So go read her stuff.
You’re still here?
Okay, so I got spanked this morning. Not just spanked, punished actually. Why? For going to bed very late (4:15am) and then getting up very early (6:45am).
First, there hasn’t been much spanking going on in our house. Having ones parents basically living with you will do that. Plus, as everyone knows, I’m ever so good.
But last night, well, I basically didn’t go to bed. I’ve been keyed up about a lot of things: my brother’s upcoming wedding, Shadow Lane Party excitement, the short story contest, the spamming attacks on soc.sexuality.spanking, a gift of a new (to me) iPod from a very kind friend — lots of stuff going on. Plus I’d gotten to have a great chat on AIM rather late (for me) with Alex Birch. At the same time, P had to crash a bit earlier than me — between the newsgroup attacks and a project he’d been working on he hadn’t had any sleep Wednesday night, changing our usual bedtime ritual. I let myself get sucked into reading and suddenly it was 4:15 AM.
I crawled into bed.
But I was worried because I knew my dad (who’s staying with us right now) needed to leave for the airport at 7:30 to pick up my mom so I guess I didn’t really get to sleep because part of me was listening for his alarm. When it didn’t go off by 6:45 I went and woke him.
And didn’t go back to bed — just resumed reading and answering email. (And stole 3 spice drops from my father instead of making breakfast, but more on that later.)
When P woke up I snuggled in with him. Surprisingly, he asked about bedtime. When he found out about my lack of sleeping, I was deemed to have behaved like a naughty little girl and ended up standing in the corner holding a ping pong paddle (which is rather a trigger implement for me anyway) while he did his morning thing (washing, dressing and the like — he’s low maintenance so we’re only talking a few minutes really). Then he pulled a chair into the bedroom, bared my bottom, took me across his lap and spanked me with the paddle really hard.
At least it seemed really hard to me. I actually at one point, struggled hard enough that I managed to pull my pjs back *up*. But they came down again. I didn’t think my kicking was that bad, but the spanking ended with me over one of his left leg and my own pinned by his right. I hate that position and started crying quite loudly (forget the windows being open — I didn’t care at all anymore) pleading to be let up.
Finally it was over.
Kinda. It’s been deemed that I’m to get three strokes of the heavy tawse (the one Ian, the London Tanner made) for everything I eat that I shouldn’t (for those of you new here, that means sweets). When will I get them? When my parents finally leave us.
Oh and I’ll get to write Ian a letter all about it so he knows how useful his strap is.
Spanking / discipline / punishment have returned to Santa Monica. In case you were wondering.
Now go read sparkle. :b