Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

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(*****, F/F, Severe, hairbrushing, strapping, mouth-soaping)

A professional woman discovers what it's like to be a little girl again. (Approximately 4,262 words. Originally published 2004-01.)

Twenty-nine-year-old Julie Weston, President and CEO of GummiSoft, the top-notch children's software company she founded seven years ago, looked nothing like the glamorous image she'd projected in last month's People Magazine's "50 Most Beautiful People."

Instead of the risque, fetching Versace gown slit down her navel, she wore faded and torn denim cutoffs and a cheap T-Shirt with a long-dead high-tech company's logo on it. Instead of a perfect make-up job with Liquid Rose lipstick and Blue Sky Number 12 eyeliner, she wore a coating of dust and cobwebs from head to toe. Instead of her delicate fingers gripping the stem of a crystal goblet of champagne as she winked a toast to the reader, she gripped the scarred and worn leather handle of an ancient trunk as she dragged it from a dark corner of the filthy attic.

Yet somehow Julie still managed to look stunningly beautiful. The shorts exposed miles of creamy bare leg and thigh, and her ass looked amazing bulging through the holes of the torn cutoffs. The cheap T-Shirt hugged her full bosom impressively, and the dust and filth just served to make her look more human and approachable. If a man had been anywhere around, he would have immediately taken Julie and kissed her on the mouth. She had that look of frustrated exhaustion that just demanded a kiss.

Julie was exhausted for good reason: she'd spent the past day and a half rummaging through all the old junk in her parent's house. Four days ago her father, after a battle with prostrate cancer, had finally succumbed to the inevitable. Julie wasn't particularly moved. She'd been expecting it for over a year, and she and her father hadn't been close since the divorce when she was eleven, though after her mother had died, they kept in touch and occasionally celebrated Christmas together.

She missed her mother. That was strange, as they had never gotten along very well. Julie had been bitter about the divorce and blamed both her parents. She also had hated that her father got to keep the house and she and her mom had to move. It was what her mother wanted -- she had accepted a position at a prestigious law firm in San Francisco -- but Julie had been devastated to leave all her friends. It had taken the car accident for Julie to realize how much she depended on her mother. They may not have been best friends, but her mother was an intelligent and capable person, and Julie had incorrectly assumed that level of advice and support would always be around.

Her mother's advice and comfort was exactly what she needed right now, during this trying time. The company had gone public a year ago, and while technically Julie was a very wealthy person, there was a huge amount of pressure on her to hand the reins over to a more experienced manager. Julie had built GummiSoft from nothing and hated the thought of losing control of her baby, but she knew she had little business experience and Wall Street demanded top-level management. Still, she felt her most important assets -- solid technical skills, intimate, almost intuitive knowledge of the market, and her ability to put together incredibly advantageous deals -- would serve the company best. MBAs were a dime a dozen.

Then, in the middle of the battle for her company, her father passes away. Julie hated leaving Leon in charge while she cleaned up her father's mess, but something had drawn her here. She needed this. She needed to rummage through old memories and put some crap behind her. She was expert at detecting and following her hunches, and intuition told her that this was where she needed to be right now.

The trunk was enormously heavy, and Julie strained with all her strength to drag it to the middle of the room where the single bare bulb glowed dully. The lock on the trunk was rusted, so Julie got a hammer and busted it off. She couldn't imagine what was in the trunk. She'd already sorted through most of the books and boxes of rotted clothing and junk. She hefted open the lid.

And gasped.

Inside, curled in half, feet to nose, was Nanny. Tears instantly came to Julie's eyes when she saw how horribly Nanny had been treated. The robot couldn't feel anything, of course, but it was a shame to see her dusty and abandoned inside an old trunk.

Memories of a decade of life under the guidance of the Nannybot flooded Julie's mind. She remembered the wonderful times: when Nanny had saved her from drowning when she'd gone into the deep end of the pool even when she'd been forbidden, or the time Nanny had helped her win the junior high science fair with her volcano simulation. She also remembered the painful times, like right after the almost drowning when Nanny had put her dripping wet over her lap and paddled her bottom for a quarter hour.

Julie smiled at that. She could remember howling across Nanny's lap many times, but every single one of those spankings had been truly well-deserved. Nanny was strict but always fair, always sorry to have to punish, and wise enough to know that it was a required duty.

