Out Of Gas

Well since I have been fortunate enough to have been spank free for a while now I thought I would share a story of one of my earlier spankings.  I eluded to it in a previous post and I did get a request to relate the story.

It all started one night when I was going to go out and meet some of my friends.  We were chatting at dinner and my wife made the comment that her car needed gas and that when I left she was going to go out and fill it up.  I thought that since I was going out anyway I could take her car and fill it up for her and save her the trip.

"Are you sure?" she asked,  "I need to leave early in the morning and I have a meeting I can't be late for."

A little insulted by the question I replied back, "No problem there is a gas station I pass on the way.  I will just stop and fill it up there."

"Well OK then, but make sure it gets filled, I won't have time in the morning."

So that was that.  Well it must be obvious to all you readers what happened.  First, when I passed the gas station on the way to my friends house, it was very busy, I guess it was still rush hour, and there were cars lined up waiting to fill up.  I figured by the time I was on my way back it would be later and I would not have to wait too long, so I decided to fill it up on the way back.

Well, I had a good time at my friends house (and no I didn't drink, I am not a big drinker and never drink and drive) and didn't leave too late, but by then I was tired and of course had forgotten about filling up the car.   When I got home my wife was already in bed.  She did mention she was getting up early.  When I woke up the next morning she was already gone.  I went downstairs and found a note on the table reminding me she had to leave early for her meeting and that she would see me when she got home at the regular time.  So I went on with my day never giving a second thought to the fact that her car was low on gas.

Well I came home that night, making it in before her so I changed out of my work clothes and sat down to watch some TV before she came home and then we would cook dinner together.  It was about 20 minutes later when she walked through the door and I could tell by the way she threw her car keys down on the counter she was not happy.  I looked up and she was just staring at me in disbelief.

"Did you gas up my car last night?"  she asked. I could hear the suppressed rage in her voice.

"Oh, I guess I forgot."  I replied as if it were no big deal.

"How could you forget?  It was the last thing we discussed when you left.  Did it even occur to you to think why you were in my car?  I don't understand how you could simply forget."  Her voice was rising now.

I explained how the gas station was busy when I first passed it and then I simply forgot when I was driving back.

"Do you know I ran out of gas on the highway?  I had to call roadside assistance and I was about an hour late for my meeting.  All because you couldn't remember to fill up the car."

She was angry now and I can't say I can blame her, but by the same token, I felt resentful that she put the blame all on me.  I thought we were a team.  After all I offered to fill it up to save her a trip and this is how she thanks me?  I realize now the fatal flaw in my thinking, but at the time it was move mouth before engaging brain.  My fate was sealed when I fired back.

"You know, " I started with a slightly accusatory tone, "if you simply checked the gas before you drove off you would have known the car didn't get filled up.  You could have taken my car and you would have made the meeting.  I then would have filled up your car when I took it to work. So this is just as much your fault as mine."

My argument was perfectly logical of course.  There was contributing negligence on her part.  How could she have simply jumped in and drove off without noticing the gas was low.  Sure I forgot, but give me a break.  She drives off, never checks the gas, runs out of gas on the highway and suddenly it is all my fault that she failed in her responsibility as a driver to check the condition of her car.  In my mind this was just as much her fault as mine and I am sure there are readers who will agree with me.

"What!" she actually yelled at the insolence of my statement.  "How dare you.  I was all set to go out and fill up the car myself.  It was YOUR idea to take it and fill it up.  I asked you are you ABSOLUTELY sure you will fill it up and you said yes.  I reminded you of the importance of filling up the car and you assured me that it would get done.   If I had did this myself, the car would have been filled.  I trusted you to do this at YOUR suggestion and it did not get done.  Now you have the nerve to stand there and tell me it is my fault! How dare you."

Well, so much for my argument.  Boy was she angry.  She turned her back to me and  I heard her taking a few deep breaths.  She then turned back to me a little calmer.

"What am I going to do with you?  When are you going to grow up?"  She then walked out and returned just a few seconds later with the hairbrush.   I cringed the second I saw it.

"No honey, not that  I'm sorry" I begged.

"Why is it you are never sorry until I get the brush?  Are you sorry that you screwed up or are you just sorry that I have to spank you?"

I didn't know how to answer that.  Of course I was sorry I was about to be spanked.  Deep in my mind I still felt she was partially responsible.  Yes I screwed up, but I screwed up trying to do something nice for her.  I didn't think I should have been spanked for that.  I was trembling with fear wanting to make this stop but not sure how.

I heard the order clear as a bell, "pull your pants and underpants down." but I didn't move a muscle.  This was one of the earlier spankings and at this point had not fully accepted my circumstances.

