I have been in the process of posting my stuff today and will need to continue tomorrow. Today's stuff was in a somewhat "angsty " vein and I really do have a sense of humor...swear!!
Hopefully tomorrow's stuff will be "lighter" shall we say. Today just felt like Monday so angst won out...huh, wonder if the visiting relative could be affecting my mood ? Nah, no way that could be...no way..no way.
6.10.2008
6.09.2008
Just trying to be helpful
Here’s another chapter in the Sam/Tina chronicles. You might want to check out “Who needs statistics anyway?” It kind of gives a flavor of their relationship. Just a thought. Hope you enjoy.
Great…just great. Here I am, sitting in the dark with the TV as my only company. I wonder just how far my lower lip can extend in my quest to achieve the perfect pout. It’s a way to pass the time. The remote (aka beloved) has not been helpful in finding a tolerable distraction among the gazillion cable channels. No, no help at all.
Katrina (yeah, definitely full name time) was supposed to be here two hours ago. Did she make it? No! She most certainly did not make it for the candlelight dinner I had painstakingly prepared. Was there an occasion- hell no!! I made it just because. I know what you’re thinking…how sweet is that. We’re on the same page.
“Hi honey,” I hear as she enters the front door. At least I hope it’s her. I don’t answer...I don’t want to ruin my perfect pout. It’s amazing...I can actually see most of my lower lip if I look down just right. Shoes kicked off in the foyer, keys thrown in the basket and finally, finally, I hear her making her way into the kitchen.
There it is. “Oh shit.” She saw the table.
“Sam, Sammie honey, where are you?”
I have no intention of answering her...it would severely compromise my perfect pout plus I enjoy the view from my cross (decided to climb on it right after perfecting my pout…something to do). Doesn’t take long before I feel her standing in the doorway. She knows me well, knows I will be sitting in the rocking chair looking out the window while the TV is flickering in the dark room.
“Oh baby, I’m sorry,” I hear as she wraps her arms around me. I, of course, can’t answer. Perfect pout thing.
She feels for the switch and turns on the light (we had to get rid of our clapper because it turned into the occasional strobe light, guess when?!) and gently reaches toward me. I remain still. Nope, not going to make this easy for her.
Ever so gently I feel her hands on both sides of my face. She tilts my face up until she can see my eyes…and I can see hers. I see regret reflected in her face. I know she sees hurt in mine (of course, the pout helps).
“I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me when I called to say I would be late?” Oh yeah, forgot to mention that detail but it doesn’t in any way diminish my righteous indignation. I’m not about to climb down off my cross.
“I knew you needed to finish the project.” As I am pulled into her arms I decide maybe the pout can go away. For now but I’m keeping that baby in reserve!! Besides, I’m hungry. She feels my shoulders relax and we both know all is forgiven (yeah, I’ve climbed down off the cross but I’m still carrying it on my back).
“Come on Tina, let’s salvage my gourmet meal. Oh, you get clean up detail and I expect a back rub.” She can see the gleam in my eye and slight impish grin as I make my way slowly (heavy cross, remember) to the kitchen. She smiles and follows me while landing a playful swat. What can I say…that woman loves my backside!!
“Honey, this was a wonderful meal. Thank you so much.” Now, it is coincidental that I made this gourmet meal for my Tina on the same day our car insurance renewal is due. JUST a coincidence. That is all…a coincidence.
See, I had gotten a speeding ticket...okay, two but the last one really wasn’t my fault. I was passing a truck I had been following for ten years. Finally the merciful Zeus smiled down upon me and kindly presented a very small window of opportunity to pass. Of course, I took it (at 80mph). Who knew a cop would be hiding behind the Dunkin’ Donuts billboard? I was certainly surprised.
These unfortunate events happened over the course of several (okay one) month and I, being the responsible adult I am, paid the fines promptly. I did, however, forget to mention them to Tina. Yep, overlooked that one tiny detail. I had a sinking feeling the fines and increased insurance rates weren’t the only price I was going to pay.
“Ah, baby...” I quietly direct to her as she’s loading this dishwasher. “Yes?” she replies continuing her task. “Where’s the checkbook? I’ll just pay some bills while you’re cleaning up.”
I’m just trying to be helpful.
She directs me to the second drawer in the office desk. I give her my best I-love-you smile (throw in some doe eyes just in case) as I make my way to the desk. Maybe I’ll get away with this after all.
Uh oh, that pesky you-need-to-do-the-right-thing voice is back in my head. Dammit, the “get away with it” must have summoned her. Guilt decides to make an appearance on the scene followed by shame…just tell her the truth now.
Wait a minute, I find myself responding to Miss Morally Superior (goody, a game of point-counterpoint). I took responsibility for my actions by paying the fines. I have since made sure I do not exceed the speed limit. Okay, by no more than five miles/hour and ten if I have to pass some shouldn’t-even-be-allowed-to-drive jerk. Progress, not perfection is my motto. I handled it like the mature responsible adult I am (high fives all around). So there Miss Morally Superior!! Game, set and match …or so I hope.
From afar I here someone beckon (how often do you hear that word?) my name. Maybe I can ignore her. There it is again. No doubt about it, I’m being summoned back to the kitchen. Fuck... time to plaster that innocent school girl look on my face. I keep that in reserve along with the perfect pout (new item, yay me) and cross.
As I enter the kitchen in a nonchalant way (at least I hope so) I can feel a slight tingle in my bottom. Those butterflies decide to make an appearance – you know, the ones that flit around in the stomach pretending to be harmless. Yeah, right…really harbingers of impending doom.
“What bills do you need to pay? I thought I paid them all last Saturday.”
I should probably mention that somehow the insurance bill had been misplaced (folded neatly in my pocket) on its way to the pile-o-bills perched on the desk. It had been a windy day so, strictly as a precautionary measure, I had placed the bill in my pocket. I did not want to loose any vital piece of mail, no siree Bob. See, responsible me on the job. Once again, high fives all around!!
“Sam, what bills didn’t get paid?” Her voice has an edge and her eyes definitely convey resistance-is-futile (I’m a trekkie, so sue me). Fuck…what to do, what to do…
Okay, here’s the plan. Yes, I frequently converse with the committee in my head - doesn’t mean I’m crazy, just busy. And creative. So there !
I’ll quickly hand her the bill and flee to a foreign country…maybe Canada. I speak French and have a parka. By the time I return she will be so happy to see me (and will have paid the bill) that all will be forgiven and I’ll be showered with kisses (hers, not Hershey’s, although that wouldn’t be bad either).
“Sam!” I quickly snap back to reality and hand her the bill. I watch her face go from confusion to anger in five seconds flat. No need for the inquiring-minds-want-to-know mode, she caught on pretty quickly. That tingle and butterflies are becoming much more pronounced. This isn’t good…not good at all.
There it is …those you’re-in-big-trouble wrinkles around her eyes, tightly clenched jaw and pulsating blood vessel in her forehead. Haven’t seen the “pulse” (we’re old friends) in a long time. Yeah…the true price of my driving habits is about to be revealed. I have an inkling what the price is but, then again, maybe she’ll surprise me. After all, keeping a little mystery helps spice up any relationship... just ask Dr. Ruth.
She places her arm around mine and guides (I call it drags) me further into the kitchen. I find myself being deposited on a kitchen chair (when did it get pulled out and turned away from the table?). I can’t help but notice she’s looking down on me from way up on high with hands on hips (hadn’t noticed her growth spurt until this moment).
“SAM, are you listening to me?” I am now. Shit... there will be no mystery tonight. No, tonight will definitely be mystery free.
“Samantha, why have our insurance rates drastically increased?” she asks in a (deceptively) calm voice. Summoning up all my courage, I raise my eyes to meet her gaze. I try to speak but no words are coming out of my mouth – I look like a guppy gasping for air. After nine hours (or one minute, same thing) I look down and admit the prior speeding tickets. I’m praying my nice dinner will pay off… it doesn’t.
“Did you say tickets?” Yeah, she notices the plural thing... English professor. I can only nod my head as speech continues to be allusive– that guppy breathing thing.
“How many?”
She continues to tower (menacingly) over me (I really am working the pitiful angle) and her eyes remain fixed on me, little ole’me. I am guppy breathing, repentant (cue downcast eyes), and obviously trying to make amends (fine dining). I pray it is enough to melt her heart. In the alternative, a nasty case of tennis elbow or bursitis in her shoulder would also be welcome. May the Powers That Be hear my plea!!!
“How many Samantha Marie!” Slowly I raise my left hand in a peace sign (subtle, I know). That’s all the information she needs.
Finding myself sprawled over her lap (who knew she could move so fast!) I notice the dust bunnies under the counter have increased since the last time I had the opportunity to “examine” down under (I multitask whenever I can). Tina wastes no time in communicating her views concerning my driving habits... no time at all.
I hear a loud boom quickly followed by a sharp sting in my posterior. Man, she hits hard!! I am determined to remain stoic and accept my “attitude/behavior adjustment” in a dignified manner. Yep, that is my goal. Tina is just as determined to make sure I will never get a speeding ticket again. Guess who wins.
As she continues to make her point, I begin to let out little yelps and whimpers while my feet start to do the spank dance (you know the one). My right hand adopts the GI Joe Kung Fu grip as it locates the chair leg.
My left arm is firmly planted on the floor and….. there it goes. I tried to stop it using Jedi powers (Star Wars buff also, deal with it). The results of lefty’s little adventure are five smacks to the back of my thighs. Lefty is now in Tina’s death grip… not going anywhere.
She doesn’t say anything verbally right now but rather uses her considerable strength to do her bidding. I miss her voice at times like these.
I am hanging on to my stoicism by a thread. Suddenly the heavens open up, a bright light shines down upon me and I am granted a reprieve. Maybe my candlelit dinner had softened her stance. Yeah...maybe.
As I cling to hope (a girl can dream) I hear the dreaded words, “Sam, lift your hips.” Great, there goes my hope flying out the window.
Lying prone with my pants (and panties, can’t forget that) around my ankles, I feel her resting her hand on my toasty bottom (trust me, its toasty). I welcome this intimacy. Something my mother used to do whenever I found myself across her lap. A way to let me know I would be forgiven soon, I’d be okay. Not pain free, but okay.
“Samantha, why are you getting this spanking?” I always hate this part…makes me feel like a naughty ten year old. Then again, I acted like one. Anyway, she should already know why I am here. After all, this is her idea, NOT mine! I keep these thoughts to myself as I ponder her question. I’m not stupid.
“Because I didn’t tell you about the speeding tickets.”
“Uh huh. Any why else?” Great, 20 questions. I hate this game. “And hid the insurance bill from you.” That should cover all the bases.
Smack, smack, smack. “And…..” I know her patience is getting pretty thin here. What else does she want me to say? I didn’t tell her about tickets and hid the bill – that covers it. Ohhh, wait a minute. “Because I was speeding.”
Bingo. That’s my biggest transgression in her eyes… taking chances with me.
“Yes, you risked your life to save a few minutes, not once but twice.”
With that being said, she reaches over and grabs the wooden spoon. Why the hell aren’t all the kitchen utensils in drawers where they belong? I’ll definitely need to remedy that.
I let out a whimper and continue my Kung Fu grip. By this time I have given up my goal to remain stoic.
And so the assault on my posterior begins again with that wicked spoon.
As tears and snot continue to pool on the floor below me (don’t shake your head, you’ve had the same pools on your floor), I hear someone say, “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. Please, please stop!” I found out later I was the mystery voice.
I try everything to escape the ever increasing fire being ignited in my ass...begging for mercy, wriggling, flailing my legs, squeezing the chair leg until my knuckles are white…anything I can think of. “Young, SMACK, lady, SPANK, you, SWAT, will, WHACK, never, SMACK, ever, SPANK, risk, SWAT, your, WHACK, life, SMACK, again !!! I personally think “ever” was overkill. I’m aware of this all consuming pain and unbelievably intense stinging – it feels like my bottom is covered with fire ants and I cannot escape their relentless feeding frenzy. I have never felt anything like this before and will make sure I never do again.
SMACK. “Did you hear me?” Oh…didn’t realize she wanted a response – focused on the feeding frenzy thing.