"I missed you, Nanny," Julie said softly, reaching out to touch the soft, rubber pseudo-skin face. With sudden inspiration, Julie reached under Nanny's arm and found the recessed power button. Would Nanny still have power after all these years? Only one way to find out! She pressed the button.

For a moment, Julie thought nothing had happened. Then she heard a faint humming, and then Nanny's eyes snapped open. Nanny turned her head to face Julie.

"Nannybot number NYJD-69734, reporting for duty. Self-assessment diagnostic reports low power warning. Emergency backup power in use. Recharge as soon as possible."

"The power charger's downstairs," said Julie. "Let's connect you immediately."

Nanny rotated herself into sitting position and then scrambled to her feet inside the trunk. She carefully stepped out. "Where is Mr. Weston?"

"He's no longer with us, I'm afraid," said Julie. "I'm Julie. Remember me?"

Nanny's expressionless eyes blinked. "Miss Julie? But your face! It is changed. And you're filthy. Look at you, covered with dust!"

Julie blushed. "I've grown up."

"If the date of my internal clock is correct, you must be twenty-nine point three-eight-seven-six years old. I have not seen you since you were eleven point eight-four-five-three years old, a difference of seventeen-point--"

"Enough!" interrupted Julie, leading the robot down the stairs. "I'm older, we get the picture."

"It is good to see you, Miss Julie. If I had been awake all these years I would have missed you."

"I missed you, Nanny. You taught me a great deal. I can't believe my father would just abandon you in a trunk."

Nanny walked to the power receptacle and plugged herself in. The green "activated" light above the power console flashed rapidly.

"You were too old to need a Nanny when you left, Miss Julie. You did not want me to go with you."

Julie frowned. Was there a touch of hurt in the Nannybot's voice? Surely it wasn't programmed for pain. "I was a silly child going through difficult times," she said. "I think I hated the whole world at that time."

"That is not a valid excuse," said Nanny, and there was no question that her voice had taken on a sterner quality. "The last thing you said to me was," -- and out of the robot mouth came a voice recording of Julie at age 11:

"Go away. I HATE you. You're just a big dumb old robot and don't know ANYTHING. It's YOUR fault Mommy and Daddy are divorcing. It's YOUR fault I have to leave and move to San Francisco. You get to stay here with Daddy. It's not fair! I hate you, hate you, hate you!"

The voice peaked into a shriek and concluded with the slamming of a door.

Julie collapsed onto a kitchen chair, trembling violently. Her heart was pounding, and she felt hot and sweaty. Emotions she hadn't felt in years overwhelmed her. It was like she was eleven years old again, caught in the middle of the terrible split of her parents. She felt that horrible gnawing inside, that feeling of being torn in two directions: she loved both her Mommy and her Daddy and couldn't imagine life with only one of them. Rage and guilt and terrible, terrible fear flooded over her, and suddenly, without any warning or prompting, Julie burst into tears.

Instantly, Nanny unplugged herself. She was at Julie's side, pressing the little girl's head to her belly and whispering comforting words. "There, there," she said gently. "You just cry and let it out. You're in a great deal of pain, I can see that. Mommy and Daddy didn't mean to hurt you, you know that. But they were often selfish, during those times, thinking only of themselves."

Julie sniffed back tears and wiped her face with her arm. "Oh, thank you, Nanny! You were always so kind to me. I missed you so much when we moved!"

"I know, dear. I know you didn't mean it when you told me you hated me and to go away."

Julie began to cry again. "I'm sorry, so sorry. I never should have spoken to you like that. You were my only friend during that horrible time and I... I treated you like shit!"

Nanny started. "Miss Julie! How dare you use such language! I shall have wash your mouth out with soap."

Julie smiled through her tears. "Very funny, Nanny. I didn't know your humor chip included joking."

"It doesn't," answered the robot grimly, grabbing Julie's arm and guiding her to her feet. She began pull the woman toward the kitchen sink. "You know your father programmed me to watch your foul mouth, and you know what the consequences are."

"But Nanny," gasped Julie, as they reached the sink and Nanny grabbed the bar of Ivory soap. "You can't! I'm almost thirty years old!"

"What does age have to do with your naughty behavior?" said the robot. "When you are bad, you are punished. Age is irrelevant. Now accept your punishment like a big girl."

