Barton and the Uber Brat


“Dr Barton?” The voice on the other end of the phone enquired.

“Yes, hello? Who is this?” Dr Barton asked looking at his watch. He really didn’t have time for this.

“I am… Smith, from Department H.” There was a long pause.

“Oh one of those people.” Dr Barton sat in his desk chair in resignation. This was going to take a while.

“Sorry to trouble you but we have a problem.”

“Naturally. And I am Barton Acme Solutions Ltd, apparently.” Dr Barton said dryly.

“Well yes,” the voice became defensive, “you are when it comes to it. We do after all fund you quite well.”

“You fund me for behavioural research and personnel profiling, nothing else.”

“Be that as it may, we do have a problem. A girl…”

Dr Barton sat back, the last ‘girl’ and all that followed immediately coming to mind.

“…No one dangerous, well not really,” Smith continued, “but she is rather anti-social and she has fallen in with a rather dubious group. We have picked up this little gang and we are holding them under the appropriate legislation but…”

“She is a patsy and you have nothing on her.” Dr Barton finished.

“Exactly. She knows too much to just let her go and she is being rather difficult. Not the sort we can just pay off with a signature on an official secrets paper.”

“Who is she?”

There was a long pause and Dr Barton could hear the nervous shuffling of papers.

“We don’t actually know. As I said, she really is not a criminal and we have absolutely no record of her. She goes by the name of Uber-bitch, a kind of punk nickname.”

“You don’t say, and there was I thinking she had eccentric parents.” Dr Barton upgraded his sarcasm impatiently. “What exactly do you want me to do?”

“Take her in for a while. See if you can persuade her to be more cooperative, you know the kind of thing.”

“I do. But I rather suspect that you don’t. Alright, when does she arrive? She is arriving isn’t she? I mean this phone call is to tell me, not ask and you already have her in transit I’ll be bound.”

The man on the phone coughed.

“She will be with you shortly after midnight.”

Dr Barton snorted once and put the phone down.

“Jane, we have a guest arriving in three hours.” He called.

Jane Ellis appeared at once and offered him a quizzical look.

“She is called Uber-bitch.” Dr Barton pursed his lips.

“One of those. How nice,” Jane rolled-up her eyes.


Uber-bitch sat in the back of a nondescript black government car between two large boring ‘suits.’ No one had spoken throughout the whole journey; a journey that had taken them from the boring grey office block somewhere near Birmingham, to somewhere out in the sticks.

Finally, after a long drive through a tunnel of trees the car turned into a driveway. At the end was a large brick house. Not quite a manor house, but large enough to feature in one of the drippy TV shows about people in top hats.

The car made a loud crunching noise on the gravel and Uber-bitch was reminded of Bindley where she grew up. Not a promising start, she thought.

The woman who answered the door was old. She must have been at least 35. She looked a bit like Nicole Kidman, only not as skinny and definitely not as elegantly dressed. Uber-bitch had expected a reaction from her, but the woman did not blink as she ushered them in.

“What a dump.” Uber-bitch sneered as she stepped through the door without even looking.

“Judging from your appearance you will feel right at home here then.” Said a rather grim man who was waiting inside.

Uber-bitch glowered at him as he signed some papers so that her escort could leave.


After the men from Department H had left, Dr Barton regarded his new charge with interest. Underneath the rags, spiked purple hair and face piercings, he could tell she was only 20 or 21 at most.

“Remind you of someone?” He said to Jane Ellis.

Jane just smiled and shrugged.

“When do I get out of this dump?” The girl sneered.

“Obey the rules, cooperate enough to convince the spooks that you will at least half honour anything you sign and you will be gone in a month with a fat government stipend no doubt.”

The girl seemed surprised to get a straight answer but not to be undone she came back with: “you can shove your rules.”

“The rules are fairly fluid, mostly it is just a matter of common courtesy, but ultimately I decide what they are and when they have been broken. Disobey them and you will be punished.”

