355. A MATTER OF (SPANKING) BUSINESS

For the first time in a while I feel like I have a lot to “unpack.” That normally means an exhaustive boring esoteric ramble from yours truly. But I’ll save that for another post, as I’ve got business to attend to! As in spanking business, and cousin, business is a-boomin’.

OOPS, I DID IT AGAIN Two posts ago (353. On this date, March 153, 2020), I referred to some people in our life by their actual names.  Specifically members of the Nudies. (Post 233, among others).

It dawned on me within minutes of posting it and I immediately edited it. I was compelled to self-report it to Mike. I have never felt so defeated in something I have self-reported. I had just finished coming off restriction from the prior incident, and now this! And to be honest, there was a moment I thought it best to not report it. I have never knowingly failed to self-report a transgression to Mike. Not only does it make me feel guilty and eat at me, but my submissive mind likes the idea of telling on myself. Damn that submissive mind-set!

Seriously though, I knew I had to tell him, so I did.

When I told him, he said something that still rings in my head. He said, “I can’t spank my trust into you.” He lectured me for some time, but those words kept repeating over and over in my head. They hurt as much as a spanking.

He went on to say that disciplining me further felt empty to him. He felt only time would help. My thought was “No!” That’s what has been so great over the last 5 years living this dynamic. Ill feelings never linger. They are addressed, forgiven, and put behind us. “Give me my punishment. Give me absolution! Let me know ‘All is forgiven.’ I beg you.”

I didn’t actually say those words, but that summed up my feelings.

In his lecture he acknowledged he was happy that I reported this to him, and gave me some credit in that I only used first names. “Excuses are easy.,” he added, “We have rules for a reason and clearly the rules on privacy are not top of mind with you. What were you thinking?”

He doesn’t often ask me what I was thinking. Usually there is no need.

“Your honor, in my defense, not to make excuses, but, it had been so long since I mentioned them in my blog. I had grown too accustomed to using their names with a few email friends, that it was muscle memory and not intentional.”

Okay, I didn’t quite say it that way, but I did say something about muscle memory. I was in tears at this point as I kept replaying the “I can’t spank my trust into you,” over and over in my head. I also knew that a repeated transgression of ANY kind, was bad enough, let along this particular issue.

Thoughts of what he had in store for me were also top of mind. Not from a physical pain stand point. I never “fear” discipline in that way. My fear was one of wondering how long Mike would feel disappointed in me. It was two weeks last time before we got to “All is forgiven.” I hate the cloud of any transgression hanging over me and over us for such long periods. THAT is what I feared.

My response evoked a lecture on why exceptions are never good and a slippery slope. His lecture was far more animated than most. His strongly raised voiced contrasted with his typical lecture style of stern, but controlled. His reaction was telling me this was not just me failing to behave as I wish, but clearly failing to behave as he demands.

MY PUNISHMENT BEGINS
When he completed the lecture, I was sent to our room to wait with instructions to put on a ball gag. After entering the bedroom and affixing the gag, I took the appropriate stance in the corner and awaiting his arrival.

I was crying a lot and once the drooling from gag kicked it, it only added to my feeling of defeat. I don’t know how long it was until Mike came into the room, but it seemed like forever.

When he arrived I was no longer sobbing. He began lecturing me some more in even a greater raised voice than before. He would occasionally smack my butt with his hands. At some point he had me turn and kneel in front of him, head up, eyes fixed on his as he continued to speak. He slapped me, once on each cheek.

As some context, slapping is something I asked to incorporate in punishments some time ago… maybe a year or two ago? He rarely does it. I don’t know what it is about the face. Spank or slap my ass, thighs, breasts, palms, soles of feet, are one thing. But the face, it’s a whole other experience. It wasn’t real hard, but harder than he has ever done before. And was started crying again.

He again asked me what I had to say for myself. Something he rarely asks once, let along twice. But this question was not about what was I thinking when I did what I did, but about expressing my remorse. Which I did so, between the sobs.

CANING/PADDLING
He walked me next to our bed and had me bend over with my forearms resting on the bed. He picked out a spanking implement and told me that what he was giving me now would be repeated every hour until that same time the next day. It was now some time after 4:00 p.m.

We refer to this type of discipline as “TOH,” or Top of the Hour spankings. The anticipation of knowing what is to come adds to the overall emotional impact of the spankings.

After the first strike I knew which implement he selected. The cane. He struck me six or seven times with it. After just the first one or two I was squirming and crying harder with each one.