"Arrgughgh!" groaned a shocked and horrified Julie as the soap was rammed into her mouth. She struggled violently and pushed at the soap with her tongue, but that just meant she tasted more of the soap. She began to gag slightly, and then remembered that struggling always made mouth-washings worse. She relaxed a bit, tears stinging her eyes, and breathed heavily through her nose, glaring at the robot.

"Bite down," ordered Nanny.

Julie shook her head. All the horrors of mouth-washings when she was a child came back to her. Biting coated your teeth with a soapy film that meant you tasted soap for hours. No way!

Without hesitation, Nanny yanked Julie forward so she was bending over the sink and walloped Julie's butt twice with her hard palm.

Julie yelped, stunned, and tried to turn to hide her bottom. But Nanny was in total control. Julie could hardly move.

"Bite!" ordered Nanny. The command was followed by two more hard whacks, flooding Julie's bottom with a warm stinging. She squirmed, the feeling bringing back powerful memories of spankings from the robot.

"Heas!" she mumbled through the soap, eyes welling with fresh tears. That got her a half dozen crackers then, and it was too much. Weeping, Julie bit into the soap. She pulled her lips back so Nanny could see that she had finally obeyed, and Nanny nodded. After a few minutes that dragged on forever for the bewildered CEO, Nanny allowed Julie to spit out the soap.

"Bleeggg! That's horrible! I can't believe you did that, Nanny! Now look here, no more of that. I'm not a little girl and I don't need my mouth washed out with soap or my fanny spanked, you got that?"

"It sounds to me like that's exactly what you need," said Nanny. "I can only assume it has been seventeen point four-four-two-seven years since your last spanking and you have forgotten a great deal about being a good little girl."

"But I'm NOT a little girl you stupid hunk of tin! I'm the head of one of the largest software companies in the world!"

Nanny's eyes did not change expression, though her lips turned down at the corner. "You are a naughty little girl," she said sternly. "And you are not permitted to speak to your Nanny in that tone of voice."

Julie let out a screech of protest as Nanny grabbed her around the waist and dragged her into the living room. The scene was all to familiar to her: she knew when Nanny picked her up in that manner that she was in for a spanking. Childish terror filled Julie and she squealed and kicked and hammered Nanny's steel back with her fists.

"Noooo! Stop! I ORDER you to stop, right now!"

"You know I am programmed to only accept orders from your mother or father," said Nanny. "My prime directive is to protect, educate, and discipline you with the standards your father set. Obviously, you are in desperate need of a spanking. You always protested the most when the spanking was most needed."

Julie was too terrified to even scream. The thought had flashed through her head that the robot was insane, or malfunctioning. Surely seventeen plus years in a trunk with no maintenance wasn't good for a robot! The robot was going to spank her like a child and there was nothing Julie could do about it.

Sitting on the old, familiar couch, Nanny hauled Julie -- a larger, more mature Julie -- over her lap. Julie couldn't help but feel tremendous deja vue as she lay there, her face nestled in a sofa cushion. "Oh my God," she kept thinking. "This can't be happening, this can't be real!"

But it was real. Painfully real. She realized that seconds later as a steel robot hand began to pound into her backside. The pain wasn't that bad, not as bad as she remembered. But it was humiliating and ridiculous -- she was an adult woman for crying out loud -- and she felt so helpless. All she could do was cry as her bottom grew warmer.

The spanking went on and on. How long did Nanny plan to spank her? This seemed much longer than any childhood spanking she'd received.

Then Julie remembered. Nanny was programmed to spank _all_ of a girl's bottom. That was part of her criteria for judging when a naughty girl had been properly punished. Well naturally the adult Julie had much larger bottom than eleven-year-old Julie, so the spanking would be much more extensive. Suddenly another horrified thought struck the woman: Nanny always began a spanking over clothing, but finished by smacking Julie's bare butt. Surely the robot wouldn't do that now, not to an adult, fully mature woman?

But even as she remembered that horrible scenario, Nanny stopped the spanking, lifted Julie up and began to unfasten Julie's shorts.

"Nooo!" cried Julie. "Please, I'll be good! Don't spank my bare bottom, I promise I'll be good!"