"Can't we resolve this some other way?  How can I make this up to you?"

"You can make this up to me by being obedient and pulling your pants and underwear down." she replied, calm and assertive now, the anger slowly leaving her voice.

"Honey, don't spank me, please don't spank me.  I am sorry, truly I am."  I couldn't believe my own ears.  Here I was a gown man trembling before my wife who stood before me with a hairbrush and I was pleading with her not to spank me.  I still didn't move.  I know a real man would have told her off, laughed, grabbed the brush out of her hand, stormed out, but no I just stood there like a wimp begging her not to spank me.  No wonder she had the confidence to do it.  I didn't have the balls to stop it.

She grew impatient and reached out to the waistband of my jeans and pulled me towards her.  I did reach down and grab her wrists, but she ignored them and simply started unbuttoning and unzipping my jeans as I continued to beg her to stop and reconsider.

My pleas fell on deaf ears as she began pulling my jeans down all the way to my ankles and she breaks free of my grip on her hands.  I felt a shiver as the cool air hit my bare legs and a tingle in my backside as my briefs covered bottom became exposed.  As usual, my penis was tight and shriveled barely making a bulge at all in the front of my briefs.  Of course my wife has seen me naked lots of times both soft and shriveled as well as erect, but this was different.  She was not stripping me for sex.  She was going to spank me like a little child.  It just felt too humiliating for me and my penis was going to look extra small when she finally pulled my briefs down.

With my pants at my ankles I was hunched over slightly half trying to retrieve my pants, but it was no use.  Soon her hands were in the waist band of my tighty whites and they were now making the trek towards my jeans.  She stopped just below my knees.  Sure enough there was my little penis barely poking out from my pubic hair.  I hated how I looked when I was like this.  If we were having sex it would have been erect and looking much bigger then the pathetic little stub it looked like now.  She made no comment about it or seem to notice it.  She was all business and immediately began pulling me towards the couch as I hobbled over, my pants restricting my ability to walk properly.  When we got to the couch she had no difficulty in pulling me over her lap and held me tight with her left hand.

She wasted no time in bringing the hairbrush crashing down on my backside.  I yelped in pain and tried to get off her lap.  I did manage to get the lower half of my body off her lap, but I was unable to break the top half free from the strong grip she had on me.  Again the brush came down and I yelped again.  Realizing I was unable to completely break away I began to beg and plead with her to stop.  She delivered a few more hits before taking a moment to grab my legs and pull them back up across her lap and then she quickly brought the brush back down across my backside.  Now this was an earlier spanking so while at this time I did not out and out cry like I have been doing lately, I did yelp and scream with each blow and my eyes did get very watery.  If the spanking had continued just a little longer, it is entirely possible I might have started to out and out cry, but just when I felt like I was on the verge of a totally losing it she finally stopped.

I laid across her lap letting the pain subside and trying to bring myself back from the brink.  When she felt I was finally calm enough she let me get up.  Standing caused a slight increase in the pain and I instinctively moved my hands to rub my bottom before realizing how exposed I felt with my shriveled penis inches from her face.  I reach down to pull my briefs back up but she stopped me for just a moment.

"Do you understand why I had to spank you?"

To be honest, at this point I really was not sure why she had to spank me, but I felt so helpless and vulnerable in front of her like this that I simply nodded yes.

"I sincerely hope that I don't have to spank you again, but I will if I have to.  Now get dressed."

I finished pulling the briefs over my sore bottom before bending down to retrieve the jeans at my ankles and gingerly sliding them carefully over my butt.  I tried to be nonchalant as I ran my hand across my eyes to dry the water that had built up in them during the spanking.  I was reluctant to think of them as tears but I guess that is what they were.

And so ended one of the many spankings I have received from my wife.  Not the first, not the last, but definitely one of the memorable spankings.  It was not until later that night when I was in bed thinking about the events that led up to the spanking that I realized what a jerk I had been.  She was right.  I should have just gassed up the stupid car, but when I failed to do so I certainly should have just said I was sorry and never have attempted to put the blame on her.  I can't help but wonder that if I just said I was sorry and tried to make it up to her if I would have avoided the spanking or was I getting spanked no matter what?  I could still feel the heat in my butt against the cool fabric of my pajamas as I laid there on my stomach feeling embarrassed and humiliated, reliving the scene from earlier that evening, imagining how pathetic I must have looked, pants and briefs down being dragged by my wife, shriveled little penis between my legs.  I shut my eyes at the thoughts and felt them water up once again.  Yes, water up, for certainly these were not tears, but this was not my last spanking and the tears and crying would come at a future date.  For now, I just drifted off to sleep with watery eyes and a warm bottom and hoped this would all be forgotten in the morning.