Thursday, November 14, 2013

Dropping my Pants like F-bombs


My husband doesn’t like it when I curse.  It’s one of the things on my list of things for which I get disciplined.  Honestly, I don’t want to use bad language either but sometimes it just flows out of me.  Whenever I am upset or mad or feel there’s been an injustice or in pain or frustrated, well, you get the picture.  I tend to teeter on the edge of cursing a lot.

Today, my husband came up from his office downstairs right as I was talking to a girlfriend on the phone and venting some of my frustration.  I dropped several f-bombs before I realized he was in the room.  He told me to get off of the phone and bare my bottom immediately, which, of course I didn’t do because my girlfriend was in the middle of talking and it would have been rude to interrupt her.  That made my hubby twice as mad.

“Tell her you’ll call her back and hang up the phone now,” he said.

Finally, about ten minutes later when my girlfriend stopped talking, I made up an excuse why I had to go.  My husband had left a note for me on the kitchen table that read:  “Go get my black belt, the cane and the loopy johnny whip, get naked and come to my office.”

I got butterflies in my stomach when I saw the note.  I knew I was in for a big beating.  Part of me thought to grab my car keys and leave, but I knew once I returned it would be even worse.  So, I fetched the tools, took off my clothes and walked downstairs to his office.  He took the tools from me and told me to stand in the corner.  I did.  He told me that if I was going to be dropping F-bombs then I was going to be dropping my pants.  
 
After a few minutes in the corner, he took me over his knee and gave me a hard, hard, hard spanking with his hand.  My butt was burning hot already when he was through and told me to bend over the arm of the sofa.  He rarely makes me count swats, but he did today and I counted 55 swats with his belt.  My butt was on fire and I was fighting back the urge to cry.  He moved me to the coffee table and instructed me to bend over and place my hands on the table, sticking my butt out toward him.  He then gave me 25 lashes with the cane.  I finally cried.  The cane hurts really bad.  Back over his knee I went for forty swats with the loopy johnny whip while he lectured me on how the F word is not appropriate for a lady to say and should not be said in our home. 

I hope I’ve learned my lesson this time.  My bottom stings even as I sit here typing this.  I wish I didn’t curse and I’m going to try really hard to do better, otherwise I won’t be able to sit down EVER.

After my spanking was over, he kissed me and told me I had a clean slate.  He then told me to try and keep it clean longer than I had kept it clean before.  I’m going to try.  It never ceases to amaze me how much he loves me and how right I feel whenever he holds me accountable to the things in myself that I want to change.  I can’t do it alone and though I don’t like to be punished, I do like the fact that he’s strong enough to take me under his authority and give me a spanking when I need it.  A lot of people think this is strange, but I think it’s wonderful. 

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