Brenda Hits The Skids Part One (Patreon)

Chapter One

It was the end of the road for Brenda-- she’d lost her job at the high-class gentleman’s club she’d been dancing topless at for the last couple of years, and her landlord wanted her out by the 30th since she’d spent the last three month’s rent money on make-up and shoes. So Brenda turned up on my doorstep, sullen and pouty and looking for a handout.

     And why, exactly, would I let a little brat like Brenda into my life, you might ask? What did I stand to gain from opening my hearth and home to a girl who cheated and lied as easily as breathing, who had lost nearly every job she’d ever had, and who had generally been a parasite every moment of her life since the day she was born?

     Simple... aside from the fact that Brenda possessed many traits prized by the superficial male, it provided me with an excellent chance to get the little minx under my control for a while... and so I agreed to let her stay with me until she found a new job (a difficult task at this point, considering the state of her resume)-- with a few conditions:

1) That, in lieu of paying rent, she handle the housekeeping during the day, including dusting, shopping, washing dishes and floors, scrubbing the bathroom and generally keeping things tidy (but no cooking or laundry-- no way was I going to let Brenda near anything I was planning on eating or wearing.)

2) That I reserved the right to punish her for behavioural infractions or shirking her duties in the form of a spanking, to be delivered on the seat of her pants, for up to as many as 50 swats with the hand or 30 with a hairbrush.

3) I reserved the right to review, revise, and add to these rules as necessary. Brenda would, of course, be told of any updates and have an opportunity to decline and seek living arrangements elsewhere if she so desired (ha!)

     Of course, Brenda balked at these restrictions, and attempted to whine and even bribe her way out of them... but I stood fast, and in the end she was forced to agree to my terms, muttering darkly as she went out to her car to carry in her luggage. I smiled and watched her go, her pert, round tushy straining against the tightly clinging material of her yoga pants as she went. I smiled to myself-- somehow, I knew that I was going to enjoy having Brenda stay with me.

     If only I knew.

Chapter Two

Well, you probably won’t be surprised to hear that Brenda wasn’t much of a maid... The dishes were spotty, she missed the corners when she mopped the floor, her dusting was sloppy, and as far as the mildew in the tub went, she was almost useless.  

     And I was happy as a clam about the whole thing. Why? Because I was doling out spankings to Brenda left and right-- sometimes four times a week. It was always easy to find an excuse to give Brenda a quick ten smacks, and she got one sound, 50 swat hand spanking per week, not to mention one or two 30 swat hairbrush spankings per month.

     Our spanking routine was simple: I would call Brenda into the room and deliver a stern lecture about what she’d done and why it was important to follow the rules and take our jobs seriously (all while Brenda glared at me hatefully from under her thick and lustrous eyelashes.) Then, having dragged the moment out as long as possible, I’d instructed her to come around to my right side. I’d take her hand gently and lead her across my lap, smiling as she draped herself across my knees, fuming the entire time. Then, I’d place a fatherly palm over her backside as I delivered the second part of my lecture, generally focusing on the value of hard work and discipline, all while occasionally patting, rubbing, and squeezing her plump, rounded tushy for emphasis. For her part, Brenda would huff and sigh and squirm irritably, nervously awaiting the first swat.

     After I felt like she’d twisted in the wind for long enough, I’d deliver the first spank, which never failed to raise an outraged squawk. The speed and intensity of the spanking generally depended on the severity of the infraction-- a simple “maintenance” spanking would be delivered slowly, with a maximum amount of condescension designed to increase her embarrassment.  

     A more severe spanking would be delivered with a more rapid-fire pace, designed to redden her rump and bring out a stinging, red heat that she’d carry around for the next day or so, and there were few things I enjoyed more then watching Brenda wince every time she sat for the next day after a hard spanking. Brenda never accepted her punishments with stoicism, and she would shriek and scream and buck and howl, and I’d frequently be forced to pin one of her arms behind her back in order to keep her in place.  She’d generally curse and scream insults at me (which, of course, would earn her extra swats.)

     But the spanking was just the first phase of the evening’s entertainment-- the real fun began once I had finished and let her go. No matter how hard or light the spanking may have been, Brenda always made a big show of rubbing her backside afterwords, and even a light, slow, 10 swat hand spanking would result in her frantically rubbing her hiney, hissing in pain and bouncing in place. After a hard one, I was treated to a funny dance as she hopped from foot to foot, rubbing her throbbing rump and whooping with exaggerated agony.

     I would watch her funny war dance for a minute or so, then banish her to the corner for an hour. I’d watch her squirm and pout for a while, wriggling in place and eager to rub her fanny... but well aware that doing so would earn her further smacks.

     Once corner time was over, it was time for bed. If it was early enough in the day, that meant into her PJs and into bed for a two hour nap, regardless of whether or not she was tired. If it was after 6 pm, that  meant bedtime, and no matter how much Brenda whined and pouted, she had 15 minutes to get into her pyjamas and be in bed before I came in to tuck her in and kiss her good-night... otherwise, she was risking another spanking.

