"Go upstairs and get ready," he said to me and my stomach wrapped into tight knots. I knew what this sentence really meant. It meant I was going to get a spanking, and it wasn't going to be a light, maintenance or reminder spanking; I was going to be paddled hard.
I reluctantly went upstairs, took off my clothes and put on my satin robe. I retrieved his tools, hoping that he wouldn't use all of them and then came the hardest part, the waiting. My stomach churned and my bottom tensed from the anticipation.
When he entered the room, I could tell he was still angry. I had been disrespectful and my language had been exceptionally bad. I knew what was coming.
"I'm sorry," I said, as he pulled me up, removed my robe and laid me across his lap.
"Not as sorry as your going to be," he answered calmly and began rubbing my bottom while verbally reprimanding me and telling me he expected better behavior.
He used his hand first, as he always does, warming me up for what was coming. Then, he spanked me with the wooden paddle and the cane. My bottom was bright and hot, when he pulled me up and told me to place my hands on the dresser and stick my buttocks out. He then took the leather strap to my bottom, fifty lashes with the strap.
I had to stand for three minutes in the corner and think about my punishment. When the three minutes was up, he asked if I felt I had been sufficiently disciplined and if I was ready to have a clean slate and move forward. I said I was, but he could tell in my demeanor that I had yet to fully release. He pulled me back over his lap and gave me a long, hard hand-spanking until I finally broke into sobs.
The crying was the sign that I had released the tension and was ready to move forward. I felt so much better.
It was a painful discipline session, but I needed it and he needed to give it to me, especially after the way I had been behaving. I'm so thankful he loves me enough to take me over his knee and help me become all that I want to be.