Then that's when the stupidest thing happened. He chose to argue with me about something so dumb, making me roll my eyes at him not once, but twice.
I had to raise my voice, and even said whatever, so he would just leave me alone.
I had stomped upstairs to grab my phone and my book (for the aforementioned bath) when I heard the strangest thing... I heard the man tell my son to go on out to the van (Which was right after he said: Okay—the code word for It's on now, girlfriend.) and then I heard him on the stairs. (No, I wasn't hiding there in the hallway to see if he was following me.) But, he was—and I knew why he was coming.
I tried to talk him out of it, believe me!
The timing was all wrong.
It had been such a nice evening.
My nice hot bath was just waiting for me.
He couldn't just leave my son, waiting in the van while he spanked me! Who does that sort of thing?
And what about my bath? It would be ruined. I wouldn't be able to put my burning booty in the boiling water after he lit it on fire, right?
Did he care at all?
Nope. His response, "You should have thought of all that before."
My shorts were unbuttoned and yanked down and I was flipped over his lap before I could think of anything else. The air left my chest with a grunt as I came down over his knees.
I pushed off the floor with my hands in front of me as if I could get away. He started whaling on my hiney immediately.
"No, stop. Please," I cried out, but it didn't slow him in the least. I clenched my butt and tried to wiggle away.
"You know that I don't like it when you roll your eyes. It's disrespectful as much as the talking back is. I'm tired of trying to be reasonable."
"Let me go. Ow. Stop… you're being a jerk. Owie."
I started wishing I had not pushed him so far, my bottom was sizzling. Using my hands, positioned on the floor in front of me, I tried again to crawl or drag myself away from his lap. The struggling hardly even earned me a break in the pattern of swats as he tugged me tighter to his side and kept on swinging.
"The more you fight the longer this will take," he said, bringing his hand down really hard to emphasize the words he spoke.
I didn't think I could take it anymore. I had to have a break. I was sobbing by then, but his hand kept falling even after his sentence had stopped.
"Please…" I managed to cry out as I threw my hand back to block my abused posterior. I was grateful when it momentarily stopped the barrage, and I was relieved—for a second anyway.
He allowed my hand to stay there and actually paused in swinging, but when he spoke again, his hand came down again in an altogether new location.
"That's fine. If you don't want me to spank you there, on your bottom anymore, I'll just take care of the tops of your thighs now."
I quickly pulled my hand back to the front of me and held on to his pant leg for dear life. It was sad, but a relief of sorts when his hand fell on my tortured butt-cheeks again.
"Stop, please! Stop—Owie," I sobbed. "Please, I… can't take anymore." I thought it would never end. His hand kept right on falling heavily.
"You know why you are getting spanked." He finally slowed.
It took me a minute to focus. "I don't know!" I snapped at him.
"Okay," he said and started smacking again.
"Wait," I cried, "I know..."
He waited, perhaps giving me time to think. "You do know. I know you do—and you know what it will take to stop the spanking."
I know. I know. Okay. He was right. I knew, but was still hesitant to admit defeat. He has this silly thing about getting an apology—and I have this stubborn thing with not apologizing. I can apologize to anyone, but him.
And he was not going to let me off easily. The next swat fell, startling me with its deep sting.
"What are you showing me or telling me when you roll your eyes at me?" Another swat fell, slower than the previous onslaught, but not with any less strength behind it.
"I don't know… I'm crabby, defiant."
"That's close, the term for that?"
Now we were having a conversation and I was still resting across his lap. He had his arms resting, rather casually, across my lower back.
"Oh, come on… Just let me up." I pushed my feet off the floor and my hands against his thighs, trying to stand. His left arm quickly snaked around my torso, cinching me tight against his side once more, before his right hand slapped down on my sweltering backside.
"We are not done."
"Ow!"
"Disrespect. That is what it is when you roll your eyes, say whatever or interrupt me. Just another way to say F-you. You know what I want now." His hand rested against my flaming backside, letting me know that he would happily continue.
And he did. Slowly. One hard, teeth-jarring swat after the next, giving me plenty of time to decide if it was worth continuing my stubborn resistance.
It was actually harder to not speak the words. I'd clamped my teeth together and refused to say the words I knew he wanted.
Until, finally, the realization that it wouldn't cost me anything to say the words he wanted. It cost more to be stubborn and force him to keep going. As he liked to remind me, writing a check my ass couldn't afford to pay.
"I'm sorry," I said in a soft puff against his leg, of which I was still clinging to. I was about to try to spit it out louder in case he hadn't heard, but he had.
He adjusted us so that I could kneel, once again upright, in front of him on the bench at the foot of our bed. He hugged me and as usual, I cried in his arms then, after it was done, instead of during.
Once he was assured I was fine, he hurried out to the van, (Thankfully, he remembered my son was out there because I sure didn't.)
I was left there, cupping my cheeks, rubbing gently, trying to dispel the heat and contemplating the bath I had waiting for me.
So, what's a girl to do?
Wait for things to cool down...
Be thankful he still went to get my Mcflurry?
Get online and vent to my chicas.
Go take my bath when it cools down?