I quickly blurt out between the sobs, “yes, it won’t happen again. I am so sorry. It won’t happen again.” I didn’t realize she had stopped making her point until several minutes later. Apparently she was satisfied with my answer.
As my sobs turn into tears, she carries me over to my favorite chair by the window and sits down. Placing me on her lap, she ensures my crimson (no need to look – it’s always crimson) and ever so tender bottom does not make contact with her clothing. As I have said before, she is well practiced in this ritual.
I rest my head against her chest taking in the forgiveness she offers me. I feel her own tears on my face.
“I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to you. You are my Pooh bear.” Yes, it is an unexpected nickname as I do not resemble Winnie the Pooh in any way nor do I even like him. Tina said Pooh and I share the same ability to make others feel better about themselves (quit smirking!!). My nickname for her is Yogi...seemed only fair.
I look up and she knows how sorry I am. She gently nods her head and pulls me closer, rocking my tired body as I continue to cry openly. She whispers those words I need to hear. I am forgiven. I am loved. I am a good person.
I gaze at the stars and smile a little. When I was a little girl, I imagined myself living among those stars. They offered me refuge in a frightening world. I don’t have to imagine anymore. I find that same refuge sitting here in her arms.
Later, she will gently nudge me from her lap. We’ll find our way to the bed, shedding any remaining clothes along the way. My mind will quickly register the contrast between the cool cotton sheet and my warm, tender ass. Tina will try not to a smile (unsuccessfully) at my reaction. Funny, isn’t she?!
As she gently kisses my lips, her hands will begin to explore my body. Soon she will caress my breasts, teasing my nipples with her tongue. I know quiet moans will escape my throat as jolts of pleasure begin to course through my body.
Tina will resume her exploration of my body using fingers, lips and tongue. At times I will feel the cool air against my damp skin as she moves from place to place, a reminder of her love for me. Continuing her journey, one finger will find its way inside me, her tongue playfully toying with that most sensitive of areas.
Finally, I’ll feel two, then three fingers inside me. We’ll both find that rhythm which fills my entire being. Her tongue and mouth will tease, caress and suckle my sacred place…the one place only she is allowed to visit. My body will explode with desire as I cry out her name. She’ll continue to bring me to the brink and pull me back, over and over again...
Then it will happen, that moment of surrender. As I’m engulfed in ecstasy, wave after wave of pleasure will travel through my body igniting every nerve ending. She knows my body well.
We’ll repeat this dance again. This time she will surrender to my touch. I know her body well too.
I’ll nestle close to my beloved (not the remote), feeling safe in her arms. As we drift off to sleep, I know contentment will rest in both our hearts.
Life is good. Life is very good.
This is an original work of fiction by me. Jedi, Star Wars, Hershey’s, Dunkin’ Doughnuts, Winnie the Pooh and Yogi are all copyrighted (not sure about Jedi but didn’t want to take any chances) and in no way belong to me. No infringement is intended. They are NOT mine. Please don't sue me.
Great…just great. Here I am, sitting in the dark with the TV as my only company. I wonder just how far my lower lip can extend in my quest to achieve the perfect pout. It’s a way to pass the time. The remote (aka beloved) has not been helpful in finding a tolerable distraction among the gazillion cable channels. No, no help at all.
Katrina (yeah, definitely full name time) was supposed to be here two hours ago. Did she make it? No! She most certainly did not make it for the candlelight dinner I had painstakingly prepared. Was there an occasion- hell no!! I made it just because. I know what you’re thinking…how sweet is that. We’re on the same page.
“Hi honey,” I hear as she enters the front door. At least I hope it’s her. I don’t answer...I don’t want to ruin my perfect pout. It’s amazing...I can actually see most of my lower lip if I look down just right. Shoes kicked off in the foyer, keys thrown in the basket and finally, finally, I hear her making her way into the kitchen.
There it is. “Oh shit.” She saw the table.
“Sam, Sammie honey, where are you?”
I have no intention of answering her...it would severely compromise my perfect pout plus I enjoy the view from my cross (decided to climb on it right after perfecting my pout…something to do). Doesn’t take long before I feel her standing in the doorway. She knows me well, knows I will be sitting in the rocking chair looking out the window while the TV is flickering in the dark room.
“Oh baby, I’m sorry,” I hear as she wraps her arms around me. I, of course, can’t answer. Perfect pout thing.
She feels for the switch and turns on the light (we had to get rid of our clapper because it turned into the occasional strobe light, guess when?!) and gently reaches toward me. I remain still. Nope, not going to make this easy for her.
Ever so gently I feel her hands on both sides of my face. She tilts my face up until she can see my eyes…and I can see hers. I see regret reflected in her face. I know she sees hurt in mine (of course, the pout helps).
“I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me when I called to say I would be late?” Oh yeah, forgot to mention that detail but it doesn’t in any way diminish my righteous indignation. I’m not about to climb down off my cross.
“I knew you needed to finish the project.” As I am pulled into her arms I decide maybe the pout can go away. For now but I’m keeping that baby in reserve!! Besides, I’m hungry. She feels my shoulders relax and we both know all is forgiven (yeah, I’ve climbed down off the cross but I’m still carrying it on my back).
“Come on Tina, let’s salvage my gourmet meal. Oh, you get clean up detail and I expect a back rub.” She can see the gleam in my eye and slight impish grin as I make my way slowly (heavy cross, remember) to the kitchen. She smiles and follows me while landing a playful swat. What can I say…that woman loves my backside!!
“Honey, this was a wonderful meal. Thank you so much.” Now, it is coincidental that I made this gourmet meal for my Tina on the same day our car insurance renewal is due. JUST a coincidence. That is all…a coincidence.
See, I had gotten a speeding ticket...okay, two but the last one really wasn’t my fault. I was passing a truck I had been following for ten years. Finally the merciful Zeus smiled down upon me and kindly presented a very small window of opportunity to pass. Of course, I took it (at 80mph). Who knew a cop would be hiding behind the Dunkin’ Donuts billboard? I was certainly surprised.
These unfortunate events happened over the course of several (okay one) month and I, being the responsible adult I am, paid the fines promptly. I did, however, forget to mention them to Tina. Yep, overlooked that one tiny detail. I had a sinking feeling the fines and increased insurance rates weren’t the only price I was going to pay.
“Ah, baby...” I quietly direct to her as she’s loading this dishwasher. “Yes?” she replies continuing her task. “Where’s the checkbook? I’ll just pay some bills while you’re cleaning up.”
I’m just trying to be helpful.
She directs me to the second drawer in the office desk. I give her my best I-love-you smile (throw in some doe eyes just in case) as I make my way to the desk. Maybe I’ll get away with this after all.
Uh oh, that pesky you-need-to-do-the-right-thing voice is back in my head. Dammit, the “get away with it” must have summoned her. Guilt decides to make an appearance on the scene followed by shame…just tell her the truth now.
Wait a minute, I find myself responding to Miss Morally Superior (goody, a game of point-counterpoint). I took responsibility for my actions by paying the fines. I have since made sure I do not exceed the speed limit. Okay, by no more than five miles/hour and ten if I have to pass some shouldn’t-even-be-allowed-to-drive jerk. Progress, not perfection is my motto. I handled it like the mature responsible adult I am (high fives all around). So there Miss Morally Superior!! Game, set and match …or so I hope.
From afar I here someone beckon (how often do you hear that word?) my name. Maybe I can ignore her. There it is again. No doubt about it, I’m being summoned back to the kitchen. Fuck... time to plaster that innocent school girl look on my face. I keep that in reserve along with the perfect pout (new item, yay me) and cross.
As I enter the kitchen in a nonchalant way (at least I hope so) I can feel a slight tingle in my bottom. Those butterflies decide to make an appearance – you know, the ones that flit around in the stomach pretending to be harmless. Yeah, right…really harbingers of impending doom.
“What bills do you need to pay? I thought I paid them all last Saturday.”
I should probably mention that somehow the insurance bill had been misplaced (folded neatly in my pocket) on its way to the pile-o-bills perched on the desk. It had been a windy day so, strictly as a precautionary measure, I had placed the bill in my pocket. I did not want to loose any vital piece of mail, no siree Bob. See, responsible me on the job. Once again, high fives all around!!
“Sam, what bills didn’t get paid?” Her voice has an edge and her eyes definitely convey resistance-is-futile (I’m a trekkie, so sue me). Fuck…what to do, what to do…
Okay, here’s the plan. Yes, I frequently converse with the committee in my head - doesn’t mean I’m crazy, just busy. And creative. So there !
I’ll quickly hand her the bill and flee to a foreign country…maybe Canada. I speak French and have a parka. By the time I return she will be so happy to see me (and will have paid the bill) that all will be forgiven and I’ll be showered with kisses (hers, not Hershey’s, although that wouldn’t be bad either).
“Sam!” I quickly snap back to reality and hand her the bill. I watch her face go from confusion to anger in five seconds flat. No need for the inquiring-minds-want-to-know mode, she caught on pretty quickly. That tingle and butterflies are becoming much more pronounced. This isn’t good…not good at all.
There it is …those you’re-in-big-trouble wrinkles around her eyes, tightly clenched jaw and pulsating blood vessel in her forehead. Haven’t seen the “pulse” (we’re old friends) in a long time. Yeah…the true price of my driving habits is about to be revealed. I have an inkling what the price is but, then again, maybe she’ll surprise me. After all, keeping a little mystery helps spice up any relationship... just ask Dr. Ruth.
She places her arm around mine and guides (I call it drags) me further into the kitchen. I find myself being deposited on a kitchen chair (when did it get pulled out and turned away from the table?). I can’t help but notice she’s looking down on me from way up on high with hands on hips (hadn’t noticed her growth spurt until this moment).
“SAM, are you listening to me?” I am now. Shit... there will be no mystery tonight. No, tonight will definitely be mystery free.
“Samantha, why have our insurance rates drastically increased?” she asks in a (deceptively) calm voice. Summoning up all my courage, I raise my eyes to meet her gaze. I try to speak but no words are coming out of my mouth – I look like a guppy gasping for air. After nine hours (or one minute, same thing) I look down and admit the prior speeding tickets. I’m praying my nice dinner will pay off… it doesn’t.
“Did you say tickets?” Yeah, she notices the plural thing... English professor. I can only nod my head as speech continues to be allusive– that guppy breathing thing.
“How many?”
She continues to tower (menacingly) over me (I really am working the pitiful angle) and her eyes remain fixed on me, little ole’me. I am guppy breathing, repentant (cue downcast eyes), and obviously trying to make amends (fine dining). I pray it is enough to melt her heart. In the alternative, a nasty case of tennis elbow or bursitis in her shoulder would also be welcome. May the Powers That Be hear my plea!!!
“How many Samantha Marie!” Slowly I raise my left hand in a peace sign (subtle, I know). That’s all the information she needs.
Finding myself sprawled over her lap (who knew she could move so fast!) I notice the dust bunnies under the counter have increased since the last time I had the opportunity to “examine” down under (I multitask whenever I can). Tina wastes no time in communicating her views concerning my driving habits... no time at all.
I hear a loud boom quickly followed by a sharp sting in my posterior. Man, she hits hard!! I am determined to remain stoic and accept my “attitude/behavior adjustment” in a dignified manner. Yep, that is my goal. Tina is just as determined to make sure I will never get a speeding ticket again. Guess who wins.
As she continues to make her point, I begin to let out little yelps and whimpers while my feet start to do the spank dance (you know the one). My right hand adopts the GI Joe Kung Fu grip as it locates the chair leg.
My left arm is firmly planted on the floor and….. there it goes. I tried to stop it using Jedi powers (Star Wars buff also, deal with it). The results of lefty’s little adventure are five smacks to the back of my thighs. Lefty is now in Tina’s death grip… not going anywhere.
She doesn’t say anything verbally right now but rather uses her considerable strength to do her bidding. I miss her voice at times like these.
I am hanging on to my stoicism by a thread. Suddenly the heavens open up, a bright light shines down upon me and I am granted a reprieve. Maybe my candlelit dinner had softened her stance. Yeah...maybe.
As I cling to hope (a girl can dream) I hear the dreaded words, “Sam, lift your hips.” Great, there goes my hope flying out the window.
