Stella stretched, her diary entry complete. Today had been her worst day ever in her 18 years. She had needed to put down her thoughts, as a way to help herself cope with them.

She now felt compelled to re-check her diary entry to ensure she’d done a good job. She carefully reviewed her entry, line by line. This was challenging because of the roaring pain in her freshly spanked ass.

Dear Diary,

I got in big trouble last night because I didn’t do any of my chores. My chores weren’t hard — do the dishes, do some laundry, and vacuum a few rooms. Yet I’d procrastinated until my mom finally came home late at night. When my mom asked me about my chores, I was foolishly insolent and bratty. This made my mom immensely angry, but she was too tired to deal with me after working all day. She promised me I’d receive a spanking the next day and she sent me to bed.

This scared me. I knew telling her “I’m too old” wouldn’t work. I had hoped she would forget about it by morning. I eventually fell asleep by clinging to my hope.

My parents aren’t monsters. We all love each other. My parents have certain expectations of me, though. I often fail to meet even their minimum expectations. I’m notoriously impulsive. I tend to do whatever I want in the moment and think about it later. I endlessly procrastinate on everything I don’t want to do, including chores and homework. I get distracted in the moment by anything fun. I rarely focus on what I’m supposed to focus on. When I’m confronted, my first instinct is to be bratty and whine. Of course, I do whatever comes first into my pretty little head.

Psychologists hadn’t found anything wrong with me. I don’t have ADHD. I’m simply impulsive and I make decisions that drive my parents crazy.

My parents are worried about what will happen when I find a boy I like. They don’t know I’ve had casual sex with dozens of boys. A girl’s pussy has needs, you know? My parents got me the pill, “in case” I became sexually active. I’m no good at remembering to take the pill, though. It’s also hard to remember where I am in my cycle when I see the alluring hint of a hard dick. When I see a dick’s outline I’m reminded of how good it would feel inside me. Soon we’re naked and doing what comes naturally. When I let a boy fuck me, I usually ask him to wear a condom. That’s good, right?

My parents believe in not sparing the rod. When they choose to use it, they are thorough about it. I don’t like it, but I must admit other punishments don’t work at all on me. Grounding me never works. I impulsively do whatever I want when they aren’t around to stop me. I’ll simply leave when I want to leave. Taking things away from me doesn’t work either. They haven’t yet realized I get replacements by performing sexual favors for boys in my school.

Now, I’m not stupid. I’m a bright girl when I decide to apply myself. I know these aren’t completely positive character traits. I don’t want to disappoint my parents. I know their expectations are absurdly low. I know my chores and homework are easy. Yet the situations that disappoint them keep happening to me.

This morning, my mom woke me over an hour early and dragged me from my bed. I was still partly asleep so I couldn’t resist her. In seconds she pulled up my short thin cotton nightie, yanked my panties down to my ankles, and threw me over her ready lap. She began spanking me hard with her jet-black hairbrush. In seconds I was sobbing and screaming like a baby. She walloped my bare bottom and upper thighs. She didn’t take it easy on me. It seemed like hours. As always, she continued to spank me while talking to me. She never lets up until I totally acknowledge my guilt and I agree to change.

She asked, without slowing her discipline, “Stella, why are you getting a spanking?”

“Ow! Because I didn’t do my chores, mommy.”

“Why was it wrong to fail to do your chores?”

“I was disobedient and unsubmissive, ow, ow, mommy.”

Saying “mommy” was important. One rule in the family was that because a spanking was a little girl’s punishment, I had to address her as “mommy” during my spanking sessions. I would have to address my dad as “daddy” in the same circumstance. I found this rule humiliating, but if I didn’t obey the rule, I’d get another rigorous spanking session.

My mom said, “that’s right. What will you do instead?”

“I’ll be obedient and submissive, mommy. I’ll always be a good girl for you, mommy. I will stop being a bad girl. I’ll be obedient and submissive and good for everyone in authority over me. OW! That includes you, mommy. I’ll be obedient and submissive and good for you.”

“Is that all?”

I wasn’t sure if I should say more. It was obvious I hadn’t done my chores, so I had to admit it. I thought my insolence hadn’t been too obvious. Maybe she would overlook it. If I admitted it, she’d spank me for it. I didn’t want more discipline! So, I said nothing. This exasperated my mom.

She said, “young lady, you were also an insolent brat. You’re going to learn to be respectful. So I’m going to spank you for your mouthing off, and give you extra discipline because you didn’t admit it immediately.”

“I’m sorry, mommy! I’m sorry! I was insolent and bratty. I wrongly gave you sass. I didn’t speak to you with the respect I should have given. I’ll be respectful from now on. I’ll be respectful to you and everyone else in authority over me.”

“You certainly will.”

She gave me a long hard spanking. Spank, after spank, after spank, was vigorously applied by the jet-black hairbrush to my naked ass and thighs. She gave me many extra strokes, as she’d promised, to ensure the lessons sunk in. She especially ensured my sit-spots felt raw and on fire. I eventually brought my hands back to defend myself. She gripped my hands, trapping my wrists behind my back. My legs wriggled out of control. She placed my legs in a scissor grip with her legs, regaining control over me. She added extra strokes for resisting my discipline.