"Hush now, Miss Julie," said the implacable robot, yanking the shorts downward. "You know as well as I do that a proper spanking is always done on the bare bottom. I've just warmed you up so far."

"Ohhhh," moaned Julie as her panties followed her shorts. She was naked from the waist down now, her bottom rosy and warm. The air against her bare skin felt cool and alive, like a presence enveloping her.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! The robot's hand was heavy and Nanny was incredibly strong, but every blow was precisely the same force: a nice solid blow, not hard enough to permanently injure, but definitely leaving a sharp sting.

Julie cooed and kicked her legs frantically, trying to escape the intense stinging. Nanny just continued to spank at the same steady rate. Slowly Julie's butt turned hot pink, then dark crimson. It was really hurting now, really quite painful. A dim panic began to fill her. How long would this spanking last? Surely her bottom was roasted by now!

Then the spanking stopped. And Julie heard the most horrible sound in the world. There was a whirling and clicking and Julie looked over her shoulder and saw, sure enough, Nanny's hand disappearing into her wrist. A second later a flat-backed wooden hairbrush emerged in place of the hand. Julie screamed.

"Yes, we need to use the hairbrush," said Nanny sternly. "You need a good sharp lesson."

"Oh please," gasped Julie, her heart drumming furiously. "Can't we talk about this?"

"You may talk while I spank you, if you wish."

"No! Please, you can't! I've been spanked enough. My ass is on fire!"

There was a loud THWACK! as the back of the brush walloped Julie's butt. She howled in pain, struggling violently. THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

"Calm down," said the robot. "If you do not relax and accept your paddling, I shall start the punishment over from the beginning."

"WAIT! STOP! Oh please," moaned Julie. The hairbrush was horrible, actually _worse_ than she remembered. It put in a pain deep down, down into the muscles of her buttocks. Desperately, she sought a compromise. "Look, I'll take a hairbrush spanking, but not too many, okay? That's fair, right? How many were you planning to give me?"

"A standard hairbrushing is three times the child's age."

Julie's heart froze in mid-beat. "That's... that's nearly NINETY swats!" she yelled. "You can't do that. That would kill me!"

"It would not, Miss Julie. I detect you are in excellent health. Your blood pressure is up slightly and your heartbeat is faster than normal, but those are typical biochemical responses to a spanking."

"But I'm not a child any more," moaned Julie. "It's inappropriate to spank me that much!"

The robot seemed to think for a second. "Since you are not a child, perhaps you ought to be spanked harder," she said.

"Nooo! That's not what I meant at all."

"It is irrelevant," said the robot. "I shall comply with my programming."

And then Julie descended into hell. The brush was wide, heavy, and incredibly painful. It smacked her hard, fast, and nothing she did alleviated the pain. In moments she was sobbing like she hadn't sobbed in decades. Her buttocks swelled and steamed and she could have sworn there were blisters -- there HAD to be.

The spanking went forever. On and on and on. Julie had no idea how many spanks she'd taken: it felt like a thousand, but was probably fifty or sixty, hopefully more. She had no idea how many were remaining, and after every swat she forgot everything but the pain. Nanny, of course, was an expert spanker, varying the pace and positioning of the blows, making sure every inch of Julie's pert bottom was thoroughly paddled.

Suddenly the spanking stopped. Julie couldn't believe it. Was it over? Oh, please let it be over!

Nanny guided her to the sofa and moved away. For a few minutes all Julie could do was moan and weep. When she opened her eyes, she saw Nanny was back at the power receptacle, recharging. "Oh fuck," she whispered to herself. "You ran out of power, didn't you."

Nanny turned to face her. "I heard that. When I am fully recharged I shall have to wash out your mouth with soap again. I will also finish your hairbrushing, and I think you need a dose of the strap as well."

Julie blanched. "You've got to be kidding," she said. "Look at me!" She craned her neck to look over her shoulder at her ass in the big dining room mirror. "Oh God, you've blistered me!"

"Incorrect," said Nanny. "Those are welts, not blisters. I was very careful."

"But further spanking _will_ create blisters!" Julie cried eagerly, remembering something from her childhood and grasping at the straw. "You are programmed to _NOT_ blister me!"

"Correct," said Nanny. "But there are lots of other places I can punish you besides your bottom."


"Your thighs, for instance. The leather strap across the thighs, especially the tender inner thigh, is an effective form of punishment."

