I recently posted part 1 of the story about the spanking I received after having a fight with my mother. I must admit I was a bit surprised by the comments I received so far about that story. It is unclear if the comments I am receiving are from the same person(s) or not, but I must admit I was taken back buy the hostility I received.
As I have shared stories about my wife and how she has slowly got me to the point where I unwillingly submit to her spankings and other mild punishments the majority of comments that I receive are along the lines of "grown a pair", "put her over your knee", "stop whining", "stand up to her", "don't let her push you around", etc. etc. Oh yes there are the occasional comments saying I deserve it and such but the majority have been encouraging me to stand up to my wife and be a man.
Now I related a story about my pushy mother who comes over to my house, insults me and my wife and treats me like a child. Now, unlike my wife who has a claim to our household, my mother has no claim to our house or how we furnish or decorate it. So when I "stand up to her" and "be a man" and ask her to leave I am criticized for it.
Now my wife has already spanked me for this and I will finish the story and share part 2, but I am confused as to why the same people who are telling me to "grow a pair" when I submit to my wife appear to be the same people who are now saying "your wife should buy a cane." and "you got what you deserved." and "your mother should have taken you over her knee."
Now I get it, you should have the utmost respect for your mother and I do respect her, but should a grown man have to put up with insults from his own mother in his own house? Why is it that when my wife spanks me because I talk back to her I need to "grow a pair" but when I remind my mother that I am an adult and she needs to respect me in my house I need to "grow up." and when my wife spanks me for that she is applauded?
Anyway, I will finish the story as promised, but so far the comments have made me feel a little ashamed of what I did. It was my intention to share this story and then share my feelings about what happened to me the last time I "stood up for myself" and "grew a pair." Apparently instead of getting support and encouragement I now appear as immature and childish and it seems as if my follows now feel I am getting the spankings I deserve. It even seems like some feel I have to be punished all over again for this offense.
Now I am even more confused than ever. Anyway, I will finish up the story hopefully in a few days, but again, I now have something new to think about. Is there something wrong with me? I have been trying to relate these stories as accurate as I can recall them but am I missing something in my telling that makes me a flawed person who needs to be spanked to remain decent?
I feel I try hard to do the right things and be a good and responsible person and husband. I was spanked as a child when I deserved it and I think it helped me to develop a good character, but I would have thought that I have outgrown spankings. My mother stopped spanking me at 12, so why does my wife feel its necessary now that I am an adult? Am I missing something? In some ways I do feel the same as when I was a child but my wife is not my mother.
Perhaps this story revealed the fundamental character flaws that I fail to see myself. I want the spankings to stop, but not sure exactly how. I am so dazed and confused.
Monday, June 30, 2014
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
Honor Thy Mother Part 1
First off, let me apologize for the delay in getting this posted. It took me a while to get this finished as I was distracted with the whole made to stand around in my underpants incident and what that means for my long term prognosis for remaining spank free for the rest of the summer. I have been reading the comments and there seems to be a consensus that unless I "grow a pair" additional spanking are inevitable and that a spanking in front of Sarah is also highly probable. with all of this going on in my mind it has been difficult to complete this story. I decided to post what I have so far and will finish it up when I get the chance.
I tried to recall the number of spankings I have received since I was first married and while they are few and far between I realized that there was enough of them that I have begun to lose count. There have probably been some where between 20 and 30 spankings that I have received which is still a lot for a grown man who should be receiving 0 spankings. Of course some stand out more than others and this one, where I was spanked after a fight with my mother was particularly memorable, not because of the physical spanking itself, which was relatively mild, but because of the emotional connection it created.
First off, let me state that I do love my mother and I get along OK with my mother in law, but as with most people, there are times when you simply disagree with them and they get on your nerves. This incident happened early on in our marriage, but after my wife started spanking me. She was over and we were at the point where we were still filling out our house with furniture and decor and such. Now my mother was being hyper-critical of the fact the house still looked 'unfinished' as well as critical of the choices of furniture and decor we had already selected. The generation gap being what it is, I get that what we like and what she likes are going to be different, but apparently she just assumes that anyone who's taste in furniture is different than hers must be an idiot and I do not appreciate being treated like that.
