“Yes, Ma’am,” Lanie squeaks out before hurrying over to the chair and plopping herself down into it.
Without saying another word, Auntie Gray turns and pulls me along behind her toward the back of the store, where there is a single bathroom. Stepping inside, with me right behind her, she locks us inside before finally releasing her hold on my arm.
“I’m going to need a minute, because I do not trust myself to spank you right now.” Fury reverberates through every syllable, and I wish desperately for the ground to open up and swallow me whole so I don’t have to face her terrifying anger. “What were you thinking, little girl, disappearing on me like that? What the hell got into you?”
Before I can answer, she bulldozes forward. “And then I find you just chatting away with Sheriff Donnelly, like you’re old pals. Seriously, Tabitha Grace, do you not haveanysense of self-preservation?”
Oh, crap. I’m in so much trouble. “I–I didn’t know that was the sheriff. I’m sorry, Auntie.”
Glaring at me, she jabs a finger in my direction. “It’s a little late for apologies, little girl. What did I tell you would happen if you left this store without me?”
Uh-oh. I forgot about that particular threat. “Um… I don’t remember.”
Auntie Gray’s brows rise. “You don’t remember?”
“N-no, Auntie,” I lie.
“Hmm. Then I suppose I’ll have to be very sure to make this a lesson you don’t forget.”
My stomach twists as she reaches into her bag and pulls out the heavy wooden hairbrush I remember from my wedding day. I can’t help but whimper at the memory of it connecting with my bare bottom.
“Please don’t spank me, Auntie! I won’t ever wander off again, I promise!”
“Trust me, little girl, by the time I’m done, you won’t ever eventhinkof pulling anything like this again. Come here, Tabitha Grace.”
I don’t want a spanking. Idefinitelydon’t want a spanking from that horrible hairbrush, in a public bathroom.
But I also don’t want to make things worse on myself. Because not only will Auntie Gray spank me extra hard, I don’t even want to know what Daddy will do when I get home if she has to tell him I acted like a total brat during a spanking.
So even though it’s the last thing I want, I drag myself forward to stand in front of Auntie Gray. She makes quick work of my diaper, the whole time lecturing me about how Little girls can’t just go off by themselves in public places.
By the time she bends me over under her arm, my skirts flipped up to expose my bare bottom, silent tears are already slipping down my nose.
The first swat rings out like a gunshot in the small room, and the thought that someone might hear us is the only thing that keeps me from crying out as she lights my butt on fire. With rapid-fire precision, she spanks me over and over, until I can’t help but wiggle against her hold in a desperate attempt to escape.
And when she targets that sensitive spot at the tops of my thighs, the pain overrides my worry that we might be overheard. “Owie, owie, I’m sorry, Auntie! I’m sorry!”
“You certainly will be by the time we’re done here. You were very, very naughty today, Tabitha Grace. We talked about the rules before we even stepped foot in this store and you still decided those rules didn’t apply to you. I’m very disappointed in your behavior today, little girl.”
Her words sting even more than her hand connecting with my bottom. “I’m sorry! Please, Auntie, I’m sorry!”
Finally, the spanking ends, and Auntie Gray sighs as she rubs her hand over my aching flesh. “You’re a good girl, Tabby. But you made some very naughty decisions today. So you’re getting ten with Auntie’s brush and when we get home, you’re going to go straight to your Daddy’s office and tell him what you did. Are we understood?”
“Y-yes, Ma’am.”
“Good girl. I want you to count these out loud and think about how very sad we all would have been if anything had happened to you today.”
That first crack of the brush against my already sore skin knocks the breath from my lungs and I have to breathe through my nose a couple times before I can get the first count out.
“One.”
Another swat, another hundred bees stinging my skin where the heavy wood landed. “Two!”
Three, four, five. By six I’m sobbing so loudly I can barely manage the count. Seven and eight are both delivered to my sit-spots and I just know that the ride home is going to be miserable.
“Last two, sweet girl, and these are going to be extra hard to help you remember Auntie’s rules when she gives them to you. Are you ready, honey?”
“Y-y-yes, Auntie,” I somehow manage to choke out even though I am not at all ready.