     And why, exactly, was Brenda willing to put up with all this? Why would a grown woman in the modern world submit herself to such undignified treatment, just to avoid paying rent and getting a job? Simple... on some level, Brenda enjoyed taking spankings as much as I enjoyed doling them out. I believe on some level she knew she needed a good spanking every now and then, if only because it made her feel less guilty for leading a life of sloth and indolence. She had the itch. I was more than happy to scratch it. On this level, we got along just fine from the beginning.

Chapter Three

But as fate would have it, that wasn’t the end of Brenda’s bad habits... and as it turned out, it was only the beginning of our disciplinarian relationship.

One day as I was preparing to do some wash, I came across some of Brenda’s clothes mixed in with my own. As I made a mental note of the incident, and wondered to myself if this wasn’t too flimsy of a reason to put her over my knee for a spanking, I came across a pair of Brenda’s panties... and was shocked at what I saw. The panties were frilly and lacy and had a pale pink color... all except the seat, which had a thick brown skid mark running right up the middle. I stared at it for a long moment, almost disbelieving... I knew Brenda was untidy, and a nominee for the world’s worst housekeeper... but I’d always assumed her personal hygiene was a different story.

But there they were, as undeniable a fact of life as the grand canyon or the moons of mars... The long, dark stain stared back at me from the inside of her panties,  all crusty and brown, whispering the obvious truth to me.

Still, I knew I shouldn’t jump to conclusions... One stained pair of panties didn’t indicate a pattern. So I dug through her hamper, searching for further evidence.  

It arrived almost immediately... a second pair of panties, more lightly stained this time, followed by a third that were about the same as the first pair that was mixed in with my stuff. Then I discovered a fourth pair-- skid mark nothing, these looked like little Brenda had taken a full blown dump in them! The conclusion was inescapable: apparently, Brenda didn’t wipe her butt properly.

Armed with this knowledge, I decided it was time to take Brenda to the next level... whether she wanted to come along or not.

Chapter Four

She was out at the store, so I had time to carefully set up my display on a towel I laid out on her bedspread in her room-- four pairs of soiled panties, inside out with the stained seats up. I smiled when I heard the door open: “Brenda!” I called down the stairs, “could you come up here please?”

     “What does that old goat want now?” I could distinctly hear her muttering on her way up the stairs. She entered the room, pouty and sassy as always, seemingly perpetually in a state of rolling her eyes. As usual, she was clad in skintight yoga pants and a tank top. “What?”

     “I have something to ask you about-- see I was doing laundry today and I found some of your stuff mixed in with mine-- which you’re not supposed to be doing by the way.”

     “Sorry,” she muttered insincerely, crossing her arms and looking away, probably sensing a spanking in the offing. She was right of course... but I was certain she would find the actual reason she was about to wind up over my lap to be far more embarrassing.

     “Oh, don’t be,” I said, “I’m actually glad you did, because it gave me an opportunity to see exactly how dirty and skid-marked your panties were, young lady.” I stepped aside dramatically to unveil the little exhibit I’d set up on the bed. Brenda gasped and at once went pale, then red as she realized I’d just discovered something very embarrassing about her.

     “OHMIGOD!” she cried, coming over to look at the evidence I laid out. “You went through my panties?!”

     “No-- I told you, the first pair was mixed in with my stuff. I went through the rest of your stuff to see if you really don’t know how to wipe you butt properly...”

     “Oh, come on!” she huffed “I know how to wipe my ass!”

     “Oh really?” I asked rhetorically, holding up the most stained pair so she could see. “Because to me, it looks like you’ve never even seen toilet paper before, young lady!”

     She made a noise of infuriated embarrassment. I took a seat on the bed and grabbed Brenda by the hand, guiding her around to my right side. She was still stuttering excuses as I tugged her across my lap and delivered a sound swat to her wriggling backside.

     “OOWW!” She squealed, kicking her feet in the air behind her. “Ouch! Come on! Give me a break!” she whined as I spanked her bottom in rapid pace.

     “I’ll give you a warm bottom!” I said, faux serious as I delivered a medium hard spanking that made her well-sculpted rear end jiggle. “I can’t believe you, young woman! The state of some of these panties is disgraceful!”

     “Oohh!” She moaned, embarrassed. “It just... I...” she hesitated, clearly mortified about something that had nothing to do with the spanking.

     “Yes?” I asked, pausing and placing my hand over her rump, feeling the heat already radiating from her cheeks. “Do you have something to tell me?”

    “I... I had diarrhea OK?” She blurted, squirming in embarrassment over my knee. “I was at the mall, and I had to take a dump and-- there wasn’t enough toilet paper, alright?” She flopped and struggled across my lap, and I had to hold her in place. “C’mon, let me up!”

     I responded by holding her down and swatting her wriggling bottom once more. “Even if your story is true, that would only account for one pair of dirty panties... I found four without even trying. Are you fibbing to me, little girl?”

     “No! I’m not, I swear! I was just sick!”

     “Oh really?” I smiled... she’d walked into my trap. “Does that mean if I do a panty check on you right now, I’m not going to find any nasty stains?”

     “Uuuhhh...” she hesitated, suddenly not so confident.