Lying prone with my pants (and panties, can’t forget that) around my ankles, I feel her resting her hand on my toasty bottom (trust me, its toasty). I welcome this intimacy. Something my mother used to do whenever I found myself across her lap. A way to let me know I would be forgiven soon, I’d be okay. Not pain free, but okay.
“Samantha, why are you getting this spanking?” I always hate this part…makes me feel like a naughty ten year old. Then again, I acted like one. Anyway, she should already know why I am here. After all, this is her idea, NOT mine! I keep these thoughts to myself as I ponder her question. I’m not stupid.
“Because I didn’t tell you about the speeding tickets.”
“Uh huh. Any why else?” Great, 20 questions. I hate this game. “And hid the insurance bill from you.” That should cover all the bases.
Smack, smack, smack. “And…..” I know her patience is getting pretty thin here. What else does she want me to say? I didn’t tell her about tickets and hid the bill – that covers it. Ohhh, wait a minute. “Because I was speeding.”
Bingo. That’s my biggest transgression in her eyes… taking chances with me.
“Yes, you risked your life to save a few minutes, not once but twice.”
With that being said, she reaches over and grabs the wooden spoon. Why the hell aren’t all the kitchen utensils in drawers where they belong? I’ll definitely need to remedy that.
I let out a whimper and continue my Kung Fu grip. By this time I have given up my goal to remain stoic.
And so the assault on my posterior begins again with that wicked spoon.
As tears and snot continue to pool on the floor below me (don’t shake your head, you’ve had the same pools on your floor), I hear someone say, “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. Please, please stop!” I found out later I was the mystery voice.
I try everything to escape the ever increasing fire being ignited in my ass...begging for mercy, wriggling, flailing my legs, squeezing the chair leg until my knuckles are white…anything I can think of. “Young, SMACK, lady, SPANK, you, SWAT, will, WHACK, never, SMACK, ever, SPANK, risk, SWAT, your, WHACK, life, SMACK, again !!! I personally think “ever” was overkill. I’m aware of this all consuming pain and unbelievably intense stinging – it feels like my bottom is covered with fire ants and I cannot escape their relentless feeding frenzy. I have never felt anything like this before and will make sure I never do again.
SMACK. “Did you hear me?” Oh…didn’t realize she wanted a response – focused on the feeding frenzy thing.
I quickly blurt out between the sobs, “yes, it won’t happen again. I am so sorry. It won’t happen again.” I didn’t realize she had stopped making her point until several minutes later. Apparently she was satisfied with my answer.
As my sobs turn into tears, she carries me over to my favorite chair by the window and sits down. Placing me on her lap, she ensures my crimson (no need to look – it’s always crimson) and ever so tender bottom does not make contact with her clothing. As I have said before, she is well practiced in this ritual.
I rest my head against her chest taking in the forgiveness she offers me. I feel her own tears on my face.
“I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to you. You are my Pooh bear.” Yes, it is an unexpected nickname as I do not resemble Winnie the Pooh in any way nor do I even like him. Tina said Pooh and I share the same ability to make others feel better about themselves (quit smirking!!). My nickname for her is Yogi...seemed only fair.
I look up and she knows how sorry I am. She gently nods her head and pulls me closer, rocking my tired body as I continue to cry openly. She whispers those words I need to hear. I am forgiven. I am loved. I am a good person.
I gaze at the stars and smile a little. When I was a little girl, I imagined myself living among those stars. They offered me refuge in a frightening world. I don’t have to imagine anymore. I find that same refuge sitting here in her arms.
Later, she will gently nudge me from her lap. We’ll find our way to the bed, shedding any remaining clothes along the way. My mind will quickly register the contrast between the cool cotton sheet and my warm, tender ass. Tina will try not to a smile (unsuccessfully) at my reaction. Funny, isn’t she?!
As she gently kisses my lips, her hands will begin to explore my body. Soon she will caress my breasts, teasing my nipples with her tongue. I know quiet moans will escape my throat as jolts of pleasure begin to course through my body.
Tina will resume her exploration of my body using fingers, lips and tongue. At times I will feel the cool air against my damp skin as she moves from place to place, a reminder of her love for me. Continuing her journey, one finger will find its way inside me, her tongue playfully toying with that most sensitive of areas.
Finally, I’ll feel two, then three fingers inside me. We’ll both find that rhythm which fills my entire being. Her tongue and mouth will tease, caress and suckle my sacred place…the one place only she is allowed to visit. My body will explode with desire as I cry out her name. She’ll continue to bring me to the brink and pull me back, over and over again...
Then it will happen, that moment of surrender. As I’m engulfed in ecstasy, wave after wave of pleasure will travel through my body igniting every nerve ending. She knows my body well.
We’ll repeat this dance again. This time she will surrender to my touch. I know her body well too.
I’ll nestle close to my beloved (not the remote), feeling safe in her arms. As we drift off to sleep, I know contentment will rest in both our hearts.
Life is good. Life is very good.
This is an original work of fiction by me. Jedi, Star Wars, Hershey’s, Dunkin’ Doughnuts, Winnie the Pooh and Yogi are all copyrighted (not sure about Jedi but didn’t want to take any chances) and in no way belong to me. No infringement is intended. They are NOT mine. Please don't sue me.
Who needs statistics anyway ?
Okay folks - this was my first foray into *s* fiction. Hope you enjoy it.
Shit...Shit… Shit… Shit... I mumbled while slowly climbing the stairs to the "corner" where I was "supposed" to be thinking about my transgressions. Yeah, right. All I was thinking about was how stupid I was and the inevitable price my bottom was going to pay for that costly mistake. This day was not turning out as I planned – that’s for sure.
Slowly, I inched my way up the stairs making sure each foot made contact with every single step along the way. No reason to take a chance on falling. Absolutely not - safety first is my motto. Unfortunately, Tina didn't share my views regarding this issue.
"Samantha Marie, you have exactly five seconds to get in the corner," came her voice from the den in surround sound. Who knew our house had such cool acoustics ?!
Uh oh. There it was - that edge in her voice was unmistakable. You know the you’re-in-so-much-trouble-young-lady voice. Mom had that same edge in her voice whenever my brother or I stepped out of line. I must admit that Tina has elevated it to a WHOLE new level.
Deciding not to push my luck, I hit those stairs two at a time and vaulted into the bedroom looking for the "corner" (there is no way I can refrain from making air quotes whenever I utter that word - it is almost a proper noun in my mind) .
Standing in the "corner" I did begin to reflect on the events of today. It started out like any other day.
Beep...Beep...Beep…
My arm came crashing down in an attempt to obliterate the alarm clock. Fuck snooze - I wanted that piece of modern technology to be rendered incapable of EVER invading my slumber again. Yes, I had a major resentment against that that vile piece of technology. Who could blame me? After all, I had been up until 3 am finishing my research paper for statistics, a class which has absolutely no appeal to me whatsoever. Whoever heard of doing a research paper in statistics? It boggles the mind if you ask me. Why in the hell do I need to know statistics to get my masters in music anyway- someone explain that to me!!
I was quickly refocused on current events by a sharp smack to my hindquarters. Damn, hadn’t any clue she was even in the room. Where was I when she developed her stealth powers?
“Stop thinking about how much you hate statistics and focus on what YOU did to end up in the corner.” She doesn’t use the air quotes thing. Oh, and did I mention she has psychic abilities?
Yelping, I jumped and clutched the part of my anatomy under attack. “Yes Tina, I mean ma’am,” was my quick reply – no sense taking chances.
I risked a quick glance back (maybe it isn't as bad as I think). A set of fiery hazel eyes locked onto my repentant (or so I hoped) blue eyes. As I saw her steely gaze and clenched jaw, self preservation kicked in and I was facing that “corner” so fast my head was spinning. Clenching my cheeks (you know which ones I mean) I held my breath waiting for the rest of her "response." After a few seconds I heard retreating footsteps – guess she didn’t feel the need to be quite as stealth by then. Yep, she was pissed, really pissed.
This did not bode well for me. Nope, this did not bode well at all.
Okay, let’s review the events of today.
After silencing that bloody alarm clock, I decided to blow off my 8am class. After all, I had been up toiling on that stupid paper for a stupid never-going-to use-it-in-my-life class. I was definitely due a well-deserved rest – anyone would agree.
Next I went about the task of attaining that glorious state of REM sleep again. I knew Tina wouldn't be home until 5pm which gave me plenty of time not only to get more wonderful sleep but also make her favorites for dinner.
Yeah, a little change in my schedule, favorites for dinner – this day was definitely looking brighter. I figured there was no reason to bother her with this minor schedule change. Nope, no reason at all.
Somehow her insistence on class attendance slipped my mind. Must have been the sleep deprivation.
Having quickly quelled that voice in my head suggesting this may not be the best idea, I set about achieving my goal. Using multiple blankets, skillfully placed pillows and changing positions about a million times, I was finally able to block all light from reaching my eyes and quickly returned to a state of blissful sleep.
Life was good. Very good.
Too bad I had neglected to look at the calendar posted conspicuously on the refrigerator door. You know, the one central Iocation we both agreed to use to post any appointments, schedule changes, etc. There is also a cute little notepad magnet with kittens next to it. A few months after we moved in together (wow, almost 15 years ago) it became obvious that we needed a communication aid. Rather, it became obvious to Miss Organized after SHE overlooked the message I had left her regarding her doctor’s appointment. Granted it was on the back of the credit card bill (another chapter in the getting-Samantha-organized-no-matter-what saga) but hey, I left the message for her.
Hence, the calendar and kitten notepad came into my life.
It would definitely have been helpful if I had noticed that Tina had office hours this morning (she is an English professor) and would be home at noon. Yeah...if only I had done that.
While blissfully unaware of her arrival (you see, I had achieved my goal of REM sleep - yay me!!) she arrived at our humble abode (how often do I get to use that phrase – pretty cool). After making her way into the house, she called my name several times (or so she says – after all, I was asleep) finally making her way into our bedroom.
Suddenly, there was someone with a bright light surrounding a beautiful face standing above me. My first thought was I was having some kind of heart attack or stroke – those damn cigarettes had caught up with me. Otherwise, why would there be an angel hovering over me insisting I get up and follow her?
Seemed reasonable at the time.
I assumed this beautiful creature was here to take me to the pearly gates. Kinda filled me with a sense of peace knowing I had a guide into the celestial kingdom.
I was wrong. Way off base on that one.
Reality was about to come crashing down and not in a good way.
My so-called angel wasn't quite sure what had happened. The remnants of the alarm clock clued her into the possible cause for my continued slumber and subsequent dazed look. She knows what I am like when I don't get enough sleep. We buy alarm clocks by the case.
"Sam, Sammie, come on, get up. Come with me and I'll fix some lunch." Her voice slowly penetrated my I-just-woke-up-haze. Did she say lunch? Shit. I looked around to see what time it was but...well, that proved to be an impossible task. You know, the alarm clock in pieces thing.
I quickly went into action, scrambled into the bathroom and prayed it was really 5pm. After showering in record time, grabbing a pair of sweats and t-shirt, I made it down to the kitchen in 7 minutes flat. Amazing how your body never forgets that sprint training from college – kind of like riding a bike. Unfortunately the clock in the kitchen indicated 12:30pm. Not good…not good at all.
Tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches awaited my arrival. "Comfort food, figured you needed it after last night." Now how thoughtful is that I ask you. No wonder this woman captured my heart all those years ago.
"So, why couldn't you sleep?" she asked casually while blowing on the soup to cool it down. "Just couldn't," was my quick reply. Man, I really hoped that was the end of it.
No such luck.
"Why not?" she asked while looking pointedly at me. Great, she has slipped into her inquiring-minds-want-to-know mode.
You see, I had led her to believe (however, never actually stated – want to be clear on that) my paper had been completed 2 days ago. When asked I had simply stated it was done. She neglected to follow up with any additional questions - you know... which draft I was talking about, what font I used, etc. See - not my fault she drew the wrong conclusion. Somehow I doubted she would share my view on this matter.
"Sam, why couldn't you sleep ?"she asked again - her voice seemed tighter and she had those I-am-getting-irritated wrinkles on her forehead.
