Sorry for the delay in posting the second part of this. We took some vacation time and then it took a while to catch up on everything.
Anyway read Part 1 if you forgot where I left off.
So I stood there with the thoughts of how my mother had spanked me at 12 flooding through my memory while my wife admonished me for yelling at my mother and throwing her out of the house. Since this was not my first spanking from my wife, I knew she was planning to spank me at that time. A part of me wanted to beg her not to spank me, but every time the thought of begging for a reprieve came into my head so did the memory of me standing before my mother begging when I was 12 and the pain of that memory prevented me from making a similar plea to my wife.
She turned and left me standing there in the living room and I knew she was going for the hairbrush and my heart began to pound in my head. I was conflicted as the thoughts of both my mother and my wife played out in my mind, memories of my childhood and the feeling of absolute obedience a child must give to his mother mixing with the reluctant submital to my wife.
She returned with the hairbrush and I began trembling with fear the moment I saw it. She stood before me with a look of disappointment on her face.
Again she reminded me, "If you were 12 and spoke to your mother that way you would of had your bottom bared and spanked by her."
She paused letting the words sink in, again the memory of humiliating spanking I received at 12 haunting my thoughts confusing the past with the present. At 12, I was a child I was dependent on my mother and she had the responsibility to insure that I was raised in a safe and healthy environment, but she also had the responsibility to insure I became a respectful and moral member of society. While spanking may be a controversial method of discipline today, it was certainly an expected method of discipline when I was 12. My mother was neither cruel or inhumane, she simply saw this as her duty. She could not allow how 12 year old son to get away with feeling he could address his mother in that manner and no begging or pleading was going to save me from her doing her duty.
I stared at my wife as she reminded me of those events so long ago, yet feeling like they just happened. I was not a 12 year old boy anymore and she was not my mother. Even my mother had to yield her authority as I was no longer a child but a man. Good, bad or indifferent, her task was completed and all she could do was sit back and hope that she was successful in making me a good and honorable man. My spanking days should be over, but as I stared at my wife, I realized that any flaw in my character that my mother had failed to correct my wife was now going to take on.
She continued, "I am so embarrassed by what you did."
She was embarrassed? Who is the one who is about to be spanked like a 12 year old? Why is she embarrassed, I thought.
"I can't believe anyone would treat their mother that way. Right or wrong, she is still your mother and no matter what she says or does, she deserves your total respect."
Deep down she was right of course. I am sure we could have found a better way to address our disagreement, but my mother can be so pushy and thought it would be best if I just laid down the law and established that I was no longer a child and she should show me the respect I deserved. I was an adult after all. Then how come I didn't feel like an adult at that moment?
"Anyway," my wife spoke interrupting my thoughts, "since you act like a 12 year old, you will be treated like a 12 year old. Pull down your pants."
The words shocked me, even though I knew they were coming. There should have been no surprise, but hearing the words sent a shiver through my body anyway. I looked down ashamed at myself. Ashamed for the way I treated my mother, ashamed for allowing my wife to treat me like this, ashamed for not being a man and as I reached for the buttons on my jeans ashamed that I was once again going to pull my pants down and let me wife spank me like I was still a 12 year old boy. I slowly slid the jeans down to my knees trying to push the thoughts of my childhood spanking out of my head I was becoming uncomfortable with the comparison of my present situation with the past.
"Underpants too." she added when she saw I was standing their with my briefs still on.
Again I slowly lowered my briefs to join my jeans. I looked down at my pathetic looking penis all shriveled up with fear and embarrassment and in some ways was it helped to push the childhood memories from my mind. At last a reminder that I was indeed a man. My penis may have been small, but the surrounding manly pubic hair was a stark contrast to the hairless little boy of my memories. I concentrated on how I looked to help keep me focused on the present, as embarrassing as that was.
My wife sat down on the couch then order me, "Over my knee"
I complied focusing on her voice, her look, her smell as I continued to concentrate on my body and reassure myself I was a man. In spite of how this may look and feel, I kept telling myself, I am not a boy going over my mother's knee I am a man going over my wife's. Yes I am being spanked, but I am being spanked by my wife. Only men have wives, so therefore I am a man.