Well, at one point, she made what she considered a generous offer and offered to buy us some curtains and furniture for a den that we had not yet worked on and was sitting empty. The only problem was she was insisting on choices that we did not like. She kept waiving the pictures of what she was proposing in our faces and I just asked her to let me 'think about it' but she kept insisting 'what is there to think about.'
Finally I had had enough and yelled at her. I reminded her that this was not her house and that my wife and I would chose the type of furniture, carpet and drapes and not her. She shot back with that typical mother attitude, not yelling, but stating, "It looks to me like you don't have enough money to furnish this house properly. Here I am offering to help pay for some of the furniture and things and this is the thanks I get..." you know, typical mother crap.
We I was hurt that she was implying that I was not adequately taking care of my wife, that I was in over my head and that the house was destined to fall apart around me so I blew a gasket and started telling her off. I called a pushy old crab and told her to get the hell out of my house. She simply looked at me turned and left without saying another word and I felt victorious. I had showed my mother I was king of my castle and I made the rules, not her. I felt like I grew up a little and no longer had to cower to my mother's demands. Or so I thought.
My wife had remained silent through the whole argument with my mother but as soon as she left she spoke up.
"I can't believe you just threw your mother out of our house."
As soon as she spoke, I quickly picked up on the fact that she reminded me that this was "Our" house and I had told my mother to get out of "My" house. So clearly my wife did not approve of the singular possessive that I had used. I immediately got defensive,
"So what? You liked the furniture and curtains she had picked out for us?"
"No, I didn't, but that is not the point. She was trying to be generous and helpful and you threw her out of our house. She is your mother and she deserves your respect even when you disagree with her."
I admit, I still didn't get it. We are adults, this is our house, we have the right to run it the way we see fit. My mother was wrong, didn't my wife see this?
"She was wrong, this is our house. She needs to back off. Do you want her dictating to us our whole life? Your mother is that pushy. Besides, she is my mother and I will treat her the way I see fit."
With that my wife snapped back "NO!" the sudden assertiveness of her statement caught me off guard. "She is your mother and you will never speak to her that way again. You acted like a spoiled little brat. If you want to be treated like an adult and respected like an adult with your mother than you have to act like an adult and settle your differences like an adult. What you did was appalling. "
I was still shocked. Who's side was my wife on? "So should I call her back and tell her I changed my mind and we will get the ugly furniture she wants?"
"That is not the point. You don't get it. This is not about the furniture or the curtains, this is about what you called you mother and the fact that you threw her out of OUR house over something as stupid as a difference in taste of furniture."
The whole time we were arguing, the thought that my wife would spank me for this never crossed my mind. We were still relatively newly wed and at this point she probably had only spanked me 2 or 3 times. What makes this spanking more memorable was what she had said to me next. She was calmer, more controlled and looked at me as I was lost in my own thoughts, still trying to convince myself that I was right and my wife just did not see it yet.
She spoke, breaking my concentration with the simple question, "If you were 12 years old and called your mother what you just called her, what would have happened to you?"
The question shocked me to the core. It was a question which evoke a very deep emotional response. I am sure my wife knew what she was doing by asking it, but I am not sure if she really understood how deep a pain it caused. I know while we were dating we did talk about our parents and how they punished us as children. I had mentioned briefly that the last time I was spanked was shortly before I had turned 13. I was almost a teenager and had thought I was cock of the loft and feeling I was a 'man' and back talked my mother really bad. She pulled me in front of her and I knew she was going to spank me. I quickly reverted back to a little boy and begged and pleaded her not to spank me, but she would hear none of it. She was determined to show me that 12 was not too old to be taken over her knee. She started unbuttoning my jeans and I then quickly started begging her not to pull my pants down, which again fell on deaf ears. I resisted, but of course, this was my mother. I would never out and out fight her back and instead appealed to her sense of mercy to at least let me keep my pants up and how sorry I was to say what I said.
Soon my jeans were at my knees and I stood before her in my briefs (boxers not yet being popular at the time) I tried to lay down across her lap and surrender to her, but I felt her pushing me back up as she went for my briefs.