Nope! By the time I decided to go ahead with my bath, he had drained it.
Why? Your guess is as good as mine. He said he had asked if I was still going to take it and I said no...
I don't think I said that, but my water was gone.
Does the man not know that bath time is sacred? It should be considered a sanctuary.
At no time up to an hour before, during or after, said Sacred Bath Time—shall spanking occur.
If HOH fails to observe Sacred Bath Time Sanctuary rules, he himself shall have an area of the lower back, buttocks and upper thighs waxed, scrubbed with a pumice, and soaked in 104 degree hot tub.
If said HOH shows any signs of irritation, soothe the area with cooling Vick's vapor rub.
If for some reason HOH has sensitive skin or has an adverse reaction—try Bengay.
Patty Devlin
“I have always loved to write, and daydream, of course. It just comes naturally to me. I love to read. I devour books. Sadly, I had a hard time finding the good books, the ones that had sexy, dominant men in them. The ones where the men weren't afraid to spank a girl if she deserved a few well-earned swats. The books that had those scenes were very few and far between.
My books are romance - and they are fun and naughty but you won't find any full sex scenes. (Just enough teasers). However, there are plenty of spankings all the way through and great characters that keep you turning the pages.”
http://www.pattydevlin.com
Don’t miss these exciting titles by Patty Devlin and Blushing Books!
The Chicagoan Switch
Mail Order Switch
Tyler's Wife
Tyler's Resolution
No Choices Left
Harder Choices
Tough Choice
Christmas Joy
The Naughty List (Christmas Box Set)
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br /> Lovely Little Liar
The Lawman’s Lessons
Twenty-Dollar Soup and a Red Hot Bun by Sir John Hayse
Hello lovelies! SJ here! When I was asked to relate a special moment in my spanking history, I really had to wonder—what haven't I shared? And then I thought of it.
'Twenty dolla' soup. Of course, it makes no sense without the context so let me explain.
This '$20 soup' is about our first session (and real date), and the time that I knew I had a subby for life (even though she was ready to run like the wind once we were through).
Just a brief background. Bree and I met at one of my gigs where she used the clever (yet not original), Do I know you from somewhere? line.
Now, given Bree's 'Mensa-mind' and scary ability to remember almost anything, I soon learned that it was not a pickup line but an actual question. A question that was not answered until one year later. It was intriguing, though. This short, adorable red-head with a cheesy smile was alluring and led to my asking for her number and email. That night was the beginning of where this story is heading.
We began to talk. Every night when I got off my gig, she was waiting for my call. We spoke for hours so, needless to say, the subject of D&S arose. Neither of us knew the other's 'kinks' yet, so when I scolded her for being sassy (hard to believe, but our little Breanna has a smart mouth to match her brain), she responded with the typical subby response.
Yea? So what are you going to do about it?
Imagine the scenario of the heavens opening wide and the gleaming of light reflecting off of a red bottom. Yes! When I heard those words, I knew she was the one! You also know exactly what I told her—including my intent for when I had a break from my Vegas gig. We both agreed that it was time to meet as Dom and Sub and we set a place and date for our one month 'meetaversary'—January 29th at the Chinese restaurant outside of my hotel.
I don't typically get excited when meeting a sub for a first session, but this time I knew it would be different. Not because of her experience, or the fact that she was the cutest thing (with a very spankable bottom), but because we had a connection that I had not experienced before. I took my time to get ready and dressed in solid black, head to toe, including my rocker/goth black hair and a goatee. I wanted to make a memorable impression in her heart (not just her bottom!)
The sun was setting when I crossed the parking lot to the restaurant. She was waiting inside, on time, and sitting on a bench dressed in the biggest, dark red furry coat I have ever seen! The poor girl looked like she had climbed inside a wookie with only these two big, blue eyes and a freckled nose peeking out from the furry covering. I don't know if she was scared, awed or just cold—but damn, my heart pattered for her. I hugged her tightly and felt her shaking like a little furry leaf, then took her hand and led her to a table. She was silent (major miracle for anyone who knows her) with only this tiny little yes, sir to my question asking if I could take her coat and gently reminded her that she could not hide under furry armor forever. That was when she made the first subby move.
She rolled her eyes.
We both ordered a bowl of soup and started talking. She was nervous, I was intense and even though we discussed the subject for endless hours on the phone, it was so different when we were able to look at each other in the eye. By the time we finished the soup, our conversation was over and it was time to follow through. There were three things in her book, and one of the transgressions was severe, so I offered her an escape. Trust is not built by being pushy or forceful, and I needed to assure her that if she was not ready that it was okay.
Before she has a chance to answer, I was given the bill. Twenty dollars for two cups of miso soup! As I tried to haggle out this problem with the waiter, Bree lost it. I mean, this girl fell into hysterical laughter (snorting included) and could not stop. The snorting brought me AND the waiter to laughing and broke the ice between us. It also was enough to get the waiter to fix the tab to $5.00.
"I wanted to the give you a chance to escape if you aren't ready for this," I said, holding her hand as we walked together across the parking lot to my hotel.
"No, sir. I want to do this. In fact, I need to do this before I chicken out," she said nervously.
