I know that the title is long but it is very informative don't you think. I suppose that it is not necessary for me to type the whole story but, of course, I am going to anyway.
After the drunken email I was understandably nervous. Either my heart or my butt was going to be very sorry. I was actually quite proud of myself. I did not badger about it the minute he came in. I helped carry all the stuff in and started unpacking. Vincent being Vincent, he didn't say anything. The fluttering in my stomach was starting to get a little insane.
I was leaning over a box unpacking and without saying a word he came over and started smacking my butt with a great sense of purpose. My first reaction was pure joy (yahhh, he cares enough to continue with this). My second reaction was nausea (WHAT have I done, I am not going to be able to sit down for a week). Interestingly enough I have figured out that both reactions were absolutely accurate. (Well sort of, that would be the part about the sick kid that I will get to later.)
Things proceeded normally and I just mentioned (as a helpful tip...not being mouthy at all) that if he had bought and used the higher SPF sunscreen that I had recommended that no one would have the sunburns they had. It would seem that I may have made that observation in a less than respectful tone of voice (*gasp*).
Vincent was not amused. He firmly took my hand and led me to the bedroom. Side question...Am I the only one who gets that funky feeling in my stomach that is part huge admiration and part abject terror when my man gets all HoHy.
He puts me over the bed and picks up the horrible Z and proceeds to do a dozen hard swats over my shorts. He puts Z down and half of me is insanely happy, half of me is a little disappointed because I think he is done. I am wrong (shock and awe, yeah it happens occasionally). He picks up the switch and pulls my shorts and underwear down and proceeds to switch my butt with that fabulous technique he seems to have picked up over night.
It was not long and was not painful, but it made my heart about burst in happiness to know that he was going to take this new role completely and totally and give his all to me and our family. He pulled up off the bed and into his arms.
"That was for your mouth. Do you understand?"
"Yes sir. Thank you sir." I am a happy girl.
"You will be getting plenty more when the kids go to bed." I am an extremely anxious happy girl.
The kids get a movie and snuggle into bed. No sooner are the kids in bed than I find out that what I am going to be getting more of is way more interactive than what I had been picturing. He uses the good girl implement and we do all sorts of fun and adult things to each other.
The only flaw in the perfect picture is that I am feeling insanely guilty because I have been smoking in the house all weekend (which I know is a big no-no). I wait till we are resting and glowing ( I am not a complete idiot...sometimes anyway) before I get the nerve to give my confession.
"I am not really your good girl. I don't deserve the good girl implement."
"What did you do?"
Silence
"What did you do?"
Silence
Putting down the good girl implement and picking up the evil Z. "You are only making this worse. Tell me what you did now." Lovely 'I am the boss' voice.
"I smoked in the house all weekend." Smack, smack, smack.
"Not in the window." Smack, smack, smack.
"On the couch, and in the bedroom." Continuous hard whipping on my bottom.
"That is it. Bend over." What is it about the phrase 'bend over'.
Firm and disappointed voice lecturing me on knowing better and how I am going to learn not to break this rule. Continuous whipping my backside which is starting hurt (a lot) and I am starting to squirm.
"You will stay still and take this little girl." Starts counting. I think maybe I am done at ten, no, I think I am done at twenty, no, I am bouncing all over the place and starting to moan.
He gets to thirty and stops with Z. I sag on the bed with relief that we are done. Nope.
He picks up the small whippy thing. Now he uses this a lot in fun spanking and it usually hurts just enough to feel good. I am shocked. This does not feel good. I cannot believe one of my favorite toys and be this painful. Solid steady whipping on my backside and no matter how hard I try I cannot stay still.
"That will be ten more for moving around. Now hold still."
"Yes, sir."
I didn't think he could hit harder. He did. Counting to ten and adding one at the end that made me pull completely out of his hold and roll over.
He pulls me into his arms and tells me that it will not happen again or it will get worse.
My butt is nice and warm and stingy. After about thirty minutes though most of the pain has subsided and I am just in my happy glowing place. Apparently I get stupid when I am in my happy glowing place.
He asks me if my butt hurts and I blissfully reply that it doesn't hurt at all. (Told you I get stupid.)
"Really. Turn back over now."
"No, I don't need more I promise."
"Over now." Tapping it on his hand.
I roll over. Knowing that I deserve what I am getting and probably much, much worse. Every few swats he asks if it hurts. I ask if I have to be honest, and when he says yes I have to say not really because even though it hurts it is not that really hurting, I cannot take this pain that punishment is supposed to be and I know that is what he is really asking.
Unfortunately (fortunately) my daughter knocks on the door just then and says that her brother has thrown up. We are both up and into their bedroom immediately. When we are all done cleaning and tucking in and are laying cuddled on the bed the other shoe drops.
"We had a kid emergency which is more important than anything, but you will be getting the rest tomorrow night."
Small amount of apprehension because I am not altogether insane and I know that at the rate he is getting the hang of this my butt is going to be hurting a lot soon. I really do not enjoy punishment while it is happening. However, the glow and feeling of safety are huge because I know that my man is there to care for and protect me, even when it is from myself.
;p
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