Again, I pleaded, "No mommy, please let me keep my briefs up. I know I deserve to be spanked, just don't pull my underpants down."
That plea also fell on dear ears and soon my underpants joined my jeans and my hairless genitals came into view. I was very aware of how developed I was at that age having noticed the other boys in the locker room when we changed at the swimming pool. Most had at least some hair and looked further along that I did. Of course now that I know what fully developed men look like, I realize we were all still boys back then, but at least they had something. I was still completely small and hairless at the time. There were 2 or 3 other boys my age who looked young and immature and I confess I did try to catch a glimpse of their development, but like me, the were very discreet in changing and employed strategic use of towels so I never got a good look at them. I concluded that the more developed boys were more open about changing so I came to the conclusion that those few other boys were also lacking in their development like me. Nonetheless, I was mortified to have my lagging development on display to my mother. Even though I had heard the doctor mention it to her after my last physical, it was one thing to hear about it, it was another thing to have her see it.
So there I was at 12 (three weeks before my 13th birthday) over my mother's knee being spanked just like I was at 8. It was mortifying, but I got that message. I did not back talk my mother again, at least not until now. Now I was sorry I ever told my wife that story.
I looked at my wife ashamed. It was clear she was going to spank me. By deliberately evoking that memory she was making me feel like I did when I was 12. Back then, I thought I was a man, too big and too cool to listen to my mother. Back then I realized how wrong I was and paid a painful and embarrassing price to that mistake. Today was no different. Today my wife was going to teach me that no matter how old you were, you mother was your mother and if you back talk her, you are never too old to be taken over a knee for a bare bottom spanking. The only difference is it would not be my mother's knee I would be going over, it would be my wife's. The lesson however, would be the same.
To be continued....
I tried to recall the number of spankings I have received since I was first married and while they are few and far between I realized that there was enough of them that I have begun to lose count. There have probably been some where between 20 and 30 spankings that I have received which is still a lot for a grown man who should be receiving 0 spankings. Of course some stand out more than others and this one, where I was spanked after a fight with my mother was particularly memorable, not because of the physical spanking itself, which was relatively mild, but because of the emotional connection it created.
First off, let me state that I do love my mother and I get along OK with my mother in law, but as with most people, there are times when you simply disagree with them and they get on your nerves. This incident happened early on in our marriage, but after my wife started spanking me. She was over and we were at the point where we were still filling out our house with furniture and decor and such. Now my mother was being hyper-critical of the fact the house still looked 'unfinished' as well as critical of the choices of furniture and decor we had already selected. The generation gap being what it is, I get that what we like and what she likes are going to be different, but apparently she just assumes that anyone who's taste in furniture is different than hers must be an idiot and I do not appreciate being treated like that.
Well, at one point, she made what she considered a generous offer and offered to buy us some curtains and furniture for a den that we had not yet worked on and was sitting empty. The only problem was she was insisting on choices that we did not like. She kept waiving the pictures of what she was proposing in our faces and I just asked her to let me 'think about it' but she kept insisting 'what is there to think about.'
Finally I had had enough and yelled at her. I reminded her that this was not her house and that my wife and I would chose the type of furniture, carpet and drapes and not her. She shot back with that typical mother attitude, not yelling, but stating, "It looks to me like you don't have enough money to furnish this house properly. Here I am offering to help pay for some of the furniture and things and this is the thanks I get..." you know, typical mother crap.
We I was hurt that she was implying that I was not adequately taking care of my wife, that I was in over my head and that the house was destined to fall apart around me so I blew a gasket and started telling her off. I called a pushy old crab and told her to get the hell out of my house. She simply looked at me turned and left without saying another word and I felt victorious. I had showed my mother I was king of my castle and I made the rules, not her. I felt like I grew up a little and no longer had to cower to my mother's demands. Or so I thought.
My wife had remained silent through the whole argument with my mother but as soon as she left she spoke up.
"I can't believe you just threw your mother out of our house."
As soon as she spoke, I quickly picked up on the fact that she reminded me that this was "Our" house and I had told my mother to get out of "My" house. So clearly my wife did not approve of the singular possessive that I had used. I immediately got defensive,
"So what? You liked the furniture and curtains she had picked out for us?"