”Ifinishedmystatisticspaper," I managed to squeak out in a whisper. The intricate wood design on our kitchen table quickly captured my undivided attention.
There was no way I could look her in the eye – no way at all. She reached over the table and gently raised my chin until I was forced to meet her gaze. "Please repeat what you just said."
"I finished my statistics paper." In a flash her hazel eyes took on a fiery hue and those wrinkles became very, very pronounced. Yeah, I was screwed.
So…that brings us to me standing in the “corner.”
"Samantha, please come here."
Slowly I turn around, gather up all my courage and look towards her voice. She has calmed down – the wrinkles are still present though. I quickly look down and begin the long journey across the great divide (okay, maybe 20 feet but it sure feels like the great divide). As I reach the bed (or final destination as I like to call it), she reaches up, grabs my wrist and sits me down next to her. Now that is a pleasant surprise!
Up until now I had not been able to look her in the eye. Again, I feel her tilting my chin up to meet her gaze. There it is – her eyes filled with sadness, a little anger and disappointment. The tears begin spilling out of my eyes as crushing guilt washes over me.
Here sits (for now) a 35 year old woman, accomplished musician, active in charities (I put money in the red bucket at Christmas) and fulltime teacher. Hell- I even returned to graduate school the past year (had to learn the whole studying thing all over again but I did it – yay me twice now!!)
I manage to juggle school, home and work. I EVEN throw in a work out twice a week. Okay, initially Tina provided some motivation (applied is more like it ) and really impressed upon me the importance of taking care of myself, eating right, getting enough sleep and putting down the cigarettes. She was and still is unwavering in that area. Taking care of me is a requirement for having the privilege of sitting. Choice is mine. I like to sit.
In the last 3 days I lied, cut class, damaged electronics (although that could have happened regardless) and hurt the most important person in my life. Did I miss the “mind going on vacation” memo? What the hell is wrong with me? What kind if person am I? Ahhhh, my old friend Self Loathing is back. Welcome home.
Tina nods her head slightly and pulls me over her lap. "Lift up honey," she quietly says - code for pants are coming down now. No trace of anger but that disappointment is still there. My tears continue unabated. As I lift up my hips, I realize the time for atonement is here.
Finally.
I close my eyes and wait for the first smack. No matter how many times I have found myself in this position, I always try to prepare for that first one. It never works – I am always stunned. This time was no exception.
SMACK. The sound echoes throughout the room (remember, our house has cool acoustics) a moment before my bottom registers anything. The reality of my situation quickly becomes apparent to me. Tina hits HARD! Her athletic prowess in college has served her well over the past 20 years. As she slips into a rhythm, I come to accept that she is: 1. very strong, 2. has the stamina of an Olympic athlete. Good for her….bad for me.
"Ow, Ow, Ow. That is too hard. Stop, please stop." I know I will quickly follow up with “I’m sorry” and “it will never happen again” - the time honored script of anyone on the receiving end of a well-deserved spanking. I know this script by heart...played in this sandbox before.
As spank after spank continue to rain down on my wriggling bottom, the time for spoken words arrives. I quickly thank all that is Holy the relentless assault on my bottom is halted. The uncontrollable sobbing remains. Did I mention that she really, really hits HARD? I tell her through choked sobs. I don’t think she took it as the compliment I had intended.
I am FINALLY able to speak in a somewhat coherent manner. "Samantha, why are you getting this spanking?" she asks after hours and hours. Tina (aka Miss Hand-of-Iron) informs me it was only 5 minutes. How does she know that? No alarm clock, remember? I'll just let this go for now.
"Because I procrastinated," I manage to say through tears.
"Why else, "she asks – I pray she won't physically accentuate her questions.
Shit, my prayer isn't answered.
Tina decides to bring out the spank- per-word rule. The word count includes her questions and my…yes my… responses. Thankfully she doesn't apply the spank-per-syllable rule. See, the glass is really half full.
"And I lied to you and skipped class." Notice the number of words in my response. She certainly did. Sobbing makes an entrance again.
"And why else ? “questions Tina with an additional 3 spanks to make sure I am paying attention. I am.
"I didn't take care of myself," I reply quietly (contractions are quickly becoming my friend).
I know she hears the regret and shame in my voice. I know that is my worst transgression in her eyes. Not taking care of myself. Lying is a close second but my health trumps everything.
"Yes, you didn't take care of yourself. Let's take care of that right now," she states while picking up the hairbrush. See, I told you.
What – wait a minute! Whoa, back the truck up!! I think I have met the atonement requirements for all my transgressions and convey as much to her. Unfortunately, she does not share my opinion. She also doesn't abide by the contraction rule. No, they count as 2 words. English professor, remember… Great, just fucking great.
Marshmallows can be roasted over the fire she has raised in my posterior and she wants to make it hotter!! I sure hope the fire extinguisher is still in here somewhere. Where is that half full glass again? I may need it to keep the flames at bay.
As she pulls me closer to her waist I hear her say "all that's left is 15 with the hairbrush and we will be done." Her last sentence is somehow exempt from the word count. I am grateful for small favors. It’s still going to hurt like hell.
She knows I haven't let go yet – haven't forgiven myself for the disappointment in her hazel eyes. We both hope 15 will be enough to bring me some relief. I welcome her arm holding me securely against her body. I know she is with me, loves me, is sharing my pain. I feel safe in her arms (I will reflect on the paradox of that statement at a later time).
I close my eyes, grab the comforter and wait for the next barrage of scorchers. I don’t have to wait long as a fast volley of smacks makes contact. By the time my brain registers the pain, it is over. All I can do is cry as Tina gently rubs my back and quietly soothes my heart with her loving words.
Slowly I am lifted up and find myself on her lap. Tina makes sure my bottom doesn't touch the harsh fabric of her jeans. She is well practiced in this ritual. As I lay against her chest with her arms holding me securely, I hear her tell me over and over that I am forgiven. I am a good person. I am loved.
Maybe today wasn’t such a bad day after all. I gaze into her eyes and know the night will be even better. I was right this morning.
Life is good. Life is very good.
Shit...Shit… Shit… Shit... I mumbled while slowly climbing the stairs to the "corner" where I was "supposed" to be thinking about my transgressions. Yeah, right. All I was thinking about was how stupid I was and the inevitable price my bottom was going to pay for that costly mistake. This day was not turning out as I planned – that’s for sure.
Slowly, I inched my way up the stairs making sure each foot made contact with every single step along the way. No reason to take a chance on falling. Absolutely not - safety first is my motto. Unfortunately, Tina didn't share my views regarding this issue.
"Samantha Marie, you have exactly five seconds to get in the corner," came her voice from the den in surround sound. Who knew our house had such cool acoustics ?!
Uh oh. There it was - that edge in her voice was unmistakable. You know the you’re-in-so-much-trouble-young-lady voice. Mom had that same edge in her voice whenever my brother or I stepped out of line. I must admit that Tina has elevated it to a WHOLE new level.
Deciding not to push my luck, I hit those stairs two at a time and vaulted into the bedroom looking for the "corner" (there is no way I can refrain from making air quotes whenever I utter that word - it is almost a proper noun in my mind) .
Standing in the "corner" I did begin to reflect on the events of today. It started out like any other day.
Beep...Beep...Beep…
My arm came crashing down in an attempt to obliterate the alarm clock. Fuck snooze - I wanted that piece of modern technology to be rendered incapable of EVER invading my slumber again. Yes, I had a major resentment against that that vile piece of technology. Who could blame me? After all, I had been up until 3 am finishing my research paper for statistics, a class which has absolutely no appeal to me whatsoever. Whoever heard of doing a research paper in statistics? It boggles the mind if you ask me. Why in the hell do I need to know statistics to get my masters in music anyway- someone explain that to me!!
I was quickly refocused on current events by a sharp smack to my hindquarters. Damn, hadn’t any clue she was even in the room. Where was I when she developed her stealth powers?
“Stop thinking about how much you hate statistics and focus on what YOU did to end up in the corner.” She doesn’t use the air quotes thing. Oh, and did I mention she has psychic abilities?
Yelping, I jumped and clutched the part of my anatomy under attack. “Yes Tina, I mean ma’am,” was my quick reply – no sense taking chances.
I risked a quick glance back (maybe it isn't as bad as I think). A set of fiery hazel eyes locked onto my repentant (or so I hoped) blue eyes. As I saw her steely gaze and clenched jaw, self preservation kicked in and I was facing that “corner” so fast my head was spinning. Clenching my cheeks (you know which ones I mean) I held my breath waiting for the rest of her "response." After a few seconds I heard retreating footsteps – guess she didn’t feel the need to be quite as stealth by then. Yep, she was pissed, really pissed.
This did not bode well for me. Nope, this did not bode well at all.
Okay, let’s review the events of today.
After silencing that bloody alarm clock, I decided to blow off my 8am class. After all, I had been up toiling on that stupid paper for a stupid never-going-to use-it-in-my-life class. I was definitely due a well-deserved rest – anyone would agree.
Next I went about the task of attaining that glorious state of REM sleep again. I knew Tina wouldn't be home until 5pm which gave me plenty of time not only to get more wonderful sleep but also make her favorites for dinner.
Yeah, a little change in my schedule, favorites for dinner – this day was definitely looking brighter. I figured there was no reason to bother her with this minor schedule change. Nope, no reason at all.
Somehow her insistence on class attendance slipped my mind. Must have been the sleep deprivation.
Having quickly quelled that voice in my head suggesting this may not be the best idea, I set about achieving my goal. Using multiple blankets, skillfully placed pillows and changing positions about a million times, I was finally able to block all light from reaching my eyes and quickly returned to a state of blissful sleep.
Life was good. Very good.
Too bad I had neglected to look at the calendar posted conspicuously on the refrigerator door. You know, the one central Iocation we both agreed to use to post any appointments, schedule changes, etc. There is also a cute little notepad magnet with kittens next to it. A few months after we moved in together (wow, almost 15 years ago) it became obvious that we needed a communication aid. Rather, it became obvious to Miss Organized after SHE overlooked the message I had left her regarding her doctor’s appointment. Granted it was on the back of the credit card bill (another chapter in the getting-Samantha-organized-no-matter-what saga) but hey, I left the message for her.
Hence, the calendar and kitten notepad came into my life.
It would definitely have been helpful if I had noticed that Tina had office hours this morning (she is an English professor) and would be home at noon. Yeah...if only I had done that.
While blissfully unaware of her arrival (you see, I had achieved my goal of REM sleep - yay me!!) she arrived at our humble abode (how often do I get to use that phrase – pretty cool). After making her way into the house, she called my name several times (or so she says – after all, I was asleep) finally making her way into our bedroom.
Suddenly, there was someone with a bright light surrounding a beautiful face standing above me. My first thought was I was having some kind of heart attack or stroke – those damn cigarettes had caught up with me. Otherwise, why would there be an angel hovering over me insisting I get up and follow her?
Seemed reasonable at the time.
I assumed this beautiful creature was here to take me to the pearly gates. Kinda filled me with a sense of peace knowing I had a guide into the celestial kingdom.
I was wrong. Way off base on that one.
Reality was about to come crashing down and not in a good way.
My so-called angel wasn't quite sure what had happened. The remnants of the alarm clock clued her into the possible cause for my continued slumber and subsequent dazed look. She knows what I am like when I don't get enough sleep. We buy alarm clocks by the case.
"Sam, Sammie, come on, get up. Come with me and I'll fix some lunch." Her voice slowly penetrated my I-just-woke-up-haze. Did she say lunch? Shit. I looked around to see what time it was but...well, that proved to be an impossible task. You know, the alarm clock in pieces thing.
I quickly went into action, scrambled into the bathroom and prayed it was really 5pm. After showering in record time, grabbing a pair of sweats and t-shirt, I made it down to the kitchen in 7 minutes flat. Amazing how your body never forgets that sprint training from college – kind of like riding a bike. Unfortunately the clock in the kitchen indicated 12:30pm. Not good…not good at all.
Tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches awaited my arrival. "Comfort food, figured you needed it after last night." Now how thoughtful is that I ask you. No wonder this woman captured my heart all those years ago.