The girl was visibly shaken at the word punished. Almost as if she had never heard the word before, but she soon recovered herself.

“Figures.” She sneered yet again.

“I am Dr Barton. This is Ms Ellis and you are?”

The girl slowly raised her right arm and clenched her fist leaving a solitary finger sticking up. Then she smiled.

“Your name please. Just one of the courtesies I mentioned.” Dr Barton persisted.

“Uber-bitch.” The girl offered defiantly.

“No I don’t think so. Your real name.”

“Uber-bitch.” She repeated with another vulgar gesture.

“Very well. We will call you… Emma. And you will answer to it. Am I clear?”

“Fuck you.”

“You have had a long journey and I expect you are tired. So I will let that pass. From tomorrow, that language will not be tolerated. Am I clear?”

The girl blew him a mocking kiss.

“Ms Ellis show Emma to her room and see that she uses the shower. As for her clothes, well the biker’s jacket looks expensive and may be salvageable after cleaning. As to the rest… well you know what to do.”

“What about the…?” Jane asked gesturing at her face.

Dr Barton hesitated.

“The scrap iron and hair you mean?”


“We will talk about that tomorrow when Emma is more receptive.”

“Hello. I am here you know. And anyway my name is not Emma.” The girl said belligerently.

“Hello Emma.” Dr Barton said with a smile and walked away.


Jane was almost surprised when ‘Emma’ followed her up the stairs.

“Do you need food?”

“The suits gave me a burger, didn’t they?” The girl said sullenly.

“The suits? Oh. Did they? Good.”

The girl was impressed, not that she would admit it. The room was way beyond anything she had ever been offered before.

“The shower is there.” Jane pointed. “If you slip off your things, I’ll see what can be done with them.”

“No way.”

“Well you can hardly shower with your clothes on.”

“I didn’t say I wanted a shower.”

“Dr Barton was quite clear on that point.” Then sniffing she added, “with good reason.”

The girl crossed her arms defiantly.

“Take a shower or I will be forced to bath you.” Jane sighed.

“Now wait a minute if you think…”

“Alright madam.” Jane seized the girl by the ear and dragged her out of the room and down the passage.

The grubby punk girl squealed all the way, only breaking off to launch into a tirade of foul language. Their final destination was a large clinical looking bathroom at the end of the hall. It was tiled from floor to ceiling, a picture of institutional bathing.

Jane pinned her charge face down over the edge of the huge bath and turned on the taps. Then with some difficulty while the bath filled she began to strip the girl.

“You can’t do this you fucking bitch.” Was the most articulate she got during the next 10 minutes.

Once the bath was filled to Jane’s satisfaction she hauled the girl to her feet and unceremoniously dumped her into the bath water. For a moment, the alien heat seized her wits, and then she recovered enough to begin another tirade.

Jane dunked the girl under and held for a slow count of five and then lifted her head by her short hair. This time she was ready with the soap, which she shoved into the girl’s mouth. The resulting violence took Jane by surprise as she was punched and kicked. The kicks were luckily rendered ineffective by the water.

Jane turned the struggling serpent and shoved her face forward over the edge of the bath rim so that her bare bottom was clear of the water. Then seizing a bath brush brought it down hard in short rapid swats across the girl’s behind.

“Ow! What are you… shit that hurts.” The girl exclaimed, spitting out the soap.

Jane followed up with another brisk spanking until the girl’s angry shouts gave way to moist spluttering.

“Alright, stop, please.”

“Better.” Jane retorted examining the projecting red bottom as she did so, still her holding firmly in place.

“Now are you going to let me bath you like a good girl?”

“I’ll take the shower.”

Jane began the spanking again.

“Alright.” The girl wailed.

After a good dozen sound splats to her rear, Jane allowed the girl to fall back into the water where she sat sullenly glaring at her and breathing heavily.

“Can I bath myself?”

Jane ignored her and began to scrub.


“Alright. But you had better be clean or I will bring you straight back here.”


