I’ve linked to Sweetness Follows forever, because Michelle gets spanked a lot. So it’s noteworthy when Mike has messed up and (as previously agreed — that was your first mistake, man!) had to get punished.
At this point in the tale Michelle tries to go all poor-me:
I really, really didn’t want to do it. It’s not something that I’ve ever found exciting — sure, getting a spanking is great for me. Giving one? Not so much. He once had me test out the flogger on him — giving him one stroke on the bum — and I cried for an hour afterwards.
Later on, she’s singing a different tune. Does she still sound unhappy to you?
We moved into the bedroom, where I asked him to lay on his stomach. He did, and I very gently dried him off with a nice, soft towel, being especially gentle on his tender red bottom. Then I sweetly and gently gave him a massage, with our mint (tingly tingly) massage oil. And then I got out the cane. Yes, the steel one. Twenty strokes with that. Not overly hard, but not wimpy girly strokes, either. I think it was around the tenth (so thirtieth in all) stroke with the cane that I finally elicited a “Jesus Christ, Michelle!” from him. Five strokes later, there he was, wriggling and (could it be?) trying to move away from the cane. “Mike,” I said. “What are you doing?” “Nothing.” “Well then stop moving!” “But it hurts!”
… sound a little familiar? Role reversal, I’d say.
This could never happen to me (he said smugly) because around here, even suggesting that I be spanked (however playfully, and no matter the circumstances) gets Bethie in trouble. If I were so foolish as to get into Mike’s predicament, I should hope Bethie would be too distracted — by imagining the consequences when it’s my turn again — to deliver the goods.