Dear Diary 10/22

Dear Diary,

            My butt hurts. It still has stinging swollen red strips (from what I can see in the mirror) from where my Ma’am thoroughly discussed my behavior with her belt. I’m laying on my bed butt touching nothing hoping the throbbing will subside soon, while Ma’am is in the kitchen doing something. I sometimes wonder why I do this. I always talk my way into more trouble than necessary. I should have known I was in trouble with her before she got here, but alas her message of ‘we need to talk’ was not headed.

            Apparently, she had looked at my journal and realized I’d skipped five days of night meds and three days of daytime meds. That’s what warranted the little message from Ma’am. Honestly, though I was grumpy, probably from missing the meds, but that’s a moot point. When she sent me that message, I might have ignored it. And generally speaking, it’s not good to ignore your Ma’am.

            She got here and discovered my rather messy apartment, piles of dirty laundry and dishes. When she asked me why I hadn’t been keeping up with things. I might have said something along the lines of it not being her business. I can assure you that is not an acceptable response. She had me over her lap with me eye to eye with my couch cushion and bare bottom in the air before I knew what was happening. How does she move that quick?! And how do I always forget how much her hand hurts! She didn’t bother warming me up either. Her hand quickly met my skin imparting heat expressing her displeasure. I couldn’t stay still either! I know I must have looked silly as I squirmed all over her lap as my butt reddened, however, I didn’t care! It huuurrt!

            She stopped and stood me back up in front of her (and didn’t bother pulling my pants back up either!) and started her lecture over. That was so embarrassing, but part of me also wanted to curl up on her lap and cuddle. But that’s not what she had planned. I rubbed my stinging bottom and she questioned me about the state of my life. From the meds to the messy apartment. Everything in me wanted to stomp, but the cool draft of air across my bits reminded me that might not be the best idea. I was expected to stand there and answer her questions and be contrite.

            I hate being lectured and I hate admitting I messed up. But for some reason in the midst of every lecture ever Ma’am seems to bring me around to the idea that I probably deserve some consequences for my actions. I don’t care how many times she says “spanking, strapping, or paddling” it always makes my tummy do flips. And don’t get me started on “young lady, or the worse little girl” which I get if I throw a little tantrum or get whiney. Anyway. She lectured me a longggg time about my meds especially. She doesn’t like it when I skip those. It makes me not feel good, is bad for my health, yada ya ya. She ended up declaring I needed to write a freakin paper about my meds and why it was important, etc. Why do tops have to get all… educational?

            But of course, that’s not all. She declared I needed a sound strapping as a reminder to take my meds the next few days. My butt twitched as soon as she said it. And I am ashamed to admit it, but I might have tried to beg off of it. However, Ma’am got that look. The look that told me that my butt would be in dire danger if I didn’t stop it. Sure it made me pause, but I didn’t want a strapping with her mean belt! And… that’s when she said it!

            “Go get me the plug.” Yeah. That was an oh shit moment. I know my eyes must have been as big as saucers as she sat there in her sharp black business suit looking at me as serious as I have ever seen her look. “And if you don’t want to wear it the rest of the night I suggest you go and get it now.” Any thought of rebellion or sass retreated fast, let me tell you. I trudged through my apartment looking for a plug with some lube before coming back to her. She directed me over her lap and I unwillingly found myself vulnerably bottom up again. I know she must have thought me silly as I whimpered when her hand met my backside, but it is usually an involuntary response as it is usually a promise of what is to come.

            She quietly warned me before my cheeks were spread and I felt the tip of the plug pressing against me. I am still blushing at that. She pressed it slowly and smoothly into my bottom. Afterward, both of us were quite a moment. She was probably letting me get re-acquainted with my old “friend” again. I know I was squirming over her lap though as her gentle palm petted one of my cheeks then the other. It was a silent reminder of just who I belonged to. Finally, when I because used to the full feeling of the plug she quietly asked me, “Are you going to behave now, little girl?” My body shivered at her deep and dominant voice. I could only nod yes into the cushions as she tapped the end of the plug in my bottom. “Use your words, little girl.” It took me a long minute to focus enough to mutter, “yes, Ma’am.” Of course, that wasn’t a good enough response, but those details aren’t important.