The next day the girl stood before the full-length mirror in her room examining her bottom. There were two tender dull red patches on the under side of her cheeks and at the edge of each patch were small black bruises where the brush had caught her. The punishment’s spore transfixed her and engendered some strange feelings she did not want to face.

Instead, she turned back to the floral cotton dress that had been laid out for her on the bed. She contemplated going to breakfast in her underwear, but found she was a little afraid of Dr Barton and his consequences.

“I wonder if he knows I was…” She spoke aloud but could not say the word even to herself.

She felt silly and awkward as she walked into the room. Apart from hails of good morning, which she did not acknowledge, no one spoke. So she helped herself to some bacon and bread from the buffet.

She sat gingerly at the table and hated that her discomfort must have been written on her face. Not that anyone appeared to notice.

“Well? What is there to do here all day?” She said sullenly, desperate to fill the silence.

Dr Barton looked up from his newspaper and studied the girl carefully before he spoke.

“To begin with, we will remove the…” He drew a circle over his face with his hand. “Then Ms Ellis will do something with your hair.”

“No fucking way.”

“Oh dear.” Dr Barton sighed, putting his newspaper down. “Ms Ellis.”

They both stood up and Jane walked towards her.

“What? Look I’m…” The girl looked frantically from one of her hosts to the other, suddenly worried that she may have gone too far. What had Dr Barton said the day before?

She had no further opportunity to contemplate as she was hauled from the breakfast table by Ms Ellis and out into the hall. She was taken to what appeared to be Dr Barton’s study, where he had arrived ahead of them.

“Take your dress off.” Ms Ellis ordered.

“No. You can’t… what ever you are going to do. You can’t.”

“Emma. Remove your dress, lower your knickers and bend over the desk for your punishment.” Dr Barton said commandingly.

The girl could see that he was holding a cane.

“You have got to be fucking kidding.”

Dr Barton put down the cane and walked briskly towards her. He grabbed her by the nape of the neck and firmly led her to a chair in the corner where he sat down.

“Wh-what are you doing?” The girl spluttered. But she knew well enough.

She was upended over his lap and the skirts of her dress were raised. She did not have long to contemplate the fact that he could see her knickers when he hooked his finger into the waits band and drew them down.

“Ooh.” She gasped.

Dr Barton seized a clothes brush from a nearby table and brought it smartly down across the pale cheeks of her bare bottom.

“Yeow.” She thundered.

As Jane watched the crisp red patch develop on the girl’s pert little bottom, she noted that her face was already an angry red. Jane knew the look well. At the moment, the angry visage competed with one of shame, but it would be the latter that would prevail if she were any judge.

Dr Barton spanked the girl hard and fast until her bottom was more than a match for her face.

“Please.” She wailed.

“Say: Emma has been a naughty girl and will accept her punishment.” Dr Barton ordered as he spanked on.

“Oh please I’m sorry.” The girl sobbed.

“Say: Emma has been a naughty girl and will accept her punishment.”

“I’m Jenny… please.” The girl was sobbing hard now and her bottom was a deep full red.

The spanking stopped.

“Progress.” Dr Barton sighed. “Now will you cooperate?”


“Yes what?”

“Yes sir.” Jenny sobbed.

There was a long pause.


The girl was breathing hard and her shoulders rose and fell as she was wracked with dry sobbing.

“My name is Jenny Sir.”

“Jenny has been a naughty girl and will accept her punishment.” Dr Barton reiterated.

“Oh sir.”

Dr Barton began the spanking again and did not stop even when Jenny begged and said she would do anything. Then after the longest time and only when Jenny was thoroughly broken and sobbing real tears, did the brush pause in its work.

“You have something to say?”

“Jenny has been a naughty girl and will accept her punishment.” Jenny wept in defeat.

“You have had enough for now I fear. You will come to me of your own free will before the end of the month and ask me again.” Dr Barton said firmly. “Now you will go with Ms Ellis.”

Jenny slid off his lap and curled up sobbing on the floor.