"So, why couldn't you sleep?" she asked casually while blowing on the soup to cool it down. "Just couldn't," was my quick reply. Man, I really hoped that was the end of it.
No such luck.
"Why not?" she asked while looking pointedly at me. Great, she has slipped into her inquiring-minds-want-to-know mode.
You see, I had led her to believe (however, never actually stated – want to be clear on that) my paper had been completed 2 days ago. When asked I had simply stated it was done. She neglected to follow up with any additional questions - you know... which draft I was talking about, what font I used, etc. See - not my fault she drew the wrong conclusion. Somehow I doubted she would share my view on this matter.
"Sam, why couldn't you sleep ?"she asked again - her voice seemed tighter and she had those I-am-getting-irritated wrinkles on her forehead.
”Ifinishedmystatisticspaper," I managed to squeak out in a whisper. The intricate wood design on our kitchen table quickly captured my undivided attention.
There was no way I could look her in the eye – no way at all. She reached over the table and gently raised my chin until I was forced to meet her gaze. "Please repeat what you just said."
"I finished my statistics paper." In a flash her hazel eyes took on a fiery hue and those wrinkles became very, very pronounced. Yeah, I was screwed.
So…that brings us to me standing in the “corner.”
"Samantha, please come here."
Slowly I turn around, gather up all my courage and look towards her voice. She has calmed down – the wrinkles are still present though. I quickly look down and begin the long journey across the great divide (okay, maybe 20 feet but it sure feels like the great divide). As I reach the bed (or final destination as I like to call it), she reaches up, grabs my wrist and sits me down next to her. Now that is a pleasant surprise!
Up until now I had not been able to look her in the eye. Again, I feel her tilting my chin up to meet her gaze. There it is – her eyes filled with sadness, a little anger and disappointment. The tears begin spilling out of my eyes as crushing guilt washes over me.
Here sits (for now) a 35 year old woman, accomplished musician, active in charities (I put money in the red bucket at Christmas) and fulltime teacher. Hell- I even returned to graduate school the past year (had to learn the whole studying thing all over again but I did it – yay me twice now!!)
I manage to juggle school, home and work. I EVEN throw in a work out twice a week. Okay, initially Tina provided some motivation (applied is more like it ) and really impressed upon me the importance of taking care of myself, eating right, getting enough sleep and putting down the cigarettes. She was and still is unwavering in that area. Taking care of me is a requirement for having the privilege of sitting. Choice is mine. I like to sit.
In the last 3 days I lied, cut class, damaged electronics (although that could have happened regardless) and hurt the most important person in my life. Did I miss the “mind going on vacation” memo? What the hell is wrong with me? What kind if person am I? Ahhhh, my old friend Self Loathing is back. Welcome home.
Tina nods her head slightly and pulls me over her lap. "Lift up honey," she quietly says - code for pants are coming down now. No trace of anger but that disappointment is still there. My tears continue unabated. As I lift up my hips, I realize the time for atonement is here.
Finally.
I close my eyes and wait for the first smack. No matter how many times I have found myself in this position, I always try to prepare for that first one. It never works – I am always stunned. This time was no exception.
SMACK. The sound echoes throughout the room (remember, our house has cool acoustics) a moment before my bottom registers anything. The reality of my situation quickly becomes apparent to me. Tina hits HARD! Her athletic prowess in college has served her well over the past 20 years. As she slips into a rhythm, I come to accept that she is: 1. very strong, 2. has the stamina of an Olympic athlete. Good for her….bad for me.
"Ow, Ow, Ow. That is too hard. Stop, please stop." I know I will quickly follow up with “I’m sorry” and “it will never happen again” - the time honored script of anyone on the receiving end of a well-deserved spanking. I know this script by heart...played in this sandbox before.
As spank after spank continue to rain down on my wriggling bottom, the time for spoken words arrives. I quickly thank all that is Holy the relentless assault on my bottom is halted. The uncontrollable sobbing remains. Did I mention that she really, really hits HARD? I tell her through choked sobs. I don’t think she took it as the compliment I had intended.
I am FINALLY able to speak in a somewhat coherent manner. "Samantha, why are you getting this spanking?" she asks after hours and hours. Tina (aka Miss Hand-of-Iron) informs me it was only 5 minutes. How does she know that? No alarm clock, remember? I'll just let this go for now.
"Because I procrastinated," I manage to say through tears.
"Why else, "she asks – I pray she won't physically accentuate her questions.
Shit, my prayer isn't answered.
Tina decides to bring out the spank- per-word rule. The word count includes her questions and my…yes my… responses. Thankfully she doesn't apply the spank-per-syllable rule. See, the glass is really half full.
"And I lied to you and skipped class." Notice the number of words in my response. She certainly did. Sobbing makes an entrance again.
"And why else ? “questions Tina with an additional 3 spanks to make sure I am paying attention. I am.
"I didn't take care of myself," I reply quietly (contractions are quickly becoming my friend).
I know she hears the regret and shame in my voice. I know that is my worst transgression in her eyes. Not taking care of myself. Lying is a close second but my health trumps everything.
"Yes, you didn't take care of yourself. Let's take care of that right now," she states while picking up the hairbrush. See, I told you.
What – wait a minute! Whoa, back the truck up!! I think I have met the atonement requirements for all my transgressions and convey as much to her. Unfortunately, she does not share my opinion. She also doesn't abide by the contraction rule. No, they count as 2 words. English professor, remember… Great, just fucking great.
Marshmallows can be roasted over the fire she has raised in my posterior and she wants to make it hotter!! I sure hope the fire extinguisher is still in here somewhere. Where is that half full glass again? I may need it to keep the flames at bay.
As she pulls me closer to her waist I hear her say "all that's left is 15 with the hairbrush and we will be done." Her last sentence is somehow exempt from the word count. I am grateful for small favors. It’s still going to hurt like hell.
She knows I haven't let go yet – haven't forgiven myself for the disappointment in her hazel eyes. We both hope 15 will be enough to bring me some relief. I welcome her arm holding me securely against her body. I know she is with me, loves me, is sharing my pain. I feel safe in her arms (I will reflect on the paradox of that statement at a later time).
I close my eyes, grab the comforter and wait for the next barrage of scorchers. I don’t have to wait long as a fast volley of smacks makes contact. By the time my brain registers the pain, it is over. All I can do is cry as Tina gently rubs my back and quietly soothes my heart with her loving words.
Slowly I am lifted up and find myself on her lap. Tina makes sure my bottom doesn't touch the harsh fabric of her jeans. She is well practiced in this ritual. As I lay against her chest with her arms holding me securely, I hear her tell me over and over that I am forgiven. I am a good person. I am loved.
Maybe today wasn’t such a bad day after all. I gaze into her eyes and know the night will be even better. I was right this morning.
Life is good. Life is very good.
Family
As I sit here in the dark, I long for your embrace. Where are you? Why aren’t you here with me? With us?
I hear the kids getting ready. I need to get ready too. As I notice the hairbrush – your hairbrush – I can’t help but smile a little.
Remember when we caught the twins sneaking back in the house? They had both decided to celebrate their eighteenth birthday as the new adults they were. Or thought they were.
We stayed up watching Joan Crawford movies until 2 in the morning. It was your turn to make the beverage/snack run to the kitchen. I decided to check on the kids, needed to after watching Mommie Dearest. The population in our house had decreased by 50 percent…a statistic I quickly shared with you. The movie fest was over.
I remember the surprised look on Ashley’s face when you walked out of the den. I showed up just as Olivia entered the house. We both had the same pose – head slightly cocked to the side, raised eyebrow, arms folded across chest, grim expression. My blues eyes were cold as ice while your green eyes lit up the room. Oh yeah, they were surprised all right.
You simply turned around and headed up the stairs. No need for words. The twins followed while I brought up the rear (so to speak). I saw Olivia reach for Ashley’s hand. You saw it too. Reaching Liv’s bedroom, you stood sentry at the opened door. I smiled as hands covered bottom when she scooted past you. You smiled a little too.
Ash continued down the hall to her room…her hands taking up the same position as Liv’s. Some things never change no matter how old you are.
“What were you thinking? Where have you been?” My voice was calm but my eyes remained ice cold. Ash knew she was in big trouble.
She whispered, “At the Idle Hour.” Now, I knew my ears had to be deceiving me. My eighteen year old daughter had just informed me she had spent the night at the seediest bar in town. That could not be right.
“I don’t think I heard you correctly. What did you say?” That edge had crept into my voice. “Ashley, look at me when I am talking to you!” Oh yeah, the edge was unmistakable.
As her head snapped up, I could see the tears in her eyes. “Idle hour.” She said it. The Idle Hour.
“The Idle Hour? Are you crazy?” echoed from down the hall. Liv just confirmed Ashley’s story.
You and I were on the same page. Fuck calm.
Towering over my daughter, I asked through clenched teeth, “Are you out of your mind? Do you know how dangerous that place is? How could you have possibly thought that was a good idea?” Eyes staring at the floor, hands in her lap, my usually talkative daughter was rendered speechless.
“You had better look at me young lady while you explain yourself,” I growled. Yep, fuck calm.
“Well, we wanted to celebrate our birthday out and…well… we are adults now."
Gotta give her credit, she managed to hold my gaze. Good for her. I decided to give her all the props she had earned.
“Really…” By now the calm voice had returned and I was still, completely still.
“Yes, Liv and I are eighteen now and can go where we want.” The girl must have brain damage…or suddenly lost twenty IQ points…or maybe just flat out lost her mind. I didn’t care.
“Adult, huh? As long as you live in this house you will follow the rules. I don’t care if you are eighteen or eighty!!” The time for talking was over and I was ready for action.
Sitting down next to Ash, I quickly grabbed her wrist and deftly pulled her over my lap. Now, she was expecting this but I think my speed caught her off guard. Nice to know I held a few surprises.
Pulling her close to my body, I raised my hand and quickly landed three smacks on her bottom. Ash and I have been here before...we both knew what to expect. I knew it will take a few dozen smacks before tears began to flow. She knew I would hold her tightly against my body…would remain silent the first few minutes. We both would.
I continued to land smack after smack, alternating between cheeks. I knew this same scene was being played up the hall. “Ow”, “I’m sorry,” and “Stop” will have filled the room up the hall as tears streamed down Liv’s face. She’s never been the silent type.
Flipping up her skirt, I was greeted with a thong. Yes, my daughter wore a thong to the seediest bar in town !!
Reaching two fingers under the waistband, I quickly lowered the offending item to her ankles… much to her chagrin. I still didn’t care.
Inspecting the upturned bottom over my lap, I noticed her cheeks were rounder and had filled out since the last time we were in this position. She still hadn’t fully crossed over into womanhood, the diminutive size and lithe body a testimony to her youth. I wondered if her sister had completed that journey.
As I reached for the hairbrush, I began anew to make my point...well, several points. I informed my errant daughter that the Idle Hour was off limits, forever. I further informed her that she was NEVER to sneak out of the house again. I knew you were covering the same points down the hall... We were on the same page.
SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK. “You will never, ever place yourself in such a dangerous situation again!!” SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK. By now her cheeks were a deep maroon and any semblance of stoicism had long since been abandoned. Ash kicked her legs, wiggled her bottom, and pounded her fists in the floor as the lesson continued. Her tears and pleas fell on deaf ears…my heart heard them.
I emphasized my last point by focusing the last six smacks on her sit spots. I wanted her to think about the danger she had been in. I wanted her to remember the fear in my voice. I wanted her to remember the resolve in my eyes.
I needed her to remember.
“Mom, let’s go.” Those three words hurl me back to the present.
It’s time for us to make that journey. I quickly embrace both girls, whispering how much I love each of them…everything will be okay. I see the tears in their eyes and they see the sorrow in mine.
As we make our way to the door, we see you sitting in the chair, staring blankly out the window.
Your body is still...almost.
I long to offer some comfort...some solace in this time of grief. I can’t.
I finally look away. “It’s time.”
I grab each girl’s hand as we walk through the door to whatever awaits us. I take comfort knowing the girls don’t have to make this journey alone…I can ease their fear. I know you take some comfort in that also. It’s not enough.
