Little Annette didn’t always want to cause trouble, but in fact, she always did.

True, there were times when she would try to actually deceive her parents, siblings and friends, but for the most part she was as well-intentioned as any eight-year-old.

Not as well behaved, though, and nowhere near as mature. If you weren’t looking at her, you could say she was three, four years old tops. Constant whining, attitude, more lies than truth, and a repertoire of obscenities to make a sailor blush. Ever since kindergarten, teachers had reported such behaviour, sometimes with resignation (“that poor child”), sometimes with fiery rage (“that monster child!”).

There wasn’t much anyone could do, though. Annette’s parents, two successful businesspeople in their late forties, were aware and always cared to inform teachers and friends beforehand. Not that it helped: Annette was devastating as a storm, and just as predictable. At the most unexpected times she would burst out in a noisy tantrum, even in public, even for no reason at all. She could swear, kick, and insult just about anyone if the littlest thing ticked her off.

Through the years, her parents Marc and Melissa had tried everything, but unsuccessfully. After running tests, different doctors had said that Annette wasn’t disturbed, bipolar, or have you – just a spirited child with a thorny attitude coming out of nowhere. Maybe an outcome of sibling rivalry (Annette was the youngest of five). Two psychologists had confirmed the diagnosis. A neurologist had suggested strong medicine therapy and even electroshock. Another had said she was just spoiled rotten.

But Annette was nor spoiled, nor repressed. Wealthy but far from snobby, the Beaumonts were a loving, tight family who had successfully raised five children. Her older siblings, two boys and two girls, were coping pretty well with the typical adolescent phase, and were off to live successful lives as adults. But there was no bright prospect for her, and to know and see that the child suffered somewhere deep inside made her relatives miserable.

In the life of the troubled child, Christiane played a pivotal role. She was nineteen, the Beaumonts’ firstborn and a very smart young woman. Engaged to Patrice, they were quite the talk of the clubs their parents attended: a modern young couple in love, on their way to adulthood and dazzling careers.

For some reason, Annette and Christiane shared a bond. Maybe because Christiane, being the oldest, was the first choice for babysitting her younger siblings on occasion; maybe because she had a stunning ability to deal with children; or maybe, and that’s what her parents liked to think, because Christiane had helped them raise her.

She had been a very precocious child, and was eleven when Annette was born. She was the second person to have ever hold the baby, and they say this leaves a mark. She was always there to change her, feed her, rock her, and only in her arms the baby would find relief from crying.

As Annette grew up, Christiane could still get to her and calm her down sometimes, and make her behave for a few hours, even though that wasn’t nearly enough. All things considered, too bad that Christiane spent most of her time away from home at an exclusive drama school she had insisted so much to enter. Patrice was in her course, too.

But back at home, her parents were reaching the boiling point. The older she grew, the more Annette slipped out of control, getting more and more rebellious. She showed deep anguish that ended up being contagious for those who lived with her.

Marc and Melissa were at a loss. Ignoring her, trying to spoil her, cuddling with her, locking her in her room... nothing seemed to work. The only times they’d slapped her face or bottom in anger, they’d caused even tighter seclusion in the young girl, so that didn’t appear to be the way either.

Some coped well, like 12-year-old Jean-Luc, who would often sigh and walk back to his room after having been insulted. Some others, like Melissa herself, and 15-year-old Claudette, went through stages of quite severe distress because of it. Marc tried his best, and so did his middle child Noel, but to little or no avail. And even their patience was about to run out.

Doctors could say all they wanted that Annette had nothing physical, but facts proved them wrong. Or, if they were right, it all boiled down to an extremely unruly, self-centred personality – or to awfully bad parenting, and Marc and Melissa weren’t ready to accept either.

Little did they know that Christiane’s last visit home before the end of her fourth and final year at the drama school would change things.

Christiane’s old bedroom was dusted off, and a guestroom was arranged for Patrice. Melissa had invited relatives, friends, colleagues, and Patrice’s family for lunch in the Beaumonts’ estate, deep in the countryside. She suspected, and with reason, that the young couple would officially announce their engagement and the chosen date of the wedding. Needless to say, the parents were radiant.

Annette had taken such news in the usual way. Intrigued at first, “‘cuz I like to have people around,” and scowling after noticing the attention was all for Christiane. Not that she didn’t like or love her sister, quite the contrary, but being the focus was actually critical for her.

As always, her mother and father had tried to endear her at first. When that proved useless, they ignored her, then started arguing back. When Annette broke an entire service of plates, they locked her in her bedroom. When the child nearly broke her neck trying to escape from the window, they had a maid stay with her. That was all they could do to contain her when other things were more pressing.

