Tuesday, May 29, 2007

My Latest Spanking

My apologies first for not giving details sooner. Tom has been busy. So I guess you will just have to get the details from the bottom end. I mentioned that I have a journal that I am expected to write in daily. It helps me keep up with what I am accountable for in an organized way. Plus one of my worst quirks is my forget fullness. This eliminates the reason of "Well, I forgot..." Not only did I not complete some entries, there were days that I had not entered a solitary thing. It wasn't out of defiance, I just procrastinated and on some days I guess, I just chose to not think about any consequences & didn't give my journal more than a minute of thought. This wasn't my brightest idea or choice. We had discussed the journal late Saturday night. Sunday afternoon/early evening I was lying crossway on my back on the bed with my head resting on the pillow. When he came in he rubbed the bottom of my foot and then grabbed both ankles and flipped me over to my tummy. For a moment I thought he was being playful. Think again. I heard him rummaging through "the scary bag" When i realized this was a spanking moment, I asked what is was for, Quietly, he said; "For what we talked about last night."
I lay my head down and tucked my hands under my pillow. I hadn't seen which of his implement's he had chosen. He made everything in that bag, so I knew no matter which one it was, IT WAS GOING TO HURT. The burning sensation that I felt next was unmistakably the long leather strap. I didn't keep count, but it was definitely thorough and intense. I don't even remember how soon the tears came, but before it was halfway over I was audibly crying. Something new he had not done before: he paused and instructed me to swap sides. I was confused, but he placed the pillow on the opposite side of the bed. I realized then, he was determined to give both bottom cheeks an even coloring. It wasn't long before I was very "audible." A first for me, I put one of my hands down to my side in an almost effort to protect my bottom. He only had to say once for me to move my hand. Several licks later I noticed my mascara had gotten on the white pillowcase. At the moment, I didn't care about anything but the regret I was feeling about not keeping up with my journal and of course the fact that my bottom felt as if it were on fire. He laid the strap down and sat down on the edge of the bed and rubbed my back while he reminded me of how important the journal was. I cried longer this time. Partly i guess because it hurt a lot and partly because I felt as if he cared about my many moments of my everyday life.