Jenny hated the colour red she decided. There was too much red. Her stupid floral dress was red, her hair was red, being the closest natural-ish colour Ms Ellis could dye it on top of the purple. Her bottom was decidedly red, she winced as clutched at it for umpteenth time that day, and her face had not stopped being red since she had been… well since what had happened in the study.

She desperately wanted to pretend that nothing had happened, although her bottom jarred achingly with every step and she rather suspected that her gait looked even more ridiculous than it felt. It was a forlorn ambition, since sitting down was out of the question and Ms Ellis smirked every time she put a chair down for Jenny’s meal times.

The worse thing was that it was not over. Every time she thought about how she could just pretend to cooperate until her month was up, she remembered that she had to go voluntarily to Dr Barton in less than two weeks, when the calendar month was up.

Ms Ellis took great delight in piling on the embarrassment and went out of her way to find demeaning and uncomfortable tasks for Jenny to do.

More than once the F word was on the tip of her tongue, but she had caught herself in time. Ms Ellis would love that Jenny decided.

“Penny for them.” Dr Barton said as he passed her in he hall.


“A penny for your thoughts.” Dr Barton smiled kindly.

“Oh. I was just thinking… eh…”

“I know. It must be very strange for you here. But if things have been difficult, well you only have yourself to blame. Don’t you?”

Jenny blushed to ears. Damn more of that red, she thought.

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself? Maybe I can help.”

“Help? I don’t need no f…”

Dr Barton’s face went slack and he tilted his head significantly.

“It’s none of your business, that’s all.” Jenny said sullenly, her hands wandering to her bottom.

“You know life need not be so bad.” Dr Barton tried kindness again.

“What do you know about it?” Jenny snapped.

“You might be surprised.” Dr Barton’s mouth drew into a tight line. “Meanwhile, do try to mind your manners. We don’t want another trip to the study do we?”

Jenny looked down at her feet and felt like a 12-year-old. Then, suddenly curious, she tried another tack.

“Do you get many girls here? Like me I mean.”

“Not so many. Over the years I have helped with… oh two dozen or so.”

“Like me.”

“Most of them had rather more serious problems than you.”

“Oh such as?” Jenny’s interest was piqued.

“I can’t tell you too much about it. But… well we had one girl who had been brought up by a sleeper cell. She had actually participated in… certain things. Her parents had fought to the last and she was the only survivor. The authorities could have prosecuted her, but she didn’t know any better. And besides certain facts would have come out.”

“Like in my case.” Jenny nodded thoughtfully.

“Quite so.”

“What did you do?”

“I showed her there was another way to live and taught her some manners.”

Jenny blushed again. Quite certain she knew how he did that.

“What about the others. Ones more like me?” Jenny said to change the subject.

“Another girl was the daughter of an important industrialist. He was a leader in certain fields of research. His daughter, a spoilt little socialite, went off the rails. You know with drugs, drink, tattoos and body piercing.”

“Nothing wrong with that.” Jenny said defensively.

“No. You are right up to a point. But in her case, it was self-destructive and she fell in with the wrong crowd. Started to tell her friends things she really should not have known herself, but had discovered while still living with her father.”

“So why not just call the cops?”

“That would involved revealing what she knew. No. I just took her under my wing so to speak and gave her an attitude adjustment. She turned out quite well. She was even reconciled with her father.” Dr Barton returned a secret smiled.

“I never had any parents. I was brought up in a council care home from the age of three.” Jenny offered quietly.

“Thrown out at 16 and they were glad to see the back of you.” Dr Barton observed.

“How did you know?”

“An old story. Then you fell in with people who you thought were your friends. And for the first time in your life, you thought that you belonged. It didn’t matter what they did, because…”

“No one cared. Society didn’t care so why should I care about society?” Jenny finished his sentence for him.

“Do you want to come to a show?” Dr Barton said suddenly.

“What?” Jenny was confused.

“Next week. The Pirates of Penzance.”

Jenny pulled a face. Then to her surprise she said yes.