I kept repeating this mantra the whole time I was being spanked and while I felt every blow that landed on my backside, I did manage to keep my emotions in control and even though my bottom was really stinging by the time she was done, I did manage to stop myself from crying and the watery eyes were more a result from squeezing my eyes then they were from an emotional buildup.
My wife allowed me to get up and get dressed. The next morning I apologized to my mother and invited her back over for dinner the following weekend. Dinner was pleasant and I again apologized to my mother and she apologized to me for being so pushy. All in all, it ended well for everyone.
The only thing. At one point during dinner when we were all apologizing to each other, my wife looked at my mother and said, "You have a good man in you son Mrs. XXXX. You must have done a good job of raising him when he was a little boy."
My mother looked at me and smiled. I wonder if she could see me blushing?
Saturday, July 19, 2014
Monday, June 30, 2014
Dazed and Confussed
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.
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.
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.
Sunday, May 25, 2014
Memorial Day Weekend
Hi, just thought I would drop a quick note. So far, my bottom has remained spank free and I really think that in spite of all the naysayers, the threat of being spanked in front of Sarah and the promise of being allowed to wear boxers (at least for my next physical) has provided the right motivation to change my behavior once and for all. Oh sure, I make mistakes, but like I said, my wife is not looking for any excuse to spank me as I have given her plenty of those. No I think I figured out that I get spanked for failing to acknowledge, self-correct and accept responsibility for those mistakes.
Tomorrow is Memorial Day here in the US and while we are all supposed to be remembering our fallen veterans, for most of us it is a day of BBQ and picnics. We are hosting a BBQ at our house and there will be many guests here for the day, including Sarah. While I am really not worried, it did get me thinking. What if I was stupid enough to be rude and disrespectful to Sarah while all the other guests were here?
Again, not really worried, but nonetheless, the thought did cross my mind. I had a little trouble sleeping as I thought of this. Would she spank me in front of the other guests? Probably not. Would she wait until everyone else left, ask Sarah to stay behind and spank me then? Would she take me and Sarah up to our bedroom and do it? Or would she just have to spank me in private after everyone had left? Again, its not going to happen, but if I was stupid enough to screw up I wonder what she would do?
Tomorrow is Memorial Day here in the US and while we are all supposed to be remembering our fallen veterans, for most of us it is a day of BBQ and picnics. We are hosting a BBQ at our house and there will be many guests here for the day, including Sarah. While I am really not worried, it did get me thinking. What if I was stupid enough to be rude and disrespectful to Sarah while all the other guests were here?
Again, not really worried, but nonetheless, the thought did cross my mind. I had a little trouble sleeping as I thought of this. Would she spank me in front of the other guests? Probably not. Would she wait until everyone else left, ask Sarah to stay behind and spank me then? Would she take me and Sarah up to our bedroom and do it? Or would she just have to spank me in private after everyone had left? Again, its not going to happen, but if I was stupid enough to screw up I wonder what she would do?
Sunday, May 4, 2014
Boxes and Boxers
Well the weather here is finally getting warm and we decided to clean the garage out in preparation for our town's semi-annual junk pickup day. We were sorting though all the boxes and junk that got stashed there over the winter and piling up all the things we wanted to throw out in front of the garage.
At one point, my wife had collected a few tools that I had purchased over the winter and was about to put them into my tool box for me when a sudden thought occurred to me. If you have been reading all along you may recall my post "The Doctor Will See you Now" October 2013 where I purchased boxers to wear to my annual physical instead of the briefs my wife insisted I wear. Well, I had hidden them at the bottom of my toolbox.
I panicked. and said, "Oh just leave the tools there and I will put them in later."
"Well, I want them out of the way, so if you want to put them in yourself come do it now." She apparently assumed I was just being fussy about the way I laid my tools out and not that I was hiding anything in my toolbox.
She stood there holding the tools out to me and I walked over and took them and with as innocent voice as I could muster simply said, "Thanks, I will put them away now."
She replied, "OK, thanks." and moved off to work on the rest of the junk.
