Elena hadn't had trouble sitting down because of a tanned rear end since her mom died. She also hadn't liked driving since her parents drowned. Before the accident, she'd sometimes took long drives around the town to clear her head. Now, whenever she got in a car, she counted down the minutes until she could get out. Before the Salvatores came into her life, she would tell Bonnie everything and a large part of her wanted to go to her house and vent. But Bonnie had made it clear that she'd kill Damon if she hurt one of her friends again. And, as much as Elena hated Damon at the moment, the very idea of him not being around anymore felt too horrible to seriously contemplate.
Normally, for something like this, she'd just go in her room and write in her diary. But writing in her diary always made her think of her mom. The mom who spanked her. She didn't want to think about her mom and her spoon. When Damon's hand connected with her backside, it felt so very different than when her mom's spoon connected to those same spots. He hadn't stopped after that. He made her call him sir and say she understood. It was a terrible experience she had no desire to repeat. And If she never saw Stefan looking so broken again, it'd be too soon.
It was already hard enough not to cry with how much her ass stung. There was need to dwell on painful memories too.
She broke enough speeding laws that might have inspired Jenna to do more than ground her for a weekend if she'd gotten pulled over. She didn't. And she made it home in record time with no harm done. It was hard to care about the possibility of a consequence. Or her safety. Or anything.
Elena found the house empty. It was probably for the best. Her family would know she was upset. She had no idea what she could possibly say to reassure them or explain why she was moving so carefully. Jeremy would have picked up on the tells of a Post-Spanking Elena and while Jenna might buy a lie about experimenting with Stefan, it wouldn't convince Jeremy. Because a moody and grumpy Elena with a sore rear was an Elena who gotten a warning smack or two and was close to getting it good from Mom. Jeremy was usually smart enough to shape up after a few swats, but Elena almost always ended up pushing until she was bent over the counter and dancing the tune of a singing spoon.
She spent some time looking at the damage Damon had inflicted. The parts of her that he'd disciplined were sore and warm to the touch. The burn hurt and Elena spent at least half an hour trying to rub away the pain. They'd fade in the morning, but until then, she'd have to deal with a smacked bottom. It was far from the worst she'd ever suffered, but it still hurt.
If her bottom were on fire, if she felt the full force of a parental censure, it would almost be easier. But, like this, with just enough sting to hurt but not enough to convince her she'd needed the correction. It was like walking on a tightrope. If she kept moving, she might make it to the end. But she could also fall down at any minute.
The part between, where she could slip at any moment, was more terrifying than actually falling. If she had, at least it'd be over. Maybe she'd be hurt. But when you're hurt, you can pick up the pieces and heal. When you're waiting for harm to come to you there was nothing you could do but wait for the pain.
The warmth of a warning spanking had never done anything but make her antsy and frustrated. Guilty, maybe, if she knew she was in the wrong. It'd built inside of her until she found her way under her mother's spoon. If she thought the warning swats were undeserved, she'd be wired until she was proven right. The other option was worse. She'd come to learn she needed a burned tail. After said tail got what it needed. After she'd gotten what she had needed.
The times she was most stubborn, most willingly to look away from what was obvious, those were the times when her mom would have to spend the first part of the spanking punishing Elena before she could begin teaching. Once she was worn out and in pain and submitted to her mom's wisdom, Mom would start teaching Elena right from wrong.
She'd only gotten about a dozen serious spankings over her seventeen years while her brother had been swatted too many times to count. Jeremy needed it more, but Elena needed it harder. That's what her mom would say, tired but satisfied, while one or both of her children squirmed at the breakfast table.
It didn't happen often, but sometimes Elena could prove that her warning smacks were unwarranted and mom apologized. But when Miranda took out her spoon, it was because she was completely sure it's what Elena needed. And she'd been right. Always. By the time mom had put her spoon up until next time she needed it, Elena was a sorry little girl who had learned her lesson. Miranda wouldn't have made it hurt so bad if Elena wouldn't benefit from it.
Damon wasn't her mom, so he didn't have the right to do the same.
She rubbed lotion onto the red marks that Damon had spanked into her cheeks and legs and allowed herself to soak in how good it felt. It cooled off the heat. Then she went to her bed, on her stomach, to finish her homework. Just like Stefan. She knew could talk to him and he would listen and understand. But she needed space.
There were some things difficult to share with a partner. Like the kind of intimacy shared between a parent and child. If Stefan felt even a sliver of the type of trust and love that came during and after being skinned alive by a loving parent, then Elena keenly understood why he'd struggled to open up.
She loved Stefan with every fiber of her being. But it would take time to build up the kind of trust that they would need before they could touch such a topic.
