Vacation Spanking

I deserved it. I mean, really deserved it. In fact, if Mistress had not volunteered to spank me, I would have asked. *SHAME* She can hardly even look in my direction today, but I think that's out of fear that I will be tempted toward more naughtiness, rather than upset over my previous punishment. Mistress is very good at letting it go once she's dealt with it. I am not so good, especially when I see how amused she is.

This is how it happened...

We had a late dinner and a movie with Mistress' brothers and sisters last night. Her oldest nieces and nephews were left in charge of the younger so the adults could go out and have a good time. This was the most relaxed Mistress has been since we got here. She was in her element: laughing and joking with the siblings she loves.

We were all enjoying ourselves at dinner. And then her phone rang. Mistress was surprised, because besides me, the only people who really call her is her family. She laughingly pulled the phone out to check the ID, and her face fell. I knew in an instant who it was. Mistress always gets the same tightness to her eyes when my mother calls.

"Ignore it," her brother insisted.

"I can't," Mistress replied. That is not altogether true. I would have been overjoyed if she would simply have ignored the call. But that's not her way. "Good evening, LaDonna," she said as she pressed the accept button and moved away from the table. I followed at a short distance, because I did not want to intrude, but I wanted to be close in case she decided to pass the phone to me.

The one-sided conversation was very frustrating for me. Mistress said "Yes" and "No" and "I see" a lot, but gave me little indication of what my mother was saying to her. At one point she looked so skeptical that I tensed. But finally, she beckoned me over and handed me the phone.

"Two minutes," she cautioned me, because two minutes is about all the time I can spend on the phone with my mother before she makes me feel small and start to cry. When I am home, that is fine, but I was in public. Mistress was so smart to caution me.

My mother was her normal infuriating self, beginning with rigorous explanations of her most recent physical ailments, and hinting about suicide. That's always her scare tactic to try and get me to come home. I listened to her quietly as I always do, and then she said something unbearable for me. "I told your little jail-keeper that I am having her investigated for criminal behavior and the kidnap of my daughter. I called your father. He's fronting the money." OMG!

Instead of shrugging it off as Mistress obviously had, I exploded. "You're crazy!" I screamed, to the shock of the people in the restaurant lobby. And then my language digressed, as I tried to explain to my mother that she needs to leave me alone. I hung up on her and stood breathing, trying to calm down. I called my father then and left him a similar message.

After I hung up, the reality of my freak-out really hit me, and I winced, because Mistress would look at me that way and say I had overreacted and there is nothing they can do to either of us.

Thinking of her probable calm reaction made me even angrier. It made me angry at her. And then at the family seated with her in the restaurant, who did not appreciate her beauty and wonderfulness.

I stormed back in, and practically threw the phone at Mistress. Her raised brows were a warning, but I ignored the caution.

Teasingly, her older brother asked, "Trouble?"

I glared at him. "Well, you're observant, aren't you?" The alarm in Mistress' eyes grew and her look became more surprised, and somehow more of a warning. I calmed myself down enough to explain, "It was my mother."

No one knew how much trouble we have with my mother, but they all suddenly seemed to understand. The arrogance and the self-righteousness of it made me more furious. Mistress herself tensed and became the quiet person she usually is around her family.

How can they not see her?

And then a knowing look passed between two of Mistress' brothers. One of them even had the indecency to shrug and say, "Well...?"

"Well what?" I snapped back. Mistress tensed completely now, and under her breath tried to order me calm. I ignored her.

Never wise.

"I guess I am not surprised she's having trouble," the brother explained with calm interest. It was like a preacher talks to someone in fishnets and a miniskirt: Like-- Obviously you're a little whore.

I stabbed my fork into my salad and glared hatred at him. "Why?" I demanded. "Why are you 'not surprised'? My mother is an evil person. She manipulates and antagonizes to get a reaction. And also, she thinks she is god's word on earth." Then, to Mistress' utter horror, I added, "In that, she kind of reminds me of you."