Without waiting for her answer, I hooked my fingers into the waistband of Brenda’s pants and tugged them down to her knees in one swift motion. Brenda shrieked and wiggled her panty-clad bottom in protest, but I settled her down with a quick spank. “Pipe down, young lady, or you’ll be in for a real punishment.”

Without further ado, I tugged down her panties, revealing her rapidly reddening bottom. I wasn’t surprised at what I saw-- a long, brown streak about the length and width of my index finger, running straight up the centre of the seat.

     “Just as I suspected,” I said seriously. Brenda’s struggles had been replaced with uncomfortable, embarrassed squirming, and if I could see her face, I’m sure it would have been as red as a tomato. “This is shameful, young woman!” I said, delivering another swat to her bare ass, making her squeal. “Do you ever wipe your butt at all, Brenda?”

     “Ow! Listen, I...” but she trailed off, knowing there was no excuse for a girl her age to have skid marked panties.

     “Yes, please tell me Brenda,” I inquired with a medium hard swat to her bare backside, “what’s the excuse this time? Did you have another upset tummy? I know it wasn’t lack of toilet paper... please tell me why these panties you’re wearing look like a Jackson Pollock painting?”

     She made an embarrassed noise, though I suspected Brenda didn’t even know who Jackson Pollock was.

     “Let me tell you how things are going to be now, Brenda,” I said, casually continuing the spanking to make sure she was paying attention. “From now on, whenever you need to ‘go,’ you will come and find me and ask me politely to escort you to the rest room...”

     “WHAT?!”

     “...Where I will supervise you while you do your business...”

     “Oh come on! OW!” She cried as I landed a particularly stinging swat to her jiggling rump.

     “...and then I will wipe your hiney for you so we can make sure you’re clean and healthy and not ruining your panties.”

     “That’s... Ow! That’s not fair! Ouch!”

     “You know the arrangement, sweetheart,” I reminded her, smacking the rounded domes of her buttocks and watching them jiggle with relish. “I set the rules-- if you don’t like them, you’re free to leave at any time... provided that you can find someone else to take you in!”

     “It’s not fair!” She shrilled, kicking and screaming her way through the rest of the spanking.

By the time I finished, Brenda’s butt was red and throbbing and her mouth was in overdrive... which is exactly what I was hoping for. I reached into the bag of stuff I got at the drug store, took out the pacifier I’d been saving, and popped the nipple into her shocked mouth. “Don’t you dare lose that,” I warned, reaching into the bag for the next item: Baby wipes. I didn’t warm the cloth up before I passed it up between Brenda’s buttocks, which drew a surprised squeal.

     “Stay still,” I warned, holding her in place across my lap and giving her tushy a long, firm wipe with the cloth before pulling it free and examining it. “Just as I thought,” I chided, finding the wipe thoroughly soiled. Discarding the first one into the toilet, I pulled another wipe from the box and repeated the process again, passing the wipe up between her buttocks as she squirmed and mumbled across my lap.

     “God Brenda,” I said looking at a wipe that, though significantly improved over the first, was still streaked with brown. “It looks like you’ve never wiped back here before!”

     “I told you I had the runs!” she complained from behind her soother. I chuckled, patting her rump affectionately before I pulled out yet another cloth and went to work again, Brenda stiffening and shivering as I gave her anus a thorough wipe.

     “Well, if you’ve really been having tummy trouble, we’ll have to get you to the doctor, Brenda,” I told her, examining the wipe and finding it clean enough to instruct her to raise herself from my lap with an affectionate pat to her butt. Pouting childishly, she bent down to retrieve her pants and panties, but I halted her.

     “You can’t seriously be thinking about putting those filthy things back on,” I half scolded, pointing to the soiled panties still at half-mast around her knees. “Come on, off with them... right now, young lady,” I insisted even as she scowled at me from behind her soother. Slowly, she complied, pealing off her pants and skid-marked panties and handing them over to me with a frown. She reached down to cover her modesty, but immediately became outraged when I dumped her panties into the trash, followed by the other pairs I had gathered as evidence.

     “Hey!” She squealed at me, ready to fight. But it was too late-- I was already reaching into my bag to pull out the finishing touch.

     “Here,” I said, tossing her one of the pull-ups I’d gotten her.

She turned it over in her hands, reddening when she saw the cartoon characters staring back at her from the padded seat. “This is a joke, right?” she asked hopefully.

     “Wrong,” I said sternly, “Put it on. Now.”

She scowled at me, but she did it, stepping into and tugging them up. Brenda was pretty tiny, but she had a curvy, womanly body with a plump, rounded bottom, so it was a bit of a squeeze, but she did manage to get it on.

Brenda stood before me in nothing but a tank-top and a pull-up, looking down at herself in embarrassment. “You can consider this your new uniform,” I explained, gesturing toward her outfit. “When you’re at home, I want you doing your chores in a pull-up and a top... understand?”

     She nodded stiffly and continued to stare at her outfit, as though she was in shock.

     “Good. Now off to the corner you go,” I said, gesturing, grinning as I watched her shuffle off to put her nose against the wall and wiggle and squirm, desperately wanting to reach back and rub her tushy. Our relationship had entered a new phase.