I know we will have a guide. I pray you find one.
I am flooded with sadness as we leave you alone...in our home.
I know we will all be together again. I hope you know that too.
We are family.
I hear the kids getting ready. I need to get ready too. As I notice the hairbrush – your hairbrush – I can’t help but smile a little.
Remember when we caught the twins sneaking back in the house? They had both decided to celebrate their eighteenth birthday as the new adults they were. Or thought they were.
We stayed up watching Joan Crawford movies until 2 in the morning. It was your turn to make the beverage/snack run to the kitchen. I decided to check on the kids, needed to after watching Mommie Dearest. The population in our house had decreased by 50 percent…a statistic I quickly shared with you. The movie fest was over.
I remember the surprised look on Ashley’s face when you walked out of the den. I showed up just as Olivia entered the house. We both had the same pose – head slightly cocked to the side, raised eyebrow, arms folded across chest, grim expression. My blues eyes were cold as ice while your green eyes lit up the room. Oh yeah, they were surprised all right.
You simply turned around and headed up the stairs. No need for words. The twins followed while I brought up the rear (so to speak). I saw Olivia reach for Ashley’s hand. You saw it too. Reaching Liv’s bedroom, you stood sentry at the opened door. I smiled as hands covered bottom when she scooted past you. You smiled a little too.
Ash continued down the hall to her room…her hands taking up the same position as Liv’s. Some things never change no matter how old you are.
“What were you thinking? Where have you been?” My voice was calm but my eyes remained ice cold. Ash knew she was in big trouble.
She whispered, “At the Idle Hour.” Now, I knew my ears had to be deceiving me. My eighteen year old daughter had just informed me she had spent the night at the seediest bar in town. That could not be right.
“I don’t think I heard you correctly. What did you say?” That edge had crept into my voice. “Ashley, look at me when I am talking to you!” Oh yeah, the edge was unmistakable.
As her head snapped up, I could see the tears in her eyes. “Idle hour.” She said it. The Idle Hour.
“The Idle Hour? Are you crazy?” echoed from down the hall. Liv just confirmed Ashley’s story.
You and I were on the same page. Fuck calm.
Towering over my daughter, I asked through clenched teeth, “Are you out of your mind? Do you know how dangerous that place is? How could you have possibly thought that was a good idea?” Eyes staring at the floor, hands in her lap, my usually talkative daughter was rendered speechless.
“You had better look at me young lady while you explain yourself,” I growled. Yep, fuck calm.
“Well, we wanted to celebrate our birthday out and…well… we are adults now."
Gotta give her credit, she managed to hold my gaze. Good for her. I decided to give her all the props she had earned.
“Really…” By now the calm voice had returned and I was still, completely still.
“Yes, Liv and I are eighteen now and can go where we want.” The girl must have brain damage…or suddenly lost twenty IQ points…or maybe just flat out lost her mind. I didn’t care.
“Adult, huh? As long as you live in this house you will follow the rules. I don’t care if you are eighteen or eighty!!” The time for talking was over and I was ready for action.
Sitting down next to Ash, I quickly grabbed her wrist and deftly pulled her over my lap. Now, she was expecting this but I think my speed caught her off guard. Nice to know I held a few surprises.
Pulling her close to my body, I raised my hand and quickly landed three smacks on her bottom. Ash and I have been here before...we both knew what to expect. I knew it will take a few dozen smacks before tears began to flow. She knew I would hold her tightly against my body…would remain silent the first few minutes. We both would.
I continued to land smack after smack, alternating between cheeks. I knew this same scene was being played up the hall. “Ow”, “I’m sorry,” and “Stop” will have filled the room up the hall as tears streamed down Liv’s face. She’s never been the silent type.
Flipping up her skirt, I was greeted with a thong. Yes, my daughter wore a thong to the seediest bar in town !!
Reaching two fingers under the waistband, I quickly lowered the offending item to her ankles… much to her chagrin. I still didn’t care.
Inspecting the upturned bottom over my lap, I noticed her cheeks were rounder and had filled out since the last time we were in this position. She still hadn’t fully crossed over into womanhood, the diminutive size and lithe body a testimony to her youth. I wondered if her sister had completed that journey.
As I reached for the hairbrush, I began anew to make my point...well, several points. I informed my errant daughter that the Idle Hour was off limits, forever. I further informed her that she was NEVER to sneak out of the house again. I knew you were covering the same points down the hall... We were on the same page.
SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK. “You will never, ever place yourself in such a dangerous situation again!!” SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK. By now her cheeks were a deep maroon and any semblance of stoicism had long since been abandoned. Ash kicked her legs, wiggled her bottom, and pounded her fists in the floor as the lesson continued. Her tears and pleas fell on deaf ears…my heart heard them.
I emphasized my last point by focusing the last six smacks on her sit spots. I wanted her to think about the danger she had been in. I wanted her to remember the fear in my voice. I wanted her to remember the resolve in my eyes.
I needed her to remember.
“Mom, let’s go.” Those three words hurl me back to the present.
It’s time for us to make that journey. I quickly embrace both girls, whispering how much I love each of them…everything will be okay. I see the tears in their eyes and they see the sorrow in mine.
As we make our way to the door, we see you sitting in the chair, staring blankly out the window.
Your body is still...almost.
I long to offer some comfort...some solace in this time of grief. I can’t.
I finally look away. “It’s time.”
I grab each girl’s hand as we walk through the door to whatever awaits us. I take comfort knowing the girls don’t have to make this journey alone…I can ease their fear. I know you take some comfort in that also. It’s not enough.
I know we will have a guide. I pray you find one.
I am flooded with sadness as we leave you alone...in our home.
I know we will all be together again. I hope you know that too.
We are family.
Good-bye
Looking over, I watch you sleeping in the chair. You rest just two feet away, might as well be a thousand. How did we end up here? How did this happen?
As I glance at your dangling hand, I can’t help but smile.
I remember the day I told you my big secret all those years ago. We had been married for 20 years, had two children, weathered both good and bad times. We were solid and I knew we would grow old together. I’ve always known that.
“Honey, come out here and look at something,” I said as I turned to make my way out onto the deck. My stomach was tied in knots, palms sweating and my heart was beating out of my chest. I prayed I didn’t pass out right there!!
My secret, my shameful secret –that’s what I was about to reveal to you.
I remember the look on your face – confusion mixed with a tad of apprehension as you followed me. The night was warm and a candle was flickering on the table. The lights were off … needed to make sure I could hide my blushing cheeks….conceal the shame reflected in my eyes.
I still needed to hide in the shadows as I shown a light on my secret. As you sat down, I knew it was now or never.
I struggled to find the words but they remained allusive. I needed another approach. Opening the laptop I quickly went to the website. You know the one I mean, the one that brings TTWD into the open. It doesn’t matter which website you visit. They all bring the same thing…hope. They let us know we are not freaks, are not alone.
I quickly turned the screen to you. As you read the screen, I paced around the deck. Anything to distract me from the fear residing in my heart.
Afraid you would think I was a freak…or sick.
Or worse …
Afraid you would reject me.
The screen softly illuminated your face and then I saw …it dawned on you, my secret. I held my breath waiting for your response. You looked up, reached for my hand and smiled. I quickly looked away, feeling exposed. As you stood up, I tried to break free of your grip. Suddenly, I was pulled into your chest, strong arms wrapped tightly around me. I heard you whisper over and over that it was okay, everything was okay. Finally, the fear mixed with relief bubbled to the surface and tears rolled down my cheeks. You continued to comfort my soul with your words as you wiped my tears away.
We talked later that night, on the back porch, in the dark. I wasn’t ready for more illumination!! I saw you smile as you commented,” I just wish you had told me 20 years ago!” I noticed the twinkle in your eye, knew we would explore TTWD. I also knew you would never let me hide in the shadows again.
Initially you were hesitant to “hit a woman”, afraid you would hurt me. “Well duh, that was the point!” That comment earned me a sharp swat.
I assured you this is what I wanted, what I needed. I trusted you.
As your fears were somewhat allayed, you began to hesitantly bring your hand down on my virginal bottom. It wasn’t long or hard, that first time…just enough. It was a pivotal moment in my life and our relationship. I don’t know if I ever thanked you for giving me such a precious gift that night and many more nights to come.
A noise brings me out of my reverie. You shift position pulling the blanket tighter under your chin. I start to reach out but pull away before making contact. We’ve been doing that for awhile now – reaching out and pulling away, especially since the kids left for college. I notice your right hand is now resting on top of the blanket. I know every callus, every scar and how warm it feels resting against mine.
I turn away with a rueful chuckle, reminded of the only punishment spanking I ever got from you. That night will forever be etched in my brain. You had certainly conquered your fear of hurting me, that’s for sure!!
I had gone out with some friends, something I did once a week. I kissed you good bye and told you I’d be home by 1am. I heard you tell me to be careful and you loved me as the door closed. Marge drove me home that night. As I reached for the door, it swung open. I remember being fiercely pulled into an embrace as you whispered, “Thank God you’re okay.” I was confused until I glanced over at the clock.
3am.
I woke up the next morning tucked under the covers of our bed, the aroma of coffee beckoning me to the kitchen. I saw you sitting at the table, arms folded, a solemn expression on your face. I tentatively sat down at the table with my coffee and met your gaze.
“I’m so sorry honey. We lost track of time, I didn’t mean to worry you.” I know you saw the regret in my eyes. I saw the anger briefly flashed in your eyes. It was replaced with a cold, steely gaze.
“I accept your apology and know it wasn’t intentional. That doesn’t change the facts. I didn’t know where you were or if you were okay for 2 hours! You didn’t call or answer your cell. I was in hell until I saw your beautiful face coming up the steps.” I recall your voice cracking, tears glistening in your eyes.
You had been hurt deeply.
By me.
“Sorry isn’t good enough. Your actions were egregious last night. They certainly warrant consequences, don’t you agree?” I had no idea what you meant as I nodded my head. I found out soon enough.
With a look of determination you grabbed my wrist and led me to the living room. You sat down on the sofa pulling me over your lap. I remember feeling embarrassed as you raised my nightgown and lowered my panties. Seemed odd, you had seen me naked hundreds of times and being over your lap was nothing new.
This was different.
You quickly brought your hand down on my left cheek. The sharp stab of pain surprised me. I let out a yelp. It wasn’t the only one that day. Soon it was accompanied by “oww,” “please stop” and “I’m sorry” as you continued to bring your hand down again and again.
You didn’t say anything, didn’t need to. I remember kicking my legs wildly as rivers of snot mixed with tears rolled down my face. My pleas mixed with the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed off the walls for several minutes.
Smack after smack rained down on my defenseless bottom. Unable to escape the inferno, I surrendered. I could only lie there, accepting the chastisement. Occasional yelps left my lips as you continued to make you point.
Then you stopped.
I continued to lie helplessly over your lap, my swollen cheeks quivering while tears streamed down my face. You gently rubbed my back and punished bottom, letting me know I was not alone in my pain.
You were there.
Eventually you helped me up and deftly balanced me on your lap, taking steps to minimize additional discomfort. You softly told me I was forgiven, you loved me. I remember how I basked in your love as it soothed my heart.
I can laugh now thinking about the journey I made to the bathroom to inspect my posterior. Wow, it was swollen, painted a dark maroon and HOT. I hadn’t expected such heat to radiate from such a tender area!! Sitting comfortably remained a challenge for several days.
I remember lying in bed on my stomach later that day. I felt you sit down next to me quickly followed by something cold on my ass. I swear I almost levitated!! You told me to stay put while tenderly applying aloe to my swollen cheeks. The cool substance soothed my body just as your words had soothed my heart. I have always called anytime I was going to be late since that night. No exceptions.
Tears escape my eyes. Deep sadness engulfs my entire being. Somewhere along the way we lost each other. No one or everyone is at fault.
Either way the result is the same.
Your breathing changes and eyes remain closed. You’re awake.
I reach across the chasm, gently touching your shoulder. I softly call your name.
There is no response.
As I glance at your dangling hand, I can’t help but smile.
I remember the day I told you my big secret all those years ago. We had been married for 20 years, had two children, weathered both good and bad times. We were solid and I knew we would grow old together. I’ve always known that.