When she was done, she sent me to the corner for corner time. She always gave me corner time after spanking me. My parents felt corner time made my spankings more humbling and memorable. They were right.

As required, I pulled all of my nightie’s skirt above my waist. I gathered the skirt between my hands and held it above my tummy. For thirty minutes I kept my nose in the corner and held my nightie’s skirt up high to show off my bruised bare ass and thighs. My panties were pooled at my ankles. My butt and the backs of my upper thighs were on fire. I so wanted to rub my butt, but I knew I’d get another spanking if I did.

I squirmed but I made sure my nose stayed in the corner. The only thing I could see was the corner of the wall. My tears continued to slowly drain off my face from pain and shame. The humiliating results of my discipline for bad behavior would be visible to anyone who entered my room.

Some people might think I’m brave for disobeying my parents’ rules. They’d be wrong. I do what I want, and I think about the consequences later. Spankings change everything. I can’t ignore the throbbing they cause in my ass. As long as the consequences are blazing in my bottom, I’m a complete coward. The throbbing pain in my ass makes me terrified of being caught disobeying, including disobeying corner time rules. Once I’m put in corner time after a spanking, I stay put.

My mom returned and stood behind me. “What have you learned, young lady?”

I tensed and tightly gripped my nightie’s skirt while keeping my nose in the corner. I knew I would be over her lap for another long session if she decided I was resistant, or if I failed to say something she expected me to say. She had a long list of expectations. It would be too easy for me to forget something. My ass would pay a stiff price for forgetting. I was normally impulsive, but her spankings were no joke. Fear gripped me and my heart raced. I stared into the corner and held my skirt up high above my ass. I prepared to speak as carefully and respectfully as I could, even though what I was required to say was humiliating.

“I’m so sorry, mommy. I didn’t do my chores. I was disobedient and unsubmissive. I promise I will be an obedient and submissive girl from now on to anyone in authority over me. I also spoke to you in an insolent and bratty way. I was disrespectful. I promise I will be a respectful girl from now on to anyone in authority over me. I’m a bad girl, mommy. I fully deserve every bit of my punishment. Thank you, mommy, for punishing me the way I deserve to be punished. I’ll be a good girl from now on, mommy. If I’m not a good girl, I’ll expect to be punished even more harshly. Please keep punishing me until I learn to be a good girl, mommy.”

Mom seemed to be satisfied. She released me to get ready for the day. I got ready in a rush, with dripping tears and a blazingly red ass. My distracting pain was mixed with a feeling of humiliation. I wanted to be out of the house, as soon as I could be, before she found another reason to discipline me.

I knew it wouldn’t have been better if my dad was home. Dad is the undisputed Head of the Household. We don’t discuss his absolute authority when we talk with anyone outside the family. We rarely mention it to each other within the family. It’s simply a fact. He is loving, but he also expects swift obedience from me, my mom, and my step-brother.

I knew if I ever wanted to be labeled a bad girl, and receive a swift and harsh discipline for being a bad girl, all I needed to do was question his masculine authority over the family. His rules are the house rules. For example, dad requires all ladies of the house to dress in distinctly feminine ways. I’m not allowed to ever wear pants, shorts, skorts, or even boy shorts. I’m only allowed to wear skirts and dresses as clothes, with feminine undergarments. Again, his rules are the house rules.

I’ve grown up with dad’s authority over me as an integral part of my life. I instinctively know I must obey the masculine leader of the family. When my dad directly gives me an order, I do obey him, fearfully and without delay. My need to immediately submit to the commands of the Man of the House is deeply ingrained in me. I’ve been long trained that a girl must obey the Man of the House, regardless of her age. I also wouldn’t dare directly sass or challenge him. I don’t know what the exact punishment is for disobeying or disrespecting him in his presence, but I’m sure my bare naked ass would pay dearly and repeatedly. I’m not brave enough to do anything that would cause me to find out that penalty. Someday I’ll leave for a man and we’ll start our own family. I’ve accepted that when that time comes, I’ll be obedient and respectful to that man. He will be the unquestioned authority over me and our new family.

Some might think I would never get in trouble if they knew I’m unfailingly obedient and respectful to my dad in his presence. The problem, from my parents’ point of view, is that I don’t stay obedient. Once he’s out of sight, I soon go back to doing whatever I think of doing. I also don’t treat my mom’s orders the same way, even though I’m supposed to obey and respect her too. When dad isn’t present, I often treat my mom’s orders more as “guidelines” and I repeatedly give her sass. She hates all that.

Mom is always submissive and obedient to dad. She reliably does what he says, even when he leaves the scene. Over time she’s earned his trust that she’ll promptly and consistently do his bidding. As a result, dad is comfortable with mom doing most of the discipline of me. My dad is often away on business trips, so it often can’t be helped. When he is home, he still usually lets mom be my judge and executioner.

