‘I hope you’ll dress smartly for your appointment,’ said Abel as I curled up in my bath robe at half past 10 in the morning.
‘What do you want, a ball gown?’ I said. Nevertheless, I dragged myself
upstairs to put some clothes on. At 11am exactly I was supposed to
knock on his office door, reporting for my punishment.
This used to be a fantasy of mine: hours of anticipation,
self-conscious squirming, minutes ticking away – walking up the stairs
with enough time to spare that I can take a few deep breaths at the
door to calm my nerves. We sometimes role-play with scenes like that,
and I love it. Reality has shown that I’m just so good at
compartmentalisation, that the first time I thought about the
punishment that morning when Abel reminded me to get dressed for it.
Not that I wasn’t happy to get over with it: the punishment had been
hanging over me for more than a day.
Sometimes, the title is the hardest part. I wrote this post over at Breathing In and Breathing Out. It’s about the intersection between being a survivor of childhood abuse and the role of discipline/spanking in my adult life.
I had wondered whether I should post it here, or on my own blog, and decided to put it there because it’s not entirely on-topic, or something like that. I guess it was the easiest way to break through my difficulties with writing, by having a space where I felt less of an obligation to offer at least slightly polished prose.
But when Natty commented that she also thought it might fit over here, I figured that perhaps it was less off-topic than I’d feared, so I thought I’d mention it.
This seems a rather harsh ad campaign, but perhaps one we’ll have to adopt here on the PB.
Pab snapped this on our way to breakfast this morning, compensating for the reflection and the like. We did try and take one with me standing under the sign but I did something odd with my mouth during the picture (not at all unusual for me btw) and so have disposed of those copies of the print.
One nice thing about living in Santa Monica is that no one seemed at all interested in why we were either snapping the pictures or why I was posing there.
Maybe we’ll have to try it again before the sign comes down.
So getting to today.
As I mentioned below, today was not a good day. It started out rather badly as I stayed up too late last night (and got spanked quite hard with a wooden spoon for thoughtlessness). I’d been out of sort all day yesterday and started that way today too.
A conversation with a friend helped, and reminded me that I needed to get to working. But 2:30 rolled past and I was still in my "going to get coffee" sun-dress rather than my "getting down to work" uniform. Pab was in the other room busily working. Probably thinking I was too. Probably not realizing (because I’d been crafty enough not to post anything) that while the iMac was locked, my Powerbook was still on the ‘net.
But the day was slipping past. What I couldn’t do, without talking to him, was leave. And I wanted to go shopping — and I really need some new cords.
I had an idea. Instead of today, I could work tomorrow. It would all even out the same and I’d have gotten my weekly pages done. Besides, I’d worked hard (for me anyway) all month. Surely I deserved this Friday off to shop on Third Street.
I’ve been intending to write something about the way things are in our house since September (since we got back from Shadow Lane). I did write this and Pab wrote his response, but that was before things in our house really started.
Right after that, well, we started talking about the way things would be while I got some much needed work (meaning writing on my thesis) done.
It (I’ll explain more about it as we go) started the first week in September. It’s been just over a month now and things have gone pretty well. As of this afternoon a chapter of my thesis that didn’t exist at all on September 5 now has 32 pages.
And today, well my bottom is currently so sore that sitting is painful. Which gets to why I’m finally writing about this. You see, today was not an easy day.
Today when I was checking our stats (yeah, I do it a lot, especially when bored at work), I realized that the PB makes Google's first or second page for the entry "punishment." Cool, right?
Yeah, guess where we are on the page when if you Google "punished wife"? Ouch!
Caned wife? Page 5.
Punishment Book? First entry, page 1.
And yes, these are generating a number of hits*, thanks for asking.
(*and no, that wasn't an intentional pun. Double ouch!)
If you were to judge my behaviour recently by the absence of any posts here on the Punishment Book, you might well think that I have been reformed. So No True. I’ve simply been a model of efficiency, using every scrap of free time to polish away at my schoolwork. In fact, in the weeks I was drowning in schoolwork, Abel found a reason to punish me four times, but we have both decided that posting about it could wait.
So it waited.
So you think now would be a good time to make that post, right?
Well, not quite. Thing is, neither of us can remember what these punishments were for any more, nor what they were. I think a repeat instance of reading in the dark was involved, and I’m pretty sure there was something about blatant cheekiness. I vaguely remember being taken upstairs for a few licks of the cane over my trousers, as well as some fast, sharp swats on my bare behind as I was bent over the arm of the living-room sofa. Other than that… I’ve no idea what happened.
Because Abel doesn’t remember either, we’ve decided that a short summary would suffice. I mean, some offences don’t merit being recorded in punishment books, right?