            She finally had enough talking and told me it was time to get over the arm of the couch for my strapping. Seemingly, my bottom was “still warm enough” from her initial palm and bottom meeting that she didn’t “rewarm” it. I have many different parts of the spanking process that I hate and bending over the couch or bed or whatever else is just another one. It’s like having to basically ask for what’s coming. Not to mention how much more annoying it is when you have a plug filling your bottom! Alas, I didn’t have the energy or the will power to fight bending over for her even as I heard the telltale sound of her removing her belt. Also, who wears a belt with a women’s suit?! A Top evidently that’s who.

            I was over the arm of the couch holding a pillow again, but this time Ma’am stood somewhere behind me. I could feel her eyes on my raised bottom as goosebumps rose on my skin. Waiting was another part of this process I hated. I felt her rest the belt across my buns soon though and she warned me, “Stay in position unless you want extra on your thighs.” “Yes Ma’am.” was all I could manage to answer.

             The first swat always lies. It is either not as bad as you expect or a hell of a lot worse than you remember. This time it was the first. The first swat hurt sure. Especially where the tip landed on my right cheek but it was manageable with just a mew. The next was much like the first. It left some sting, but I thought it was manageable. I’m not sure when it happens probably after a dozen swats or so it becomes not manageable anymore!

            No, your butt heats up quick when it’s dancing with well-worn leather. It’s hard to describe, but it’s like this really deep burning sting that just grows across your entire bottom as the swats, build on top of each other. Ma’am is usually quiet while she’s strapping me. She doesn’t want to distract either of us from the task at hand. So, I’m left to focus on the ever-growing pain in my bottom. It can take a lot, but even after a couple of dozen stripes with the belt, I can’t keep still. My feet start jerking up off the floor with every swat she planted. That’s when she focused on my sit spots though. I don’t know how she does it, but she can magically smack the exact same spot over and over and over again. My sit spots were on fire and they were pulsing. And not to mention what every, single swat did to the plug still firmly in my bottom. Every swat made the plug move in my bottom. I would react to the feeling by tensing making the swats hurt more!

            I’m not sure how many swats I got, but I got plenty enough for my butt to be very sore. I couldn’t help, but apologize and promise to be a very good girl from then on. And I meant it! I didn’t have any desire to repeat this little session or an even worse one with her cane. I teared up as she delivered the last ten which were the hardest of them all and left the more prominent marks on my butt. I just held on to the cushion for dear life and let myself cry. As soon and she stopped with her belt her hand was on my bottom soothingly rubbing circles all over it. In a way, it hurt more for her to touch it, but I also found comfort in her touch while crying. I barely noticed when she gently removed the plug from my bottom until she was helping me to my feet. We walked to my bedroom where I was put in a PJ shirt and nothing more. She curled up on the bed with me and she spooned me. She rubbed my bottom and whispered all the loving things a Top can. It was nice from the little I remember.

            I must have fallen asleep with her in bed with me. When I woke up she was in the kitchen doing stuff. I decided to stay in here and…. Reflect. So, me reflecting… my bottom hurts. I will take my meds. I should also do some laundry and stuff…. And I’m lucky. She loves me and takes care of me even when I’m hardheaded and difficult. I can hear her in the other room probably making something for us. I’m smiling like a dummy. I need to go and tell her. Tell her how lucky I am.

– Lucky brat. 


Hi all so just a quick note to say I’ll hopefully be posting regularly again in the coming weeks. I hope to be posting weekly or every other week. I’ll be doing some stories and some post about real life. Please leave a comment or like if you enjoyed this story!

Also, a lot of you may have heard, but a member of our community created a F/F spanking centered discord. We have a lot of great kinky discussion, kinklets, writing challenges, casual conversation, and even games we play over there. If you would like to join just follow the link below. If you need some help joining or getting started in discord just shoot me a email! I hope to see you there!

https://discord.gg/VMnQ4Rw

4 thoughts on “Dear Diary 10/22

  1. A wonderful piece of writing. Love the intimate description of each of the phases of the punishment and of course the most important part for any brat – the cuddle afterwards. Thank you 🙃

    Like

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