"No, I didn't, but that is not the point. She was trying to be generous and helpful and you threw her out of our house. She is your mother and she deserves your respect even when you disagree with her."
I admit, I still didn't get it. We are adults, this is our house, we have the right to run it the way we see fit. My mother was wrong, didn't my wife see this?
"She was wrong, this is our house. She needs to back off. Do you want her dictating to us our whole life? Your mother is that pushy. Besides, she is my mother and I will treat her the way I see fit."
With that my wife snapped back "NO!" the sudden assertiveness of her statement caught me off guard. "She is your mother and you will never speak to her that way again. You acted like a spoiled little brat. If you want to be treated like an adult and respected like an adult with your mother than you have to act like an adult and settle your differences like an adult. What you did was appalling. "
I was still shocked. Who's side was my wife on? "So should I call her back and tell her I changed my mind and we will get the ugly furniture she wants?"
"That is not the point. You don't get it. This is not about the furniture or the curtains, this is about what you called you mother and the fact that you threw her out of OUR house over something as stupid as a difference in taste of furniture."
The whole time we were arguing, the thought that my wife would spank me for this never crossed my mind. We were still relatively newly wed and at this point she probably had only spanked me 2 or 3 times. What makes this spanking more memorable was what she had said to me next. She was calmer, more controlled and looked at me as I was lost in my own thoughts, still trying to convince myself that I was right and my wife just did not see it yet.
She spoke, breaking my concentration with the simple question, "If you were 12 years old and called your mother what you just called her, what would have happened to you?"
The question shocked me to the core. It was a question which evoke a very deep emotional response. I am sure my wife knew what she was doing by asking it, but I am not sure if she really understood how deep a pain it caused. I know while we were dating we did talk about our parents and how they punished us as children. I had mentioned briefly that the last time I was spanked was shortly before I had turned 13. I was almost a teenager and had thought I was cock of the loft and feeling I was a 'man' and back talked my mother really bad. She pulled me in front of her and I knew she was going to spank me. I quickly reverted back to a little boy and begged and pleaded her not to spank me, but she would hear none of it. She was determined to show me that 12 was not too old to be taken over her knee. She started unbuttoning my jeans and I then quickly started begging her not to pull my pants down, which again fell on deaf ears. I resisted, but of course, this was my mother. I would never out and out fight her back and instead appealed to her sense of mercy to at least let me keep my pants up and how sorry I was to say what I said.
Soon my jeans were at my knees and I stood before her in my briefs (boxers not yet being popular at the time) I tried to lay down across her lap and surrender to her, but I felt her pushing me back up as she went for my briefs.
Again, I pleaded, "No mommy, please let me keep my briefs up. I know I deserve to be spanked, just don't pull my underpants down."
That plea also fell on dear ears and soon my underpants joined my jeans and my hairless genitals came into view. I was very aware of how developed I was at that age having noticed the other boys in the locker room when we changed at the swimming pool. Most had at least some hair and looked further along that I did. Of course now that I know what fully developed men look like, I realize we were all still boys back then, but at least they had something. I was still completely small and hairless at the time. There were 2 or 3 other boys my age who looked young and immature and I confess I did try to catch a glimpse of their development, but like me, the were very discreet in changing and employed strategic use of towels so I never got a good look at them. I concluded that the more developed boys were more open about changing so I came to the conclusion that those few other boys were also lacking in their development like me. Nonetheless, I was mortified to have my lagging development on display to my mother. Even though I had heard the doctor mention it to her after my last physical, it was one thing to hear about it, it was another thing to have her see it.
So there I was at 12 (three weeks before my 13th birthday) over my mother's knee being spanked just like I was at 8. It was mortifying, but I got that message. I did not back talk my mother again, at least not until now. Now I was sorry I ever told my wife that story.
I looked at my wife ashamed. It was clear she was going to spank me. By deliberately evoking that memory she was making me feel like I did when I was 12. Back then, I thought I was a man, too big and too cool to listen to my mother. Back then I realized how wrong I was and paid a painful and embarrassing price to that mistake. Today was no different. Today my wife was going to teach me that no matter how old you were, you mother was your mother and if you back talk her, you are never too old to be taken over a knee for a bare bottom spanking. The only difference is it would not be my mother's knee I would be going over, it would be my wife's. The lesson however, would be the same.