Even if he had been home today and he had decided to be my discipliner, his verdict would have been the same. His spankings are no gentler on my heinie. His disciplines emotionally feel worse to me. I don’t like knowing mom is displeased with me, but it feels infinitely worse when I’m forced to acknowledge that I’ve displeased the Man of the House. The thought of him disciplining me again started to scare me. I decided I should think about less scary topics. I should instead focus on the present.

I go to a private school. Its uniform requires me to wear a short-sleeved white blouse, low black heels, sheer black tights, and an above-the-knee pleated tartan skirt. The tights hurt as I gingerly pulled them over my outraged butt and thighs. I walked to school, wincing as I went.

At school I sat on hard chairs, squirming from being constantly reminded of my spanking. My roaring butt and sit-spots made it impossible for me to stay seated normally. Everyone could see my discomfort. Everyone who saw me realized I’d been spanked. This was even more humiliating. The rumor mill worked overtime. Soon every student in school knew I’d been spanked hard like a little brat.

One of the students who found out was Brandon, a boy I’d turned down earlier in the year. After I’d turned him down he’d decided to become my tormentor. Brandon’s family had connections in the area, so telling anyone would make it worse.

When the teachers weren’t nearby, Brandon snuck behind me and slapped my ass hard through my skirt. I barely managed to stifle back a cry. The pain forced tears to fall from my eyes.

Brandon snickered, “I see we have a little girl who still needs spankings. Lots of spankings. Maybe I should visit your home to help your parents discipline you. I’m sure they’re tired of doing it themselves. I bet if I put your bare ass over my knees, and I applied a thick paddle to your ass for a long time, you’d learn a lot faster.”

I tightly shut my mouth and threw imaginary daggers at him with my eyes. I looked around and realized we were being carefully observed by many other students. My heart sank when I saw the collection of tartan skirts to my right. The most popular girls in the school had seen the whole thing. They were now openly laughing at me. I knew I had dropped even lower in the school pecking order.

Some of the girls had considered me an enemy long before today. They’d found out I’d sucked their boyfriends’ dicks. The boys had agreed to let me do it. I knew it wouldn’t have been a problem if the boys had simply kept their mouths shut. Their girlfriends didn’t see things the same way. Those girls blamed me and made sure “school slut” was one of my nicknames. My previous nickname was “ImpulStella.” I hadn’t liked my previous nickname either, but “school slut” is worse.

One of the popular girls, Victoria, sashayed towards me wearing her tartan skirt, white blouse, and a condescending smirk. Victoria said, “most girls get it together by your age. It’s too bad you still need bare-bottom spankings. You got one last week too, didn’t you? You’re a really slow learner. You must be a real disappointment to your parents. Maybe we should give your parents some suggestions on how to better teach you while you’re over their knees with your butt bare. We’d be happy to give them ideas on how to make your spanking sessions more memorable and effective. Like, I think they should spank you much harder and for much longer. They should try out different spanking implements to find the one that best gets your attention. I bet we could find a combination that’s especially effective on you, a combination you’d most dread. We could also visit and cheer them on.”

Victoria raised her hand and swiftly brought it down towards my butt. I instinctively moved both of my hands behind me and pulled my hips forward, in a panicked attempt to protect my blazing derrière. Terror shone on my face. She didn’t try to connect, but she’d made her point. There was no denying that I’d been spanked hard like a little brat. The surrounding crowd understood and appreciated the confirmation. The other girls giggled at me.

Embarrassment washed over me. My humiliation was complete. I knew I’d never live this day down.

I tearily looked at the clique of popular girls. All were dressed in white blouses, pleated tartan skirts, and sheer black tights. All were laughing at me. I felt awful. This was so unfair.

I imagined all their boyfriends sitting here, with each girl bent over her boyfriend’s lap. I imagined each girl with her panties and tights down, her skirt up, and her bare butt exposed to all. In my daydream each girl was publicly receiving a hard thrashing with a cane from her boyfriend. I was so glad to see each girl screaming and crying. I rejoiced seeing the uncountable dark red cuts in each girl’s ass. In my mind’s eye, each naked ass was shamefully displayed to the public as she got the discipline she so deserved. I imagined each one begging me for mercy. I imagined haughtily denying their requests. I enjoyed my waking dream, seeing the terror on their faces as they realized they would never receive mercy from me. I smiled imagining their mixture of endless pain and endless humiliation. I whispered to Victoria’s boyfriend to hit her even harder. In my head he grinned and began caning Victoria even harder on her exposed bare butt.

My reverie ended. I instead saw and felt the clique’s unified withering condescension. Here, in the real world, I was utterly alone and powerless. My roaring butt made it clear I was not in control. My heart crumpled. I ran away in tears to the girls’ bathroom. I briefly sobbed in a stall. After collecting myself, I left the bathroom and miserably endured the rest of a humiliating day.

