A little bit of tipsy misbehavior earned Ronnie a “real” spanking the day after Christmas:
P sat on the edge of the mattress and told me to take my jeans and knickers down, he removed a wooden paddle from his back pocket, I said ‘No please, P’. He looked directly into my eyes and told me to do as I was told now or he would do it for me and I wouldn’t like that at all. I suddenly wanted to go for a wee but didn’t dare ask, instead I dropped my jeans and knickers and put my hands in front of me clutching my t-shirt and stretching it down to cover my pubics. I shuffled forward, there was no point prevaricating, and he toppled me easily across his lap. I had to move my hands up to steady myself on the mattress and my t-shirt rode up over my hips exposing my bottom, I didn’t care about my pubes at that stage. My husband started spanking immediately; the lecture starting only after my bottom had been incinerated. He paused to make sure his words were getting through to me and kept saying things like ‘it’s true isn’t it?’ and ‘you know that, don’t you?’ and ‘I’ve told you before haven’t I?’…..you get the idea, I won’t go through all the things he said but the questions were intentional to make me acknowledge what he was saying, which I did. The spanking resumed, he continued his tirade, I didn’t know which was worse the spanking or his words they were both hurting, it wasn’t a fun spanking and near the end I just stopped struggling and pleading and accepted it and yes I was sobbing.
He stopped when he knew but he didn’t show any pity for me, instead he told me it was about time I got a reminder of what a real spanking was like and he hoped I’d learned my lesson and next time he had to deal with me like that the real spanking would only begin when the tears started flowing.