A Real Punishment

It's been a long time since I've earned a real punishment.  Sure, I've been smacked and scolded; I've mouthed off and stuck out my tongue; I've transgressed minor rules and even gotten hairbrushed a little.  But a real, serious, big-time punishment?  It's been a while.

So when I got a text message from M on Monday, I was nervous.  The text said, "When you get home you are to change into your plaid skirt and a white shirt and wait for me."  Gulp.  Wouldn't you have been a little nervous?

The tough thing was that I didn't know if I was in real trouble or pretend trouble.  We rarely use special outfits or props for punishment (ebony hairbrushes sadly excluded), so there was a good chance he meant it to be stern-sexy instead of stern-stern.  Except that I had a guilty conscience.  My stomach did flip-flops and zig-zags the whole drive home.  I bit my lower lip.  My nostrils flared.  I immediately changed into the plaid skirt and white shirt at home, poured a glass of wine, and turned on the TV while I waited for M.

Fortunately, I didn't have to wait long.  He opened the front door and I stood up from the couch.  He smiled, a warm, genuine smile, and said, "My, what a pretty girl."  I walked over to him and he enfolded me in a big hug, holding me tight without saying anything else.  After a while, I whispered, "Am I in trouble for real or for pretend?" and he whispered back, "For real as a naughty girl who got sent home from school," and I breathed a sigh of relief.  Sort of.  Cause, you know, my stupid guilty conscience.

M walked me back to our bedroom, talking low and sexy in my ear the whole way, about how naughty I was to be sent home and how I was going to be spanked and more sorry than I already was.  When we got to the bedroom he put me in the corner, telling me to think about how much trouble I was in.  And I did.  Only I couldn't really concentrate on the sexy part of the experience–I think the punishment part of my brain is wired to the punishment part of my brain and I couldn't separate being in "trouble" from being in Trouble.  So when he pulled me out of the corner into a hug, I had to spill my guts.  (Stupid guilty conscience!)  I whispered, "I didn't have my cell phone last night."

I should back up a little.  Sunday night M and I had a big fight.  The root of it was pretty trivial (as are the roots of most big fights), but we were really emotional and involved and both of us believed that we were right.  To compound the issue, his parents were staying for the night and we couldn't really have the whole fight.  He got frustrated and decided to end it.  I was still really really angry and needed to blow off steam, so I went out for a walk.  I walked hard, working up a good sweat from the effort and emotion, until I was tired and realized that I had to turn around and walk home.  All in all I was probably only gone for about an hour, but it was dark and late and I sort of have a rule about taking my cell phone with me when I go out alone, especially at night.  Technically the rule says I have to have the phone if I'm out alone in a strange city, but even I'm not so obstreperous as to think that going out at 11 p.m. by myself when I'm mad is a great thing to do.  At the time I didn't care–I was too mad.  But by Monday night I'd just spent several hours working myself into a submissive, punishment headspace, and I needed to confess.

M paused and said, "I wondered about that.  You're going to be punished for that too."  And then he bent me over his knee and flipped up my skirt.  Gulp.  Still unsure about how real this spanking was going to be, I went without a fuss.  He spanked me with his hand, rubbing and increasing the intensity, but not saying anything.  Then he stood up, bent me over the bed, picked up a large, heavy strap (one of Ian's, I'm sure) and started strapping me.  Not particularly hard, but any strokes with one of Ian's straps are solid enough.  At some point he bent over and rasped in my ear, "Your punishment for going out without a cell phone is going to be much harder than this."  And I relaxed.  Suddenly the situation became crystal clear: I was being strapped for being "naughty," not for anything real.  I could enjoy the strokes and let my mind wander to the sexy place.  We had beautiful, crazy, gorilla monkey sex when the spanking was over, and then went to have dinner at our friend Lily's house.  I had to keep the skirt on and show Lily my still pink bottom.  And I had to tell her that I was in serious trouble.  And why.  Sigh.

The punishment didn't happen until the next night after work.  M held me close and scolded me softly, then guided me back to the same corner in our bedroom.  I stood very still while he moved back and forth between our room and the guest room, pulling out implements and testing them, and then stood even more quietly when he settled onto our bed and took out a book (I could hear the pages rustling).  A long/short time later, he pulled me out of the corner by the nape of my neck and took me into the guest bedroom.  The end of the bed had two pillows and Ian's strap was sitting in the center.  I bent over the pillows and he said, "Twenty."  No warmup, no rubbing.