To be continued....
Monday, June 16, 2014
A Shot Across the Bow
Hi Everyone, sorry for the delay in posting. I was working on the story that I promised to post about a past spanking, when an incident happened that nearly ended my spank free summer. It upset me very much and frightened me and took me some time to come to grips with it. It has taken me some time to gather the courage to write about it, so for now, the story about my past spanking will have to wait.
It started about a week ago on Friday. I needed to work late which is always a disappointment in the summer, but I have to do what I have to do. The next day, Saturday, I was going to go to some friends house for a boys night out. Sarah was going to come over to our house to pick up my wife and the two of them were going to go out to dinner and a movie. Well I got home that Friday around 10PM and my wife was already in bed. So after unwinding for about an hour I went to bed too.
The next morning I woke up and my wife was already awake. We made small talk and she asked me what time I got it, etc. Now on Friday morning, we had some checks to deposit and I volunteered to take them and deposit them after work. Since I worked late, I did not stop to deposit them.
At one point during our small talk, my wife simply said, "So I assume you did not get the chance to deposit the checks."
Now in 20/20 hindsight, she was simply confirming what she would have expected given the late day I put it. It was not an accusation or a complaint, but for some reason I took it as one and snapped at her. I can't remember exactly what I said, but at some point in my rant I called her a selfish bitch. Yes, I actually lost my temper and called her that. I don't think I ever called her that in my entire life. She immediately stood up and I thought that was it. I thought for sure I was going to get spanked.
As soon as she stood up, my heart started pounding in my chest and my stomach started churning. I felt myself shivering and my penis shriveled in fear. I actually felt my eyes begin to water at the realization of what I just said. The apology started immediately.
"I am sorry honey, I should not have said that. Oh God, please don't spank me. I was just tired after working so late." Tears actually began to stream down my cheeks.
"Are you sorry for what you said, or are you sorry because you don't want a spanking?"
To tell the truth the answer was both. I regret what I said, I did not mean it, but I was so afraid of getting a spanking. Images of myself draped over her lap that dreaded hairbrush striking my bare bottom, the pain, humiliation and the temporary loss of intimacy with her. I started to sob openly.
"I don't know why I said that. I am sorry, I did not mean it." I replied slightly sobbing, "I was just stressed out from working late."
She looked at me as I sat there trembling with fear and then she spoke softly, quietly, "Well, I am glad you are owning up and admitting you were being a jerk. I was only asking you a question and you had no reason to snap at me the way you did, I don't care how stressed you are."
I nodded in acceptance of her scolding, looking down at my feet as I sniffed back trying to control my runny nose and took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I felt like such a little boy at that point and was so ashamed of my outburst.
She placed her hand under my chin and gently lifted my head up forcing me to look at her, "you are learning, but I think you need to be taught a lesson to help you to remember to control your outbursts. My heart skipped a beat and my backside began to tingle in anticipation of the pending spanking, but then she spoke again, "I am not going to spank you this time."
I breathed a sigh of relief, but then she continued. "However, you need to be punished. Strip down to your underpants." she commanded calmly. This confused me. She said she was not going to spank me so I did not understand why I had to get undress.
"Why do I have to take my clothes off?" I asked, half begging.
"To remind you how close you came to getting a spanking this morning."
I figured, OK, I can deal with that so I stood up and started to undress. I got down to my underpants then looked at her, unsure of what to do next. She stood there silent and I felt awkward, not really understanding what I was supposed to do at this point. I nervously shifted from foot to foot, looked around, looked down, feeling really stupid standing there in the kitchen in my underpants.
She picked up my clothes, I half expected her to give them back to me and tell me to get dressed, but instead she said, "OK, you are to stay like that all day until I tell you you may get dressed again."
I was not sure what she meant. Sarah was going to be over at noon to pick her up. I was not sure what she meant by 'all day'. So I asked, "What do you mean by all day?"
She simply replied, "You are to stay in your underpants until I tell you you can get dressed. Is that so hard to understand?"