He then told me to fetch a paddle. Being paddled on top of a caning is very painful and ensured that it would sting for some time. And knowing this was going to be repeated every hour was ever present in my mind.

“Ten and I need to hear you count them off,” he said.

The first five stung but were of moderate force. He then told me the last five would be intended to “stay with you for awhile.” They were much, much harder.

I was a mess, inside and out. Slobbering all over from the gag, runny nose, watery eyes, and now, a striped and red ass. Inside I continued to feel defeated, defeated by my own behaviors that got me there, not by Mike’s actions.

ENEMA
After the spanking he ordered me to the corner. He went to our supplies and I could hear the water running in the bathroom. He returned with the enema kit. He filled me with warm, soapy water, set my phone alarm for 15 minutes, and told me I could expel it in the toilet once it went off. I could not leave the corner no matter what, and if I couldn’t hold it, then I would just have to release right there and clean up afterwards. He then gave me a couple of swats on my very hot and sensitive ass and he left the room.

GINGER
I made it through the allotted time and just as I was returning to the corner, Mike returned. He was holding a freshly carved ginger root. He proceeded to insert it and again set my phone for 15 minutes. He sat on the bed and watched me the entire time. When I would squirm or begin hopping up and down from the stinging that was now inside my ass, he would tell me to stand still else the spanking would start over.

AND MORE
When time was up, he pulled the ginger out and spanked me with his hand as I stood in the corner. It was a lot of hand spankings, way too many to count. Not super hard, but they covered every part of my already tender backside. He then inserted a butt plug. The lube helped a bit with burning that was still going on from the ginger, but not much. A butt plug by itself isn’t a punishment, but in the right context, like this one, it adds to the humility.

He told me to get on the bed and lay down on my stomach. He placed the paddle on my bottom and left the room. “I’ll be back at the top of the hour.”

LATHER, RINSE, REPEAT
More like, spank/rinse/repeat… It was already close to the top of the hour and it seemed like only a few minutes and he was back. He had me resume the previous position, bent over the bed, and he spanked me with the paddle, having me count off all 10. At least there was no caning, but every single whack stung like hell. I was crying again.

After the spanking he gave me another enema and 15 minutes of corner time. When that was over and I expelled the enema, he again plugged me and said we would reconvene at the top of the hour. He held me for some time, and I held on to him. He gave me some encouraging words, and after a few minutes, that was that. We resumed normal activities of the evening .

At the top of each hour I would remind him I would be waiting in the bedroom. Each time I was spanked 10 times with the paddle and then spent 15 minutes in the corner – but no enema! Silver lining?! Sometimes he would lecture me, sometimes a word was never uttered. Very mechanical, like clock work. Every waking hour, on the hour.

SEPARATION/ISOLATION
I had to sleep in the guest bedroom and would be spanked just before going to bed. And my bedtime was early, 9:45 p.m. and lights out! The extra sleep is a blessing, but the isolation is a curse.

Also, I was back on orgasm restriction and total abstinence from sex to boot. At first it was not that big of deal because I wasn’t in a very sexual mindset. But eventually my normally high sex drive started to kick in and it was yet one more layer to this punishment. It impacts me both physically and emotionally, especially when seeing or hearing Mike and Kayla having sex. But I got through it, no touching!

The next day the TOH spankings and corner time continued until 4 p.m. On the last one, he again administered an enema, like he did the first two spankings. After wards, we talked. As in a conversation. No lecture, no tears.

I expressed my commitment to be overly vigilant about what I post or share with online friends. I was all set for “All is forgiven” but Mike said he was not ready for that. He said the only punishment from that point on would be restriction from my online activities. No phone, no email, nothing. He said he needed time and when he truly felt “over it” then, and only then, could we fully move on.

He again repeated that he can’t spank his trust into me. My disciplining up to that point wasn’t about him or that trust. It was about me and my transgression, no different than any other spanking or discipline I’ve earned. But for him to lift the restriction, it would have to be about him and his willingness to trust me.

As as evidenced by this post, he did get to that point. I hope I don’t ever violate that trust again. Blabber-mouth Jen is now my sworn enemy!!

But. . . that just applies to personally identifiable information. Unfortunately for you, it doesn’t apply to my endless babbling and meaningless drivel about my reflections on all of this. I will eagerly submit you to those ramblings on my next post! Complete with an epiphany of sorts that has actually refueled my desire to blog.

NEXT: 356. THOSE WHO I HAVE INVITED INTO MY LIFE