"Why are you so scared?" I asked her. "You were a Marine, right?"
There went the eyeball rolls again! "Hell, yeah, I was a Marine, but that doesn't mean I'm not a chicken shit."
Unbelievable. The girl is about to meet the hard side of a paddle for several transgressions, including swearing, and she pops off with two AND a 'yeah'. I guess I was surprised to see how anxious she was. Our Bree is quite the hard-talker when not within arm (or paddles) reach, I'll have you know, so her nervousness was an endearing surprise.
When we got into my room, I turned on the TV nice and loud, which immediately provoked a typical 'Bree' response. Hands on the hips and a frown—both which were very comical since she was still wearing her wookie coat.
"Seriously? You are not going to be watching TV when I'm here."
I laughed. I mean, I LAUGHED. Here she was, all 5'0 tall, giving me the eye and trying to direct our time together. Sorry, little girl, but not on my shift!
"Let's try this again, young lady. Hands off the hips, look off the face and reword your statement."
Bree is brave—but not stupid. She wrinkled her nose. "Reword it how? Like why did you turn the TV on the second we walked in? Sorry, but that's a little rude, don't you think?"
"I don't want anyone hearing you yell. I thought I was being rather considerate of you and the other guests. Now let's get the coat off and you can take a seat while I look at your book." She groaned, but obeyed. I could feel her eyes on me as I walked back and forth across the room.
"My, my," I said cheerfully, "What have we here? Sassing me on the phone, procrastinating about paying your bills, and speeding. I don't see swearing on here."
"That's because I didn't."
"No? Didn't I hear you cussing just a few minutes ago?"
"Damn," she grumbled, crossing her arms. "You know, you never really specified anything about that. I also demand the opportunity to plead my case."
"You may ask for permission to plead your case, but no promises that I'll give it to you," I responded, trying not to laugh at the look on her face. One word—weasel! "You've been able to talk yourself out of a lot of situations, haven't you?"
She nodded.
"Including speeding tickets?"
She nodded again.
"Why not this one?"
"The cop was a woman. I wasn't even going that fast. I had a patient to see and…"
"How late were you for that appointment because you were stopped?"
"I make my own hours."
"Then why were you in a hurry?" BUSTED! Have you ever seen a fish open and close its mouth? Yup, that was our Bree! "I think the time for pleading your case is over and is going to be replaced with a different kind of pleading. Did you wear what I told you to? Show me."
Whimpering, she raised her skirt and displayed a pair of sheer blank panties and black nylons held up with a garter belt. She followed the twirling on my fingers to circle around and show me a bottom that was crying out to be spanked. Okay, I admit that I was a little aroused, and had to remind myself she was my sub, and this was not a date.
"Very good. All right, let's get to it. Bring me that chair from the desk."
I swear that she eyed the door and then her furry jacket, probably analyzing if she could snatch it up and race out of the room before I could stop her. I belayed those thoughts by standing between her and the door. She sighed and obeyed, wringing her hands as she watched me sit down. I took hold of her wrist and pulled her to stand by my right side.
"We're going to start with the little things. First, I will not tolerate any smart mouthing from you in future. This includes twisting my words in an attempt to find an escape clause. Am I clear?"
"Yes, Sir. I'm sorry."
"You certainly will be. Over
my lap and no stalling. Put your hands flat on the floor and don't even think about moving them."
There is one thing that I really enjoy and that is the slow and deliberate 'unwrapping' of the package on that first session, when a bare bottom is fully revealed and the sheer delight of gazing upon a beautiful white canvas.
"This is so embarrassing," she grumbled.
She couldn't see my smile. "Don't worry. In a few seconds, you will not be worried about feeling embarrassment and will be focused on something much more important."
I lifted my hand and landed it sharply across that snowy white bottom.
One thing has stayed constant with Bree over the years in our relationship is that this woman is a squirmer, so much so that if she could, she would dig straight to China to get away from my palm. The TV covered the sounds of her squeals and yelps as I painted that canvas a lovely shade of cherry. She managed to wriggle her way to the floor where she sat panting as though she just ran a marathon.
"Where do you think you're going? Get back here."
"That's okay. I learned my lesson and you don't need to do anymore."
This girl was a keeper! "When did you become the Dom. Come on and don't dawdle."
Grabbing her earlobe was the incentive she needed to return to her position across my knees. She immediately went to cover her bottom with her right hand and I grabbed it.
"Thank you," I said, holding it firmly against her side. "I expect a grown woman to pay her bills on time. You had the funds so there is no excuse. After this, you will think twice before procrastinating."
My hand landed harder on her already sore backend and her whimpers almost sounded like I was getting some sort of emotional reaction. She was a tough one which meant I needed to be a little tougher. I picked up the hairbrush.
"No! I'll be good! I promise!"
Now that was a reaction! It has always amazed me about how contrite a subby becomes when being spanked on the bare bottom with a wooden hairbrush, and Bree was no different. Her flesh turned a deep crimson under the strokes and she tried her darnedest to get away, but of course failed. I stopped with the hairbrush after about twenty-five, not wanting to mark her too badly on this first session together.
Confessions of a Spanking Author Page 9