Her words were clear enough, but I was scared, really scared. Was she planning on keeping me in my underpants until Sarah arrived? Would she let me go upstairs when she arrived or would she force me to greet her in my tighty whities. Would she leave without giving me permission to get dressed leaving me the difficult decision to call and cancel my night out with my friends, or simply get dressed and take a chance on what the consequences would be?
She must have seen all the confusion on my face and simply stated, "You are being punished. This is your punishment. Or would you like a spanking first and then you can spend the day in your underpants?"
Trembling and shaking I simply replied, "No, I don't want a spanking, please don't spank me. I'll do what you say."
"Good." she replied.
So I spent the day in my undies. I felt so humble, so humiliated going about the daily routine, completing chores, watching TV and everything else for a normal Saturday, except I was in my underpants all day. Thanks God it was not lawn mowing day. I don't know how that would have worked and she offered to get the mail.
I kept staring at the clock and as we got closer and closer to noon I started to freak out. Once or twice I asked, "When can I get dressed?"
And every time she simply replied, "When I say so."
When noon came I was starting to panic. She was going to have me in my underwear when Sarah arrived. I started begging, "Please let me get dressed, I learned my lesson. Please honey, let me get dressed."
She simply looked at me and replied, "Not until I say so."
I asked if I could go upstairs and she replied, "No. stay here with me."
I paced, sat up, stood up, sat down, walked around and basically freaked out as I watched the clock tick on past noon.
The doorbell rung. I stood up heart pounding in my chest as my wife moved towards the front door. Tears streaming down my cheek, openly crying. She placed her hand on the door knob and I almost wet myself with fear. She turned around looked at me and said, "Go get dressed, compose yourself then come down and say goodbye to us."
Well I flew up those stairs so fast I think I only touched three of them. I found my clothes lying on the bed and quickly got dressed as I heard my wife open the door and greet Sarah. I went to our master bath and washed my face and removed as much evidence of my recent crying as I could. After I was confident I looked OK, I went down greeted Sarah and said goodbye as they left for their girls night out. As soon as they left, I broke down and cried again. I know it sounds ridiculous but I have never been so scared in my life.
I spent the next few days trying to figure out what just happened. This was a new punishment and I found it worse than a spanking, mostly because I was unsure of what was going to happen. It was clear she wanted me to believe that Sarah was going to see me in my tighty whities, but she spared me that at the last minute. Believing it was going to happen, that she was going to open that door with me in my undies scared me. I kept thinking I should have just gone upstairs, I should have just gotten dressed, but I couldn't I stood there in my underpants and if she had opened the door there was nothing I would have done about it except cry my eyes out. At least if I could have stood there nonchalant, I could have been like, Oops, I did not know we had company, but if I she saw me there crying, I would have looked like such a wimp.
It was a few days later before I became brave enough to ask if I was still going to be allowed to wear boxers at my doctor's visit in October. She replied, "Only if I don't have to spank you between now and then. You came real close the other day. I hope that taught you a lesson you will not soon forget."
I nodded it did and you better believe that I will not forget it. Still, I feel much more vulnerable now that she did this to me. In some ways, I almost wish she chose to spank me. I don't feel like a man at all anymore. Just when I thought things were getting better, now I feel more afraid than ever. If she did this to me, what else will she do to me? Clearly she is not content at making spanking the only punishment I am subjected to.
For those who were waiting on the story of a past spanking, sorry, but this has got me so upset. If I calm down I will try to finish it up and share it.
It started about a week ago on Friday. I needed to work late which is always a disappointment in the summer, but I have to do what I have to do. The next day, Saturday, I was going to go to some friends house for a boys night out. Sarah was going to come over to our house to pick up my wife and the two of them were going to go out to dinner and a movie. Well I got home that Friday around 10PM and my wife was already in bed. So after unwinding for about an hour I went to bed too.
The next morning I woke up and my wife was already awake. We made small talk and she asked me what time I got it, etc. Now on Friday morning, we had some checks to deposit and I volunteered to take them and deposit them after work. Since I worked late, I did not stop to deposit them.
At one point during our small talk, my wife simply said, "So I assume you did not get the chance to deposit the checks."
