STORY: The Spanking Machine! (Adv. of Bratgirl #2)

[bratgirl]

Hi all! (Huggles!) Yes, it's me again, with the next episode in the
continuing adventures of bratgirl . . . . the only superheroine who
gets punished instead of the criminals! She tries hard, and means
well, but, hey, can she help it if Gotham's underworld refuses to take
her seriously? Now, maybe if she were an actual threat . . . .
Anyway, on to the strip! Love & ouches, bratgirl . . . .

Note: This story is fiction and is intended to be taken as such. The
author supports real-life consensual spanking only as a fun sexual
activity between adults. The following story involves fictional
non-consensual spanking and bondage. If descriptions of adult
situations or alternative sexuality are offensive to you, or it is
illegal to read such material where you live (i.e., you are under the
age your government considers 'adult'), do not read further and pick a
newsgroup that involves knitting or something. Thanks to DC Comics
for some of the character names (Wonder Woman , Green Arrow , the
Wonder Twins , and Supergirl are copyrighted by DC); obviously,
anybody inferring that DC is responsible in any way for or
(necessarily) supports the events or attitudes taking place in the
following story is wrong and completely nuts.

Also, this is a comedy -- it's meant to be silly, not R/L. Very
silly!

The Adventures of Bratgirl
Episode Two: The Spanking Machine!
(copyright 1998 by bratgirl -- please do not repost, archive, publish,
print, or make accessible on personal Web pages without permission).

"Ooooooowwwww!" Bratgirl lowered her still glowing bottom on to the
chair in the Bratcave deep beneath her parent's suburban home. That
morning had been humiliating! Captured by the Antique Store Gang last
night and subjected to a painful over-the-knee hairbrush spanking
until she was howling like a baby, promising to be good, and begging
to be let up was bad enough. But to be left gagged and bratcuffed
over a sofa arm (where the last elements of her wailing correction
with the hairbrush had been carried out) with a note pinned to her
bottom was even worse! At seven o'clock a passing news crew had
photographed her posterior for posterity and radio stations read the
note aloud on the air -- by nine thirty the entire city was giggling
at their new superheroine's 'brush' with the bad guys, helped by a
close-up shot of her upended bottom, the note, and the fiendish
hairbrush on Page One of every major newspaper from the Gotham Morning
Herald to the Financial Times -- and by eleven the mayor's office had
even come out with a statement supporting the criminals' "fine sense
of justice and moral responsibility in curbing superhero excesses."
She had even had to pay for the broken window and busted china set (as
well as for what the grinning owner had called the 'wear and tear' she
had subjected to the antique hairbrush), which pretty much wiped out
her savings. What a way to begin her career as a superhero!! She
sniffed back a couple of tears, squirming around on her seat. The
only bright light was that at least she'd managed to get back to the
Bratcave undetected.

Giving up on her quest to find an un-spanked part of her bottom to
sit on, bratgirl flipped on the Brat-computer and scrolled through the
previous night's police reports. Yawn. Besides a number of comments
on her 'incident at 4th street' (bratgirl made a face when she saw
this -- geez, did *everyone* have to know?) and a couple of minor
traffic violations, the screen looked pretty much blank. Thank
goodness. Now she could get some sleep before facing the rest of the
day. Luckily it was Saturday and she didn't have to go to school for
a while. Yawn. Maybe a shower and then sleep? Rubbing her eyes,
bratgirl turned off the computer and walked into the bathroom,
gingerly peeling off her costume as she went. Unthinkingly, she
stepped beneath the steaming spray. Her shocked yowl of surprised
agony as the hot water hit her scorched little rear end echoed off the
soundproofed walls of the chamber.

* * * * *

A week passed. The cold showers had been replaced with normal ones
and bratgirl no longer had to suppress a squeak if she sat down too
hard on a chair. Her ears still burned with humiliation every time
she read an article about her spanking, however, and she promised
herself again and again that *next* time things would be different!
Her chance would come sooner than she expected . . . . .