As soon as school ended I rushed towards home. My tights were still constricting my ass and thighs, amplifying the pain. I desperately wanted to remove my tights and panties, pull my skirt up, and lie on my stomach. The entrapped heat was unbearable. Every step of my walk home reminded me of my morning’s discipline session.

I took an alley to save time, even though my parents had a strict rule that I was never allowed to use that shortcut. They thought the alley was too dangerous for a girl. I didn’t want another spanking, but I was sure my parents wouldn’t catch me. They wouldn’t be anywhere nearby.

Unfortunately, Brandon knew where I lived and had guessed what I’d do. When I turned a blind corner in the alley I was suddenly gagged and had my wrists pinned behind me. My tormentor and two of his male friends brought me into an abandoned building. They were all older and stronger and bigger than me. I struggled but I never had a chance to break free.

I was brought to the basement of the abandoned building. Brandon sat on a straight-backed chair and laid me across his lap. I found myself again staring at the floor. His accomplices tied my crossed wrists behind my back, tied my ankles together, pulled up my tartan skirt, and pulled my tights and panties all the way down to my ankles. They also taped the gag onto my face. One of them held my ankles down, making it clear there was no escape. I was a prisoner, with my bare butt fully exposed on his lap.

Brandon began, “Cunt, you’ve been disrespectful to me all year. You keep tempting me with your body without following through. You need to pay for being a cocktease. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to give you a spanking. You keep getting them, so clearly you aren’t good at learning how to behave. I think I’ll provide some help. It looks like fun — for me.”

I looked back to see what he had planned. Brandon raised a jet-black hairbrush high up. He brought it crashing down onto my bare butt. I tried to scream, but the gag prevented it. He applied stroke, after stroke, after stroke. He occasionally stopped to put his hand around my torso to stroke my pussy and play with my clit. He eventually put his hand up under my blouse, unsnapped my bra, and stroked my bare C cup breasts under my blouse while I was helplessly laid across his lap. He pinched and twisted each of my nipples, one at a time, until I wriggled in pain. He repeatedly alternated between sexually assaulting my body and applying additional paddlings with the hairbrush. He made it perfectly clear he was in control, and I was not.

For over an hour I was his plaything on his lap. Once he’d had his fun, and I had been thoroughly cowed, he released me and untied my wrists. He unceremoniously dumped me onto the ground in front of him. I got up into a kneeling position in front of him. I removed the gag and gasped for air. I looked up into his face.

Brandon said, “it’s time for you to stop being a cocktease. Suck me off. Make it good, or you’ll regret it.”

If I was braver, I might have thought to hurt him. After a long discipline session I was a coward, through and through. I meekly undid his zipper and gently pulled out his hardened cock. I licked his cock, then thrust it down my throat. I slurped and stroked with all my might. I gave him the best blowjob I could give. He soon ejaculated into my mouth. I swallowed it all.

“Next,” said Brandon. He switched places with one of his henchmen. I gave each of his henchmen my finest blowjobs. Soon I had pleasured all of three of the men.

Brandon said, “if you mention this to anyone, cunt, worse will happen to you. We’ll ensure you regret it if you do.”

I obediently said, “yes, sir.” What else could I do? I knew I couldn’t do anything. Brandon’s family could easily twist the courts against me. If I admitted I had walked down the alleyway to my parents, I would receive a lengthy discipline session. I put my clothes back on and slowly trudged home.

When I finally got home and opened the front door, I found my mom waiting for me. She angrily told me, “young lady, go to your room immediately and sit on your bed. Do nothing else. Wait for me there.” My heart sank, but I knew disobedience would make things worse. I went straight to my room, still wearing my shoes, and sat on my bed. I waited as my butt reminded me why I wanted to change. I didn’t dare change. I might be disciplined for disobeying her command. I closed my eyes and kept trying, unsuccessfully, to breathe away the pain. I waited, and waited, and waited. I wondered what she thought I had done wrong. I didn’t think she would know about my shortcut through the alleyway.

When my mom came in, over an hour later, she brought her jet-black hairbrush. I stared at it in fear. My heart raced. I was now certain I was going to get another hard spanking. She only brought the hairbrush into my room when she was determined to spank me with it.

She sat down on my chair and icily said, “I found your illegal drugs. Again.” She showed me my secret bag of meth. How the hell had she found it? It didn’t matter. I knew I was in big trouble. My parents had a strict “no drugs” policy. They believed illegal drugs were the height of irresponsible behavior. The last time they’d found my drugs, mom had promised me that I would receive a thorough spanking if she found any more.

Once she told me she’d found my stash, I remembered every detail of the last time she had found them. I especially remembered exactly what she said she would do.

She angrily asked, “what did I say would happen if you were caught possessing or using illegal drugs? Tell me exactly what I said would happen. You should remember it word for word.” I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to say anything. It was embarrassing to say anything out loud. She repeated her question. I knew I would be punished even more if I didn’t answer her. Vaguely admitting it seemed wisest. I forced myself to quietly say, “You said I’d get a spanking.”