Now in 20/20 hindsight, she was simply confirming what she would have expected given the late day I put it. It was not an accusation or a complaint, but for some reason I took it as one and snapped at her. I can't remember exactly what I said, but at some point in my rant I called her a selfish bitch. Yes, I actually lost my temper and called her that. I don't think I ever called her that in my entire life. She immediately stood up and I thought that was it. I thought for sure I was going to get spanked.
As soon as she stood up, my heart started pounding in my chest and my stomach started churning. I felt myself shivering and my penis shriveled in fear. I actually felt my eyes begin to water at the realization of what I just said. The apology started immediately.
"I am sorry honey, I should not have said that. Oh God, please don't spank me. I was just tired after working so late." Tears actually began to stream down my cheeks.
"Are you sorry for what you said, or are you sorry because you don't want a spanking?"
To tell the truth the answer was both. I regret what I said, I did not mean it, but I was so afraid of getting a spanking. Images of myself draped over her lap that dreaded hairbrush striking my bare bottom, the pain, humiliation and the temporary loss of intimacy with her. I started to sob openly.
"I don't know why I said that. I am sorry, I did not mean it." I replied slightly sobbing, "I was just stressed out from working late."
She looked at me as I sat there trembling with fear and then she spoke softly, quietly, "Well, I am glad you are owning up and admitting you were being a jerk. I was only asking you a question and you had no reason to snap at me the way you did, I don't care how stressed you are."
I nodded in acceptance of her scolding, looking down at my feet as I sniffed back trying to control my runny nose and took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I felt like such a little boy at that point and was so ashamed of my outburst.
She placed her hand under my chin and gently lifted my head up forcing me to look at her, "you are learning, but I think you need to be taught a lesson to help you to remember to control your outbursts. My heart skipped a beat and my backside began to tingle in anticipation of the pending spanking, but then she spoke again, "I am not going to spank you this time."
I breathed a sigh of relief, but then she continued. "However, you need to be punished. Strip down to your underpants." she commanded calmly. This confused me. She said she was not going to spank me so I did not understand why I had to get undress.
"Why do I have to take my clothes off?" I asked, half begging.
"To remind you how close you came to getting a spanking this morning."
I figured, OK, I can deal with that so I stood up and started to undress. I got down to my underpants then looked at her, unsure of what to do next. She stood there silent and I felt awkward, not really understanding what I was supposed to do at this point. I nervously shifted from foot to foot, looked around, looked down, feeling really stupid standing there in the kitchen in my underpants.
She picked up my clothes, I half expected her to give them back to me and tell me to get dressed, but instead she said, "OK, you are to stay like that all day until I tell you you may get dressed again."
I was not sure what she meant. Sarah was going to be over at noon to pick her up. I was not sure what she meant by 'all day'. So I asked, "What do you mean by all day?"
She simply replied, "You are to stay in your underpants until I tell you you can get dressed. Is that so hard to understand?"
Her words were clear enough, but I was scared, really scared. Was she planning on keeping me in my underpants until Sarah arrived? Would she let me go upstairs when she arrived or would she force me to greet her in my tighty whities. Would she leave without giving me permission to get dressed leaving me the difficult decision to call and cancel my night out with my friends, or simply get dressed and take a chance on what the consequences would be?
She must have seen all the confusion on my face and simply stated, "You are being punished. This is your punishment. Or would you like a spanking first and then you can spend the day in your underpants?"
Trembling and shaking I simply replied, "No, I don't want a spanking, please don't spank me. I'll do what you say."
"Good." she replied.
So I spent the day in my undies. I felt so humble, so humiliated going about the daily routine, completing chores, watching TV and everything else for a normal Saturday, except I was in my underpants all day. Thanks God it was not lawn mowing day. I don't know how that would have worked and she offered to get the mail.
I kept staring at the clock and as we got closer and closer to noon I started to freak out. Once or twice I asked, "When can I get dressed?"
And every time she simply replied, "When I say so."
When noon came I was starting to panic. She was going to have me in my underwear when Sarah arrived. I started begging, "Please let me get dressed, I learned my lesson. Please honey, let me get dressed."