They were hard.  A couple had me gasping and one actually caught me so low that I stood up involuntarily from the pain.  I made it through, of course; in fact, I've had much harder play spankings.  But a real, serious, formal punishment for a big rule infraction is different.  You know.

The sign in our room now reads, "Days Since a Real Punishment: 1." 

11 thoughts on “A Real Punishment

  1. Mija

    Reading this I wasn’t sure whether to give lots of sympathy or mention how incredibly hot your telling of it is. Whatever, can I just say (because I haven’t had a chance to say it in public yet how happy I am for you and how lucky I think M is? You’re going to be such a lovely bride ::sigh::.
    And the whole sign in the bedroom thing? Embarrassing, sweet and rather wonderful.

    Reply
  2. Paul

    Iris, interesting post.
    Strange how real punishments are so much worse than play, even though play can be much harder.
    My wife was punished in the study, never in the bedroom, the bedroom was for play.
    After the punishment was over which included time for reflection on her knees, our version of corner time, we would often adjourn to the bedroom for the reconnect.
    Warm hugs,
    Paul.

    Reply
  3. sparkle

    I agree with Mija. Trouble or not, your retelling of it makes it hot. Thus, I’m sorry you got in trouble ’bout the phone, but I’m selfishly glad you told us about it :).
    *waves to M*
    Hugs,
    sparkle

    Reply
  4. Megs

    Wow, I know exactly the feeling you mean of being in the middle of a “punishment” and not being sure whether it’s real or not. Good thing M was able to pick up on your tension and let you know you could enjoy it!

    Reply
  5. Iris

    Good to know that my friends can maintain that all-important balance between sympathy and arousal. Especially in dire predicaments. 😉

    Reply
  6. Nic

    It WAS hot, the way you told it, and so, I’m having trouble maintaining that all important balance, myself.
    Of course, that could be b/c I haven’t been on the receiving end of a real strap. If I had been, I’m sure I’d be much more sympathetic to your punishment!!
    And I love the sign in the bedroom. Very nice.

    Reply
  7. Indiana

    Iris, I suspect that a writer of your talent could tilt that sympathy/arousal balance the opposite way if she *really* wanted to. So I have to conclude that friends and strangers alike are supposed to find this entry every bit as hot as it is! Oh, good, I love PB entries that I can enjoy completely guilt-free! 🙂

    Reply
  8. Fireman Chris

    Wow, you never do things halfway, do you Iris? Nor does M, and I’m ever grateful of that.
    I love how the play and punishment joined, intertwined and separated. The playful punishment sounds lovely and oh-so-appropriate for you, as does the punishment.
    And the punishment was well earned too…you know me and safety issues.
    Regardless, I’m glad you got what you deserved…in both situations. And thank you so much for sharing it.
    As the others have said: very hot.
    Love always,
    Chris

    Reply
  9. DaddysLucy

    We have one of Ian’s straps, too, so I feel your pain! It’s funny how play-spankings always less that real spankings, no matter the strength level, isn’t it?
    We just got our strap a couple of weeks ago, and it’s very… effective 🙂

    Reply
  10. Gwen

    For all of those people who wonder whether punishment spankings can really be effective for people who get turned on by spankings and punishment play, a post such as this one, should help clarify how such a seeming contradiction can be possible. It’s all in the mindset.
    Personally, if I could have things my way, I would be spanked regularly for our mutual pleasure and the hot sex that follows. I would still have punishment fantasies that make my pants wet, and I would have real punishment spankings as well, which I would not enjoy at all at the time, but might help me assuage a guilty conscience or pay for my misdeeds. Of course, after a decent interval, I would want to be forgiven and comforted by my disciplinarian (with or without sex).
    There is a huge part of me that hungers for this, but this is not part of our scene at home. In fact, I can’t say that we even really have any kind of spanko or D/s scene at home, which makes me very unhappy (despite many discussions on the subject and an occasional effort on the part of my husband to accommodate my needs). I hope that if we can find an appropriate couples counselor, that might help, but I think it is a pretty low priority for my husband, who always likes to think that everything is fine — until it isn’t.
    I do envy you and so many of the others who contribute here regularly. I gather you and M are getting married. Congratulations! It must have been a truly miserable time for you during the breakup, and I’m glad that you were able to reconcile and build and stronger relationship as a result.
    Best wishes,
    Gwen

    Reply

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