GUEST POST: The Prettiest, Smartest, Most Darling Girl in the Whole Wide World on Brats/Bratting

One of the best conversations that came out of my Bratting blog, was with a newer scene friend of mine, Vee. She’s a lot of fun to chat with and I have enjoyed engaging in teasing banter with her – for her kink, she enjoys because embarrassed, teased, and bullied within that context. My bratting blog sparked a really interesting conversation between us that actually clarified a lot for me about her kink and who she is, and it was one I really enjoyed. We joked about her writing a “response” of sorts and she actually wrote it! I think this is a fun dive into an alternate view on brats, bratting, and a manifestation of that mindset that is fascinating to me. I obviously don’t personally relate to this, but it should be clear by now that my favorite topic is discussing the manifestations and intellectual perspective on how our specific fetish exists within us and being able to articulate that like Vee has, is special indeed. So, I hope you enjoy this manifesto from her. Please leave a comment and let us know! The discussion is at least half the fun of blogging.

-M

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Well, she left the door to her office open and her blog up to edit. This feels like something that will cost her dearly… 

While I have you, hello! My name is Veruc-…ah, you know what? It’s unimportant. Just know that for the rest of this LiveJournal post, an unnamed source will be discussing her previous post on brats.

I don’t like brats. Well, maybe with the right flavor of spiced mustard on the right roll. It’s less about the taste of the meat and more about the texture of the casing. It feels slippery and gross, even after it’s cooked. Have you ever licked a balloon? It has that kind of mouthfeel. Dreadful. I’d rather eat a hot dog from a gas station and take months off my lifespan.

What was I talking about? Oh yeah, her little post on bratting. It was fine. Her points are her points. I will say, as someone whose signifier on FetLife is set to “Brat,” I don’t truly identify as one. This might be a hot take, but I don’t think it’s proper to use that title for yourself. It feels antithetical to the idea of what being a brat is. A brat is a title given to someone, not a crown to wear.

“Bratting” is inherently a bad thing, dating as far back in history as the early 1500s to describe an unruly child. It has endured in the spanking scene for the same reason that you can walk into a Five Below and find merchandise for Maleficent and Cruella de Vil. People love villains because they are complex characters with motivations, usually coming from a place where they themselves justify their callous, uncouth actions. Brattiness feels very surface level to an outsider, but there are careful considerations at play, for some of us, to invite you into our world, see things from our perspective, and want you to correct us tirelessly.

Think of some of the most notable spoiled brats in fiction: Veruca Salt, Nellie Oleson, Scarlett O’Hara, Princess Morbucks, Regina George, and Angelica Pickles.

They have morals, plots, schemes, and attitudes in dire need of correction, and above all? We love to watch them lose. They lack self-awareness. The viewer knows they are brats, the world knows they are brats, but do any of them identify as such? What I’m posturing is the notion that by self-imposing the title, you remove what makes it special. Veruca Salt didn’t put her feet up on her father’s desk at the nut factory, and she certainly didn’t call herself a brat while giving him the finger. Nellie Oleson didn’t run from Nels and his leather strap because she liked the chase. 

When someone says they are an Alpha Brat or the “Greatest of All Brats,” it undermines the end goal of what carefully constructed bratting can add to a scene. Randomly cursing and being disrespectful publicly online, especially to people you don’t know? That’s not it.

And it makes me not want to be your friend.

I’ve been told by several people that “no one commits to a bit,” as much as I do, which I find absolutely fascinating. As someone who routinely finds herself in bouts of disciplinary correction, it’s important to state that my headspace is primarily that of a supervillain and not a self-described brat. I’ve forged letters and signatures, bribed with thousands of dollars, attempted credit card fraud, designed and coded several websites and video games, and ran a successful class presidential campaign at a national party I did not even attend. Doing these things is not only core to who I am as a creative person, but also a way to manifest my own demise in creative, new ways. I’m not a paper airplane thrower or back-of-the-classroom giggler, if you catch my drift.

I want to lose, as do most bottom-adjacent headspaces. But bratting feels like a bottom pretending to top by thinking they are above discipline for their actions. Until, of course, they are hoisted by their own petard. Every decision I make prior to a scene is either influenced by my improv acting background or the free time I dedicate to manufacturing my own undoing. To imply that bratting lacks emotional intelligence is a very surface-level understanding of the concept. I work alone. There is no bus to throw others under outside of specific scenes where that fits the vibe. I not only want my target to be entertained by my antics, but I also want to entertain others. This is not an objective truth for every brat, but I want to be less of a problem child to ridicule privately and more of a spectacle to laugh at when my schemes fail.

That need for correction is tantalizing; it’s something I crave in the play I search for. I don’t have a top; I don’t even have a dynamic in the traditional sense. If I target you with my antics, it’s out of a deep respect for the friendship we have or an ingeniously creative way of getting to know someone new.

Earlier this year I traveled to visit a great friend of mine, well-known online for receiving discipline from her “Mommy Meanest.” What unraveled between us was a series of vulnerable anecdotes from our past and a friendship of an already blossoming flower, turned into an entire acre’s worth of flora over a long weekend. While bratting can feel off-putting, overwhelming, crass, and sometimes unnecessary, it can also be a beautiful tool for connecting people. In the same way a baby cries for its mother, a brat craves a certain level of nurturing correction. 

Without my brand of conviction, spanking does nothing for me. I could go the rest of my life encountering a hairbrush or a cane and not caring in the slightest. She writes about needing fulfillment through spanking and that she’s a “good girl.” I differ greatly in that I don’t need a spanking. I want to lose. A hand can be just as potent as the meanest ebony brush if the discipline is truly deserved.

I crave discipline, correction, and embarrassment. I want these things because I feel as though I need that correction. I don’t say that part out loud; I let my silly little actions speak for themselves. Thankfully, spanking can be all three with the right mindset. Especially when the right mindset, for me, is to have the wrong one.

Oh, and one final thing:

If you’re reading this and think that I need “little girl spankings” instead of “big girl spankings?” I don’t like you and you smell of elderberries. 

~ V.

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Vee can be found on Fetlife, Twitter, AND BlueSky, and you will probably see her terrorizing some spanking school event at some point.

-M