She replied, “No. No, not a spanking. I said you’d get a thorough spanking. You are either lying or you’re not good at remembering important things. I know exactly how to help you to stop lying and to start remembering important things. Get over here now, young lady.”

I reluctantly walked to where she was sitting. She said, “raise your skirt.” I pulled up the front of my tartan skirt. She grabbed the top of my black tights. She rapidly pulled down both my tights and panties, all the way to my ankles. My lower privates were completely exposed. She draped me over her lap and peeled off my low heels. She hiked up all of my skirt, so my butt and thighs had no protection. She guided my wrists behind my back and gathered them with her left hand. She trapped my legs with a scissor grip of her legs. Her hold on me was incredibly strong, like a man’s.

Once again, on the same day, I was staring at the floor. There was no way for me to escape. I was completely vulnerable. My bare bottom and thighs were at her mercy. I tensed up. My eyes dilated in terror. I knew this next session would be awful.

She began walloping my sore bottom and upper thighs with her jet-black hairbrush. She spanked, and spanked, and spanked with all her might. Every strike hurt ten times worse than this morning. I instinctively kicked as my ass was pummeled.

“OW! OW!! I’m sorry, mommy! I’m so sorry, mommy!”

“What did you do wrong?”

“I bought and hid illegal drugs. OW! I was irresponsible. OW! I promise I will never possess illegal drugs again. OW, oh NO! OH! I promise I will be responsible from now on. Mommy! OW! PLEASE! Oh, GOD. PLEASE. Mommy, I promise! I’ll be responsible, mommy! I’ll do everything you say mommy! Ow! OOOW! PLEASE! PLEASE STOP! Mommy! I’ll do anything, mommy! ANYTHING!”

“Oh, you will learn to be responsible. You will learn to be obedient. I am beyond disappointed in you. You have been told countless times about how you need to change your behavior, yet you keep pushing or ignoring the simple boundaries we set. You ignore our repeated warnings. Do you remember what I said earlier, about getting a thorough spanking?”

“Yes, mommy, yes, mommy!”

“You lied to me earlier, didn’t you? I think you remembered I said it’d be a thorough spanking when I first asked you. Did you lie to me? Tell me the truth!”

“Yes, mommy, I lied to you. OW! I didn’t tell you the whole truth. I’m so sorry, mommy!”

“You’re a liar. You’re going to get extra strokes for lying on top of the spanking you earned. You earned a whopper of a spanking before you lied. I promised you a thorough spanking if I ever found you had illegal drugs again, didn’t I?”

“Yes, mommy! Yes, mommy!”

“Unlike you, I keep my promises.”

My mom whaled on my bare ass and thighs as hard as she could. The harsh slaps of the hairbrush on my unprotected skin repeated without end. She was so done with me and my terrible behavior. I whined and pleaded, to no avail. I was soon in hysterics. My mom showed no mercy. She gave me a long hard spanking, as if it was my first one of the day. My ass soon throbbed with pain. She added many, many, many extra strokes. She spanked, and spanked, and spanked, with harsh and pitiless strikes. She followed them with even more. When I was sure it couldn’t hurt any more, she proved me wrong, again and again. I screamed, and begged, and pleaded. She was having none of it.

After a long, long time, she stopped. My sobbing was uncontrollable. My deeply reddened face was a wet mess of tears, snot, and spit. Bubbles of snot had formed on my nose. My spit wettened my chin and neck. My tears dripped onto the floor. I repeatedly gasped as I tried to catch my breath. My ass and upper rear thighs were volcanically burning to the bone. My ass and thighs throbbed with pain.

I was once again sent to the corner for corner time. I again gathered my skirt above my tummy. My panties and tights surrounded my ankles. I again kept my nose in the corner. I kept my eyes closed, unsuccessfully trying to shut out the world. My tears and sobs unendingly flowed out. My tears and blubbering and whimpering wet the corner where my face was planted. As required, I gripped my skirt at the front and held it up high to show off my bare butt and upper thighs. Everything from my waist to my ankles was completely exposed. The humiliating results of my discipline were again visible to anyone who entered my room. I was in agony from the overwhelming pain in my blazing butt and thighs. I clutched my skirt tightly to keep myself from rubbing my butt and receiving another spanking. I trembled from pain and fear and shame. I heard mom leave. I didn’t dare change position until she released me. I continuously wept and whimpered in the corner.

After fifteen minutes I heard a male voice behind me. “I’m glad you got what’s coming to you.”

Could this day get any worse? I realized my step-brother Bob was behind me. Of course he would show up now. I had been so busy blubbering that I hadn’t heard him enter my room. How long had he been there?

Bob is more than three years older than me. We have always hated each other. My parents have long treated him as a responsible adult, while they have always treated me as an irresponsible child. I hated that Bob was seeing me like this, but I stayed in the corner. If I moved my nose out of the corner, or if I let my skirt down to cover myself, Bob would tell mom the moment I did it. Mom would believe him, and I’d get another harsh paddling from mom. I would do anything to avoid another paddling today. Bob spoke again.