Preparations for lunch came out wonderful. The prodigal daughter arrived the evening before in a sports car with Patrice. Hugs, kisses and tears welcomed them. When the teen asked to see Annette, she was told the latest news. A wave of sadness rushed over her face as she listened to her mother’s recollections. Even she couldn’t believe how much of a handful her littlest sister had been.

Again she asked, like countless times before, if anything had been imposed to make her behave. She seemed disappointed that locking her in her bedroom, with her toys and books and everything, was all that had been done.

That evening Christiane went into the child’s room to say goodnight and found an unusually sweet Annette, who covered her face with kisses. She was a gem, and Christiane loved her like a daughter... which made it all the more painful to know that the kid’s troubles were only getting worse.

They talked a while, and Christiane listened to her say how sad she was to be making trouble again. She said she didn’t mean to, that she fought so hard to behave. Even though, sometimes, it was fun to raise hell. It saddened Christiane to hear that, but it was a rare opening and she cherished that little talk.

Before tucking her in for the night, Christiane made her promise she would behave the following day, and that if she felt the urge to be a brat, to come to her and just say it: they’d find a way for her to brat without causing a mayhem. Annette was surprised, for being told to behave, and for the offer. Everyone just expected her to cause a mess, period. She fell asleep with a puzzled look on her round face.

Christiane had heard her mother worry about the lunch, and knew there was nothing she could really do to help. But still... perhaps giving Annette some responsibility in managing her own behaviour was the key to getting somewhere.

The following day was sunny and warm as is expected of a May morning. Last-minute preparations were made, including setting the large, 50-seats table in the garden. Annette sulked and muttered some profanity under her breath when her mother tried to dress her. After a while, Melissa planted a symbolic but heartfelt smack to the child’s face and left the room fuming. On her way out, Christiane reminded her that hitting had always been counterproductive – “if done like that anyway.”

Melissa didn’t know what her daughter meant, but was too miserable to dwell on it. And she still had to fit in that snug tailleur anyway, so she headed for her quarters shaking her head.

Christiane entered Annette’s room, to find the child in panties and vest, kicking a stuffed animal around. Without a word she grabbed her and slipped the white lace dress over the child’s head despite the struggling. Annette fought to get rid of her sister’s grasp but couldn’t, and only when she was all dressed she calmed down, realising she’d lost that one fight.

It was then that Christiane placed her hands on Annette’s shoulders and, with a glare that could scare a demon, she said loud and clear that she didn’t want any misbehaviour during lunch – or else.

She purposefully let Annette wonder as to the ‘or else’ part.

The guests arrived at random around eleven in the morning, parking their large cars in the entryway. Melissa put on her best Lady of the House face and welcomed them, made introductions when necessary, and everything that a host should do. Marc and the kids joined in, and so did Christiane and Patrice. They were, understandably, on everyone’s lips that morning.

The lunch flowed smooth and everyone had a good time. Annette did too, at first. She enjoyed all the old ladies’ compliments as they admired her cute dress, and she’d do yet another pirouette for the official photographer. Christiane hoped that the child could feel good and carefree at least for a day.

However, it was not to be. Despite the attention and all the questions directed her way and Patrice’s, the young woman still kept an eye on her youngest sister every other minute. She saw her mood change quite rapidly from entertained to gloomy, and than plain snappy. The Annette they all knew resurfaced again for no apparent reason at all. Was it a short attention curve? Was it a problem with having people around and not paying enough attention to her? Christiane wouldn’t know. She just saw a disaster that’s just waiting for someplace to happen.

Christiane excused herself and walked to her sister. She asked if there was anything she needed to tell her, and if she remembered her promise. Annette pushed her away and sank in her chair, pouting. That wasn’t good. Christiane decided she’d better start acting on her part of the deal, and told Annette that she could sulk all she wanted – but that if she just dared to throw a tantrum, she’d regret it.

Looking back, maybe that was a mistake on Christiane’s part: you don’t threaten someone you know is about to blow off. On the other hand, though...

Be as it may, Annette sure wasn’t thinking of any of this, and as soon as Christiane walked away, she exploded, and big time. She pushed on her table (there were many smaller tables joined together instead of a big, long one) with impressive force for an eight-year-old. Plates went flying all over, mostly on the guests’ clothing. The dogs came howling and lapping the food off the grass, enhancing the mess.

Everyone stood hurriedly, looking in the direction of the noises, wondering what all the commotion was about. But one voice raised above all others:

“ANNETTE!”

