Sooner than expected

Have I ever told you about the chats I have sometimes with P in the little Italian restaurant we visit? Of course I have, more than once and at the risk of boring you for which I apologise. But they still happen, I think circumstances conspire to bring them about every six weeks or so even though I might not report them all. It happened again last week, Wednesday in fact, it had been building for a while and even though there hasn't been a spanking drought I felt the need for punishment, the type of punishment I only get once in a while. Maybe it's been the increased recent pressure business wise, we've had to re-schedule a promised trip, got a load of stock temporarily stuck in Customs and P's had to delay some marketing because an outsourcing partner dropped out and we have to find a new one.

Have I deserved punishment? Probably not all that much really, maybe that's why I feel a need for it, maybe I need to totally misbehave but you know actually the more years you spend together the less likely you are to really transgress. Anyway I reaffirmed to P, with my usual blend of subtlety, naivety and clumsiness, that I would understand if he needed to really teach me a lesson one day. What was I really telling him? Probably that I knew we were both a bit stressed and that if I went off track, or either of us for that matter, it would be okay by me if...you know. He smiled like he always does, as if he's right there with me, and stress isn't there any more but he still never actually does anything.

So anyway a few days later I got a lesson sooner than expected and I didn't like it.

P isn't the world's best at DIY but he can turn his hand when required, so when we got a couple of loose tiles in the shower cubicle he said no problem I'll re-fix them. Well actually when he pulled them out several more came away and we had quite a gap on the wall and one of them broke too so P had to go buy a small pack as close a match as possible, said he'd fix them Sunday morning. So he did, early, he spent an hour or so putting them back up, with little bits of wood in between them which looked messy but he said that was the right way to do it and he'd replace the wood with white cement later after they'd dried. Then off he went off to do a few jobs for his mother.

A bit later I wanted to take a shower and I didn't even think about the tiles, just got on with it. When I came back into the bathroom after drying my hair half the tiles had fallen off, the little bits of wood too, and were lying in the shower tray. Rubbish job was my first thought, maybe the glue stuff was no good, I tried to stick a couple back up but they wouldn't hold.

A couple of hours later P came home, I told him some of his tiles had fallen off. He went up to inspect. ''They can't have just fallen off,'' he said, ''the wall's wet did you use the shower?'' So I just told him the truth, he said ''Didn't you read my note?'' I hadn't seen any note but there was one taped to the outside of the shower screen saying not to use it. He said he'd have to scrape the tile cement off, dry the wall and start over. I asked him if I could help but he said I'd done enough thank you, he wasn't pleased, I said I'd go and make him a cup of tea and was halfway downstairs when he said something like 'see if you can get that right'.

I stopped and called back if he'd told me not to use the shower instead of leaving a note it wouldn't have happened, he said it was bloody common sense regardless of the note. ''Well I'm not the DIY expert,'' I retorted, ''and frankly it doesn't look as if you are.'' I shouldn't have said that but I wasn't going to change it. Next thing P was halfway down the stairs with me, his hand gripping my arm and he marched me back up and into the bedroom. ''You need some attitude adjustment in fact you're way overdue for some, your stupid flippant remarks aren't appreciated, OK accidents can happen but for gods sake its not rocket science to give something time to dry.'' And he took me over to the bed, pulled my jeans down, dragged me across his knee and gave me a short but really hard spanking. ''Now get up and go make that cup of tea,'' he barked after he'd finished. So I was pissed at this, I really was, it was all very sudden, my brain wasn't in gear, I'm sure I'd have played it differently with hindsight, I could have dragged it out, pushed my luck gradually and built up some real friction over an hour or so which would have been delicious but it didn't happen that way.

''Make your own fucking tea,'' I said as I rose and pulled my jeans up. I shouldn't have said that, maybe that's why I said it. P stood immediately, turned me to face him, cupped his hand under my chin to make me look up as he's quite a bit taller,''What did you say?'' I tried to look at the wall behind him and mumbled it again, I think I smiled as I said it not because it was funny but because I felt silly standing there. I wasn't smiling ten minutes later.

P went to the wardrobe and took out the leather rose paddle he bought from John at Leather Thorn Paddles and some strips of Velcro tape, which we've used in play on occasions. I went to leave the bedroom but he grabbed me with his left hand, threw the paddle and tape on the bed, undid my jeans again with his right and had me over his knee in a trice. ''Forget it I'm not doing this!'' I said as I struggled against him, he held my legs by wrapping his over them long enough to bind the Velcro tape round them just above the knees, it's very effective there's no way you can shift it, struggle as much as you like. ''Get that tape off me,'' I said and tried to get my hands down to unfasten it, but P grabbed my right wrist really tight and held it into my back and told me he'd bind both wrists if he had to, I saw there was still tape on the bed so I put my hands in front of me.''That's better,'' he said, ''and make sure you keep them there or else''.

And then he started to spank me with that paddle which I love or loved, I don't love it any more, I think it will be a while before I love it again. Gosh talk about burn, heat, sting, roast, I'd need a thesaurus to get all the appropriate words and I still don't think I'd do it justice. That leather meant business, I struggled as much as I could, the strap kept my knees tied, my ankles and feet still kicked wildly but I wasn't moving anywhere, the thighs are the most powerful moving muscle in the body and when they can't move the rest of you can't move much especially when a 13st man is holding you in position. I didn't want what I was getting, I don't think I deserved what I was getting or at least not at the start, but the spanking kept going, I think a point came when my backside went numb and I just stopped struggling and let it happen. P had stopped telling me off, maybe that's why I stopped struggling or maybe it was the other way round.

Whichever way, the spanking stopped, I could hear him breathing heavy so he must have been putting some effort in or I was struggling more than I'd realised, I wasn't crying I was conscious of that, I think I should have been. The Velcro crackled as he untied me, he pushed me off his knees, not roughly but without saying anything. He sat a while and I just lay there, uneasy silence, then he got up and went back to the bathroom. He didn't tell me to make his cup of tea, and then I welled up a bit inside and felt like crying because it was wrong, not because I'd been spanked but because it was just wrong. I think it must have been the same for him. I think if he'd told me to make his cup of tea it might have been okay because I'd have known everything was all right even though he'd spanked me so hard.

Half an hour later an extremely sore bottomed girl made him a cup of tea anyway. And placed her hand over his as she gave it to him. Later we went shopping and no more was said about DIY skills or the spanking, and I don't think I want a post mortem actually, at least not yet.

Ronnie

xx