~FAILING IN REVERSE~ (spanking story)

Chapter 12: Recovery Part 1

"One—you have three seconds to answer me before I go grab the spatula."

In a huff that earns you a particularly swift smack, you mutter, "for sneaking out and for lying about smoking."

"Thank you. And why does it matter? Why is it that sneaking out and smoking are things we don't like? Hmm?"

You grunt out a one word answer, "safety."

"Okay, but safe or unsafe?"

She is beginning to really frustrate you, talking to you like you're two. "UNSAFE," you shriek, some from the surprisingly increasing pain and some from sheer annoyance.

"I should get the spatula for that, but I won't." The woman simmers down for a bit and just careens her palm, seemingly as hard as she can, repeatedly onto your skin. You're not happy about how effective this is, with only Kamilla's hand, and you think it's gotta be the leftover feeling of yesterday's brutal punishment from both parents contributing to the rawness.

"(Y/N), never, never ever do this again. Do you understand me? We were worried you got yourself into severe danger. You have a wonderful life ahead of you, that we are helping you to create, if you weren't so stubbornly self destructive. Give yourself a fighting chance."

You are beginning to feel helpless, just laying here and letting her do this to you when you're already super done with life. But just before you completely break into miserable, angry wails, she stops.

She tickles your ear with her hair as she hovers above you. "You did such a good job, sweetie. We are done for now. I'll save more of the lecture for later. We will have plenty of chances to discuss what happened." That's when you feel her hand softly patting your thighs. "Oh, poor thing, you're shaking."

And you lose it.

Kamilla quickly takes her hand away. "I-I thought you found it comforting after a punishment. I'm sorry."

This is when Ben decides to make an appearance, only when you get to the point of screaming bloody murder, out of a mixture of anger and exhaustion. Startling you, you feel a small tug on your ear, just to get your attention. "(Y/N), that's enough. Kamilla is trying to comfort you. There's no need in giving her a hard time by being dramatic. You weren't this dramatic last night."

Even in reprimanding you, the man pours affection on you, and you begin to slow your breathing. "I'm sorry," you whimper, and both adults accept your apology without a second thought.

"I'm going to draw you that bath now," Kamilla states with finality, making no room for argument, not that you'd want to argue anyway.

"Yes, ma'am," you sigh.

You've calmed from one-hundred down to thirty, now letting the pats, now from Ben, you would've usually enjoyed to take effect.

"Good boy," Ben praises, substituting your pants with a towel and assisting you onto your feet. "It's over for now. Go relax, let Kamilla baby you for a bit, for her sake. She hates punishing you."

"What about you?" You ask as he squashes your face with his chest in an effort for a hug, then drops a peck on your head.

"What about me?" He muffles into your hair.

"You hate punishing me too, right?"

The man holds you at arm's length to give you a sarcastic look. "No, I love torturing my kids. With love. Always with love." He chuckles to himself when you give him a confused, conflicted stare.

This confusion makes him laugh more and squeezes you again before he sets you free for bathtime.

You do as you're told, although you can't help but still feel shaken, partially from the punishment and partially from the uncertainty of what today will bring. All you know is it won't be good for you. It rarely ever is, as the pattern thus far has shown.