“Thanks, this was a great video, as well as some awesome stills. I’m going to earn a lot from this. You have a lot of enemies who will enjoy seeing you brought down a peg.”

Oh, joy. Of course he recorded a video. I angrily whimpered, “perv.”

“Brat.”

I could hear him leave. I knew his new video of me, with some edits, would be shared with my enemies at school before tomorrow morning. My humiliations never seemed to end.

Bob had ended up in the family because Bob was the child of my dad’s first wife. Dad had adopted Bob when dad had married her. Dad’s first wife had later unexpectedly died. My dad remarried and I was born three-and-a-half years after Bob’s birth. Here we are, a complicated family. My parents have two children. I was my parents’ only child by blood, but I was also the only child who endlessly embarrassed my family. Bob was the only child in my family who made my parents proud.

I hated Bob. Whenever I was compared to Bob, and it happened constantly, it never reflected well on me. “Stella, do your homework and chores like Bob does!” Yeah, yeah. “Stella, you should be more responsible, like Bob!” Grr, how infuriating! “Bob never behaved as badly as you, even when he was younger than you are now.” Yeah, I know, he’s always been the good kid. I’ve always been the bad kid. I had heard so many variations. Ugh. Bob studied hard, exercised, got things done on time, did what he promised, rarely lied, was respectful towards my parents, and in every other way his mere existence made me look bad to them. I’m my parents’ only child by blood, shouldn’t I get a break? My parents believed that girls should be consistently submissive and obedient, while men should lead their homes. My behavior didn’t meet their ideals in the slightest. Bob’s behavior did reflect my parents’ ideals. I hated him for it. Bob was living proof to my parents that they weren’t bad parents — I was simply a bad girl.

Our antipathy was mutual. Bob deeply disapproved of my antics. He felt my bad reputation unfairly hurt his reputation. He enjoyed seeing when karma arrived for me and put me in my place.

When my thirty minutes in the corner were up, my mom returned to my room and stood behind me. “I flushed your illegal drugs down the toilet. What have you learned, young lady?”

I knew enough to keep my nose in the corner and my skirt pulled high. I couldn’t see it, but I knew her jet-black hairbrush would be in her hand. That hairbrush would be ready for another long session on my ass and thighs if she decided I should receive another session. Mom was clearly in a mood to look for reasons to discipline me further.

As I tried to gather my thoughts, I felt the smooth back of the hairbrush gently rest on my bare butt. It didn’t hurt, by itself. Its cool touch was her cold-blooded warning. I understood that even the smallest infraction now would be met with another paddling I’d never forget. Maybe more than one. Overwhelming fear and submissiveness washed over me and through me. Any resistance I might have wielded was crushed to dust.

I tearfully stared into the corner and replied, “I’m so sorry, mommy. I bought and hid illegal drugs, even though you’d told me not to. I was disobedient and irresponsible. I promise I will be an obedient and responsible girl from now on, mommy. I also didn’t tell you the whole truth. I’m a liar. I’m a bad girl, mommy. I fully deserve every bit of my punishment, mommy. Thank you, mommy, for punishing me the way I deserve to be punished. I’ll be a good girl from now on, mommy. If I’m not a good girl, I’ll expect to be punished even more harshly. Please keep punishing me until I learn to be a good girl, mommy.”

“That’s better. We’ll be done soon, but we aren’t done yet. You may leave the corner. You must stay in your room until tomorrow. Take all your clothes off and put them in your hamper. Put your shoes in your closet.”

“Yes mommy!” I left the corner in relief. My burning ass and thighs fed a powerful fear of displeasing her. My fears in turn crushed my willfulness. In the moment I was docile, submissive, and desperate to please. I stripped off all my clothes and deposited them in the hamper. I obediently placed my low heels in my closet with the rest of my shoes. My nakedness made me feel even more vulnerable.

To my surprise, she zipped up the hamper’s top and locked it with a padlock. She went to my dresser, put a bar across the drawers, and locked the bar with another padlock. She put a bike chain through the closet doors and padlocked them tightly as well.

This was new. I stared at her, in pain and in confusion. She sat down and addressed me.

“Stella, until further notice, you’re grounded. You must have permission to be outside the house except for school. You must come home immediately after school. We’re well aware you often sneak out while you’re grounded. So after you come home from school, you aren’t allowed to wear any clothes until it’s time for you to wake up the next day to go to school. Someone else will use the keys to take your clothes away and give you access to them when you need them. Oh, and you aren’t allowed to close your bedroom door.”

“Daddy and Bob will see everything!”

“They’ve seen it before.”

“What about weekends?”

“You’ll be naked all weekend, every weekend, until further notice. You need to learn some humility.”

“What about when I go on my period?”

“When you’re on your period, I’ll give you a thick cloth square for you to sit on at home. At bedtime, if you’re on your period, you’ll be allowed to wear panties with a pad. Don’t you dare lie about being on your period. You’ll be disciplined for lying.”