And there was also one thing she was afraid of. That Stefan didn't feel that way about Damon like she'd felt about Mom. And he was just enduring it because he had to. Stefan would put up with a lot to keep his big brother around. Elena knew this in her bones. She had watched Stefan watch Damon kill his best friend.
When she was finished with her homework, only about an hour had passed. She could work ahead. Be a good girl. Prove she'd learned her lesson by being extra well behaved. But if she did that, it meant Damon was right. And winning. That he was the grown up and she was the kid. That taking her in his hand had been the responsible thing to do. That what went down when he'd bent her over was for her own good. He was wrong; she was right. And she wasn't going to let him influence her.
Elena wondered into the dining room. She and Bonnie had spent their Saturday at the table while Pearl and Ric were in the living room. Pearl had explained the best ways to track a vampire. Ric was a quick study and intuitive to boot. He'd impressed Pearl. And Elena had a feeling very few things impressed the formidable vampire. Elena had picked up some stray tips, but she'd been too busy watching Bonnie to really pay attention.
Her best friend was zoning out in a way that Elena was beginning to associate with her witchcraft. She was giving into it more. Bonnie insisted it's what she needed to do, but all Elena could think was that she'd willingly walk to her death if she got in too deep. Thankfully, she hadn't gotten into any danger this time. She was just filling up her math notebook with the same drawing over and over again: a sun awash in flames being cradled by a crescent moon.
It didn't seem dangerous. In fact, it was a lovely little image. Even Jeremy had been impressed and, before their parents died, most of his sourness was directed to what he called lazy graphic designs in day to day life.
But the last time Bonnie doodled like that, death followed.
Elena worried.
She stared at the moon. There was a twist at both ends that looked a bit like a heart if she squinted. She couldn't brood over thing she couldn't control forever, though. Eventually she found her way into the kitchen. Instead of getting a snack like she'd planned, she found herself opening the cupboard where her mom kept her most potent parenting tool.
Her mom's spoon. It was made of wood so expensive that Dad tried to get her to return it. But Miranda had been resolute. The wood was strong and fine and wouldn't crack or crumble over the years as she used it to help raise her children. Grayson was swayed, but he always was about discipline; he never had the heart to punish his children with anything more than a weekend grounding. The handle was well equipped anchor the bowl of the spoon. There was never any doubt it would hold together as Miranda laid down the law again and again and again on unprotected skin.
Elena traced her finger around the head of the spoon. It wasn't very large, but it was dense. The small round bruises it left in its wake had taught her not to underestimate its power. Especially when wielded by an experienced spanker. And Jenna could attest to her big sister's skill in attending to a delinquent. Miranda was a well-regarded judge, jury, and executioner when it came to thrashing a deserving child.
She smacked it against her hand. It packed enough of a punch to make her wince. The sting was bad, but the memories were worse.
The last time Elena been under the spoon was only a few weeks before the car accident. Things were going so badly with Matt that she'd taken to cutting the class they shared. The day after dad grounded her for the weekend while her mom watched her carefully, Elena had planned a special romantic evening with Matt. She'd taken them to the river in the forest that was the unofficial hotspot for teenagers to have sex.
Elena had pulled Matt on top of her. Whispered in his ear that she wanted to feel him completely. Matt wasn't stupid. He knew that it was a bad idea to have sex without a condom. But Elena had used all her tricks and told him she didn't want anything to come between them. He'd been so eager and willing to please her. It was a last-ditch effort on Elena's part to try and find a real spark between them.
Sheriff Forbes found them before anything actually happened. But she saw enough to know what was going on. Elena could so clearly remember how shitty and embarrassing it'd been to listen to one of her best friend's mom explain that she'd been caught about to have sex. Unprotected sex at the place where Mystic Falls teenagers went to get STDs.
Her parents had been worried. She's snuck out while grounded. Dad pulled her into hug. He'd held her close and long and tight and she was three seconds away from completely breaking down before he handed her to Mom. She was waiting next to the counter and holding the spoon Dad never used when he cooked the family meals.
Elena had thought Miranda would lecture her as she bent Elena over the counter and prepared her for a good spanking. But instead, she asked, with so much concern, "Honey, why did you want to get caught?"
There was no use trying to lie. Elena would have been more careful if she were actually trying to pull one over on her parents. She'd just shrugged and looked at the ground. She hadn't been ready to talk. And her mom had known. She didn't make Elena talk. She didn't even lecture before, during, or after the punishment, like she normally would.
The two of them just got down to business.
She could so easily remember how the edge of the counter cut into her middle. How her mom had lifted up her skirt and pulled down her panties. The air in the kitchen was so cool she'd gotten chills. Elena had folded her arms and buried her head in them as her mom wrapped an arm around her waist.
