks you long and hard until your bottom glows with heat and the skin of your cheeks is tight and swollen and tender.

You squirm and gasp and try not to cry, but you can’t help tears coming to your eyes – tears that make absolutely no difference to Grisham at all. She just keeps spanking you, her palm branding your butt and catching the tops of your thighs too as she gives you the longest thrashing of your life, lecturing you the whole time.

“I’ve given you more chances than anyone deserves,” she snaps as her palm whacks your bare cheeks. “I’ve tried to be understanding and I’ve explained as much as I can, but you seem to think shrieking and hollering and carrying on is going to get you somewhere. You couldn’t be more wrong. This little ass of yours is mine, and you’re going to be too sore to sit for more days than you can count if you don’t straighten up. I don’t have time to babysit some spoiled little brat who thinks the rules don’t apply to her. You are about two steps shy of ending up back in the darkest, smallest cell we’ve got. You understand me!?”

Her tone is laden with stern disappointment and total resolve. You know she means what she says, and Sarah’s words come floating back to you. You’re at real risk of spending a significant portion of your life behind bars if you don’t manage to control your behavior better.

“I’m sorry!” You apologize through tears, but that doesn’t impress her.

“Too little, too late,” she growls. “You should have thought about being sorry before you copped an attitude with me, girl. You are not in charge here. I am. And I will whip your butt and lock it up the next time you so much as look at me sideways, you get it!?”

“Yes, ma’am!” There’s no choice but to get it, her palm is still thundering against your ass, which is swelling and aching and stinging so much you can barely stand it. You’re going to be feeling this for days, and she shows no signs of stopping any time soon.

She keeps spanking you until tears are coursing down your face and your promises to behave come through sniveled gasps. Satisfied with the state of your bottom, Grisham stands you up and marches you into the corner of the room, putting your nose to the wall.

“Seeing as you want to act up like a little brat, yelling and demanding, you can be treated like one,” she informs you. Her hands lift yours atop your head, so you’re standing there with your bright red, very sore bottom on display.

“You seem to be having some trouble with basic concepts,” she says, her voice gruff and stern behind you. “So I’m going to keep this really simple for you. Do as you’re told. Period. Do you understand!”

“Yes ma’am!” You perform a little squirming jiggle, trying to get the heat out of your ass, but it doesn’t help. Her hand swings down against your butt yet again with a gunshot swat.

“Stand still!” She barks at you. “I don’t want to see your feet move an inch, girl. You will keep your ass in that corner until I tell you otherwise, understand!?”

You make a little squeaking sound, which she takes for assent.

“This is a military base,” she says. “And like it or not, you’re a member of the military. You better start acting like it, or you’re going to be red faced and red assed until you do. And it won’t just be me getting on your case, either. Every single person on this base outranks you, and after today’s little stunt, they’re all going to know who you are. So congratulations, you just made yourself the whipping girl for a couple hundred pissed off soldiers stuck on a rock in the middle of a toxic dump.”