“Honey, come out here and look at something,” I said as I turned to make my way out onto the deck. My stomach was tied in knots, palms sweating and my heart was beating out of my chest. I prayed I didn’t pass out right there!!
My secret, my shameful secret –that’s what I was about to reveal to you.
I remember the look on your face – confusion mixed with a tad of apprehension as you followed me. The night was warm and a candle was flickering on the table. The lights were off … needed to make sure I could hide my blushing cheeks….conceal the shame reflected in my eyes.
I still needed to hide in the shadows as I shown a light on my secret. As you sat down, I knew it was now or never.
I struggled to find the words but they remained allusive. I needed another approach. Opening the laptop I quickly went to the website. You know the one I mean, the one that brings TTWD into the open. It doesn’t matter which website you visit. They all bring the same thing…hope. They let us know we are not freaks, are not alone.
I quickly turned the screen to you. As you read the screen, I paced around the deck. Anything to distract me from the fear residing in my heart.
Afraid you would think I was a freak…or sick.
Or worse …
Afraid you would reject me.
The screen softly illuminated your face and then I saw …it dawned on you, my secret. I held my breath waiting for your response. You looked up, reached for my hand and smiled. I quickly looked away, feeling exposed. As you stood up, I tried to break free of your grip. Suddenly, I was pulled into your chest, strong arms wrapped tightly around me. I heard you whisper over and over that it was okay, everything was okay. Finally, the fear mixed with relief bubbled to the surface and tears rolled down my cheeks. You continued to comfort my soul with your words as you wiped my tears away.
We talked later that night, on the back porch, in the dark. I wasn’t ready for more illumination!! I saw you smile as you commented,” I just wish you had told me 20 years ago!” I noticed the twinkle in your eye, knew we would explore TTWD. I also knew you would never let me hide in the shadows again.
Initially you were hesitant to “hit a woman”, afraid you would hurt me. “Well duh, that was the point!” That comment earned me a sharp swat.
I assured you this is what I wanted, what I needed. I trusted you.
As your fears were somewhat allayed, you began to hesitantly bring your hand down on my virginal bottom. It wasn’t long or hard, that first time…just enough. It was a pivotal moment in my life and our relationship. I don’t know if I ever thanked you for giving me such a precious gift that night and many more nights to come.
A noise brings me out of my reverie. You shift position pulling the blanket tighter under your chin. I start to reach out but pull away before making contact. We’ve been doing that for awhile now – reaching out and pulling away, especially since the kids left for college. I notice your right hand is now resting on top of the blanket. I know every callus, every scar and how warm it feels resting against mine.
I turn away with a rueful chuckle, reminded of the only punishment spanking I ever got from you. That night will forever be etched in my brain. You had certainly conquered your fear of hurting me, that’s for sure!!
I had gone out with some friends, something I did once a week. I kissed you good bye and told you I’d be home by 1am. I heard you tell me to be careful and you loved me as the door closed. Marge drove me home that night. As I reached for the door, it swung open. I remember being fiercely pulled into an embrace as you whispered, “Thank God you’re okay.” I was confused until I glanced over at the clock.
3am.
I woke up the next morning tucked under the covers of our bed, the aroma of coffee beckoning me to the kitchen. I saw you sitting at the table, arms folded, a solemn expression on your face. I tentatively sat down at the table with my coffee and met your gaze.
“I’m so sorry honey. We lost track of time, I didn’t mean to worry you.” I know you saw the regret in my eyes. I saw the anger briefly flashed in your eyes. It was replaced with a cold, steely gaze.
“I accept your apology and know it wasn’t intentional. That doesn’t change the facts. I didn’t know where you were or if you were okay for 2 hours! You didn’t call or answer your cell. I was in hell until I saw your beautiful face coming up the steps.” I recall your voice cracking, tears glistening in your eyes.
You had been hurt deeply.
By me.
“Sorry isn’t good enough. Your actions were egregious last night. They certainly warrant consequences, don’t you agree?” I had no idea what you meant as I nodded my head. I found out soon enough.
With a look of determination you grabbed my wrist and led me to the living room. You sat down on the sofa pulling me over your lap. I remember feeling embarrassed as you raised my nightgown and lowered my panties. Seemed odd, you had seen me naked hundreds of times and being over your lap was nothing new.
This was different.
You quickly brought your hand down on my left cheek. The sharp stab of pain surprised me. I let out a yelp. It wasn’t the only one that day. Soon it was accompanied by “oww,” “please stop” and “I’m sorry” as you continued to bring your hand down again and again.
You didn’t say anything, didn’t need to. I remember kicking my legs wildly as rivers of snot mixed with tears rolled down my face. My pleas mixed with the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed off the walls for several minutes.
Smack after smack rained down on my defenseless bottom. Unable to escape the inferno, I surrendered. I could only lie there, accepting the chastisement. Occasional yelps left my lips as you continued to make you point.
Then you stopped.
I continued to lie helplessly over your lap, my swollen cheeks quivering while tears streamed down my face. You gently rubbed my back and punished bottom, letting me know I was not alone in my pain.
You were there.
Eventually you helped me up and deftly balanced me on your lap, taking steps to minimize additional discomfort. You softly told me I was forgiven, you loved me. I remember how I basked in your love as it soothed my heart.
I can laugh now thinking about the journey I made to the bathroom to inspect my posterior. Wow, it was swollen, painted a dark maroon and HOT. I hadn’t expected such heat to radiate from such a tender area!! Sitting comfortably remained a challenge for several days.
I remember lying in bed on my stomach later that day. I felt you sit down next to me quickly followed by something cold on my ass. I swear I almost levitated!! You told me to stay put while tenderly applying aloe to my swollen cheeks. The cool substance soothed my body just as your words had soothed my heart. I have always called anytime I was going to be late since that night. No exceptions.
Tears escape my eyes. Deep sadness engulfs my entire being. Somewhere along the way we lost each other. No one or everyone is at fault.
Either way the result is the same.
Your breathing changes and eyes remain closed. You’re awake.
I reach across the chasm, gently touching your shoulder. I softly call your name.
There is no response.
It's simply not fair
This is kinda, sorta a sequel to Some things remain the same. Warning - very angsty - really, it is.
So if you are feeling good and are concerned at all about this changing, you might want to wait until Monday morning or a family get-together before reading this...just a thought.
Why did this happen? “It’s not fair!!” keeps screaming in my head…over and over.
It’s simply not fair.
I can hear you saying “You’re right but that’s the way it is.” We both know “time to move on” is the follow up…no need to say it.
We’ve fought this battle together…you and I…for so long.
It’s simply not fair.
How can you be so calm? I’m not.
Peace resides in your heart…it always has.
I remember the first time I saw you and was drawn into your gorgeous blue eyes.
My heart was yours and I have never let go…or needed to until now.
That is too much to ask of me.
It’s simply not fair.
Your fierce spirit guided you through many jungles.
My love provided the path.
I remember discovering this jungle…
We both stumbled that day…and held each other up.
That’s what family does…at least ours.
You were so angry…and determined.
So was I…still am.
Looking me in the eye and refusing to accept there was nothing you couldn’t do, no activity you couldn’t participate in. You refused to give an inch.
So did I.
That whitewater rafting trip was the last time we battled over this. You promised to stay in the raft and forgo kayaking. I remember kissing you goodbye and sending a prayer for you to be safe.
I saw the struggle within you….that only you could resolve.
You had to.
That look in your eyes when you walked out the door told me the struggle wasn’t over. Somehow I knew that when I said good-bye…but didn’t admit it.
You needed a break…deserved some fun before facing the next hurdles. I did too.
You came barging through the back door, dropping your bags to the side as you made your way to the refrigerator and called my name. A quick hug was all I was getting – food was the priority. After the second sandwich, you finally found the table and began to fill me in on the details. Your eyes lit up with excitement as you described the beautiful river surrounded by the majestic forest.
“The water was perfect,” you managed to blurt out between bites. The quest for food was still in full gear!!
Seeing the delight in you eyes will remain in my heart forever. It wasn’t until later that a few other details came to light…Walking out of the bathroom, wrapped up in a towel exposed your secret. I saw the bruises…and knew the cause.
You turned around quickly at the sharp intake of my breath... I saw surprise wash over your face. You saw the same in mine.
Arching an eyebrow, the question was asked…and an explanation required. I heard the sigh as you reached for your pajamas. As my patience began to wane, I simply stated “I’m waiting.” Amazing the accelerating powers of that one statement!!
“Kayaking,” you simply stated evenly and calmly. You met my gaze.
“Excuse me, I must be having a problem with my hearing. I swore you said kayaking and know you certainly wouldn’t do something so dangerous and foolish.” My words didn’t exactly match my thoughts with that pronouncement. My anger did.
“I’m not letting this win.”
I saw it then…the defiant child housed in a woman’s body. The child refusing to bow and the woman refusing to make any more sacrifices…until next time. Neither could acknowledge what the sacrifice could have been…I did.
Three steps and I had your arm securely in mine. We both knew what would happen next. With practiced ease I continued to the chair and guided you over my lap. “Stop it! You have no right! I didn’t do anything wrong!” The indignation fueled your protests.
I remember feeling dumbfounded by the last statement…followed by fear. You didn’t see the danger…I was going to show you. “I definitely have the right,” flew out of my mouth as my hand began to smack the secured bottom before me. “Because I love you.”
It seemed like we were locked in a battle... You refused to let go…so did I. This was one battle I would win…needed to for us to survive.
Eventually your righteous indignation was replaced with contrition…acceptance remained absent…and was required to keep you safe from yourself.
Pulling your pajamas and panties down to your knees, I gazed at your pink globes. I knew we weren’t done yet…so did you.
“You,” SMACK, “will,” SMACK, “not,” SMACK,” risk,” SMACK, “your,” SMACK, “life,” SMACK, “again!” SMACK, “Understand, little one?” It happened…a sob escaped your lips. I knew we had completed the journey…almost.
A half dozen smacks later and you surrendered. The battle was over…we had both won. Pulling you into my arms, I rocked your tired body as the tears slowed to a trickle. I waited for your gaze to meet mine. “I will always pull you back from the edge of the cliff…always. “
“I know,” you whispered. Resting your head against my chest, I was humbled by this precious gift placed in my hands.
“I’m tired.”
Those words grab my attention and hurl me back into the present…here…with you.
Watching you close your eyes and drift off to sleep I hear the voice again.
The voice screaming…you’re not supposed to leave….
I don’t want to move on…I want you here…forever.
It’s simply not fair.
Some things remain the same
I sit quietly next to you as you sleep, your hand grasped securely in mine. A sense of peace fills the room. I know it comes from you. Regardless of circumstances (or level of consciousness apparently) you have always provided comfort. You still do.
I cringe as I hear the door slam. Maybe, just maybe you’ll continue to sleep.
Moving your head slightly I can see your eyelids begin to flutter. Leaving blissful slumber behind your eyes open…then quickly close. I rise to pull the blinds. You like sunlight, just not that much.
Sitting up in bed and running a hand through your hair you begin to look around, trying to get your bearings. “Hi. What time is it?” I smile as your eyes find mine.
“It’s 6 o’clock.”
“PM?” you ask incredulously. I know your ire isn’t directed at me but rather at circumstances beyond your control.
Or mine.
“Yes,” I simply state.
As you look around for your glasses (you swear I move them around when you sleep – sometimes I do) I can see the frustration in your face, your exaggerated movements a testimony to your anger. And fear.
Locating your glasses, you slowly begin to rise out of the bed. “Here, let me help you,” I offer while quickly grabbing you right arm. Your balance is off… you’re weaker. I hold my breath as the anger fills your eyes. I breathe again as it leaves.
You simply nod your head as your left hand gently covers mine. I welcome your touch… this shared moment between us. Just us.
I see the toll the few steps from bed to chair takes on your fragile body. You fiercely battle the fatigue, determined to participate in life. The battle is decided as your eyes close. The war is not.
I place the blanket over your body and remove your glasses. The chair is a place of rest…for now.
I watch your fierce determination slowly ebb away. Finally, your body relaxes and accepts the gift of sleep. I know the warrior will surface and fight again.