Boy that was close. I was shaking a little as I opened the toolbox and lifted the upper tray. There were the boxers sitting on the bottom of the tool box. There were two pairs, the ones I wore to my physical and a brand new pair that was part of the 2-pack of boxers I bought. I figured I would wear the second pair to this years physical then figure out how to wash them someday while she was out of the house. I placed the tools in the bottom of the box and pretended to arrange them in a specific manner to keep up the appearance that it was the reason for me wanting to put the tools away. I looked over and she was coming towards me with a screwdriver that I had apparently left out from an earlier repair. She started walking towards me.
I quickly started putting the upper tray into the box when in my rush and panic, I knocked the tool box off the edge of the bench spilling it contents, boxers and all onto the floor. My wife bent over to help. I quickly grabbed the boxers and a few tools and tried to act like they were just some rags I used to wipe things down, but she clearly saw what they were and asked,
"Why are there boxer shorts in your tool box?"
"Oh, these are old ones I use as rags.", I lied.
"Are you sure, they look brand new." She reached out and touched them. "These are brand new. Why are there brand new boxers in your tool box. Don't lie to me now."
I was caught, so I told the truth about how I bought them and wore them to my last doctor's appointment.
"Honestly, I thought we settled this. Sometime you worry about the silliest things. What is the big deal about wearing briefs to the doctor. I wear my plain white panties. Besides, doesn't the doctor make you take everything off and give you a gown?"
"No, I have to strip to my underwear and then put on a gown." I replied.
"So what is the big deal then. You have a gown on."
"Yes, but they will know I am wearing briefs."
"So the same doctor who will see your penis and testicles, your embarrassed about seeing you in briefs. I don't get it?"
"Well, actually, the doctor doesn't check my penis and testicles." I confessed, not sure why.
"So your in a gown, he doesn't check your genitals, but he takes the time to examine and comment on your choice of underpants?"
I knew she wouldn't understand. "No that's not it"
"OK, I am curious now. What is your physical exam like?", she asked.
"Well, the nurse brings me to the room and asks me to remove all my clothes except for my underpants and put on the gown opening to the front. She then leaves and I get undressed and put the gown on opening to the front."
"Opening to the front?", she asked.
"Yes. Opening to the front. She then come back in and checks my weight, height, blood pressure, pulse and temperature. She then asks me to lie down on the table opens up the gown and connects up EKG leads to me and runs a quick EKG. She then takes the print out places it with my chart and tells me the doctor will be in shortly. I then sit there waiting. The doctor finally comes in does all the usual stuff, pokes my stomach and stuff, declares me healthy, tells me to get dressed and leaves."
"So is this why you want to wear boxers? When the nurse does the EKG you don't want her seeing you in briefs?"
"Well, that's one reason."
"And the other? It doesn't even sound like the doctor checks any of you private parts anyway. I doubt he is noticing your underpants."
"Well, most men wear boxers these days. I don't want to look like a nerd in front of the doctor."
"You are being absolutely ridiculous about this whole thing. The nurse is a professional. She is more concerned with your blood pressure and EKG then she is with your underpants. And bi dgeal. She sees you in boxers or briefs, whats the big deal?"
"Well boxers are like shorts, I feel like I am still somewhat dressed. Briefs reveal your, well," I hesitated looking for a polite word, "you know, bulge."
She laughed really hard at that one. Was she implying I didn't have a bulge?
"Oh my poor hubby, so insecure, so self conscience. Thinks everyone is interested in his underpants." She picked up the boxers and asked, "how much did these cost?"
"They were $14 for the pair."
"What?", she exclaimed, "I could by 14 pairs of briefs for that. Then you wonder why I think this whole boxer thing is so silly."
I was worried, was she building up to an excuse to spank me?
"Where did the money for these come from?"
"It was cash I had for the week. I must have just given up lunch or something." I replied not really sure where the money came from.
"You feel that strongly about not wearing briefs to your physical exam then?"
I quietly nodded not sure where this was heading. She looked at me then at the boxers. "Did you wash the pair you wore?"
I looked at my feet in shame and nodded no. That was it I was sure she was going to spank me for this. The garage was strangely quiet.