That night, Miranda Sommers-Gilbert paddled her daughter more thoroughly than ever before. Elena was so sure no daughter had ever been spanked so hard. There was no warmup or build up. Just one hard spank followed by another. Elena had wiggled in her arms in the vain hope that she'd at least avoid one blow. But in each swing, the spoon found skin to punish. Tan. Blister. Correct.
Elena had begged for an early end. She'd promised she'd never do anything bad ever again. Just please no more. Miranda had seen her pleas for they were - a desperate little girl trying to reduce her sentence. Elena imagined Mom shook her head as she continued to rain forceful blows against her behind. She tore through Elena's defenses with one determined swing at a time. Elena punishment would continue until she'd submitted fully to parental authority.
There was no real way to dance around the blows. They fell at random. She still tried. It didn't matter that her mom's aim had always proven to be true. Just the small chance that she could avoid one blow. To have an extra second without another bite from the head of her Mommy's spanking spoon tanning her fanny red. It would be worth it. Just one extra second of peace cos her mommy missed. Elena's bottom would get a brief rest from the onslaught before the tanning resumed. She never found out if that were actually true and she never would. Miranda's always hit home when she spanked. Elena would never get another chance to try and avoid a coming blow because Elena would never get a spanking from her again.
Eventually, as she always had before, she had slumped down and accepted she would be paddled until her mom decided otherwise. Mom was in charge, not Elena.
That was Miranda's cue to start teaching.
Now that Elena's defenses were down, her skin was ripe for education. Mom tore up her backside good. She brought down the law. Elena's was reduced to remorseful tears. The educational portion during the infrequent conversations where she was bent over and presenting a rounded target to be struck repeatedly was much worse than the punishment portion. Every time Miranda gave her a fresh spank, she made sure she struck gold. This was the part where every blow meant a new bruise. Not a new blotchy red mark on pinked skin. She was given something more lasting. The head of the spoon colored her skin black, blue, purple, and yellow. The spoon's bowl was giving her instruction for the long term.
The worst part of the spoon was that it was so long. Miranda could lay a trail of bruises up and down her legs as well as across her bottom. And when she was teaching, she always did. Mom made sure her little girl would never risk her future so callously by making sure even her durable calves bore lingering marks.
She went beyond even that. Mom decided her inner thighs needed as much tutelage as her cheeks and legs. Miranda could twist her spoon effortlessly because he was used to hitting at awkward angles as a tennis player. Elena could testify to her skill. No power was sacrificed when she spanked from an unusual angle. No part of Elena was going to get anything less than stellar education.
As she laid on the counter and cried in her arms, she learned her lessons. Don't break grounding. Don't have unsafe sex. Talk to your parents. Stop hurting one of your best friends.
For a week, Elena's legs had been littered with bruises. During cheerleading practice, it was quite obvious Elena's parents did not spare the rod. Or the spoon, as it was obvious the small and round nature of her many bruises came from the head of one. It was humiliating. It was plain as day that she'd spent quite some time suffering under parental ire.
At a founding family member, Elena could get away with murder at school. But in the home, a parent busted her butt. Just like a normal kid. Even if she was unfairly privileged in other ways, she had at least one authority figure to answer to.
After the spanking was over, Miranda held until her tears stopped flowing and she was breathing normally again. They laid on the couch together. Miranda urged Elena to write about in her diary. A catharsis from a good whipping was tainted by its' disciplinary purpose. Nothing could replace just getting it out. She needed to get it out on paper if nothing else. The truth was there. Elena knew what she needed to say. The words might end her longest friendship, but she had them.
Elena had found out a few weeks later that Miranda had known what was bugging her. She'd known Elena was terrified of losing Matt. She told Elena to set Matt free. And then, a few hours later, she was dead.
She hadn't enjoyed that spanking (or any of the other ones her mom gifted her with, for that matter). But she'd gotten off her tight rope. She's fallen. But her mom had caught her. And, as her bruises healed, Elena began to peace herself back together. She started to become ready to break up with Matt.
A few swats from Damon, no matter how much they had stung, did not give her that same sense of closure. She would've felt better, at least emotionally, if Damon had given it to her proper on his knee. Sort of. Damon had no right to punish her, and even if he did, Elena hadn't done anything to deserve it.
If he'd just admit it, she could be off her deadly line of metaphorical rope. But if she confronted him, he'd probably just spank her until she called him sir without prompting. Fuck him.
Damon was so infuriating and entitled and horrible that Elena was very tempted to do something reckless right under his nose. It'd serve him right. It was a very childish thought, but it felt good to think it. If Damon wanted to call her a little girl, she could at least in indulge in thinking like one.
Her mom was gone. So was her dad. They were both dead because of Elena. The girl who'd benefit from maternal corporal punishment had drowned with them.
She wrote four words in her diary before going to bed: Dear Diary, I'm fine.