I was a Brat and He Took Me Out to Dinner?

Last week I was in a particularly bratty mood. Maybe it was hormonal or maybe it was just my middle acting out for attention or maybe it was a little of both. All I know is I was pushing Him and I pushed pretty hard.

One night after we had gone to bed, we lay there cuddling and I nipped at His neck. At first He simply said, “No biting,” in that firm, I’m-in-charge-here tone. His words didn’t matter because I wanted what I wanted, so nipped at Him again. This time He popped my mouth as He repeated, “I said, no biting.”

“But why, Sir? I like biting you.”

“I know you do, but not right now.”

Immediately I stuck my out bottom lip and pouted, but that was short-lived. A sneaky grin spread across my lips and I bit at Him again.

“Do you really wanna push me, sweet?”

I just looked at Him, a little sad that He didn’t want to play and a little frustrated because He hadn’t been disciplining me consistently over the past couple of weeks. “I don’t believe you’ll do anything.” And I turned over to go to sleep.

“I may not do it right now, but you do have a spanking coming and trust me, I’m keeping track.”

I smiled, hoping He meant it because I could feel myself getting lazy. I know it’s tough through the week for Him to stay on top of the discipline because life is so busy. Sometimes He’s worn out from work and studying and just wants to veg in front of the t.v. before we go to bed. Usually when we go to bed, it’s late and there’s not really time for much of anything. Thing is, I’m beginning to realize I’m one of those who needs a daily something, so we are going to work on it to meet both of our needs.

Friday night rolls around and I’m in full brat mode. I don’t want to do anything around the house and I for sure didn’t want to cook dinner, so I conveniently waited to take the chicken out of the freezer. I messaged Sir, “What would happen if I didn’t cook dinner tonight?”

He texts back, “o.O”

“Well, I don’t think the chicken will be thawed in time and all we have to go with it are peas and I’m just not in the mood for peas tonight.”

His response, “You’re in big trouble.”

That didn’t scare me. I stripped and laid down in the bed, played on my phone a little, and eventually fell asleep. I woke up about an hour later. He was due home in about 30 minutes, but I didn’t care. Laying there, the rational part of my brain kept nagging at me. I kept thinking, “The chicken is probably thaw, I should go put it in the oven,” but I just laid there. When I heard the door open, I pulled the blankets up to my neck and tried to pretend like I was sleeping. He came into our room and lifted the blankets so He could peek under. Upon seeing my naked body He said, “What’s the meaning of this? You’re supposed to be all dolled up so I can take you out to dinner.”

Wait. What? I’ve been a brat all day and He’s going to take me out to dinner? I’m sorry, but this does not compute. I just looked up at Him…speechless.

“I’m thinking Outback,” He said.

Okay. Let me get this straight. I act like a brat and you take me out for a steak dinner. My rational adult brain struggled with this concept, but my middle didn’t care. At least my adult brain is the one in charge most of the time, but in that moment the brat wanted what she wanted and she got it. Before I got up to get ready to go, I managed to coax Sir into bed with me for a quick romp. (By the way, I cannot “convince” Him or “coax” Him to do anything He doesn’t want to do already. That’s not how it is with us. If He didn’t want to do it, He would have put His foot down and I would have obeyed or been spanked if I didn’t.)

We went to dinner and had a great time. We always do because we love talking to each other and we can talk about anything. While we were eating, He looked across the table and said, “I want you to go the restroom and remove your panties and bring them back to me.” He was dead serious. His expression said it all, but I didn’t want to.

The brat was…well being a brat. Huh? He’s not serious, right? I looked back at Him as serious as could be, tried to read His face and said, “Are you being serious?” He didn’t say anything, just intensified the stare and tilted His head to the side a little. “You’re not serious. I can tell.” And I didn’t do as He asked. Nothing more was said or done with it…until the next day.

The next day…Yeah that was fun. I know I’ve mentioned this before. I am definitely a masochist because I love the rush of adrenaline that comes with experiencing pain, but at this point, I don’t really love receiving the pain. Thing is, it’s so worth it in the end and it really does help me feel better, so I endure the pain to get to the good stuff. Sir was in an especially dominant mood and that made me all warm and fuzzy, so it was already a good day.

I went out in the morning with a couple of my friends and when I got home, He was in the bedroom. I was ordered to take care of Him, so I wrapped my lips around His cock and did what I was told. At one point when I paused, He told me to “assume the position.”” I was really not ready for this, but I knew it was coming. I had been a brat and I know it, so I bent over the edge of the bed, giving Him easy access to my ass as He searched for an implement. (We normally use His belt, but I think He was just wanting to try something new.) He got a flexible, plastic ruler which isn’t totally new to our play, but He’s never used it as the primary instrument for my punishment.