"Well," She said finally. "I tell you what. Since you feel so strongly about wearing boxers to the doctor here is the deal I am going to make with you. First, these need to be washed so put them with the white load and I will wash them with your briefs. When they come out I will put them away and you will continue to wear briefs as your daily underwear. Second, I am not sure where the money came from so you need to give up something from this month for $14. Tell me what you are giving up to pay for these. Finally," She paused again for dramatic effect. "I have been trying to get you to change your behavior and have threatened to spank you for your bad behavior. So far you have been good and I have been pleased with what I have seen. I want that to continue. Lets add a reward to help offset the threat of punishment. Your next physical is in October. If you can go until then without me having to spank you, then you may wear your boxers to the physical."
I breathed a sigh of relief. See I told you she was reasonable and not looking for the slightest excuse to spank me and here she was agreeing to let me at least wear boxers for my doctor's appointment.
"But," see there is always a but, "that appointment is still a long way away. If I see a return of your childish behavior and I need to spank you before then, you will be wearing briefs to your physical. I will even drive you there and make sure you are wearing your briefs."
Another challenge. I was actually starting to feel good about myself. OK, so there was still the threat of a spanking and still the threat of being spanked in front of her friend and now the incentive to be able to wear boxers to my next appointment and not have to hide it from her. This was starting to become an all or nothing deal. I would either remain spank free until October and openly wear boxers to my next appointment. Perhaps this would even lead to wearing boxers full time. Of course there was also the possibility that I would screw up and not only would I get spanked, possibly in front of her friend, she would also make sure I had to wear my tighty whities to my next physical.
I have to admit, I could tolerate a private spanking from her more that I can deal with wearing my tighty whities to the doctors. She may have given me just the incentive I need to change my behavior once and for all.
At one point, my wife had collected a few tools that I had purchased over the winter and was about to put them into my tool box for me when a sudden thought occurred to me. If you have been reading all along you may recall my post "The Doctor Will See you Now" October 2013 where I purchased boxers to wear to my annual physical instead of the briefs my wife insisted I wear. Well, I had hidden them at the bottom of my toolbox.
I panicked. and said, "Oh just leave the tools there and I will put them in later."
"Well, I want them out of the way, so if you want to put them in yourself come do it now." She apparently assumed I was just being fussy about the way I laid my tools out and not that I was hiding anything in my toolbox.
She stood there holding the tools out to me and I walked over and took them and with as innocent voice as I could muster simply said, "Thanks, I will put them away now."
She replied, "OK, thanks." and moved off to work on the rest of the junk.
Boy that was close. I was shaking a little as I opened the toolbox and lifted the upper tray. There were the boxers sitting on the bottom of the tool box. There were two pairs, the ones I wore to my physical and a brand new pair that was part of the 2-pack of boxers I bought. I figured I would wear the second pair to this years physical then figure out how to wash them someday while she was out of the house. I placed the tools in the bottom of the box and pretended to arrange them in a specific manner to keep up the appearance that it was the reason for me wanting to put the tools away. I looked over and she was coming towards me with a screwdriver that I had apparently left out from an earlier repair. She started walking towards me.
I quickly started putting the upper tray into the box when in my rush and panic, I knocked the tool box off the edge of the bench spilling it contents, boxers and all onto the floor. My wife bent over to help. I quickly grabbed the boxers and a few tools and tried to act like they were just some rags I used to wipe things down, but she clearly saw what they were and asked,
"Why are there boxer shorts in your tool box?"
"Oh, these are old ones I use as rags.", I lied.
"Are you sure, they look brand new." She reached out and touched them. "These are brand new. Why are there brand new boxers in your tool box. Don't lie to me now."
I was caught, so I told the truth about how I bought them and wore them to my last doctor's appointment.
"Honestly, I thought we settled this. Sometime you worry about the silliest things. What is the big deal about wearing briefs to the doctor. I wear my plain white panties. Besides, doesn't the doctor make you take everything off and give you a gown?"
"No, I have to strip to my underwear and then put on a gown." I replied.
"So what is the big deal then. You have a gown on."
"Yes, but they will know I am wearing briefs."
"So the same doctor who will see your penis and testicles, your embarrassed about seeing you in briefs. I don't get it?"
"Well, actually, the doctor doesn't check my penis and testicles." I confessed, not sure why.
