Tag Archives: wooden spoon

333. Mike says tomato, I get in a pickle.

333

I discovered a new challenge with infrequent posts.  I enjoy writing in the moment as I often start a post as a way to think through a topic or experience.   It’s very cathartic and also probably why I tend to ramble.  It reflects the many thoughts that race through my head.  The problem is, things that are “post-worthy” are often long since resolved by the time I sit down to write.  I feel unmotivated to write about it.

There are a couple of things I want to share.  From a bit of a “relationship problem” we had that involved Chelsea, Jaime, and the three of us.  The short of it is, it is best not to keep secrets!  Maybe I will write about that next post.  It’s old news to me and long since reconciled.

Oh, I could write about Kim, TJ, and their kids visiting T & E’s farm and their partaking in the nudism.   Culture shock for them, and some interesting reactions.

Or, there’s this.  I could write about a spanking.

Relationship stuff, family meets nudism, or a spanking?

Why do I even ask?  I know what you pervs want.  Spanking it is.

THE TRANSGRESSION
This happened about a month ago.  Not that I haven’t received any punishments since then.  I felt this one was more blog-worthy as it was a bit different.

I was grocery shopping and Mike texted me to get “one large tomato where one slice can cover most of the bread, not those Romas, and get this too...”  and he attached a picture of this

I texted back that I would do so.   I was just getting ready to check out so I quickly went to pick up those items.  I didn’t want to mess with the plastic produce bags and pick out one tomato, so I grabbed a pre-packaged bag of 4.  They were the campari type… decent size, perhaps a tad smaller than a typical plum.  I then went to the condiment aisle and grabbed the first jar of bread & butter chip pickles and that was that.

When I got home and Mike inspected the haul, he said in his lecture voice,  “How come you didn’t follow my directions?” 

I explained that these were the larger tomatoes, just not the really large ones.

“Did I ask you for medium-sized tomato?”

“No, Sir.  You asked for a large one.”   I knew I was in for a spanking.

THE LECTURE
He questioned why I felt it necessary to get a pack of 4 medium-sized ones when he asked for one large one.  I didn’t have a good answer. 

“I thought…”  and he interrupted.

“So, now you’re thinking about what I might want in lieu of doing what I explicitly said I want.”

The tummy tingles started to really go wild!  I really love a stern lecture.  It makes me so humbled and tickles all my submissive spots. 

He added, “And the pickles?  Were they out of the brand I told you to get?”

“No, Sir.  I didn’t know you wanted that exact brand.  I just thought you…”  And again he interrupted.

Again with the thinking instead of the doing.  My instructions were clear and unambiguous.  If you ever need to deviate from instructions you know you are to inform me right away.  You didn’t even pay attention enough to know that you weren’t following my directions….”

And the lecture continued.  As it did I kept trying to deny myself the warm tingles that were aching for my attention.  There was no denying the wetness building between my legs.  It was difficult to concentrate on his words.  My mind kept trying to push the sexual energy aside.  I typically don’t like mixing my discipline with sex, but ever since we started with the stern lectures, his words ignite something in me.

My mind was screaming, “Please, just spank me now, spank me now.”  I don’t want the sexual energy to get any stronger and know a spanking will break the erotic spell of his lectures.   I bit my lip as the lecture continued and my heart raced faster.

“You think my wife would….”  and he continued admonishing me for disregarding his request.  

Those words always sting.  When he refers to me in a third-party way such as “my wife.”  I always feel like saying, “Yes, your wife would and your wife does.  She does!  She does so many things for you….” 

It’s those words that bring tears to my eyes.  So now I am fighting the tears and fighting the sexual energy, hoping my wetness doesn’t show itself to him.  I have this thing that if he sees me turned on it will betray the meaning I want for my discipline.   And while fighting the tears, the sexual energy, and the worry of betraying my DD, I also am dealing with the emotions of disappointing myself and him for being in a hurry and not thinking clearly in the store.  

THE SPANKING
Finally!   He tells me to put my elbows on the counter and stick my butt out.  He pulls the wooden spoon out of the kitchen drawer and spanks me.  (I am already naked as I disrobed after I brought the groceries in as is usual).  The sting helps release all the emotions that were building up in me.  I cry as he spanks me over and over at a rapid pace. 

He stops and lectures me some more, again generating the sexual response I get from his scoldings.  And while that response is not new, this time it is exceptionally strong.  I sense my body is betraying me and ignoring my attempts to squash the sexual pressure building up in me.  Before I can focus further he tells me to grab my ankles.  I comply and he spanks me again and again.