She simply looked at me and replied, "Not until I say so."
I asked if I could go upstairs and she replied, "No. stay here with me."
I paced, sat up, stood up, sat down, walked around and basically freaked out as I watched the clock tick on past noon.
The doorbell rung. I stood up heart pounding in my chest as my wife moved towards the front door. Tears streaming down my cheek, openly crying. She placed her hand on the door knob and I almost wet myself with fear. She turned around looked at me and said, "Go get dressed, compose yourself then come down and say goodbye to us."
Well I flew up those stairs so fast I think I only touched three of them. I found my clothes lying on the bed and quickly got dressed as I heard my wife open the door and greet Sarah. I went to our master bath and washed my face and removed as much evidence of my recent crying as I could. After I was confident I looked OK, I went down greeted Sarah and said goodbye as they left for their girls night out. As soon as they left, I broke down and cried again. I know it sounds ridiculous but I have never been so scared in my life.
I spent the next few days trying to figure out what just happened. This was a new punishment and I found it worse than a spanking, mostly because I was unsure of what was going to happen. It was clear she wanted me to believe that Sarah was going to see me in my tighty whities, but she spared me that at the last minute. Believing it was going to happen, that she was going to open that door with me in my undies scared me. I kept thinking I should have just gone upstairs, I should have just gotten dressed, but I couldn't I stood there in my underpants and if she had opened the door there was nothing I would have done about it except cry my eyes out. At least if I could have stood there nonchalant, I could have been like, Oops, I did not know we had company, but if I she saw me there crying, I would have looked like such a wimp.
It was a few days later before I became brave enough to ask if I was still going to be allowed to wear boxers at my doctor's visit in October. She replied, "Only if I don't have to spank you between now and then. You came real close the other day. I hope that taught you a lesson you will not soon forget."
I nodded it did and you better believe that I will not forget it. Still, I feel much more vulnerable now that she did this to me. In some ways, I almost wish she chose to spank me. I don't feel like a man at all anymore. Just when I thought things were getting better, now I feel more afraid than ever. If she did this to me, what else will she do to me? Clearly she is not content at making spanking the only punishment I am subjected to.
For those who were waiting on the story of a past spanking, sorry, but this has got me so upset. If I calm down I will try to finish it up and share it.
Tuesday, June 3, 2014
Off To A Promising Summer
Well, I received several comments asking me how the weekend went. For anyone hoping to read about how I had my pants and briefs pulled down and got spanked in front of all my guests, sorry it did not happen. There were a lot of guests there and Sarah and I hardly spoke or even saw each other so all and all it was an uneventful BBQ. Well, I would not say it was uneventful, we did have good food and good company. Afterwards my wife and I collapsed on the couch, but decided that the cleanup could wait until morning so we went up stairs and "got intimate" with each other. I am sure that would not have happened if I got spanked public or private, so a great start to what I hope will be a spank free summer.
Now, for those of you who enjoy hearing about me getting spanked, I will be happy to relate another story. This particular one involved me having a fight with my mother. I know the stereotype is for me to have a fight with my mother-in-law, but to be honest I like her better than my mother. Now don't get me wrong, I love my mother, but she can be such a well, mother sometimes. Anyway, my wife taught me a painful lesson that my mother may be a pain in the butt, but, she is still my mother and if I fail to show her the respect she deserved my wife will tan my backside just like she used to when I was a child. So my mother may think I am too old to be spanked, but my wife doesn't. Give my a few days to write the details out properly and I will share the story as soon as I think it is ready.
Now, for those of you who enjoy hearing about me getting spanked, I will be happy to relate another story. This particular one involved me having a fight with my mother. I know the stereotype is for me to have a fight with my mother-in-law, but to be honest I like her better than my mother. Now don't get me wrong, I love my mother, but she can be such a well, mother sometimes. Anyway, my wife taught me a painful lesson that my mother may be a pain in the butt, but, she is still my mother and if I fail to show her the respect she deserved my wife will tan my backside just like she used to when I was a child. So my mother may think I am too old to be spanked, but my wife doesn't. Give my a few days to write the details out properly and I will share the story as soon as I think it is ready.
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