He started off with lots of little swats to warm up my ass. (It’s always funny to me because even though He doesn’t hit hard at all during the warm ups, it always seems to hurt worse than when He starts the “real” spanking. I guess it’s because I’m not warm or expecting the pain just yet, but during the “real” spanking I’ve had a change to get used to it and stuff.) When it was good & red and warm to the touch, He asked if I was ready. I replied softly, “Yes.”

“Yes who?” And He brought the ruler down hard on my ass.

I jumped slightly and yelped in pain. That ruler stings. “Yes, Sir!”

“Remember to breathe. It hurts worse when you hold your breath.” We are still exploring my threshold and  even though this was a discipline spanking, He still didn’t want to push me too hard, so He was going for 5 swats as close to full power as I could stand. The first few weren’t as hard and He worked His way up counting with each swat and stating why I was receiving it.

“One. This one is for not getting all of your chores done this week.” It stung, and I jumped, but I always do. This is the level of pain that is not only bearable for me, but quite enjoyable. When we are just playing and He spanks me during sex or for light fun, this is how hard He usually hits me. The next one was slightly harder, “Two. For not writing as often as you should.” Again, it hurt, but not too bad. It was still in the enjoyable range. The next one was quite a bit harder, “Three. For not following a direct order.” Okay. This one hurt, so I took a deep breath and focused on the sting. (This one was specifically for not doing what He asked in the restaurant.) When He brought the ruler down for the fourth time, I know He hit me harder still because the smacking sound was a little louder, “Four. For being a brat this week,” but for some reason, it didn’t seem to hurt the way it should. I jumped, more out of habit than actual reaction to the pain. It did hurt, but not like any pain I’ve experienced in a spanking before. The warmth radiating off my ass washed over my body as my breathing became slower, deeper and more even. I wasn’t even trying to breathe. It just happened. As He brought the ruler down for the final and hardest swat, He said, “Five. And that one is just because I can.” He was done? But it was just starting to “feel good.” :p

In some ways I wish He would have kept going. Kept pushing. But this wasn’t a boundary pushing experiment. It was discipline because of my bratty behavior. And besides, both of us were extremely turned on by the spanking which was clearly evident in the way He grabbed my hips and pressed His cock into me while I pushed back against Him, trying to help hurry the situation. He fucked me. Hard. And it was good. A lot of times this is my after care. A good hard fucking, but it’s done for Him not for me. It’s in these moments that I feel the most used and reminded of my place. Those are the times when I feel the most safe, the most valued, and the most secure. It’s not about rewarding me. It’s about Him getting what He wants in that moment.

As we slowed, I whispered, “Sir, You could have kept going with the swats. I know you were hitting me hard, but it was to the point that it actually felt good.” He just smiled that sadistic smile that I love so much and grabbed the ruler.

“Get up on your knees then.” I did as I was told, with no hesitation and He started smacking my ass with hard, quick swats. It hurt quite a bit, but I stuck my ass out there further for Him to keep hitting me.

The sting finally became a little too much and I called out our “slow down” safe word, just to let Him know I was nearing my limit, but didn’t want Him to stop entirely. God, it felt so good as the adrenaline pumped through my veins and He plunged His cock back into my waiting hole.

When all was said and done, my ass was quite red and bore new marks unlike any I’ve ever had before. I liked it. In fact, I told Sir, “That was different, but really nice. Now I’m curious to try caning.” Those words pleased the Sadist and He chuckled.

Later as we sat and watched t.v., the adrenaline and other naturally produced pain killers wore off and that’s when I felt the marks. More than an hour later and I realized just how hard He was hitting me because there were actually tiny abrasions in the welts. Instead of being upset or scared, I was excited. I love wearing His marks. They make me feel good inside and out. As I shift the way I sit or when my clothes brush against them while I’m walking, the reminder of my punishment and the fact that He put those marks there sends a tingle through my core.

Sometimes I marvel at what I’ve become, but I’m so happy with who I am today and I wouldn’t change it for the world. Sir and I compliment one another so perfectly that it’s difficult to know who is really doing what for whom. He likes to inflict pain and like receiving it. He thrives on acts of dominance and I thrive on acts of submission or service. It’s really quite perfect and I couldn’t ask for a better relationship.


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