Mistress started to say my name, but she was interrupted by her brother responding, "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, 'it's okay to be gay but not act on it.' Those are your words, aren't they?" I snapped. We were drawing eyes now. Other people in the room were staring at us, and I knew this had to stop, but it couldn't. I was too furious with my mother for attacking my lover, and I was not going to let these big brutes do it, too.

At least, that's how I justified it to myself.

"It is the action that is the sin, if that's what you're asking," responded the brother, with the arch in his brows that was their family trademark.

"You're such an arrogant -------!" I replied. "All holier-than-thou. You get to judge and call gay a sin, but you spend your life on a gaming site, ignoring your six children and the needs of your wife, and somehow that's not at all sinful?" His wife came to his rescue then, but I had had it with them all. And I told them so. "Your sister is the kindest, most generous person on earth, and you should be so ------- lucky to be her kind of sinner."

"Beth--" was as far as Mistress got my name out. She changed it deliberately to "Pura!" That got my attention. She was so careful around her family. I looked at her and the look in her eyes was so much fire I think I will never forget it. "Sit down," she ordered.

I had not even realized I was on my feet, trying to strain for any height I could get over her giant family. I looked in Mistress' eyes, and saw the flashing fury, and I dropped into my chair.

"Don't hold back," another brother challenged me. "Tell us how you really feel."

I would have, but Mistress gripped my hand hard and fast. "No," she told her brother.

"Are you using your girlfriend to fight your battles, Nic?" her older brother asked, cool with her in a way that launched me back into fury.

"No," she answered him, but I could not be quiet as I should.

"She's not a coward! She doesn't need me to fight her battles. She turns the other ------ cheek and lets you -------- walk all over her!" Mistress' grip on my hand was severe, but I couldn't stop. "Something you do willingly and gladly under the name of God. I would be -------- ashamed if I was your ------- god."

"Oh my God," Mistress exhaled. "That is enough, Pura. You cannot talk to my family this way." And then she pinned her brother a furious stare. "And you cannot talk to Bethany this way. She is the woman I love and she's here to stay, so you need to back the hell off."

They were shocked by her vehemence, and also her rebuke because they did not feel they deserved it since I was the antagonist.

She held up an authoritative hand. "No!" she snapped to stop their arguments. "I only come out to visit you once a year. You don't have to like my lifestyle, but you do have to tolerate it while I am here. Or else I can't come. And is that what you want? Do you want to lose me completely? That's not what I want." Then she looked at me and I felt very small. "That is not what I want, Pura. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," I said softly.

They ignored her words completely, and her brother-in-law asked, "Why do you call her that?"

I closed my eyes in concern, but Mistress only said, "It's my nickname for her. It means pure and innocent and it reminds her of who she is."

That was certainly true.

Mistress grabbed the guest check from the center of the table and stood up. "I'm going to go. I'll pay."

They protested. I protested. But Mistress dragged me to my feet and pushed the keys of the rental into my hand and said, "Go start the car."

"But the movie!" Mistress' sister complained. She is possibly the only person in the family that I like. She's supportive of Mistress' choices.

"We'll meet you there," Mistress promised, and she stalked away from the table. I followed after her with only a single backward glance. I was ashamed already that I had taken out my anger at my mother on Mistress' family. Mistress paid at the hostess desk, and walked out. I ended up tossing her the keys and she opened my door for me, as always.

She drove away from the restaurant.

"What happened?" she asked softly. It was the last thing in the world I expected her to say. I glanced up at her in surprise, so she clarified. "What did your mother say?"

I cleared my throat and answered quietly, "She said she's having you investigated and my father is paying for it. She wants to convince the law that I have been kidnapped and that you're controlling my life."

I expected Mistress to brush it off as if it was nothing. But somehow it was as if she knew that would hurt me. She said, "I'll talk to a lawyer and see if she has any kind of case, okay?" She did not once say I was being silly to let my mother's empty threats frighten me.

I thought we were headed to the movie, and I felt a significant sense of dread about it. I could not sit quietly in a movie after all I had said to insult her family (true or not). And with my mother's words reverberating in my brain.

But Mistress drove up to the hotel. I was surprised. "What are we doing here...?" I saw the arched look she gave me and I knew.

