~FAILING IN REVERSE~ (spanking story)

Chapter 2: Blah Blah. Rules and such

Totally a bluff. For sure.

"Four." His voice strains lower. His eyebrows raise and lips curl inward into a "you're gonna regret this" expression. Maybe you will. Maybe you won't. You'll soon find out, and for some reason, it sort of gives you a thrill of exhilaration. This might be the most fun you've had since jail. A good challenge.

"Okay, five." He sighs, resigned. It sounds like he really doesn't want this to happen either. "You are one stubborn, thick-headed kid, my friend. I'm gonna make sure you get this–when you're under our roof, what you do will have an immediate reaction, good or bad. And I ALWAYS am true to my word, as you will sorely soon find out."

You wait and watch, amused as he rolls up his sleeves and walks over to you, sitting you both down on the couch. Kamila is far from amused. In fact, her face is flushed with concern and disappointment. She then looks away, busying herself with something else. Suddenly, you get this bitter taste in your mouth and feel a guilt-wad forming in your gut. You like her. You don't want to hurt her, just her stupid, anal-retentive, stick-up-the-butt husband.

A rush of apprehension fills you as your stand-in "dad" lifts you off the couch and tips you over his lap. This is such an odd position. And not very comfy, at all. His legs are very bony and protruding. Then, catching you even more by surprise, he locks your legs under the crook of one of his knees. You're stuck. Great. Stuck just like in jail, feeling helpless, powerless, young. But worse yet, he's dropped your pants to your ankles (thankfully leaving your underwear on). This shakes you to your core, scaring you because now you've been forced to face your kryptonate–vulnerability–being utterly exposed.

You can't take this. "Hey! Stop this! You can't do this to me!" You shout indignantly. But this is nothing compared to what comes next.

"Oh, stop the dramatics. I haven't even started yet."

"Please no." You attempt those manners again. So foreign to you. You hope they'll act like magic words. "You really, really shouldn't do this."

"Well, you really, really shouldn't have pushed my patience, kid." He pauses to think. "Ya know what? And while we're at this, I might as well lay out the expectations we have of you. The pain should really drive my point across I think."

Without further preamble, he starts, and he starts with quite a vengeance.

The second his hand lifts for a second blow, your hands cover what they can.

Unfortunately, he knows this game well. Nothing you do seems to faze him, and he pins your hands to the small of your back. Defeated.

Quickly, you feel the sting of his hand alternating between both your cheeks and your thighs, causing you to buck your head, the only body part available to move freely. This arches your back and causes your muscles to lurch angrily. You'll definitely feel sore later.

This sting grows from a simple rug burn to an accumulation of all the knee scrapes you've obtained in your life. You wonder if there will be blood back there, for how hard the man is landing his meaty hands.

"I'm s-sorry, stop!" You attempt even an apology. This takes you nowhere.

"No, Y/N. I will not stop. I told you what would happen, and so now it's happening. One thing you can be sure of here is that you can trust me and your mom. What we say, we will do, scout's honor. And our expectations will be fair and crystal clear. No guessing work required. Now, kindly listen to my words of advice when I say to you, you will live a happy life under our roof if you show us an ounce of courtesy. That's all it takes. Just show us you're trying to improve. You don't have to be a perfect angel. Just try, for Pete's sake."