Christiane strode back to where her sister was standing, looking at her feet, an angry scowl on her beet red face. Before anyone could stop her or even say anything, the young woman reached for the little girl and grabbed her arm. She scolded her vigorously, not yelling but not caring to keep her voice low either. Annette tried to break free all along but just couldn’t, and had to listen along with everyone else to Christiane’s lecture, which included all the details of their deal.

A few seconds later Christiane let go of her arm – but only for a moment, because she circled Annette’s waist and lifted her forcibly from the ground. The child yelled and squirmed and demanded to be let down, but Christiane held on tight and pretended not to hear. She also ignored her mother’s request to stop. No one actually intervened, though... and with her free hand Christiane raised the back of the child’s pearly white dress and her petticoats, much to everyone’s surprise.

The many gasps and intakes of breath were cut short by the sound WHACK! of Christiane’s palm on Annette’s panty-covered behind. The child bucked and screamed bloody murder, flailing her little arms and legs but to no avail. Though not particularly strong, Christiane was holding her firmly and there was no way the kid could escape.

Smack after searing smack fell on the twin cheeks reddening fast under the blows. After the bald-faced scolding, Christiane remained silent and let her hand do the talking. Annette thrashed about and shrieked, until finally the dam broke and she cried and cried as her little bottom was set on fire.

All around, people stared, speechless and motionless. Those rare little murmurs they exchanged were too soft to be heard over Annette’s protests. Melissa was too shocked  to do anything, while Marc sat with his arms crossed. Patrice nodded in approval of his fiancée’s work.

It lasted less than a minute, but it was so intense that when Christiane’s hand stopped the child was pouring tears and snot onto the grass. Her backside felt on fire and looked a glowing pink beneath her white cotton underpants.

There was still a dead silence in the air, now broken only by Annette’s hoarse crying. Christiane set her back on her feet, took a cotton tissue from her pocket and had her blow her nose. She looked at the child and told her loud and clear to go to her room and stay there until she came for her, unless she wanted a repeat – this time on her bare bottom.

And much to everyone’s astonishment, Annette nodded and did as told, scurrying away.

The party eventually resumed, and though awkwardly, Christiane and Patrice did announce their engagement, and the wedding in eight months. A roaring applause saluted their declaration.

Later on, Christiane confronted her parents and siblings about the events, and she was a little surprised herself by the reactions. She had expected them to oppose to the way she’d handled it, and even that would be fine as long as something changed in Annette... but Marc hugged her instead, and said that if only they’d had the courage to do that a couple of years back, things would have been different.

Melissa was sceptical, and so were the other kids, but Christiane held her point. Being away from home had made her see things for what they really were. Annette was a troubled child who needed help and support, but also needed to have limits set for her. Strong limits if necessary. She thought that even what looked like wrong or hurtful was going to have immense benefit in the future.

If applied lovingly and correctly, a good spanking is only needed once or twice. If it’s needed more, it quite obviously isn’t working.

That afternoon, Christiane purposefully made Annette wait for a good three hours before going to her room. When she did, she was greeted by a much more agreeable child, even though she seemed to have lost some of her brightness. That saddened Christiane, but she knew it would be temporary.

“You okay, sunshine?”

Annette shook her head. “My bum hurts. You hitted me and I hate it.”

Talk about sincerity. “I’m sorry it hurts. But yes, I have spanked you, and I will do it again if you disobey. Either me, or mommy or daddy.”

Annette was about to reply, but Christiane gently took her chin in her hand and spun her face still somewhat puffy from crying. “Annette Beaumont, I mean it. Starting today, someone will take your panties down and spank your bare little bottom when you pull a stunt like that. We don’t like it, but we will because I think it’s for your own good. It won’t last forever... you just need not to throw tantrums.”

Annette pouted and snapped her face away from Christiane’s hand... she even crossed her arms and glared... but after a while, and with a sigh, for the first time in her life she said: “I’m sorry.”

– The End –

It’s not a true story, of course. And it is pseudo-psychology. There are much better, more thought-out ways to deal with kids suffering from such behavioural disorders. That said, I think the story is still reasonable. I hope you’ll let me know if you think otherwise!

This story does not necessarily represent the author’s point of view about anything. It is simply a work of fiction . The characters herein portrayed are invented and do not resemble reality to the best of the author’s knowledge. This account is entirely fictitious . Any similarities to other persons, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.

This story is written for the sane amusement of adult readers. It does not intend harm and does not promote violence of any kind, including spanking. No offence is meant to any group, ethnicity or individuals.

The author does in no way endorse the non-consensual disciplinary spanking of actual children and / or teenagers.

Copyright © 2005 Haley Brimley . Contact for information and / or feedback.