Silliness or a Sore Arse

I was asked which was best, silliness or a sore arse, about an hour after being spanked to the edge of tears for the former. Let me explain.

For a start the 'silliness' was the term applied to my attitude after I was told, over a snack lunch in Eat in Birmingham, that I wouldn't be getting a mini winter break. It started with me remonstrating that I'd virtually been promised one (not actually true) and it wasn't fair and then going silent and walking several paces behind my husband on the way back to the car. The silence remained for the forty minute journey home. The sore arse was what I ended up with twenty minutes after getting into the house.

I wasn't even allowed to put my shopping away, it could wait till later said P, he wanted me upstairs, in our little office. Now! He barked the now and it made me feel butterflies. He also took the stairs two at a time which made me think forcefulness, power, energy. I followed meekly. I hesitated at the office door and he called me in and told me to close it, which I did. He'd pulled the chair out from under the desk and placed it near the futon settee we have in there (it doubles as a tiny stopover spare room).

"How long's the silent stuff going on for, then?" He asked. I stayed silent and straightened up, I think I looked at him defiantly in spite of myself.

"Well let me tell you then," he said as he unbuckled my jeans belt and unfastened the stud and zipper, "it's not going to go on for very much longer at all."

He made to sit down but then changed his mind and went to the right hand drawer of the desk to pull out the wooden ruler. 

Then he returned to the chair, sat and lowered my jeans to my thighs and told me to get across his knees with my arms on the seat of the futon. He didn't have to tell me that, I've been there before. I didn't move.

"If I have to pull you across you'll get double and after that you'll go across my desk and I'll cane your bottom so hard you won't be sitting for the rest of the day." I made a sound, I think it was like a whimper but deeper and clenched my legs together as if I wanted a wee. I got across my husband's lap. He pulled my long t shirt up over my bottom, he didn't say anything, then he pulled my knickers down to me knees after wrestling with them a bit to get them past when my thighs weighed against his.

"I don't need silly childish behaviour from you," SPANK SPANK, "you're an adult and should act like one," SPANK SPANK SPANK, "but if you insist on throwing silly tantrums you'll be treated accordingly." SPANK harder SPANK much harder *SPANK!!* Ouch that fucking hurts hard. He spanked away and I did my best to resist crying out but eventually cracked and said "Ok I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"I know you're sorry but you're going to be sorrier I can assure you," said my husband pausing momentarily to bend and grab the ruler from under the chair. He brought it down with a flurry of loud splats causing me to wriggle violently on his knee. "Keep still, you're not going anywhere till I've finished with you!" said my husband and his left hand grasped my waist holding me secure on his lap but unable to stop my legs kicking or my upper body twisting. The ruler spanking increased forcefully, I think he covered the whole of my bottom and then added some to my thighs for good measure which had me crying out. "Please STOP P, it's enough really it is..".....THWAP! THWAP! SPLAT!...."Oh god no more of that PLEEAASE!!!!"

The ruler stopped and I heard it drop to the floor and I let out a huge breath and let my body flop like a rag doll thinking it was over. Then SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP......at least it was his hand now....SLAP SLAP.........it went on for ages and then suddenly he stopped spanking and his hand rested on my bottom. He told me I shouldn't be like that, he'd been and shopped with me, made time for me so that I'd be happy, he'd wanted to get away for a few days too but circumstances hadn't permitted. I started to think I was a bitch. Then he spanked me some more but it wasn't so hard now and I felt like crying and I think I should have and probably would have had he carried on telling me off. But then it stopped and he told me to get up and pull my knickers up and go and put my shopping away and let's have no more silliness. "All right?" He asked me. I didn't answer, just stood up sullenly and pulled my t shirt down before pulling my knickers up, I didn't want him to see me naked. P stood up too and put his hand under my chin turning my face up to his. "I said all right?"

"Yes, P, I'm sorry and I mean it." I did too and I clasped my arms around his neck. "Well just remember it," he said, "now pull your jeans up before you trip over them and put your shopping away. I' going down to make a drink." And he was off, leaving a silly spanked girl to put the chair and the ruler back and go and sort out her purchases.

When I got downstairs P was sitting on the sofa, two hot drinks on the coffee table, he had a newspaper which he put down and patted for me to sit next to him. I think I was pouting a bit and I winced as I sat down and told him that had hurt.  He said it was meant to and I'd deserved it and that was when he asked me which I'd prefer, silliness or a sore arse. I lowered my head but raised my eyes so that I had to look up to him.

"A sore arse." 

I said, and I stretched up and pecked his cheek before reaching for our drinks.

Ronnie
xx