Afterwards she told herself it was part of her plan to appear to be cooperating. But the idea of getting out the house for a short while was exciting.


It had been raining and Jenny was happy. She started humming as she skipped in some puddles while Dr Barton strolled along behind her.

“I am the very model of a modern Major-General, I’ve information vegetable, animal, and mineral… la la la…” She couldn’t remember the rest.

“You enjoyed it then?” Dr Barton asked.

“It was alright.” Jenny blushed. “I liked the colours.”

“Well that’s what operetta is all about.”

“Its one of those things you talked about isn’t it?”

Dr Barton let her talk.

“When you said there were more things in life if only I could get over myself and open my eyes.”

“Those are your words and very profound too. But I am glad you were listening under all of that attitude. Yes that is what I meant.”

Jenny tugged at her respectable coat as if remembering that a few days ago it would have been alien to her. Now it was her former self that was beginning to seem alien.

Only a few days before in a fit of boredom she had put salt in Ms Ellis’ tea instead of sugar. Even as she had done it, it hadn’t been funny and she felt childish.

“I don’t even take sugar.” Jane had gasped in confusion when she drank a sip.

Jenny felt completely foolish, even more so when she was suddenly upended and put across Ms Ellis’ knee.

“Look I’m sorry OK.” Jenny spluttered as her skirt was flipped up and her knickers taken down.

The hairbrush had made brisk contact with Jenny’s bare bottom and the spanking had been sustained until she began choking out sobs with her apologies.

“Now my girl into the corner… I didn’t say to pull your knickers up. You stay there until I tell you to come out.”

Corner time had been embarrassing, not to mention boring. It had seemed like she stood for hours not daring to move or look around. Ms Ellis had made it quite clear that another spanking would follow if she did.

After half an hour she was released and nothing more was said. But Jenny was left confused by the experience. She had done something silly and had been punished. The end. It was all so avoidable.

Then she remembered her looming appointment with Dr Barton. She couldn’t be caned, she just couldn’t be. Oh why couldn’t she start again? Why had she been so silly, no one had been impressed by her behaviour, not even herself.

It was these thoughts that came back to her as they continued down the street. Less than a week to go, she thought.


A few days later Jenny had finally had enough. She had wrestled with the problem all evening and was now determined to go and see Dr Barton and tell him she was sorry for her behaviour and if he would let her off her punishment she would try to be good until it was time for her to leave.

It seemed reasonable, surely if she showed that she was repentant and had learned her lesson he would listen.

It all seemed to make sense when she rehearsed it in her room, but as she descended the stairs to confront Dr Barton, she felt the butterflies and began to have doubts.

She was about to knock on Dr Barton’s study door when she heard cross words from within. It was the Doc and Ms Ellis.

It was then that she remembered the other door to the adjoining room. She hurried round, suddenly curious and crept into the room next door that served as a kind of storeroom of sorts. The rooms had once been one larger chamber and were now divided by a thin partition wall with small windows set high against the ceiling. There was a high desk set under them, which she was able to climb easily. From her vantage, it was a small matter to peer into the other room.

Jane Ellis looked decidedly shaken as she stood facing Dr Barton. Instead of the usually composed confident housekeeper-assistant, she appeared for all the world like one of Dr Barton’s subjects.

“Jane, Jane, Jane. This was your idea.” Dr Barton sat on the edge of his desk with a concerned look on his face. “But as you did insist, I have to confront you about this.”

Jenny wondered what ‘this’ was all about. Ms Ellis just stood in front of Dr Barton looking rather sheepish with her head down. Jenny couldn’t hear her reply.

“Very well then you leave me no choice.” Dr Barton said.

Again, Ms Ellis mumbled something.

“What was that?” Dr Barton pressed.

“Yes sir.” Jane looked up at this point as if making her mind up about something.

Dr Barton stood up and went over to the cupboard by his desk to retrieve something. Jenny was amazed to see Jane Ellis unbutton her slacks and let them fall to her ankles. Omigod, she thought, as she felt some intangible frisson at the scene.

