I'm too old for temper tantrums. That's what my
brain tells me anyway and I honestly am not aware of them even if they really
happen, which my husband tells me is the case. I mean don't
sense stressful feelings creeping up on me
or anything like that because if I did I'd stop them, obviously, before they
became a tantrum. A real tantrum not a manufactured
one.
Anyway I threw a tantrum, apparently, yesterday
morning and I got what any tantrummy girl should get and I got it hard and fast
with my knickers down, no messing no discussing and no answer-back.
And five minutes later I sat in the car, still red faced, on the way
into town and mumbled an apology for my outburst and I think my face got even
redder when my husband made me say it again but look at him when I said it,
not out of the side window.
It was a build up of things that caused the
tantrum, I'm quite busy at the moment, lots to do and I'm out of the
country for a few days this week and I've got to get myself organised
and I'm out to dinner Tuesday night and Miss Slutpants (it's a long story) will
be amongst the guests and I have to look good, I mean appropriately
dressed, for the confrontation occasion and it all builds up,
you know. And then I checked the weather forecast for Tuesday in
Alicante and it's pretty warm and I decided I want to wear sandals
but some stylish raised strappy ones, none of the ones I've got. P told
me I had several pairs which looked great and were good for walking
in. I told him I'd be taking some of those too but I needed some for
restaurant wear. He wasn't amused, men don't understand. He told me I often
wear sandals in restaurants and then it came out.. the Miss Slutpants
thing. I wasn't going to wear ordinary bloody sandals with her in the
party. We had a few words, he told me to wear a shoe not a sandal, I'd got
enough to choose from, I said I knew best what to wear not him, I wasn't going
to look dowdy next to that little slut (she's not), my voice was raised so I was
told later. So P took me into our little office and spanked me and read the
riot act to me while he was doing it.
I was still in my dressing gown, which was hoisted
up to my waist and my knickers pulled down to my thighs. He spanked me
really hard for several minutes and I resisted like hell and told him to fuck
off and I wasn't going to Alicante, he could cancel, or go on his bloody own and
sit next to Miss bloody Slutpants. He didn't get angry, he spanked me till I
thought I was going to start crying because of what he was saying about
growing up and it being my supplier in Alicante not his, and it would be a
nice few days and I better get myself together and stop all this
nonsense. And then he stopped, he could hear me sniffling, not crying! He told
me to get up and get dressed we were going into town in five minutes. I said I
couldn't possibly do that but he told me to do it or I'd be over his
knee again.
Well I did do it and that's how I came to be
sitting red faced in the car. P wouldn't let me discuss what had just
happened and he wouldn't tell me why he was taking me into town, instead he
changed the subject completely to our son's new house, well in the process,
and only when we parked in town did he tell me he was coming to choose some
sandals with me. I got a really nice pair from House of Fraser and then we
had a sandwich lunch in one of the coffee shops. Only then would he
discuss what had transpired earlier, he could see from my face that all the
stress was gone.
"You'll look good against Miss Slutpants, as you
call her, whatever you wear," he said, "but if the new sandals makes you
feel happier then I guess it matters." I glowed
and resolved to make no more fuss. I hoped we'd find time for some
make up later in the day. We did.
Not a lot of Internet time today and early flight tomorrow. Have scheduled posts.
Thanks to those who have already bought my Volume II.
Have a good week.
Ronnie
xx
Thanks to those who have already bought my Volume II.
Have a good week.
Ronnie
xx
