Heather stood over the cowering form of her submissive, feeling a mix of exasperation and dark satisfaction. The poor little bitch boyl, dressed in a ratty pair of jeans and a baggy t-shirt, dared to whimper and sniffle like a pathetic little sissy. Her eyes, normally bright and full of mischief, now gazed at the floor, avoiding Heather's stern gaze.

"You've been a very naughty bitch today," Heather said, her voice firm yet husky with repressed lust. "Dressing up like a fake boy, trying to fool me. Well, let's see how you like being treated like the little girl you are."

Without giving her opportunity to respond, Heather snatched the wooden paddle from its hook on the wall. The sissy boy's eyes widened as she recognized the instrument of punishment. She trembled, her full, pink lips parting in a silent gasp.

Heather brought the paddle down with a resounding smack across the sissy's bare bottom, the momentum causing her to bounce on her knees. The girly boy yelped, arching her back and exposing more of her pale flesh to the cruel wood.

"Count them out," Heather ordered, raising the paddle for another strike. "And don't even think about stopping until I tell you to."

"One, two, three—" the sissy stammered, her voice quivering with each word. Heather didn't bother to count herself; she was too busy drinking in the sight of the abused bottom, already reddened with the first licks of punishment.

She paddled sissy relentlessly, each swing sending her flailing and gasping. Her cries filled the room, her body writhing in a desperate attempt to escape the unrelenting onslaught. But Heather was merciless, determined to break the brat's spirit once and for all.

When the paddling finally ceased, Heather tossed the tainted wood aside and crouched down to examine her handiwork. The sissy's bottom was a vibrant crimson, streaked with angry welts. The girly boy's eyes, now glazed with tears, slowly lifted to meet Heather's piercing gaze.

"Better?" Heather asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm. The sissy, too overwhelmed to respond, merely nodded.

"Good," Heather said, stroking the girl's cheek with the back of her hand. "Now, it's time for your spankings to really start hurting. Strap on, baby girl."

The sissy's breath hitched as Heather produced the leather strap from under a nearby bench. She'd seen it before, but never had the misfortune of experiencing it firsthand. The strap was wide and taut, with thick studs that would dig into tender skin.

Heather untied the sissy's shabby jeans and pushed them down to her ankles, baring her bottom. She grabbed the girl's hips, pulling her back against her own firm form. With a swift motion, Heather cinched the strap around the sissy's waist, leaving no doubt about the impending pain.

"Brace yourself, little one," Heather whispered in the sissy's ear, her hot breath making the girl shiver. "You're going to cry for me by the time I'm done with you."

And with that, Heather began to deliver a relentless series of strikes, the strap cracking against the sissy's already abused bottom with a sickening thwack. The sissy's screams tore through the room as she bucked and thrashed, her hands scrabbling at the floor in a futile attempt to escape.

Heather perversely reveled in the sissy's anguish, her own arousal spiking with each pleading wail. She had never felt so powerful, so in control. And as she punished the girl, she knew that this was where she belonged – as the dominant force, breaking and remaking her submissive in her image.

When the strap finally fell away, Heather guided the sissy to her feet and spun her around. The girl's eyes, red-rimmed and puffy, blinked up at Heather in a mixture of fear and submission.

"Now, you're going to clean up this mess and put on some real girl clothes," Heather said, her voice crisp and authoritative. "And tomorrow, you'll do it all again – dress up as the boy you pretend to be and hope I don't catch you. Understand?"

The sissy nodded, her bottom lip tremulous as she slowly sank to her knees to fetch the discarded jeans. As she dressed, Heather watched, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips. The sissy may have been a naughty brat, but Heather had tamed her, reminding her of her place in the world.

And as the little sissy bitch slunk away, her tail between her legs, Heather knew that she would never forget the lesson she'd learned today – that sometimes, the most powerful force in the universe was a woman bent on making her little girl obey.