Baseball Brat!
Crack! UH-OH!! It happened. The baseball just went where you promised your mother it would not, right through the window. It had taken 5 full minutes of begging and promises for her to let you play baseball out back, and now you know you are in for it.
She is outside in a flash, pulling you by the arm into the house, while yelling over her shoulder to your friend that he should head home, and she would be calling his mother shortly.
You start with the “I’m sorry, it was an accident”, but don’t get much of it out before she seems to, almost magically, have the dreaded wooden hairbrush in her hand, and it is connecting with your bottom. Your memory of how much it stings always seems to be fuzzy, until it is happening, at which time you remember why you hate being spanked so much.
You are ordered to lower your pants and underwear, then are bent over her knee, where she starts in earnest to lecture you about responsibility and listening to her about where it is ok to play ball. You are not sure which is worse, the lecture or the spanking. Soon you will have the chance to find out. Suddenly you feel the all to familiar sting of the wooden hairbrush, and the spanking has begun….
Will it be worse than the lecture???
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