When she got inside, she sat down on the bed and crooked a finger at me. I came, but I said, "What if someone hears?"

She did not seem very worried about that. She pulled me over her lap with practiced ease. I was surprised when she bared me right away, lifting my skirt and tugging at my panties. But I think the biggest shock was that she gave me no warm-up. Her hand was like instant fire coursing through me.

After a couple swats, she paused and said, "Do you trust me?"

"Yes!" I declared. And she smacked me again, jolting me to my core. "Yes, Mistress," I corrected instantly.

It was very rare for Mistress to talk while spanking, but she seemed chatty this night. "Do you know I am going to take care of you?"

"Yes Mistress."

Several hard swats later, she paused again. "You're a part of my family. Did you know that?"

I did not answer, because I pulled a face at the thought of being categorized with the chauvanistic bullies. But then her hand came down in a determined punishment, and I cried out.

"Did you know that?" she repeated calmly.

"Yes," I replied, because I belonged to her, so I was her family.

"That means my brothers are your brothers, and my sister is your sister."

I pulled another face, and not answering her was rewarded with some more hard smacks.

"Okay!" I declared, anything for the assault to stop.

"It's not okay," she answered, "for you to behave like a spoiled child and to swear at and insult my brothers. Your brothers. That's not the way we treat our family."

I wept into the blankets of the bed as she punctuated each rebuke with a few hard swats.

"Okay!" I cried out.

"It's not okay!" she replied. And the drumming on my backside continued. It was impossible for me to be still or quiet. She repositioned me as needed, and continued.

"Mistress, I'm sorry!" I finally cried out. And I was, and not just because my backside was being used as a bongo drum. I really was sorry for the way I had behaved. "I used my anger at my family and lashed out at yours, and I'm sorry."

She was relentless, and I found myself trying to squirm away. She stopped. "Where are you going?" she asked me softly.

I groaned, because that soft tone is a dangerous warning. "You're hurting me," I whined at her.

"What did you think I was trying to do?" she answered. "This isn't a massage, Pura; it's a spanking."

And that was enough to remind me of who I am and what I deserved after my atrocious behavior at dinner. I settled myself back over her knees and submitted completely. It was difficult, because when her hand started again, it was not any softer, and I was sure my backside was on fire. I did not struggle, but it was difficult to remain in place as she drummed the stern beat across my bottom.

Finally, she stopped and said, "Okay," like she was satisfied. She stood me back up on my feet and studied my face. She wiped my tears, but they were instantly replaced by others.

She rose and leaned to kiss me, saying, "It was very sweet of you to try and stick up for me." I glared in confusion at her. And she shook a finger back and forth in front of my eyes in warning. "Careful."

She walked across the room and picked up the keys. I was shocked. No aftercare? There is always aftercare!

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"We're going to the movie," she answered, and I saw a gleam of mischief in her eyes I have never seen before. Her inner sadist, maybe.

My mouth dropped open. "What? We're going to the movie? You just spanked the living daylights out of me! I can't sit through a movie!"

She did not smile, but the gleam got a little brighter. "Pura, you are the one who chose to get into a screaming match in the middle of a crowded restaurant. You are the one who decided to use foul and forbidden language. You are the one who needed a little reminder of who you are and what you mean to me. Consider yourself reminded, and get in the car."

Well, there was simply no arguing with that. I quickly pulled up my panties, wincing as they came in contact with tender skin, and I walked to the door. She opened it for me, and then opened the car door. I eased myself into the car. I managed to hold in a gasp, as I settled but only because she was watching me intently.

She walked around to the other door and got in. She started the car and drove out into traffic. After a moment, she turned and smiled at me.

"You're being mean," I pouted.

She chuckled at that. "It's a two-and-a-half hour movie, Pura. I know exactly how mean I am being."

I winced at her words and bit my lip. Even cushioned movie-theatre seats could not be very comfortable on a freshly spanked backside.

"Mean," I whispered. She had spanked me before the movie deliberately so I would remember who I am while I was sitting with her family. But it wasn't really mean. It was ingenius.

I am sure she giggled about it all through the movie. It was an action movie; it wasn't that funny.

God, I love that girl!