2 | Defiance Discipline Dream Repeat

109 Spankable Again M/F - Sophia's POV

It's taken a whole week for the Valentine's candle to burn down, and Sebastian hasn't noticed the hidden library card... until now!

I lounge on the living room swing, being all agog to witness Sebastian's reaction.

''Is this another little gift for me?'' he wonders as he picks out the encased library card from the bottom of the glass candle holder.

My elfish smile grows on my face, and I nod, trying to repress the giggles bubbling up for another moment.

His face quirks at first, seeing he's discovered his lost library card. ''You little brat,'' he articulates under his breath, still with a quizzical expression. ''I've searched for this like a nutter, and it was in the candle the entire time!''

''I hope you appreciate the present,'' and now, my gleeful giggles boil over.

''You've stepped up your brat game, haven't you?''

''It was brilliant, wasn't it?'' I chirp, applauding myself.

He hums in a tone conveying he doesn't entirely agree with me and puts the card on the table next to the empty candle holder. ''That little tattoo you got; it should be healed by now–''

Heat rises on my cheeks, and instinctively, I bow my head slightly. ''Not yet!'' I deny it.

''Yes.'' He plants his hands on the sofa to push himself up to a poised stance. ''It looked healed the last time I checked.''

I shake my head, biting my lower lip to hold the giggles.

He strides toward the swing with his gaze riveted on me. ''Let me check again then.''

I scramble around and leap in the opposite direction, but one of his hands hooks the waistband of my joggers. Quickly, both his hands clutch my hips and drag me back to him, my legs slide off the swing and dangle over the edge, my toes sweeping the floor as the swing slightly sways. A firm hand is fixed on my back before his other hand tugs my joggers and knickers down my thighs. My whole face heats up to the maximum degree. He surely knows this from every damn previous experience and takes his time checking out my ass, his finger circling the nicely healed tiny tattoo.

''That one is healed,'' he states, punctuating with a smack.

I yelp, kicking into the air futilely. This carries on with no delay, and he chuckles smugly at my squeals and wiggles his big, mean hand compel. I scrabble for the blanket lying just before my fingertips, crumpling it before burying my face in it. The smacks are light; simply hard enough to create a mild sting and build up a warm sensation. But you have to remember that I haven't been spanked for quite some time!

''...I've missed seeing you with a pink bottom,'' he remarks after the last smack has hit down. He strokes his hand over my hot skin, whilst I twist and whimper into the scrunched-up blanket. ''I assume you missed the feeling–''

''Nooo,'' I moan, embarrassed.

''I vividly remember when we sat together on this swing, and you complained about being bored and feeling as if something was missing when you realised that you were unspankable,'' he notes, his tone clearly pleased. "You longed for this spanking."

I did say that, but it's a bit like when I wished for a candy cane-cane. I will admit that this playful, light spanking felt better than the Christmassy caning. 'Longing for a spanking' is a strong sentence, but I can admit not dreading being spanked again - not in this way. ''We all say things we don't mean when we are emotional," I assert sheepishly.

He chuckles, not bothering to argue. ''Let's get rid of these,'' he mumbles to himself, my legs starting to flap as he pulls my joggers off. ''You can keep your knickers if you could call them that,'' he adds mockingly. ''I don't understand why you'd want to walk around with a shoestring up your ass all day, but I'm not complaining.''

The spanking I'd receive if I uttered all the words the brat in my head urges me to would be the end of me, so I staple my lips together with my teeth. I don't struggle when he pulls my underwear up as I'd like to be covered up again, although, as he implied, a pair of thongs hardly give me any coverage. Not when I lie flat on my tummy, anyway.

''You can put the joggers back on when the pink has faded.''

I lift my head to whine a drawn-out, ''No.'' Even though, I know it doesn't have any effect on him.

''Yes, and I'm being kind. I will let you watch TV if you lie over this,'' he prods my right hip with a cushion. ''If I was mean, I could put you against the wall or stand on all fours on the floor.''

The latter two alternatives don't sound like an enjoyable Friday night. Huffing, I raise my hips for him, my upper body drooping over the cushion. ''Sadist,'' I whisper to myself, mortified to lie here with my ass aloft.

He snickers, ''You're so welcome, little Soph,'' and surprises me with a new flurry of spanks. I shouldn't be startled by these occurrences anymore, and I'm not really. My body just reacts as if I am and squeaks to embarrass me even more. It's like a constant battle within me.

''Be good and stay there.''

''Just one thing more,'' I look back at him, and he cues me to go on. ''Alexander won't show up tonight, right? I mean, he apologised, so are you besties now?''

He shakes his head. ''Alexander did apologise, but we are far from besties. He's not coming over tonight or any time soon,'' he says plainly.

I mumble, ''Okay, good,'' and turn forward again to plunge my face into my blanket.