I chuckle as I am reminded of the last time I encountered your warrior. Excuse me, Klingon warrior you so eloquently informed me that fateful day.
As I entered the house that evening, I could hear the unmistakable sounds of things crashing into things. Finding the source of the disturbance quickly became a priority! Standing in the doorway, I witnessed what can only be described as a full-blown tantrum of titanic proportions complete with flying objects and an exhaustive litany of objectionable (to me and most people) phrases. From the looks of things it was obvious this had been in force for quite some time. Oh yeah, quite some time.
Calling your name did not appear to quell the fury. Finally, using great care to duck flying objects, I grabbed your shoulders and spun you around. The tantrum ended abruptly as my eyes locked onto yours. I could see the anger simmering below the surface, knew you were working hard to keep your temper under control. We both knew what would happen if you failed.
“What is going on here?” My voice remained calm…your anger just waiting for a spark.
I kept my hands on your shoulders hoping this contact would drain some of your fury. It had in the past. We’ve been here before…me, you and your temper.
You continued to breathe rapidly, eyes ablaze with defiance, refusing or unable (I wasn’t sure which) to answer my question. I clearly remember your bright red face and clenched fists.
Giving your shoulders a shake, I repeated the question with a little more “oomph”. The “oomph” worked.
“Nothing, it’s nothing all right. Just leave me alone.”
Okay, the “oomph” hadn’t quite accomplished all I had hoped but it was a start. Anger quickly flooded my body as my eyes bored into yours. No, I had no intention of leaving you alone. At least not today.
You held my gaze longer than I expected. As your head slumped and muscles relaxed slightly I quickly guided you to the chair. “What is going on?” I growled. You remained silent with downcast eyes and clenched fists. This wasn’t going well.
Reaching down, I firmly but gently raised your chin. “What is going on little one?” That phrase- little one - illustrated the true nature of your position…and mine.
“I don’t know, okay!! I don’t know what it wrong with me! And neither do you or the doctors or ANYBODY!” you spat out through clenched teeth, defying me to challenge you.
I suspected that was behind this display. The nameless, faceless beast attacking your body. You’ve been at war for a long time now. The beast had won some battles recently but you were winning the war…for now.
The need for some control…that’s where this anger lived…with fear.
You told me what you needed by your challenge. I knew you were challenging your body…the mystery…God.
And me.
Meeting that challenge was my responsibility…part of loving you.
With practiced ease I switched places with you in the chair and placed you prone over my lap. “Let me go!! You can’t do this!” The defiance still burned in your eyes…confidence, well, not so much.
“Really...” was my reply as I brought my hand down across your bum. I continued to smack your bottom for several minutes alternating between cheeks. I clearly remember your clenched fists and fierce refusal to acknowledge the fire being ignited in your hindquarters.
Then it happened – a chink in your armor. Your legs twitched and hands pounded the floor in tandem with the smacks assaulting your bottom. You still refused to let go.
I refused to let you go. I always have and always will.
Flipping your nightgown up and lowering your panties, I reached for the hairbrush. Your bottom was a bright pink and definitely warm. It would be boiling before we were through…it needed to be.
SMACK, SMACK, SMACK. “Your behavior, SMACK, SMACK, is unacceptable. SMACK, SMACK, You will not, SMACK, SMACK, throw, SMACK, a, SMACK, temper tantrum, SMACK, again!!SMACK, SMACK, SMACK. I don’t care, SMACK, if you’re, SMACK, SMACK sick or not! SMACK, That is no excuse! SMACK, SMACK.
Tears silently rolled down your face as you struggled to hold on…hold on to the control…control you really didn’t have…but desperately craved.
I continued to rain smacks down ensuring no area of your posterior was left unattended. After a dozen swats it happened...you let go. You let go of the control and submitted to mine…the moment when trust replaced fear.
I switched back to my hand as I continued to apply light spanks liberally spaced apart. Eventually tears replaced sobs as the spanking drew to a close.
Gently I rubbed your back and bottom until the tears were but a slow trickle. I helped you up and tenderly placed you on my lap. Initially you resisted. “Hush now” quelled the rebellion. I was going to hold you on my lap, simple as that.
Wrapped in my embrace, I rocked you back and forth whispering those universal words of comfort….I love you. Everything’s okay. I’m right here with you. I’m not going anywhere.
Gradually, your breathing relaxed and I noticed your eyes close. Your grip on my arm slowly eased as you nestled into my chest. I looked at your face and was filled with relief. The battle was over and we had both won. I prayed we would win the war.
The chime of the clock snaps me back to the present.
“Momma?” I smile as I cover your hand with mine. I switch places with you in the chair placing you on my lap. You don’t resist this time.
“Yes baby. Momma’s here.” I gently rub my fingers through your hair.
I see you look into my eyes…waiting yet fearing the answer to your question.
“Shhh, everything is okay. It’s just the flu honey. That’s all. A bad case of the flu.” I watch you exhale the breath you had been holding. The doctor had watched me do the same earlier in the day.
“Where are the kids?” Your childlike demeanor is quickly replaced with a mother’s concern.
“Baby, the only kid here is mine. Your sister is watching Jack and Timmy tonight.”
Amazing, I care for my child the same way she cares for hers. Some things remain the same regardless of age.
Snuggling closer, I feel you drift off to sleep…a peaceful sleep this time.
The flu. What a relief to have a name for the beast this time.
The flu...it’s just the flu.
My little warrior is winning the war.
I cringe as I hear the door slam. Maybe, just maybe you’ll continue to sleep.
Moving your head slightly I can see your eyelids begin to flutter. Leaving blissful slumber behind your eyes open…then quickly close. I rise to pull the blinds. You like sunlight, just not that much.
Sitting up in bed and running a hand through your hair you begin to look around, trying to get your bearings. “Hi. What time is it?” I smile as your eyes find mine.
“It’s 6 o’clock.”
“PM?” you ask incredulously. I know your ire isn’t directed at me but rather at circumstances beyond your control.
Or mine.
“Yes,” I simply state.
As you look around for your glasses (you swear I move them around when you sleep – sometimes I do) I can see the frustration in your face, your exaggerated movements a testimony to your anger. And fear.
Locating your glasses, you slowly begin to rise out of the bed. “Here, let me help you,” I offer while quickly grabbing you right arm. Your balance is off… you’re weaker. I hold my breath as the anger fills your eyes. I breathe again as it leaves.
You simply nod your head as your left hand gently covers mine. I welcome your touch… this shared moment between us. Just us.
I see the toll the few steps from bed to chair takes on your fragile body. You fiercely battle the fatigue, determined to participate in life. The battle is decided as your eyes close. The war is not.
I place the blanket over your body and remove your glasses. The chair is a place of rest…for now.
I watch your fierce determination slowly ebb away. Finally, your body relaxes and accepts the gift of sleep. I know the warrior will surface and fight again.
I chuckle as I am reminded of the last time I encountered your warrior. Excuse me, Klingon warrior you so eloquently informed me that fateful day.
As I entered the house that evening, I could hear the unmistakable sounds of things crashing into things. Finding the source of the disturbance quickly became a priority! Standing in the doorway, I witnessed what can only be described as a full-blown tantrum of titanic proportions complete with flying objects and an exhaustive litany of objectionable (to me and most people) phrases. From the looks of things it was obvious this had been in force for quite some time. Oh yeah, quite some time.
Calling your name did not appear to quell the fury. Finally, using great care to duck flying objects, I grabbed your shoulders and spun you around. The tantrum ended abruptly as my eyes locked onto yours. I could see the anger simmering below the surface, knew you were working hard to keep your temper under control. We both knew what would happen if you failed.
“What is going on here?” My voice remained calm…your anger just waiting for a spark.
I kept my hands on your shoulders hoping this contact would drain some of your fury. It had in the past. We’ve been here before…me, you and your temper.
You continued to breathe rapidly, eyes ablaze with defiance, refusing or unable (I wasn’t sure which) to answer my question. I clearly remember your bright red face and clenched fists.
Giving your shoulders a shake, I repeated the question with a little more “oomph”. The “oomph” worked.
“Nothing, it’s nothing all right. Just leave me alone.”
Okay, the “oomph” hadn’t quite accomplished all I had hoped but it was a start. Anger quickly flooded my body as my eyes bored into yours. No, I had no intention of leaving you alone. At least not today.
You held my gaze longer than I expected. As your head slumped and muscles relaxed slightly I quickly guided you to the chair. “What is going on?” I growled. You remained silent with downcast eyes and clenched fists. This wasn’t going well.
Reaching down, I firmly but gently raised your chin. “What is going on little one?” That phrase- little one - illustrated the true nature of your position…and mine.
“I don’t know, okay!! I don’t know what it wrong with me! And neither do you or the doctors or ANYBODY!” you spat out through clenched teeth, defying me to challenge you.
I suspected that was behind this display. The nameless, faceless beast attacking your body. You’ve been at war for a long time now. The beast had won some battles recently but you were winning the war…for now.
The need for some control…that’s where this anger lived…with fear.
You told me what you needed by your challenge. I knew you were challenging your body…the mystery…God.
And me.
Meeting that challenge was my responsibility…part of loving you.
With practiced ease I switched places with you in the chair and placed you prone over my lap. “Let me go!! You can’t do this!” The defiance still burned in your eyes…confidence, well, not so much.
“Really...” was my reply as I brought my hand down across your bum. I continued to smack your bottom for several minutes alternating between cheeks. I clearly remember your clenched fists and fierce refusal to acknowledge the fire being ignited in your hindquarters.
Then it happened – a chink in your armor. Your legs twitched and hands pounded the floor in tandem with the smacks assaulting your bottom. You still refused to let go.
I refused to let you go. I always have and always will.
Flipping your nightgown up and lowering your panties, I reached for the hairbrush. Your bottom was a bright pink and definitely warm. It would be boiling before we were through…it needed to be.
SMACK, SMACK, SMACK. “Your behavior, SMACK, SMACK, is unacceptable. SMACK, SMACK, You will not, SMACK, SMACK, throw, SMACK, a, SMACK, temper tantrum, SMACK, again!!SMACK, SMACK, SMACK. I don’t care, SMACK, if you’re, SMACK, SMACK sick or not! SMACK, That is no excuse! SMACK, SMACK.
Tears silently rolled down your face as you struggled to hold on…hold on to the control…control you really didn’t have…but desperately craved.
I continued to rain smacks down ensuring no area of your posterior was left unattended. After a dozen swats it happened...you let go. You let go of the control and submitted to mine…the moment when trust replaced fear.
I switched back to my hand as I continued to apply light spanks liberally spaced apart. Eventually tears replaced sobs as the spanking drew to a close.
Gently I rubbed your back and bottom until the tears were but a slow trickle. I helped you up and tenderly placed you on my lap. Initially you resisted. “Hush now” quelled the rebellion. I was going to hold you on my lap, simple as that.
Wrapped in my embrace, I rocked you back and forth whispering those universal words of comfort….I love you. Everything’s okay. I’m right here with you. I’m not going anywhere.
Gradually, your breathing relaxed and I noticed your eyes close. Your grip on my arm slowly eased as you nestled into my chest. I looked at your face and was filled with relief. The battle was over and we had both won. I prayed we would win the war.
The chime of the clock snaps me back to the present.
“Momma?” I smile as I cover your hand with mine. I switch places with you in the chair placing you on my lap. You don’t resist this time.
“Yes baby. Momma’s here.” I gently rub my fingers through your hair.
I see you look into my eyes…waiting yet fearing the answer to your question.
“Shhh, everything is okay. It’s just the flu honey. That’s all. A bad case of the flu.” I watch you exhale the breath you had been holding. The doctor had watched me do the same earlier in the day.
“Where are the kids?” Your childlike demeanor is quickly replaced with a mother’s concern.
“Baby, the only kid here is mine. Your sister is watching Jack and Timmy tonight.”
Amazing, I care for my child the same way she cares for hers. Some things remain the same regardless of age.
Snuggling closer, I feel you drift off to sleep…a peaceful sleep this time.
The flu. What a relief to have a name for the beast this time.
The flu...it’s just the flu.
My little warrior is winning the war.
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