The Klope Diamond, fabulous possession of movie stars, duchesses, and
billionaires, was coming to the Gotham Art Museum as part of its world
tour. Through sources deep in Gotham's underworld (mostly at City
Hall, where she interned on Wednesday afternoons), bratgirl learned
that The Vixen -- criminal mastermind, jewel thief, and anarchist
extraordinaire -- was planning to steal it, cut it up into tiny
pieces, and corner the crucial international diamond market of the
American Midwest. She would then use this vast leverage to cause a
glut, lowering diamond prices worldwide and undermining the U.S.
economy, all part of a fiendish master plan for world domination. The
Vixen must be stopped! And it looked like the evil villainess was
poised to strike that very night! Bratgirl leaped to her feet,
sprinting for her closet. A push on the secret button and the floor
swung down on well-oiled hinges, disappearing into the blackness of
the shaft along with most of her shoes. Oh well. Bugs. Reaching up,
bratgirl grabbed firmly onto her coat bar and stepped out into the
void, hoping that those extra chocolate brownies hadn't pushed her
past the weight limit for this contraption. ZZZzzzippp!! Bratgirl
hurtled down into the darkness, the cable unwinding from the ends of
her coat bar like the supports on a trapeze. Ca-chunk! "Oh
SHITTTT!!" WHUMMPHH! Pow! Bratgirl landed heavily on the pile of
old mattresses at the bottom of the Bratcave's entrance shaft, raising
a vast cloud of dust and making her sneeze. Tossing an old sneaker
aside, bratgirl looked up the shaft but the faint square of light from
her closet was already being cut off by the trapdoor in the floor, as
her coat bar recoiled swiftly out of sight. Great. Another
pseudo-successful arrival. Someday she'd have to find some way to
prevent the cables from jamming halfway down. Oh well . . . . any
landing you could walk away from was probably a good one. The cute
Filipino hurriedly pulled on her tight black spandex bodysuit,
buckling her arsenal-packed Bratbelt around her slim waist and
shrugging into her huge, midnight-black, flowing cape. It was time to
hit the city . . . .