Well, shit. This will be humiliating. This new rule about wearing no clothes, along with padlocks to enforce it, will make it much harder for me to impulsively sneak out of the house while I’m grounded. Even worse, this will be an absolute gift to Bob. He’ll get rich from selling pictures and videos of me naked. Mom wasn’t done. She spoke again.

“We clearly haven’t spanked you enough. You are a disobedient, disrespectful, irresponsible lying brat. From now on, if you do anything other than be a perfectly good little girl, you’ll have a thorough spanking session exactly like that, every morning and every night, for a week. I’m done being tolerant. If you show even a little disobedience, a little brattiness, a little lie, a little procrastination, a little irresponsibility, or do anything else wrong, you’ll receive a week-long twice-daily thrashing you won’t forget. That’s the rule from now on. Do you understand me, you disobedient bad little girl?”

My face turned white. “Yes, ma’am! Yes, ma’am! Mommy, I understand!”

“If you understand, ask me to discipline you that way from now on when you’re bad. If you won’t ask, or you don’t do a good job asking me to do it, I’m going to repeatedly discipline you until you do. It’ll be worse each time.”

My eyes went wide. I knew I’d better obey fast. “Mommy, I’m so sorry I’ve been a bad girl. From now on, when I’ve been a bad girl, please spank me thoroughly the same way you did tonight. Please spank me hard every morning and every evening for a whole week. Don’t hold back, mommy. I know I need harsh punishments. Make me regret being a bad girl, mommy. Please keep punishing me thoroughly until I learn to be a good girl, mommy.”

I now knew what would happen if I was a bad girl again. I couldn’t face one more session like that any time soon. A week of those? Morning and night? I was thoroughly terrified. I knew I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t. I couldn’t.

She nodded. “Trust me, that is exactly what’s going to happen to you if you are ever a bad girl again. You may be wondering how we can enforce rules when your dad and I are out. From now on, Bob will be your babysitter whenever we’re out. He’s a man and you’re a girl. This is a good opportunity for you to learn proper feminine submissiveness and respectfulness to masculine authority. He’s now authorized to discipline you harshly for disobedience when he’s babysitting you. He’s strong. I’m sure he’ll get the point across. Whenever we get home we’ll decide if any such discipline should be extended for a week. It almost certainly will.”

Oh god. I know exactly what the perv will do with his new authority over me. As my babysitter he’ll be continuously creating pictures and videos of my nude body. He’ll direct me into compromising and humiliating positions. I won’t dare disobey. He’ll be looking for reasons to discipline me, discipline me hard, and sell videos of those discipline sessions too.

I couldn’t imagine anything Bob would enjoy doing more than taking me over his lap and giving me a long, painful thrashing while I’m buck naked. He’s always felt I keep ruining his good name. His goal will be to humiliate me and punish me as payback, and perhaps make some money on the side. I’ll be repeatedly nude, over his lap, staring at the floor, and receiving a lengthy brutal punishment on my ass. I know every episode will be video recorded for the world to see later. I’ll try to not cry, but he’ll take my resistance as a challenge. I can’t resist forever.

I know a lot of people will be willing to pay for those pictures and videos. Every inch of my body will soon be exposed. I can’t even tell my parents this, or I’ll get spankings for lying. My parents have caught me in so many lies that they always believe him over me. I said nothing. I bowed my head to acknowledge my fate.

My mom had one more item to add. “We’re grounding you like a little brat. So, until further notice, you must address and refer to me as mommy. You must also address and refer to your father as daddy. You must address us that way often when talking with us. This is not optional. Do you understand what will happen to you if you ever disobey this rule? Do you understand what will happen to you if you’re a bad little girl?”

I gulped. “Yes, mommy! I understand! Yes, mommy!”

My mom left my room in angry triumph. Her jet-black hairbrush was still in her hand. I couldn’t help but stare in fear at her hairbrush as she left. A week of that hairbrush, twice a day? Applied harshly for a long time each time? I was petrified.

I slowly collapsed onto the floor in a puddle of tears. I was full of pain. I was full of shame. I was full of humiliation. I was full of terror. I couldn’t even be angry at her. I knew I deserved a harsh correction from her. I knew she needed to ground me and have someone babysit me. I cannot be trusted on my own. I am a bad girl.

Fifteen minutes later, Bob entered my room. I hurriedly rolled to my side. I covered my nipples with my left arm. I tried to cover my pussy with my other hand. I curled into a fetal position, in a failed attempt to protect my modesty. My C-cup breasts spilled around my arm and were impossible to fully cover. My bruised ass and thighs were his to see. Whenever I tried to hide one part of my naked body, another part was revealed. I was intensely aware of my nakedness. I felt ashamed and exposed. Bob was seeing a lot of my body. I groveled at his feet. I looked up through my tears and pain to see his triumphant smile. His six foot height loomed over me. He could lay down the law. His bulging muscles could easily enforce any rule he set.