Jane’s surprisingly skimpy underwear followed her smart trousers around her calves revealing a shapely full-but-trim round bottom. Then she shuffled forward and leaned forward across the desk to present her behind to the Doc’s cane.

There was something about the way Jane dipped the small of her back to show off her bottom to full advantage that suggested to Jenny that this was far from the first time. It was then that Jenny noticed the tattoos. Jane had an elaborate pattern in the small of her back just above her buttocks. Halfway up her thigh was another small tattoo with one more, a small sunburst it looked like, right on the crown of her right buttock.

The Jenny realised that Jane had been one of Dr Barton’s previous charges, the industrialist’s daughter, she gasped. It all fit.

By now Dr Barton had moved behind Jane brandishing his cane and looking very severe. Even from her safe hiding place Jenny swallowed nervously.

Then at once the cane cut across Jane’s bottom with a sharp crack. Jane hissed and buckled at the knees. Jenny watched as the red line emerged across both bottom cheeks just above the tattoo.

The second sliced her right across the graphic on her crowns and extracted a squeak from Jane. Jenny watched as Jane patted at the desktop as if in submission or surrender. Not a chance, Jenny thought, a smile spreading on her face. And she was right as Dr Baton laid another stroke just below the previous.

In quick succession, Dr Barton caned in six times, each stroke below the last. Each time Jane jerked and by the time the strokes were at her thigh tops she was in tears.

Dr Barton appeared to share Jenny’s pleasure as he studied the neat raised ridges emerging on Jane’s bottom as he waited for Jane to settle down. Jane seemed calm enough, she even pushed her bottom back and up a little without fuss. Although by now she was quietly crying as she wiggled her tail.

Then the caning was repeated, each stroke drawing out a cry from Jane’s throat. Again he waited while Jane sobbed until she was under control and then he whispered something in a soothing tone and the tearful woman nodded.

Then oh so slowly and with some force, Dr Barton placed six more strokes where Jane sat. An angry shout escaped her lips with each, but not once did she move from position.

Jenny stifled open laughter as Jane rose gingerly to her feet and then, with her knickers and trousers still at her ankles, walked awkwardly to the corner that Dr Barton indicated and put her nose right to the join of both walls. But Jenny’s overwhelming emotion wasn’t amusement but something else. Somewhere along the way she had become sexual aroused and wild horses couldn’t tear her eyes from the scene in case she missed something else.


Jenny had watched for another 40 minutes before it had been clear that Ms Ellis’ punishment was over, by then she had become quite stiff. With one last glance at the punished bottom huddled meekly in the corner, Jenny had slipped away to her room to relive the scenes she had witnessed.

Only, as she squeezed her thighs and thought of the cane slicing the air and stinging naked flesh, it was her own bottom that suffered. Over and over, it struck as she writhed on the bed. This was how she spent most of the night.

The next morning she was shocked at her own resolution, but she knew what to do.


It was with slow nervous steps that she approached the study door and when she knocked, she wrapped gently and reluctantly as if fearing that he would hear her. He didn’t.

She knocked again, harder this time, her mouth dry.

“Come in.” His voice sounded like God’s from inside the room.

She fumbled with the door handle and after what seemed a week managed to open it.

“Is there something wrong?” His voice was smooth and expectant as if he knew what was coming.

“I.” Jenny began.


She swallowed and nodded her head like a nervous filly.

“Jenny has been a naughty girl and will accept her punishment.” A tear rolled down Jenny’s blushing cheek to her chin.

He nodded and returned a tight smile.

“Very well slip your things down and bend over the desk.”

Jenny tugged at her clothing as if to confirm that he was serious. He didn’t react. So with a deep sigh she reached for her belt buckle and began to remove her jeans. It had never taken so long.

