It happens every year, I imagine it's the same or similar in most families. It is a wonderful time of year, especially for the kids and for those amongst us who have kids around to keep us acting like them. But there is also stress, it's unavoidable, it's in shopping, budgeting, meeting deadlines, what to wear for this and that 'do', who's visiting who.....and then for us - or more accurately me - there's P's mom.
Now I haven't mentioned her much for several months, not since I got a proper humdinger of a spanking for acting up over her, but that doesn't mean she's not been around and it doesn't mean there hasn't been any friction. There has, not much I'll admit but still cropping up periodically. Saturday I got spanked because of her, not a humdinger like that last time but still, it wasn't a prelude to sex so it was a put me in my place spanking, and I've been warned not to get stroppy over the arrangements for the forthcoming festive holiday, which I've no doubt I'll be reverting to later and probably more than once.
But let me tell you what happened to get me spanked on Saturday and I'm sure you'll see my side. The cause of my sore backside happened two days earlier, Thursday night actually, we took P's mom out to our favourite little Italian the one I've told you about before, it's nice and we are regulars but at Christmas time, space is at a premium, we didn't book, they had no tables but they did have some space upstairs, an area they normally keep for party bookings. My fault for not booking, anyway we went upstairs, it was half full, the atmosphere wasn't the same, we were seated by the widow and it was a cold night, P's mom was chilly she pulled her jacket around her shoulders, I asked for the heating to be turned up a bit but for some reason the staff couldn't do it and the boss wasn't in, P said it was OK but I told the girl we'd have to forget the meal because we weren't comfortable, we'd go somewhere else. I got dirty looks from P and his mom but for gods sake I was mainly doing it for the sake of his mom, anyway our girl came back two minutes later and said they were relaying a table downstairs for us if we could hang on.
To cut it short, we got the downstairs table but I'm sure everybody thought we were picky customers and actually P's mom told me downstairs she felt a bit awkward after me making such a fuss. Huh! So we ate in 'awkwardness', me being the villain for just telling the truth and speaking up on behalf of P's mom. It was alright eventually, food was nice and we dropped his mom off at the end of the evening in a good mood.
Then on Friday we had few words because she called and invited us out for the following week, in other words later this week, and I didn't fancy it and told P I didn't, we're due to see her next weekend and we'll be seeing a lot of her over Christmas. P said he'd diplomatically avoid it but on Saturday morning he went round to fix a garage light fitting for her and when he got back he told me we'd be going out on Thursday. ''I thought we'd agreed you were going to skip over it somehow,'' I said but P said I'd enjoy it and she'd asked if our son was free to bring him along and she was bringing her sister too. Great, she's about four years older than P's mom and always seems to have something to moan about whenever I've met her.
''Well that's bloody marvelous, it's my Christmas too you know, there are local services providing entertainment for the elderly, why not point your mom and her sister in their direction?'' P didn't answer. ''And if we must go I don't want it to be our little Italian again, I got blamed wrongly last week for being fussy, so make it somewhere else and if there's anything wrong they can speak up for themselves, I'm strictly neutral, an accompaniment.''
P didn't like the bit about the elderly and local services and actually I knew it was wrong immediately after I said it, and was about to apologise when P stood up, took me by the arm and marched me upstairs to our spare room. He told me we'd all be older one day and how would I like being talked about like that, think about it he said, as he closed the spare room door and pulled the chair out from under the desk, I could hardly argue, I told him I was about to apologise. ''You'll apologise, I've no doubt about that,'' he said as he unfastened my jeans and pushed them down to me knees ''you'll apologise and you'll really mean it.''
He didn't have to order me or force me, I knew I was wrong, he sat on the chair and I placed myself across his lap, I caught his eye as I lowered myself and said I really was sorry, it didn't make any difference to the outcome. My shirt was lifted, my knickers were pulled down and I was spanked for several minutes with an occasional pause to adjust position or while he let a particular point sink in. He spanked until my backside felt like I'd sat on hornet's nest, not that I ever have, and when I went still, which I do at a certain point when feeling becomes almost numb with pain, he spanked the tops of my thighs too which made me wriggle and squeal and beg him to stop. He did, and a moist eyed sore bottomed girl, who'd made a thoughtless comment, apologised again, this time in a quivery voice and not quite wanting to catch his eye when he ordered me up.
He told me to pull my pants up and let that be a lesson to me and to think about what I was saying and about other peoples' feelings and not to get bitchy again about what had to be done, it's the time of year when everyone makes compromises he said. Well I hadn't been bitchy in my opinion, just outspoken and trying to make a wisecrack which had backfired, but I wasn't about to argue.
A couple of hours later we were choosing cards together in one of the stores, not a hint of tension, and I resisted the urge to choose a funny one about mother-in-laws.
Ronnie
xx
Too noisy I said, trying to remember if I'd heard movement in the next room, but he told me to lay on my stomach anyway and he'd worry about the noise, then reached his arm over the side of the bed and produced a short thin green cane, you know the sort you buy in garden centres, he must have borrowed it from one of the hotel's plant pots, either way it looked menacing to me, an avowed lifelong hater of canes, its mere 18'' did not soothe my fear of the dreaded implement at all, to my mind all canes are about 18 feet long, are evil and should be harder to buy than a firearms certificate. Having said that, when its your birthday and you're in snugly-just-woke-up mode with your man's hand kneading your bum cheeks it's challenging, to say the least, to resist an order to lie on your stomach.
Ronnne