Bob happily proclaimed, “I have my first commission! Tomorrow afternoon we’ll make a nice long video. You’ll first do a strip tease and show off all of your nude body. After that, you’ll shave your cunt bare, kneel, and masturbate until you cum. Everything you do will be recorded. Make sure you smile for the camera the whole time! Be respectful to me at all times, too. If you don’t fully cooperate, I’ll add a lengthy harsh discipline session of you to the video, including corner time and a humiliating confession. I think giving you a long over-the-knee session with a leather strap and a cane will get your attention, if you need any disciplining. You would be nude the whole time I discipline you, of course. I can’t wait until you give me the tiniest reason to discipline you. It would give me such pleasure to give you the spankings you need! I expect I’ll earn a nice profit no matter what we record. I suggest you cooperate. Say ‘yes, sir.’”

My eyes grew. I looked up at him, standing tall over me. I was still in my debased position on the floor. I was intensely aware I was in pain, naked, and ashamed. I cowered on the floor. I unsuccessfully tried to curl my body into nothingness. I shivered below the man who had terrible power over me. His control of me was undeniable. Tears filled my eyes. My overwhelming fear compelled me to meekly say, “yes, sir.”

Bob walked out wearing a malevolent smile. I laid on the floor, dumbfounded.

I can’t leave home. I’m completely financially dependent on my parents. It’s more than that, too. I know I need the structure they impose. Yes, I constantly resist and test their rules. I try to get away with whatever I can. I immediately do whatever stupid ideas pop into my head. I don’t like being punished. Many people will think their punishments are excessive. Bob is clearly going to exploit me, too. I also know, though, that they’ll do their best to pull me back from the brink of total self-destruction when I run toward my worst ideas.

I’m my own worst enemy. My lack of self-control would utterly ruin me if I was on my own. On my own, in a month I’d become a whore controlled by some pimp. I’d be a destitute drug addict in a year, and dead on the streets in two. No one else honorable would be willing to put up with all the shit I give people. Someone dishonorable would find a million ways to exploit my impulsiveness. I’m not proud of it, but I know I can’t make it on my own.

After an hour I’d recovered somewhat. I pulled out my diary and started writing this entry. While naked, of course. I feel so alone and ashamed now. My butt and the back of my upper thighs are blazing with pain. I’m sure my bottom will be sore for many days ahead.

Our family dinner in two days will be a bitch. I’ll have to walk to the table, naked. I’ll try to cover my tits in my left arm and my pussy with my right hand. I’ll feel like I’m going to die of shame. I’ll have to gingerly sit down on my butt on a hard wooden chair. I’ll cross my legs to try to cover my lower privates. My sit-spots will scream in pain and bring tears to my eyes. I’ll keep adjusting from one painful position to another throughout dinner. My skin will stick to my stupid chair, and every change in position will hurt as my skin peels off the chair. I’ll need to eat with my right hand while trying to keep my tits covered with my left arm. If that wasn’t enough humiliation, I’ll need to keep saying “mommy,” “daddy,” and “sir.”

I’m often a brat at dinner, but between the pain and the shame I know I’ll be a docile lamb at our next family dinner. Dad will ask me to recount what I did to deserve discipline, as he usually does after a discipline session. I’ll have to share every detail and endure his keen disapproval about what I’ve done. Mom will remind me that I deserved my punishment because I’ve been a bad little girl. I’ll have to agree with her. My pride will die as I say, in front of my whole family, “I’m sorry I was a bad girl. Thank you, mommy, for disciplining me the way I deserved. Please keep punishing me until I learn to be a good girl, mommy.”

Wait, do I have to refer to her as “mommy” even in this diary? I hope not! My diary is supposed to be private! I feel like it’s too late to go back and fix my entries to say “mommy” and “daddy.” Oh god. Will I be punished even more? I am so afraid of any more discipline.

Mommy, if you’re reading this, PLEASE don’t punish me for what I wrote here!! I didn’t mean to be disrespectful, mommy and daddy! I didn’t! I’m doing my best to be an obedient good girl, mommy and daddy! I am! It was an accident, mommy and daddy! I’ll do anything if you won’t punish me any more! PLEASE don’t punish me again, mommy! PLEASE!

I’m so scared. I never ever want this discipline to happen again. The physical pain is too much. My heart is racing. It’s pounding loudly from me thinking about the possibility of receiving more such discipline. I am terrified. I also feel so ashamed about what I’ve done. I am consumed with remorse.

I’ve made my decision. I’m going to change. From now on I’ll always be obedient and submissive and respectful to everyone in authority over me. I’ll also be responsible and truthful and carefully follow every rule. I’ve learned my lesson. I will be a submissive girl, through and through.

My days of focusing on what I want to do are over. I will be eager to please others. I will be meek and promptly obedient. I will humbly obey others. I will be docile and submissive. I will never be resistant or unsubmissive again.

I vow that I will always be a good girl from now on. From this moment onward, I will always be a perfect good girl.