* * * * *

The Art Museum cast shadows under the full moon. A skylight squeaked
as bratgirl jimmied it upwards. Looking around carefully to see if
any guards were below, she uncoiled her brat-rope and slid swiftly to
the floor -- all clear. The Klope Diamond gleamed softly in its case
under the dimmed lights, surrounded by a token barrier of plush red
velvet ropes suspended between brass posts. Recoiling her brat-rope,
bratgirl stepped cautiously into the light. No sound escaped the
shadows shrouding the rest of the presentation chamber. Vixen must
not have arrived yet. CLICK! Suddenly the spotlights flicked on,
flooding the floor with light. Bratgirl spun around, shielding her
eyes with one hand as she peered in the direction of the noise.
"Welcome, bratgirl . . . . " drawled a dark figure, gliding forward
into the light and placing one hand possessively on the case
containing the Klope Diamond. "Welcome . . . . . I've been expecting
you!" "Vixen! W-what? You *have*?" bratgirl stuttered, inordinately
pleased. "You mean you weren't expecting Wonder Woman , Green
Arrow , the Wonder Twins , or somebody like that? You were expecting
ME??!!" she asked, unable to believe her good fortune. So this is
what being a famous superhero felt like! Villains made plans to kill
YOU! "Oh no, just you, bratgirl . . .," Vixen replied softly. "You
are here to bear witness to my most despicable plan yet!! In fact . .
." Vixen paused for effect, bratgirl hanging on every word as if
hypnotized. "In fact . . . ," she repeated, " . . . I have prepared a
special fate especially for you, so *Vile*, so absolutely *Hideous*,
that my most hardened henchman fainted when he heard about it and had
to be sent into therapy." "Gasp! RREAAALLYY!!" bratgirl squealed,
clapping her hands delightedly, thrilled at having made the big time
at last. "Oooh! Lemme guess!! Lemme guess!! Is it . . . . is it . .
. . being thrown into a pit of ferocious, man-eating crocodiles?"
"No. Viler," responded Vixen menacingly. "Um, um . . . . being cut
in half by a giant steel buzz saw??!" "No. *Even* viler," Vixen
oozed. "Think of something that you'd REALLY hate. Think of
something so *awful*, so *terrible*, so completely and utterly
*without* human mercy, that it should *only* happen to Bratgirl."
"Umm, errr . . . . I know! I know!!" bratgirl squealed, jumping about
excitedly. "Being lowered slowly into a HUUUGGE tub of SULPHURIC
ACID!!!" she answered happily, her eyes lighting up at the thought.
Even Supergirl hadn't had THAT done to her yet! "No," Vixen
replied, a cunning smile curving her lips. "The world knows that
there is only ONE appropriate response to trouble from bratgirl," she
continued, walking over to a shrouded shape on a dais just beyond the
Klope Diamond. As if on cue, more spotlights flicked on, lighting the
scene. Bratgirl followed, fascinated. "In FACT, you're SO much
trouble, little girl, and SUCH a threat," Vixen said, trying to keep a
straight face and walking around to the far side of the device, "that
we decided that there was only ONE thing fiendish enough to keep YOU
out of the way." With a flourish, Vixen whipped off one of the plain
white sheets that covered the deadly device. Whoosh! A gleaming
sturdy wooden table, covered with brown leather padding and with a
definite hump in the middle, shone in the spotlights. Thick leather
straps with heavy steel buckles adorned the table in a profusion of
positions, and a shining brass wheel seemed to be hooked up to some
internal mechanism that could raise and lower parts of the table at
will. Whoosh! Another sheet flicked off, revealing a complicated
control panel bolted atop an extremely heavy-looking lead-shielded
power source. "Nuclear, of course," explained Vixen, grabbing hold of
the final sheet. Fwoosh!! The final sheet whipped away and fluttered
to the floor. There, positioned a short distance above the center of
the table and glittering in the bright spotlights, sparkled six thin
oval maple paddles, three on each side, each one attached to a
gleaming steel arm and springs. "Yes!" cried Vixen, as bratgirl
looked on in horrified shock, "the world knows that the best way to
keep bratgirl 'occupied' for a good long time . . . . is with a
Spanking Machine!"

