Blogger got me spanked

This never would have happened if Blogger didn't go pear-shaped every now and again. Sometimes the text in my posts goes bigger, sometimes it changes colour, for no apparent reason, sometimes adding a picture affects it but not always, I mentioned it to P, he said maybe the template needs re-setting. That sounded boring, I didn't mention it again. Now if I had taken a look and managed to fix it, and if I'd told him I had, I wouldn't have ended up in trouble on the weekend.

You see, P was doing his usual Saturday morning catch-up at the office and he called me and asked me if I had a certain business card, he'd looked on my desk but couldn't find it, it was a card we were given by a Spanish supplier at a recent fashion show which I'd thrown away because I didn't like the girl on the stand, I wrote about it a few posts back. I told him I couldn't think where it was, it must be amongst the brochures we had, there were rather a lot. But it didn't matter, I told him, because the guy had emailed us since then. Ah but it does matter, said P, because I wanted his mobile number. Well I can't think where it is if it's not with the brochures, I said innocently.

Mistake. Don't lie to your husband, even a white lie.

So he told me he knew roughly where it was, it was in some rubbish recycling plant in west London because I'd dumped it in a trash bin at the show in a temper tantrum. I gulped. How did he know? Because, decent man that he is, he'd taken a look at my blog to see if he could fix the mis-sizing text and in the process he'd read the last couple of posts. I gulped again, flushed and walked nervously around the lounge trying to think of an answer. There wasn't one, not one which would get me off the hook. P told me he wanted me to come down to the office (it's less than 10 mins from where we live), I couldn't because our son had borrowed my car and I'm not covered to drive his, I explained to P, he said he'd come and get me. My goodness he really must be annoyed, I thought. Then as an afterthought he asked why son had got my car, I told him because five of them had gone paintballing and he wanted the extra space. Very well then, said P, he'd deal with me at home and the phone went dead.

Thirty minutes later he arrived home. He came in, dumped his laptop, his expression was all business, he told me if he'd dealt with the tantrum last weekend I would have got a damned good well deserved spanking for performing and it would have been an end to it, but that hadn't happened. And now, a week later, he finds that in addition to playing my face at the show, I wrote about it and boasted (I wasn't boasting) that I'd thrown a potential business partner's card away, and then to top it all I'd lied to him when he asked me about it. And he'd been trying to help me. And this is what he finds! His voice raised a bit. So I'd get the spanking I should have got last weekend and then he'd deal with me for lying to him, which he doesn't find acceptable at all, ever.

So just before midday on Saturday I was over P's lap in the bedroom, my jeans round my ankles, getting a sound tantrum spanking while P educated me about business and professional behaviour not conflicting with silly personal whims. He hadn't taken my pants down, not that the flimsy cotton lessened the sting, and I knew the reason because I know my husband. They would stay in place until his hand had heated my backside enough to have my very earnest attention and then he would pause and address the matter of lying to him, and after a short harsh lecture my pants would come down and I would gasp because it always has that effect on me and because I knew he'd taken his strap from the wardrobe and it was destined for my posterior. And worst of all I knew I deserved it and although I kicked and struggled and cursed and pleaded, when it was over I sobbed a very genuine apology for lying and he sat me up and put his arm round me and told me it was okay I'd just been a silly girl and a small incident had escalated a bit too much but it was over now.

Then he told me on Monday I was to phone Marco's company and get his mobile number anyway. But that might mean talking to that girl! I thought it but didn't say it, my backside has a way of overruling my more impetuous thoughts, especially when it's still simmering from correction.

So it's your fault Blogger. Or not, I shouldn't have lied.

Ronnie

xx