"Oh God," groaned Julie. She had been rubbing her bottom and now she suddenly realized her hands had moved between her legs. Unconsciously, she'd begun to masturbate! Now that she knew, she was embarrassed and wanted to stop, but it felt so good, especially after all that pain, and who was there to know? Just an old robot. She began to rub herself in earnest now.

"What are you doing, you naughty girl!" cried Nanny suddenly. "That's self-abuse and strictly forbidden! I shall certainly have to strap you for that."

Julie groaned, but didn't stop. She was panting heavily. She'd orgasmed twice in the last minute. Somehow she was fiendishly aroused. Being stripped half-naked and spanked like a child had somehow turned her on like nothing she'd ever felt. She'd always been so organized and efficient, keeping her sexual urges well in control. But she'd never felt urges like this before. This was nothing she could control, nothing she even _wanted_ to control: it felt too good.

She heard the robot's warning that she'd be strapped for touching herself and that got her even more excited. She envisioned the leather strap smacking her firm, pretty ass -- hot pain shooting right through to her pussy -- and she orgasmed immediately.

"Ohhhh FUUUUUUUCKKK," she cried as she felt another orgasm welling. Dimly she heard Nanny reprimanding her, but she didn't care. She'd probably get another spanking, maybe several, but the fuck cared? Not when her body felt this good!

The strapping proved to be much worse than the spanking. Nanny's leather belt was heavy and wide, and every stroke left a glistening welt across her legs. She first covered the back and outsides of Julie's thighs, then worked on the insides of her thighs. Julie thought she was going to die. Nanny made her stand with one leg up on the back of the couch so she could reach Julie's inner thigh, and it was a horrible position, though slightly more dignified than lying across Nanny's lap.

Hours later, her mouth greasy and bitter with soap, her flesh hot and tingling with countless welts, Julie lay on the glass coffee table sighing. Her sore bottom was pressed against the cold glass and it felt wonderful, though she longed to be able to touch herself. But she couldn't: Nanny had wisely tied her wrists and ankles to the coffee table.

She'd never come so many times in a _month_, let alone one day. Her pussy actually _hurt_. But it was a good hurt, just like her entire body was a good hurt. The hurt made her feel alive, sexual, and reminded her of body parts she'd forgotten existed. There was the extremely sensitive flesh between her asscheeks, for instance. She'd never even thought of that, yet Nanny had pulled the cheeks apart and strapped her there.

In the morning, after a torturous, blissful night, Julie was released. She was allowed to use the toilet, and then after an inspection of her bottom, she was given a light spanking. The spanking only aroused terribly, which made her feel naughty and deserving of a good bottom warming.

"I'm afraid I've got to get back home," she told Nanny. "This weekend has put me way behind."

"Do I go back in the trunk?" asked the robot.

Julie nodded. "I'm sorry."

Nanny was nonplussed. "Why? I experience no pain or discomfort being in the trunk. I am now fully charged. I can remain in low-power sleep mode for decades."

The robot folded herself into the trunk and closed her eyes. The humming faded to silence. "I could switch her off and reprogram her now," Julie thought. She smiled and closed the lid. A part of her was sad, a part of her relieved.

Suddenly, she realized how calm and refreshed she felt. Yes, this had been a good weekend. Her doubts about the company were gone. She felt confident and strong, ready to take on the world. Her childish self-doubt and fears had vanished, replaced by a warm and loving peace. There was no way they'd take her company from her: she'd fought too long to make it what it was. And if she made mistakes, well, fine. She'd accept the consequences like a big girl, and she'd learn from them. But no way she'd give up control.

She stood and stared at the trunk for a long time, lost in a maze of thoughts. Then, almost on impulse, she took out her black magic marker and wrote "SAVE" in large bold letters across the top.

Smiling at her daring, and even blushing a bit, though there was no one to see her, she scolded herself: "Now what in the world will you do with a Nannybot, you silly girl!"

Her smile was a secret smile, however, for she knew very well what she'd do with a Nannybot. Not right away, of course: her butt was sore enough to last her for weeks. But maybe next month. She could take the weekend off, lock the doors, turn off the cellphone, and open Nanny's trunk. Surely by then she would have done something to merit some good old-fashioned Nanny discipline!

She grinned at the thought.

The End