Grace and the Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Grace was not having a good day. Not a good day at all.

The hand fell on her pert bottom with a sharp *SMACK!* and she let out a pained moan, biting her lip not to cry out.

“Please…” she begged for the umpteenth time, “Please, Brea… Stop… Pl—”

She screwed her eyes shut as another heavy slap landed on her sore bottom. Again and again the vengeful hand went down, fast, hard, smacking one cheek then the other like a merciless metronome. The piece was allegro, most definitely.

“Brea!” She managed as her tormentor paused to rub her hand and readjust her over her knees.

“What?” the other girl snapped, “I’ve heard all you had to say. It doesn’t change anything.”

“Please… I— OWww! Please! Pl— Oowww! I… I’ve learnt my— Ooowww… Will you please stooOowww…”

Her begging was turning to sobs, and she could feel the tears starting to run down her cheeks.

“Brea! It was just a pho— Ooowww!”

“What? Just a photograph?! You’ve gotta be kidding me…”

“Hum… No…?” she said, hesitantly, “I mean, I didn’t… You know?”

“You didn’t what? Fuck my boyfriend? Well, damn, thank you, that’s very kind of you!”

“That’s not what I…”

“Whatever you meant, I don’t want to hear it. What I can tell you, though, is that after we’re done, he’s going to receive a very surprising pic…”