Cinco de Spanko, Comeuppance

I'm not mad now. *evil smile*

Visit the beginning of this experience here.

I went back in the room to deal with this situation, no longer angry, but by no means pacified.

Pura was seated on the padded bench at the end of my bed. She was very nervous and shy, the way she always gets when she thinks she deserves a spanking. I stood in front of her, looking down at her. She is the most beautiful person in the world to me. She is patient, and lovely, and talented. Seeing her there and filled with love for her, my anger at her mother clawed it's way forward. How dare anyone manipulate and abuse this wonderful girl?

"I am very unhappy that you didn't tell me about this," I told her, presenting the computer on the bed, shut down now from long inactivity. "If you were feeling like you wanted your mom in your life more, you should have told me. I don't have any right to keep you away from your family, Pura. If you want her--"

She interrupted me, not the wisest decision at this time, but she was in earnest. "I don't, Mistress, really I don't. I wish I could explain what happened, but I can't. Sometimes I get going down a path and I can't stop and I don't know how to fix it."

"You come to me," I answered that.

"I know. I should have. But I didn't want you to be..." she looked in my eyes and whispered, "mad."

"I get mad when people abuse my slave," I answered her sternly. "I get mad when my slave hides things from me. Who am I?"

That question was a regular question in our lives. It was a reference to her silly rules. Her first rule, You are my Mistress, deals with her level of submission and defines our relationship. I will have Pura post her rules for you eventually, so you will understand.

"You are my Mistress," she answered.

"You should have trusted me," I said. That, I realized, was the seat of my anger. She had not trusted me to talk to me about this, and now someone was abusing her. Her safety is so important to me!

From beside her on the bench, she withdrew the brush I occasionally use to punish her. It had been hidden within the folds of her skirt so I had not seen it before. This was her first way of submitting, should I choose to punish her today. Ultimately, all punishments are up to me. I choose which infractions to punish for, which implement to use, number of strokes, and what level of aftercare.

I sat beside her on the bench and took the brush in hand. I tossed it once or twice and caught it again, considering if this is the way I wanted this handled. I looked at her.

"Do you want your mother to have access to your profile? Do you want her to have your number?"

"No," she said, and I believed her.

She had allowed herself to be manipulated. I know all about manipulation. I have actually studied the phenomenon, and I abhor it! I know, as a victim of this type of abuse, she sometimes has a hard time drawing limits for herself. That's what she wanted me for. I was supposed to set the limits and she was supposed to stay inside them.

I had just about put down that brush, but my role in her life popped into my head and I knew I couldn't let this go on a warning. I pulled her over my knee. I think I surprised her a little. If she expected to be given a free-pass, then her bringing me an implement had just been a manipulative ploy to soften my anger. Fortunately for her, I did not ask.

The brush went down beside me while I warmed her up over her clothes with my hand. She squirmed a little, but kept her position nicely. Once I had her bare, the squirming and vocal complaints were more frequent. Then I used the brush.

This is an ivory-handled hairbrush used for this purpose only. It's kept in the top drawer of my nightstand and is only an occasional visitor in our lives. I prefer the intimacy of a hand-spanking.

The first stinging swat made her cry out and she reached back to stop another. I gently moved her hand away and the second slap resounded in the room. Then the third, and the fourth. Pura was crying out pretty consistently now, but I did not stop. I kept thinking about how she had gone behind my back and welcomed dangerous people back into her life. She may as well have walked naked down the dark river trail at midnight! (Well, that was unsafe in a different way, but still...) She squirmed and apologized but I did not stop.

I put the wicked little brush aside and continued with my hand for another minute or so. Pura's bottom was pink, and her sit-spot glowed red. She would feel this for a couple days.

I had a special lotion for just this type of occasion. I stood her up and had her fetch it for me. I placed her on the bed when she came back and I rubbed the lotion onto her backside. She jumped every time my hand came in contact with her reddened skin, but I did try to be gentle.

Aftercare is extremely important for Pura. She cannot bear to think a punishment is done without knowing that the slate is clean and we're going to be okay.

"Babe," I said to her as I gently rubbed. "You need to trust me to take care of you. Do you trust me?"

"Yes, Mistress," she answered miserably. "I do trust you. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay now," I said. It's what I always say. More lotion. "I just don't want you to have to suffer through the horrible things she says to you. When she has to go through me, she keeps a civil tongue and can't get away with anything. I think it's the same with your sister, and I want her off your profile, too."

She sniveled. "Yes Mistress." She stretched up so she supported herself with her elbows. She turned and looked at me. "Mistress, is it okay with you if I close my profile and maybe open a compeletely new one? Most of the people on there are from Iowa and they don't approve of my lifestyle. I'm tired of hiding who we truly are. My profile will be under my slave name."

I smiled at her and pulled her into my arms gently. "Of course that's okay with me, beautiful. I am happy you want to celebrate who we are."

I held her in my arms, caring for her carefully. She said, "Who knows? Maybe soon you will be ready to tell your father about who we really are."

I pulled back and looked at her at a distance, seeing the tiny streak of mischief in her eyes that tended to be followed up with something naughty.

"No, Pura," I told her firmly. We are going to see my father tomorrow. If today had not been enough to put her on her best behavior, I was prepared to start a new session.

She put out her pouty lip. "Okay," she said defensively, and she hugged me, and kissed me, and some other stuff.

She's asleep now on the couch; spankings wear her out. I'm watching her and loving her from a distance, and thinking that I will crawl up beside her in a few minutes, or perhaps carry her to bed. Cinco de Mayo was no party in the House of Mistress Nichole, but now as I watch her, I feel like celebrating.

If only I could shake my nerves over that mischievous look she had given me...