One of Those Days

Yesterday was one of those days.

You know what I mean?  I was feeling a bit unsettled and possibly (though of course I’m not entirely sure) may have come off as a bit cranky and naughty.  There was no reason for this.  I’d had a good night’s sleep, didn’t need to go into my job, my research and writing had been going well.   And yet, well, I wanted something cool to happen.  I’m not sure what, but I was sure I’d know it when I saw it, if you can understand.

Pablo was home for the day and had some (boring) errands to run.  They weren’t what I wanted to do (though getting coffee for me ended up being one of them and that was definitely something I wanted and needed), but seemed better than nothing.  So I went with him to the post office and Staples and the like. 

I got playfully accused of being a "little bit clingy" which, since it was true, did nothing to improve my mood.  Nor did knowing I needed to find a lift to Vegas for the Shadow Lane party next weekend, unless I wanted to miss the first night vendors’ fair.  I hate asking for favors and at this point, I hadn’t heard back yet from any of the feelers I’d sent out. 

"Feelers," well actually, that’s just my word for begging.

And then we came home and I was supposed to get down to my writing. 

Actually, I was supposed to get down to it hours before, but at that point I’d run out of excuses and even anything to post to the newsgroup about. 

So I reluctantly let Pablo switch my profile to my "schoolgirl" one and lock me out of my normal one by changing the password.

Now, as "schoolgirl" I have no access to the ‘net, nor any ‘net applications.  Actually, to no applications except the word processing ones I need for my writing.  And no access to any of my files other than my research ones (this means I can’t really work on any spanking stories if I was so inclined).  And Pablo doesn’t switch it back until I produce two new pages of text.  So the change is a moment I kind of dread.

Anyway, so he switch my computer over and I almost resigned myself to working with the thought that there was nothing better to do.

And then he realized there were a few more errands.  Nothing great, but still, something other than my work.  So I wanted to come but was strongly discouraged as the afternoon was ticking on and Pablo knows that after 5pm I turn into a pumpkin and there’s not going to be any more work forthcoming.  I stayed home and wrote, feeling slightly oppressed.

By the time Pablo got home (an hour and a half later or so), I was very close to having finished my pages for the day and feeling kind of pleased (while still feeling oppressed and cranky).  He was carrying two packages which UPS (who I really really hate because they almost left me without a dress on my wedding day) had apparently left on the porch without ringing.  I wanted to open them and see the new adapter for his powerbook that he’d been out buying.  And you know, stuff.

He couldn’t keep me out of the packages (something from Gap to wear for SL’s 80s night themed part and a new swimsuit from Lands End– gift from my mom), but refused to show me any of things he’d bought until I’d finished my work.  I pleaded a bit and then turned back to the computer feeling even more hot and annoyed.  In fact, only a remaining thread of sanity kept me from hurling one of my ink bottles at him. 

When I mentioned I was upset, he told me he knew that and that I needed a "good spanking" which I was getting at bedtime.

I finished my work and the day went easier.  I made a nice dinner and everything and we watched The Parrots of Telegraph Hill, a film I’d wanted to see for weeks now.  It’s really good btw and reminded me of how much I miss San Fransisco and how long it’s been since we visited.

But when I came out of the bathroom ready for bed, there was Pablo, sitting in a straight backed chair and holding the dreaded ping-pong paddle (or "bat" for you UK folks).


Oh no.  This was a terrible thing and though I protested, I was somehow soon otk with my bare bottom high in the air.  Pablo’s voice was quietly talking to me about my behavior.  I was pretty panicked as this paddle hurts plus it’s loud enough that I’m sure everyone in Santa Monica knows when I’m getting spanked.  We have an upstairs neighbor and I’m sure this is very rude and inconsiderate of Pablo.

The spanking started and it hurt.  Really really really hurt.  Within ten swats I was covering up with both hands.  And I swear, on the right it felt like he hit the same spot every bloody time.  How mean is that?

Okay, it is true that with the ping pong paddle’s size, he really can only hit one spot each side without dropping to my legs, something I’m glad to say he didn’t do.  But it was still terrible and I was crying really hard.  I think I was kicking a lot too, but I don’t really remember.

What I do remember was that at one point, in a moment of super human strength (okay well, he’s bigger than me so I’m impressed), I managed to jump off his lap, onto my feet and sit (ouch) on the bed.   Pablo later claimed that he’d "let" me get up, but I still think it was all about my determination.