When finally she was undone, she slid them down over her firm thighs as she blushed for England. Then steeling herself she pushed her knickers down in one go, defiantly showing him a dark triangle of hair against pale white flesh. She felt a brief flash of mischievous pride as she did so but when she glanced at him, he was looking away. He was reserving his attention for her other side.

She turned around and bent over as he had directed, pushing her bottom back and thrusting it upwards as she had seen Ms Ellis do a few days before.

Dr Barton had already retrieved the cane and now stood regarding her firm parted cheeks and wondered if she was aware of how vulnerable and revealed she was. It was a truly surrendered posture, he thought, he almost believed she was sorry. Still he waited drinking in her submission, she had so much to learn.

For Jenny, an age had passed and the only sound was her own gentle breathing. Then she felt tapping pats on her behind and tensed herself. Nothing happened, she tensed some more. Still nothing and she relaxed at the false alarm. Then even as she heard the swish begin the pain across her bottom felt like a razor slash. She could have screamed, so intense was the burn. A grunt escaped her throat. Her fingers seized the desk in front of her and massaged the wood as proxy to her bottom. How many she wondered, but as the thought formed in her head he struck again. She grunted again angrily.

“You brought this on yourself.” Dr Barton growled.

She had she knew. Her anger was with herself, she so wanted to apologise, but the cane struck again and she scrambled against the desk as if fleeing.

There were now three bright lines across Jenny’s tight bottom and her breathing had become loud and ragged. So far, he caned her high to get her attention. But a true caning for a brat must be low where she sat so that she would be minded to behave for days to come. Still he admired the way she clung to the desk arching her back with her bottom turned up just so. She was a natural, he observed.

The next six came fast, one below the other until lines of pain burned into her seat and ended at her thigh tops. Her last grunt became extended and she almost lost control. Her ragged breathing had grown into dry sobs, dry but for the tear that escaped onto her cheek.

“Hold that position and stop wriggling.” He commanded.

A chuckle-like sound burst through her lips and she began to cry in earnest. He was not moved, not yet.

The next nine came slowly. He began above the first where the hind muscle was lessened and she screamed for the first time. She almost welcomed the release. Or would have if he had given her time. Instead, the fresh lines of fire came steadily each landing between the previous set, although ending one atop of the other where she sat.

She was sobbing freely now. Great heaving wet sobs with gouts of tears liberated on her face. Still her bottom was presented for more, as it should be, he thought, although where she got the fortitude for her very first caning he had no idea. He had originally settled on 18 for her, but he sensed that she needed more.

So with one final flourish of the cane that made her squirm a little, he laid on six more slowly in a band on the sit spots.

“Wah!” She yelled out at each, but still barely moved her posture except to wriggle.

He waited then until her sobbing was brought to heel as she had been and then he spoke.

“I would like you to go and stand in the corner outside in the hall now. I want you stand there for the rest of the morning until lunch time.”

“Yes sir.” Her voice was far away.

“Good girl.” He said putting the cane away.

“Sir?” She sobbed.

“Yes Jenny.”

“Do I have to leave next week?”

“Not if you don’t want to. Not yet anyway.”

“I have so much to learn sir.”

“If you stay I will cane you often and Ms Ellis will spank you more often still. But you will learn much.”

“Ouch. But I knew that… I suppose. I understand.” Then she began to cry again as she reached down for her jeans.

He was about to tell her to leave them down, but she just held them at her knees as she moved gingerly out of the door into the hall. It seems she already knew.

I wonder how long until Uber-Bitch resurfaces? He wondered. She will make a last hurrah, such alter egos always did.


7 Responses to “Barton and the Uber Brat”

  1. DJ, a really nice story, you do write well. thank you.

  2. 3 opsimath

    Wow! I er- I think I need a moment or two to myself; I’ll comment more lucidly later.

    For now, just a huge ‘Thank you’, Damian!

  3. 4 Mickey

    nicely done, vivid imagery and compelling story a great read. Thanks for sharing it. Could there be more?

  4. Oh, this was delightful. Thank you for sharing it.

  1. 1 - Chross Guide To The Spanking Internet

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