The punishment I described in my previous post had actually happenned
two weeks before that; I don’t take time off to write up posts often enough.
And on this occassion my delay has come back to bite me on the butt: a
couple of hours after I theorised about a spanking infusing me with
four weeks’ worth of good behaviour, I was over Abel’s knee, said butt
bared and getting smacked.
In somebody else’s house, as well; he hadn’t even waited to get me home. Don’t you feel bad for me? Please say that you do.
To be fair to the story, my behaviour wasn’t actually bad in the sense of "here’s a rule, I’m breaking it" bad, or even in the sense of "I’m going to behave like a total brat today, because that’s what mature individuals DO" bad. I was simply stumbling about in my usual abscent-minded academic mode, paying only enough attention to my surroundings to keep me from walking into things too often. And that’s what got me into trouble.
We were going to eat some food cooked by our friends, whom I’ll call X & Y. Rushing about as usual, Abel asked me to get a bottle of wine out of a drawer, and I did. I put it on the kitchen worktop and went to put on my shoes and to look for my car keys. Then we jumped into the car and drove to X & Y’s place. We were about twenty seconds away from their house when I noticed that I wasn’t holding that bottle of wine, and I didn’t remember putting it in the back, either. (And what sort of a crazy person would put wine in the back, anyway?)
So I told Abel I’d forgotten to bring the wine.
Abel said a bad word. He has this way of saying bad words when things go slightly wrong, in a tone that implies that the sky has fallen down.
I said I was sorry straight away. And it was true, by the way; I mean, who shows up to dinner empty-handed?
"As soon as we get there," said Abel, "I’m going to spank your bottom."
Great, I thought. How wonderful.
We went inside; he apologised to our hosts and asked for a loan of their living room and a chair. I had expected, with some dread, that he’d spank me in front of X & Y both. Which would be just as well, because it’s not a spectacle they hadn’t observed before, yet, I hadn’t particularly welcomed the thought. I needn’t have fretted: they left the room, and I was one on one with a man in a straight-backed chair, and I was about to head over his lap.
"Take your jeans down," said Abel. I did. He said: "Nice panties; take them down."
They *were* nice panties: black boy-shorts with a girlish pink ribbon bow on the front. I was glad I’d worn them, because what girl can resist a compliment to her panties? I pushed them down with some regret (because I thought my bottom would look better with them on than off), and gracelessly draped myself over Abel’s knees.
He used his bare hand. His hand can be harder to take than any implement, because he can spank hard *and* fast. This wasn’t one of those scary occassions, though: the spanking hardly even tingled. But that didn’t matter: the pain of being spacey enough to forget the wine in the first place was quite enough of a punishment for me – oh, and don’t forget the delight of being spanked in our friends’ house pretty much as soon as we’ve walked through the door. Would anybody need a spanking to *hurt*, as well?
Not me, I didn’t.
In the end, I did get a terrifically painful strapping after we got home, but that, my friends, was for the pure perverted fun of it, and nothing to do with any discipline dynamics.