By this time I’d managed to kick off my panties and pj bottoms (impressive, no?) so all I had on was a big white tee shirt of Pab’s.  He was very gentle, but also got me back over his lap, telling me how good this was that the spanking was "getting through to me."  He finished with "just" a hand spanking, but that took a long time and by the end was hurting every bit as much as the paddle had. 

After he had me sit on his lap and held me while I cried.  Part of me felt really sorry and glad it was over.  Part of me felt mad that it had been such a hard spanking when I’d done my work and everything.  And a last small part worried that by jumping off his lap I’d somehow taken control back and that maybe there’s something wrong with me that makes me fight this so hard.

Today, well, when I turned over onto my back this morning my first thought was "ouch!"  Even now I’m still sore enough that I’m only comfortable sitting on a pillow. 

But I was calmer today.  And felt happier.   Though I’m hoping not to get any sorer before Shadow Lane next week.

PS.  More hairbrushes are up for auction.  These are light wood rather than heavy ebony… sting rather than thud, if that makes sense.

Here’s one and there’s the other.

7 thoughts on “One of Those Days

  1. Angie

    I bid on the 2nd one. I don’t have much to spend, but we’ll see what happens. 🙂 Dave and I have talked about getting something that’s just OURS — that’s only for punishment and only for me. I’m very afraid of hairbrushes, but maybe if this isn’t so thuddy it won’t scare the living hell out of me like his other one does.
    I have those days a lot — when I’m just being cranky and pissy and attitudinal (yes, I made that word up, thank you very much). I think it’s still early enough in our relationship that D doesn’t realize it’s completely within his rights to give me an attitude adjustment. LOL He still kind of hesitates – not wanting to cross a line or something. I love him for his caution, his desire to not appear like a bully, you know? He’s getting more comfortable in his “HOH” role, though — so I have to be less obnoxious now to earn one of those adjustments. Which kind of sucks because being obnoxious comes naturally to me …

  2. sparkle

    Uh, Angie, Dave does read this blog, so if he didn’t know before that it was ‘within his rights’ to help with your attitude on an as-needed basis, he knows now that you consider it to be so. And he has the written proof to back him up in the event of a rebellion.
    Somebody once told me she didn’t keep a journal because of the lessons learned by Clinton’s impeachment – paper trails are dangerous. I think that’s something for me to keep in mind.
    Mija, I’m sure the transport thing for SL will work out in time for you to arrive for the party. As for the hairbrush, I think Angie and Dave will be outbidding us this time. I already have a *hated* light wooden one that’s nearly as awful as my walnut one, in a different sort of terrible way. And if you are really desperate for procrastination some day, I’m thousands of words into a piece of historical fiction that somebody will have to preview and critique before I even think about publishers… 🙂 There’s even a threat of a paddling (and perhaps more to come).
    sparkle… denying any such thing as attitude adjustments even exist

  3. Mija

    LOL… I didn’t actually intended for anyone *here* to buy one of the things. But I wish you good luck Angie. It is a quite light brush, but it seems both sturdy and stingy.
    Angie, do be careful what you wish for. I still, somewhere, have emails from Pab telling me how he could never imagine being willing to really punish me for anything. See how I’ve expanded his imagination.
    And sparkle! Girl, as if the message you left on my ‘fridge didn’t PROVE you were a naughty thing! Trying to tempt me are you? You know I’d love to read whatever comes out of your computer. Especially since you live close enough that I could do it on paper. 🙂

  4. Iris

    Mija, I agree that it seems very rude of Pablo to disturb your neighbors with an attitude adjustment. Couldn’t he just have done something else, like brought you flowers or taken you on an adventure? (grin) M does the same thing when I get irritated and clingy and grumpy: he gets this look on his face and says, “You just need to be spanked, don’t you?” Somehow my protestations of needing hugs and kisses and snuggles and presents never seem to work.
    We’ll be in Vegas too, by the way. M arrives Thursday, I get in on Friday morning. Hope to meet you there!

  5. sparkle

    Honestly, I don’t even remember what it is that I spelled out. That was, like (valley girl style), more than a week ago, you know.
    The only thing I remember thinking was that I hoped you and P didn’t take the time to read it before dinner was ready, or I’d probably be blushing for the entire meal… And then neither one of you said anything the rest of the evening! But I’m sure it was … well, suggestive 😉

  6. Chris

    Hmmmm….methinks I might have to have a little chat with my wife about leaving suggestive messages on other people’s refrigerators.

  7. Haron

    Mija, every time you say how bad you feel for fighting, I’m struck with how good you actually are at *accepting*. Pablo is on the whole a meaner disciplinarian than Abel, (er… soap?) so I’ve no idea how you do it, you poor brave girl, you.


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *