Boxing Day Tears

I'm not much of a crybaby except sometimes to moving films or books, and I always say words are more likely to make me cry than a spanking. I got some of both on Boxing Day and yes I cried a bit and there was a bit of an atmosphere for a few hours but I was told to buck my ideas up, which I did and would have done anyway, there was no need to tell me.

I have many times said that real spankings are the best. And the worst of course. I have tried to manipulate situations over the years to get 'real' spankings but without damaging consequences but it is incredibly difficult to do and I have only ever been partially successful. Late on Christmas night I did it without making any effort at all.

We had guests as I told you, we'd had a lovely day, nice food and company, played a few games, got a bit tipsy, guests retired to their rooms leaving shambles to clear up. Or not. I said I was tired too and would just clear a few things away and leave the rest till morning, P told me next day I was slurring my words and wasn't capable of clearing things away, but I don't recall that being the case. Anyway I was making a hamfisted job of 'clearing up' apparently so P got involved, put some stuff in the washer and filled a sink of hot water to do the rest. Shit. I kicked myself into gear, forgot about going to bed and tried to take over from what he was doing because I felt shamed that my husband was doing what I should have been doing. He wouldn't let me, I sensed his annoyance, I scurried about doing other things to be seen to be making an effort.

To cut to the quick and what really sealed my fate, I tried to to put a beautiful Christmas cake, which our son and his girlfriend had made, back into its box and it broke before my eyes. I mean a whole chunk of it broke away, like a road subsidence, so the icing on the top collapsed and the little snowman in the middle leaned at a drunken angle. I got it back out of the box and returned it to the table, it was a mess. P saw it and asked me what had happened, I said I didn't know. He looked in the box and a large piece of the cake body was in there, he got it out and brought it to the table and, as best he could, repaired the damage. He asked me how it had happened, I said nothing, he told me that it couldn't happen on its own, he stood waiting for an answer. He was angry, I admitted it was my fault, I was close to tears even then, he told me I was pissed, which I wasn't, and that a lot of time must have been spent on that cake and I'd just wrecked it and wasn't even going to mention it. He was being a bit harsh there because I'm sure I would have mentioned it in the morning, I don't know what made me put it back on the table, maybe he was right perhaps I was a bit too tipsy after all. He told me to go to bed and I did because I didn't want raised voices and to be honest I felt guilty.

Anyway next day I apologised about the cake, incident closed or so I thought, closed while we still had guests on the premises I should have realised. Mid morning, P's brother and his Colombian girlfriend, who was very nice by the way, said they were going into Birmingham for some shopping, they'd be back late afternoon and we were going out to eat in the evening. Son and girlfriend left not long after, they were going to have lunch with friends. 

We were on our own. P told me to come with him upstairs, I knew from his manner that it was about last night, I thought he was going to cane me. I started to say something as we walked up the stairs but he told me not to bother and when we got to the landing he sent me into the office to wait for him.

I stood in the office but the futon was still pulled out and it smelled of sleep and perfume and there was stuff strewn about, of course his brother and partner had made it their bedroom. I pushed a window open, I would tidy up later. P came in and I almost smiled at the look on his face, he wouldn't spank me in there, he didn't have a cane in his hand either so that was a relief. He thought quickly and took me by the arm into our son's old room, the bed had been stripped and it was ship shape (mental note his girlfriend could be a keeper), he wouldn't take me into our own room which was a bad sign, it meant this was purely business. 

We have another room but there's no furniture in it at the moment. P sat on the edge of the mattress and told me to take my jeans and knickers down, he removed a wooden paddle from his back pocket, I said 'No please, P'. He looked directly into my eyes and told me to do as I was told now or he would do it for me and I wouldn't like that at all. I suddenly wanted to go for a wee but didn't dare ask, instead I dropped my jeans and knickers and put my hands in front of me clutching my t-shirt and stretching it down to cover my pubics. I shuffled forward, there was no point prevaricating, and he toppled me easily across his lap. I had to move my hands up to steady myself on the mattress and my t-shirt rode up over my hips exposing my bottom, I didn't care about my pubes at that stage. My husband started spanking immediately; the lecture starting only after my bottom had been incinerated. He paused to make sure his words were getting through to me and kept saying things like 'it's true isn't it?' and 'you know that, don't you?' and 'I've told you before haven't I?'.....you get the idea, I won't go through all the things he said but the questions were intentional to make me acknowledge what he was saying, which I did. The spanking resumed, he continued his tirade, I didn't know which was worse the spanking or his words they were both hurting, it wasn't a fun spanking and near the end I just stopped struggling and pleading and accepted it and yes I was sobbing.  

He stopped when he knew but he didn't show any pity for me, instead he told me it was about time I got a reminder of what a real spanking was like and he hoped I'd learned my lesson and next time he had to deal with me like that the real spanking would only begin when the tears started flowing. He pulled my knickers up over my bottom, which made me feel worse, as if he owned me, and left me on the bed snivelling and hoping his brother and the Colombian didn't come back early, stupid how your mind works at times, or at least mine does. I also considered going out on my own for the afternoon but didn't, it would only have made things worse. 

We spent an awkward afternoon and when his brother and girlfriend returned I went up to the bedroom. A few minutes later he came up and that was when he told me to buck my ideas up and come down and be sociable. We went out in the evening and things had thawed a bit and I was glad of the company, I wanted to put some close fitting trousers on, smart ones not jeans, but they were tight and a bit uncomfortable because my backside was still sore, I'd already seen bruises in the mirror. Luckily Cielo wore jeans too so I didn't feel at a disadvantage, except when it came to sitting of course.

By the time we went to bed that night it was P who was the worse for wear, he'd opened a bottle of Lagunilla when we got back home and drunk most of it with his brother who he doesn't see all that often, us girls stayed sensibly with wine. Next morning they were both a bit fragile and I wondered if what was good for the goose was also good for the gander, I didn't try to find out though.

Ronnie

xx