Pegging a Pouter: Breaking a Brat

Pegging a Pouter Brings Me So Much Joy!

Hello, naughty ones. He thought pouting would get him out of trouble. But all it got him was bent over and begging while I shoved my strap deep in his tight little hole. That’s because pegging a pouter has become one of my favorite ways to discipline brats.

As I was saying, it started with a pout. Not a sweet one, either. Rather, it was one of those smug, bratty things, like he was daring me to do something about it. He even had the gall to roll his eyes when I gave him a command. Then he crossed his arms like I’d really let that slide—as if he had options.

That was cute… for about ten seconds.

Then I grabbed him by the chin and told him exactly what was about to happen. He didn’t smirk after that. His eyes got wide. But I wasn’t in the mood for fake apologies or bratty charm. I was in the mood for pegging a pouter.

I told him to get naked and get on all fours. He hesitated. I didn’t.

I grabbed a handful of hair and shoved his head against the mattress. And suddenly, that little pout turned into a whimper. He looked back at me with those half-defiant, half-desperate eyes. And I saw that tight, little hole twitch when I spread his ass cheeks.

The Joy of Pegging a Pouter

He kept pouting even as I lubed up, like I might change my mind. That just made me want to peg him more. I didn’t start slow, either. No, I don’t do slow with brats who test me. One push, and I was in—all the way.  He gasped, and his whole body tensed. Then he grabbed at the sheets when I fucked him harder.

“Still pouting?” I asked, grabbing his wrists and pinning them behind his back.

He moaned, then nodded, like he didn’t know what planet he was on. Pegging a pouter is a rush for me, too. I pulled out and gave him every inch of my strap with one brutal thrust that made him scream.  I yanked him back every time he tried to crawl away. There was no escape. I told him I was going to pound the sass right out of him.

I pulled his head back by his hair, forcing him to look at me while I fucked him. “Say it,” I whispered. “Say you’re my little fucktoy.”

He whimpered and complied. “I’m your little fucktoy.”

“Louder.”

“I’m your little fucktoy—please, don’t stop.”

That’s exactly why pegging a pouter works wonders. There was no more pouting. Just a stuffed slut getting the hubris fucked out of him.

I flipped him over on his back so I could watch him lose control by making him stroke while I pegged him harder and deeper.

He screamed when he came. And that pout? Gone.

Pegging a pouter is satisfying on so many levels. It’s about domination, discipline, and watching a brat understand who’s in control one inch at a time.

Craving your own lesson in obedience? Let’s see how long that brat act lasts when I’m deep in your back door. Also, read about the fun I got up to after finding myself insatiable after phone sex.

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