"So your in a gown, he doesn't check your genitals, but he takes the time to examine and comment on your choice of underpants?"
I knew she wouldn't understand. "No that's not it"
"OK, I am curious now. What is your physical exam like?", she asked.
"Well, the nurse brings me to the room and asks me to remove all my clothes except for my underpants and put on the gown opening to the front. She then leaves and I get undressed and put the gown on opening to the front."
"Opening to the front?", she asked.
"Yes. Opening to the front. She then come back in and checks my weight, height, blood pressure, pulse and temperature. She then asks me to lie down on the table opens up the gown and connects up EKG leads to me and runs a quick EKG. She then takes the print out places it with my chart and tells me the doctor will be in shortly. I then sit there waiting. The doctor finally comes in does all the usual stuff, pokes my stomach and stuff, declares me healthy, tells me to get dressed and leaves."
"So is this why you want to wear boxers? When the nurse does the EKG you don't want her seeing you in briefs?"
"Well, that's one reason."
"And the other? It doesn't even sound like the doctor checks any of you private parts anyway. I doubt he is noticing your underpants."
"Well, most men wear boxers these days. I don't want to look like a nerd in front of the doctor."
"You are being absolutely ridiculous about this whole thing. The nurse is a professional. She is more concerned with your blood pressure and EKG then she is with your underpants. And bi dgeal. She sees you in boxers or briefs, whats the big deal?"
"Well boxers are like shorts, I feel like I am still somewhat dressed. Briefs reveal your, well," I hesitated looking for a polite word, "you know, bulge."
She laughed really hard at that one. Was she implying I didn't have a bulge?
"Oh my poor hubby, so insecure, so self conscience. Thinks everyone is interested in his underpants." She picked up the boxers and asked, "how much did these cost?"
"They were $14 for the pair."
"What?", she exclaimed, "I could by 14 pairs of briefs for that. Then you wonder why I think this whole boxer thing is so silly."
I was worried, was she building up to an excuse to spank me?
"Where did the money for these come from?"
"It was cash I had for the week. I must have just given up lunch or something." I replied not really sure where the money came from.
"You feel that strongly about not wearing briefs to your physical exam then?"
I quietly nodded not sure where this was heading. She looked at me then at the boxers. "Did you wash the pair you wore?"
I looked at my feet in shame and nodded no. That was it I was sure she was going to spank me for this. The garage was strangely quiet.
"Well," She said finally. "I tell you what. Since you feel so strongly about wearing boxers to the doctor here is the deal I am going to make with you. First, these need to be washed so put them with the white load and I will wash them with your briefs. When they come out I will put them away and you will continue to wear briefs as your daily underwear. Second, I am not sure where the money came from so you need to give up something from this month for $14. Tell me what you are giving up to pay for these. Finally," She paused again for dramatic effect. "I have been trying to get you to change your behavior and have threatened to spank you for your bad behavior. So far you have been good and I have been pleased with what I have seen. I want that to continue. Lets add a reward to help offset the threat of punishment. Your next physical is in October. If you can go until then without me having to spank you, then you may wear your boxers to the physical."
I breathed a sigh of relief. See I told you she was reasonable and not looking for the slightest excuse to spank me and here she was agreeing to let me at least wear boxers for my doctor's appointment.
"But," see there is always a but, "that appointment is still a long way away. If I see a return of your childish behavior and I need to spank you before then, you will be wearing briefs to your physical. I will even drive you there and make sure you are wearing your briefs."
Another challenge. I was actually starting to feel good about myself. OK, so there was still the threat of a spanking and still the threat of being spanked in front of her friend and now the incentive to be able to wear boxers to my next appointment and not have to hide it from her. This was starting to become an all or nothing deal. I would either remain spank free until October and openly wear boxers to my next appointment. Perhaps this would even lead to wearing boxers full time. Of course there was also the possibility that I would screw up and not only would I get spanked, possibly in front of her friend, she would also make sure I had to wear my tighty whities to my next physical.
I have to admit, I could tolerate a private spanking from her more that I can deal with wearing my tighty whities to the doctors. She may have given me just the incentive I need to change my behavior once and for all.
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