"N-NOOOOOOOO-OOOO!!!!" wailed bratgirl, backing away and clutching
wildly for the knockout gas bomb on her Brat-belt. "Oh, YES!" yelled
Vixen sweetly, signaling to her henchwomen. Suddenly bratgirl felt
her hands grabbed and lifted above her head, the bomb falling
harmlessly from her fingers. More hands grabbed her ankles and waist,
and she was lifted bodily onto the table and arranged, face down, over
the hump. "UUUMMMGGGHHHHH!!!" bratgirl yelled as she struggled with
her captors, but she could not prevent herself from being buckled
forcefully into the wrist and ankle cuffs, adjusted especially to her
height, or from having the thick leather waist belt cinched tightly
around her hips, pinning her securely to the table. She heard a
sudden whirr, and the center hump of the table started rising under
her, slowly but irresistibly hoisting her curvy buttocks into a
perfect spanking position. Bratgirl let out a humiliating little wail
at this latest development. Another whirr, and the six maplewood
paddles rotated slowly into their new positions, each pair coming to
rest above its intended target: the taut pertly rising peaks of
bratgirl's squirming buttocks; the now very exposed plump undercurves
of her upturned cheeks; and, of course, the tender flesh of her upper
thighs. Vixen was busy at the control panel. Click! Click! Tap!
Tap! Tap! Ding! Bee-eeep!! "There, bratgirl! That should keep you
busy for several hours at least! Plenty of time for me to steal the
Klope Diamond and make my getaway. In fact," she said, gently lifting
bratgirl's face by the chin and looking into her eyes, "I'm ALMOST
sorry to be missing this! But I'm sure the security cameras will
catch everything!" "N-N-NOOOOO!!!" bratgirl wailed. "You can't get
away with this, Vixen! Several HOURS??!! That's not FAIR!!" "Oh,
yes, dear, SEVERAL hours," Vixen responded sweetly, as her henchwomen
set about removing the Klope Diamond. "I need *at least* that much
time to get out of the country. But don't worry, I'm sure when the
security guards wake up they'll release you -- if Diana here didn't
hit them too hard. If not, there's always Monday morning!"
Beee-eeepp!! "Oops, there goes the timer! Don't be too upset,
bratgirl . . . . . I told the machine to start out easy. It should
take *at least* twenty minutes to get up to full power!" swish -
Whack! "Ow!" swish-Crack! "OWW!!" swish-Slapp! "Ouch!"
swish-Smack! "OUCHH!!" "Oh," continued Vixen over the regular
slap-slap-slap of the paddles, ignoring bratgirl's increasingly more
frantic cries, "I told it to take a break every hour or so . . . . .
at least I THINK I did. I never was much good with computers!"
swish-Crack! "OOWW!!" swish-Strapp! "NO-Eee-yow! Gasp!"
swish-Smack! "Oowww! Vixen! gasp!" swish-Whack! "Ouch-ee!! Vixen!
Stop!" swish-Crack! "Yeeow! This is (swish-Slapp! OW!)
humiliating!" swish-Strapp! "OUCH! Stop! STOPP!!" "But I can't stop
it, darling, even if I wanted to," Vixen replied with a grin. "You'll
just have to wait a few hours or until it runs out of gas. But the
nice people at the research institute told me the nuclear power pack
was guaranteed for a *minimum* of three hundred years, so you may have
to wait a little while for that to happen!" swish-Crack! "OWW!"
swish-Smack! "YeeOW!!" Bee-eeep! Ding! "Oh, good!" Vixen said
cheerfully. "That means it is time for it to pick up the pace a
little bit! Now let's just see if I programmed the BAR.BOT. feature
to kick in . . . ." Squirming against her heavy straps as she tried
to ease the smart in her stinging bottom, bratgirl sniffled into the
padding as she tried to be brave like Wonder Woman and prepare
herself for the next stage. Suddenly she felt two steel pincers slide
into the waistband of her costume, gripping hold of her spandex
trousers and the panties underneath, pulling them down to her knees.
"N-N-NOOOOOO!!!!" bratgirl wailed, her cheeks and ears flaming
suddenly with acute embarrassment. Oh, the news crews would have a
field day with this! "N-N-NOT on the BARE BOTTOM, Vixen! Have mercy!
PLEEASEE!!! WAAAAAAHH!!!!" Beee-eeep! CRACK! went the paddle,
picking up the force and the pace. "YEEEOOWWW!!" bratgirl bawled, her
feet kicking futilely against their restraints. WHACK! OWWWW!!
SLAPP!! EEE-YOWW!!! CRACK!! N-NOOO!!! SLAPP!! OUCHHH!! SMACK!
"SQUEAL!!" Bratgirl bucked and hollered over the 'knee' of the
spanking machine, wriggling and squirming, but was held fast. CRACK!
WHACK! SLAPP! STRAPP! PADDLE! PADDLE! PADDLE! Each of the six thin
maple wood paddles rose and fell in a random pattern, sometimes
cracking with a sharp report across the pert naked upper swellings of
her cheeks, sometimes scooping down to smack against her tight
undercurves, sometimes (thankfully a bit more rarely) across her hot
pink tender upper thighs, each spank producing a piercing squeal and
heartfelt wriggling from the helpless bratgirl. "OWWWW!! Gasp!
OUCH!! VII-II-XXENN!!! YEOW!! STOPP!! OW! Treat me OWWW! like a
SQUEAL! N-not THERE!!!! OWW!! real OW! S-Superhero!! OUCH!! OUCH!!
STOPP!!!" "My dear bratgirl," said Vixen, pausing on her way out of
the chamber, her henchwomen and the Klope Diamond in tow. "REAL
superheroes are actual threats to my plans and *deserve* to be thrown
to the crocodiles. You, on the other hand, are not a threat -- more
of a pleasant diversion. So, after giving it a great deal of thought,
I decided that the best way to punish you for attempting to derail my
plans was simply to paddle your bare bottom. It's much easier than
trying to rig up an escape-proof alligator pit, darling, and so much
more fun! And it's an ideal punishment for a brat like you! Ta Ta
for now, dearie! Hope you enjoy your bottom paddling!" YEEE-EEOWW!!
OWWW! VII-II-XXENN!! You can't OUCHEE!! do-oo this to me!! SQUEAL!!
"Oh, by the way, darling . . ." Vixen turned back on the threshold as
bratgirl continued to wail her distress from her upended position on
the spanking machine. "The machine is equipped for audio feedback.
So, if you beg and plead and promise to be good enough, maybe it will
stop. Or, maybe it doesn't have that feature, and it won't matter how
much you holler. I can't remember -- I'm really so forgetful at
times! Bye darling! Have fun!" "N-NOOOOO!!! VIIIIXXXEENNNN!!!
OWWWW!! OUCH! OUCH! NOO!! WAIL!! Come b-back, Vixen OW! come
back!!! YEEOOWW!!!" Bratgirl's nude buttocks continued to receive
spank after punishing spank, the maplewood paddles smacking down in
crisp succession, turning her skin from hot pink into a bright fire
engine red. Paddle 1! Paddle 2! Paddle 5! Paddle 6! Paddle 5!
Paddle 6! Paddle 3! Paddle 4! The paddles were light enough not to
do any serious damage or blistering, but boy they stung!! "Okay!!
OWWW!! Okay!!!!! SQUEAL!! I'm, um YEOW! really, really,
REEAALLLLYYY-OW!! sorry, um, Miss Spanking OW! Machine! YEEOOWW!!!
REALLY!!!! OUCHH!!! STOPP!! STOPPP!!! OWWW!!! N-N-NOTTT THERE!!!
SHRIEK!! PLEEASSEEE!!!! SQUEAL!!!! I'LL BE GOOOD!!! I'LL BEE
GOOOODD!!! OW!! I'LL BE . . . . . . ."

