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

Her Bottom Spanking Machine

A story from a new blog (well new to me).....

.....There was just the merest space between the bookshelf and the chest of drawers. Just enough to slide a few sheets of paper between them. Or wedge in a ruler.

She called it her Bottom Smacking Machine.

Though that name did somewhat overstate its complexity.
Bottom Smacking Contrivance would have been more accurate, if much less catchy.

She’d thought it strange when he’d first instructed her to search her house for a narrow gap between two heavy objects. The gap had to be narrow enough to hold in place a few sheaves of paper, and have space to stand either side of it. And two sides of the gap had to be more or less flush with each other.

Eventually she found one.

When she reported back, he instructed her to wedge her plastic ruler into the gap - just up to the 8 centimetre mark, and leave the rest jutting out. And put it just below waist height. Suddenly, his intentions became very clear.

She had been so very, very naughty. And he was such a long, long way away. Some means of discipline would have to be improvised.  Or standards would slip. And that would be just unacceptable.

One night alone, her phone chirped. A new message.
From him: pronouncing her sentence.

A visit to her bottom smacking machine. 30 whacks on each cheek. She cursed his strictness, but wished he was here to discipline her himself.

She was well rehearsed with her punishment protocol by now and began to make her preparations. 
First, she had to decide on a setting, and dress accordingly.
She had considered donning her pyjamas, and acting out a bedtime spanking before being put to bed. She also thought of wearing her skinniest thong bikini, and pretending to be a Roman galley slave, being whipped under a merciless sun.

In the end though, she decided to wear her school uniform, and to imagine herself reporting for after-school detention to find her teacher holding a ruler. She lay on her bed, a hand inside her panties, imagining all the details. Joining the back of the queue, she would watch her classmates being called forward, one by one, to pull down their knickers.

In her mind’s eye she’d look on timorously - but fascinatedly - as they yelped in response to the ruler’s slaps. Then, skirt up, knickers still down, each girl would be sent to sit down, wincing as her sore bare bottom met the cold hard wood of the desk benches. 

Her dedication to fleshing out her fantasy was commendable.

She opened her eyes, looking across her room to stare at the ruler, now hanging in the air 

She closed her eyes, and found herself standing at the front of the queue. There was only one desk in the detention room still empty: hers. Her rubbing quickened, knowing it was her turn next. Behind her eyelids she heard her name being called. She managed to stop rubbing - just in time - and rose from the bed feeling every inch the naughty schoolgirl, a throbby, achy unresolved heat inside her knickers.

Her legs were trembling as she walked towards her appointment with the ruler.
She stood in front of it, continuing to play out her punishment fantasy.

“Oh no sir! Please don’t spank me! Not on the bare!” she pleaded, to her empty room.

But there was no one to hear, no one to grant her reprieve.

She turned around. She could almost see her pink bottomed classmates in front of her, sitting uncomfortably on those crude wooden benches, each girl so wanting to rub her sore bottom but with their hands cruelly occupied by writing lines instead.

She reached down to her hem and raised her skirt, tucking it into her waist.

“Oh sir…” she whined, “not on my bare bottom!”

She let her fingers linger inside her knicker elastic. With no disciplinarian to keep waiting, she could enjoy the skin-tingling sensation of slowly lowering her panties as they slid down her legs. Once fully exposed, she started to bend over, shuffling backwards until she felt the cool plastic on her bum.

In her fantasy classroom, she imagined him scolding her.
“Disgraceful behaviour! 60 whacks for you, girl…”

She reached back, pulling the plastic ruler away from her.
She felt its tension building on her fingertips.
By now, she knew just how much to bend it.
Too little, and she’d receive an avuncular pat.
Too much, and the ruler would snap.
Just enough gave a delicious slap.

She imagined him, standing behind her, poised with his ruler, about to strike.
She felt the ache between her legs.
She let the ruler slip from her fingers…
It sprang back in an instant, delivering a smack that made her bottom quiver.

“Ooooo! I’m sorry, sir” she whispered.

She pulled the ruler back a bit further this time, her fingers trembling.
The ruler sprang back again, smacking the spot where the first blow had landed.
She yelped, feeling her bottom smart.
Bending over fully, she touched her toes, savouring the fiery pain until it ebbed into a warm tingle.
She shuffled slightly, so the next blow would strike a different spot.

“Oh, sir…” she whispered as she reached behind again, “I’ve been such a naughty girl…”

The ruler twanged again, and again; she gasped as it corrected her.

Soon, the dispassionate ruler had turned one of her cheeks pink.
Her instructions were unequivocal.
She turned around, and stood on the other side of the ruler, shuffling until she felt the cool plastic on her unspanked buttock.

“Oh please sir, I promise I’ll be good…” she begged, but her pleas fell on no ears at all.

She reached behind her with her other hand, pulling the ruler back.
The smack made her mew in pain, but she showed herself no mercy. 
He had sent her to the bottom smacking machine to be punished because he cared, and she had deserved it.
The ruler twanged again and again, until her whole bottom was pink.

Faraway, inside his jacket pocket, his phone cheeped.

A new message.

A photo. Of her.

Her bottom glowing.
Her hands on her head.
Her school skirt still raised.
Panties around her ankles.

She stood astride the ruler, its edge just parting her pussy lips.

She’d even included a message.....

.....“Thank you, sir, for disciplining me.”

Her obedience made him smile. Standards did have to be maintained. 
On her next infraction, maybe he’d have her replace the ruler with a whippy cane.

“Good news?” asked his dinner companion.
He pocketed his phone, smiling back, “The best.”

Hope you did enjoy it. From the blog -  Spanking Theatre.

Have a fun weekend.

Ronnie
xx

Please let me know if pictures two and four are yours.
Third pic from Spankingblog.

Wouldn't I Just!

I was doing some photocopying Friday afternoon, quite a few actually, my husband says it's cheaper if its a large quantity of the same stuff to use the copier rather than run them off the printer (he must have read it somewhere, surely he wouldn't have worked that out, then again knowing P.)

Then on the weekend I found this delightful picture whilst researching...er, rulers?

Anyway I liked it and I'd like to get caught by P lazily printing instead of copying, and taken forcefully to the copier room and made to see sense. Phew wouldn't I just!

Have a good week.

Ronnie

xx