* * * * *

Naturally, a very well-spanked bratgirl was found shortly before four
that morning by the security guards and released from The Vixen's
fiendish spanking machine. After several minutes of frantically
hopping around the room cupping her blazing buttocks in both hands and
going "ooww! oooooo!!! oowwiee!!! ooowwwiieeee!!!!", bratgirl
composed herself enough to give her report, though still sniffling,
rubbing at her burning bottom vigorously, and shifting from foot to
foot the whole time. Police and superhero units gave hot pursuit, but
The Vixen managed to flee the country along with her henchwomen;
however, she had to leave the diamond behind (so THAT didn't come out
of bratgirl's allowance!). Once again, bratgirl's most famous feature
made the front page, but this time she was given full credit for
getting to the 'bottom' of the mystery and foiling Vixen's plans, and
the news crews only snickered a little bit. The Supervillain's
Association passed a resolution at their annual retreat in Hawaii
prohibiting any member from taking bratgirl seriously, and mandating
that she was to be given a firm spanking on sight. And so the story
continues . . . . .

Hope you liked it! Love & ouches, bratgirl . . . .
(wishing she owned a spanking machine . . . SIGH!!! =p )
----------------------->
"I'm TOO BIG to spank!" (bratgirl)

[Y. Lee Coyote]

On 26 Apr 1998 09:15:40 -0700, bratgirl <azad...@hotmail.com> wrote in
<3542FA...@hotmail.com>:

Bratgirl,

Loved it. <ronflmsao>

Sorry, no suggestions since the horrid device is not an ACME product amd I
don't know about its reliability.

Y.

Valid return address is <YLeeC...@Juno.com>