I then did something I rarely do, and only do when I am feeling the most humbled.  I started saying, “I’m Sorry, I’m Sorry!”   It’s our typical protocol that I don’t apologize like this as my remorse is assumed and my “redemption” is via the discipline and not an apology.  But sometimes the emotions take over and I blurt it out.  It’s okay when I do, it’s not like a rule or anything. But it is a sign that I’m experiencing a major “release.”   And this one is major, with lots of tears to go with it.

Mike adds, Sorry?  You think that makes you feel sorry?  Stand up and put your hands out.”   

He gives me three or four wacks on the palms with the wooden spoon.    He then lectures me some more.  As his razor-sharp words hit me hard, the sexual boiler in my body is ready to burst.   This time, instead of “I’m sorry,” I feel different words about ready to explode from my mouth.   My lips come together and a bite my lower lip, pushing some air out between my lips as I try to hold back.  

I tell myself in my head, “This is not what my discipline is about!”  But Mike keeps talking and I am at my breaking point.  I clench my lips to hold back the words, but I can’t keep it in any longer.

“Fff…”  and before I could complete the word, Mike says,

“Now, go stand in the corner until I call for you and while you do, this stays in your mouth.”  And he takes a tomato and sticks it in my mouth.”

He eventually calls for me and corner time is over.  All is forgiven.  The punishment is over.

POST PUNISHMENT VIBE
I had this strange feeling.  It was akin to a post-orgasmic feeling, but I hadn’t actually orgasmed.  And I wasn’t feeling any orgasmic aftershocks I often feel.  It was like a no orgasm orgasm, if that even makes sense.   And unlike after an actual orgasm, I could sense that the embers from the sexual energy were still burning.  Yeah, I am still a bit turned on.

My butt is sore from the strikes and my palms still tingle as the whacks on my palms were few but powerful.  It’s also clear to me my pussy still aches from his words.  About a half-hour after the punishment has ended I realize this ache is not subsiding.  I could initiate sex with Mike, but I have this feeling that I want to be in full control of the pace of things.  That is, I want this done fast and furious and with my luck, Mike will be in an Energizer Bunny mode.  Nope, can’t risk that.

Fortunately, I haven’t masturbated yet that week and I am required to do so at least three times a week.  I ask Mike for permission to masturbate and he grants it with the caveat that I do it right there.  (Boy, it sure is nice to have an empty nest!)

We are in the living room, so I masturbate something fierce and orgasm within minutes.

REFLECTION  (What’s a Jenny post without some reflection).

Not only would the pre-DD Jenny be appalled by this particular punishment, but even the Jenny of a year or two ago would have had major issues with that discipline.  But it is exactly the type of discipline and lecture I love and have asked for

As mean and abusive as that may make Mike sound, that punishment, like every punishment, is about what he feels I want and need based on the wants and needs I have expressed to him.  I know when he is saying those words it is part of a play.  It’s part of a role that he has agreed to take on.   It doesn’t reflect how much he values me as I know he values me tremendously.  It reflects his desire to be the person I want him to be at that moment. 

I want him to be stern, and yes, even mean.  I know that is not his nature.  Thus, when he lectures me HE is the selfless one, not me.    Sounds pretty twisted, I know.  But that’s the mindset of a submissive.

 Oh, and the words I was about to shout out at the top of my lungs before Mike sent me to the corner?    “Fuck me!”    Yep.

I was wanting it so badly!  And it is not like me.  For one, I don’t cuss much.  Not that an expletive doesn’t cross my lips now and then (and I’ve been punished when it happens).  And the other is I have made it a point not to mix sex with discipline.  It’s happened, but it is rare.  I accept there are many people who frequently mix the two, including Mike and Kayla.  It just isn’t my thing.  But I never wanted it so badly as I did during that particular punishment.

His lectures have always turned me on, but something about this one was really amazing.  Not sure why.   I shared all of this with Mike.  His response was that he would be sure NOT to have sex with me following a lecture NOR let me masturbate anytime soon thereafter.  “Consider it an extension of the punishment.”

Aha!  But we already said, “All is forgiven,” thus my punishment is officially over.  I shall appeal to the Odd (The Orgasm Denial Discipline committee, Ima Jillin presiding).  Ultimately I lost my appeal but Mike did re-purpose the denial of my release.  Instead of it being an extension of the punishment, he said it was to honor my desire to keep discipline separate from sex.

Maybe I need to rethink that desire?

Next: 334. One million thanks (okay, 1,000,353)

142. A Spanking, Lines, and Corner Time

142Nun

Sorry for bit of a cliff hanger on the last post.  I had to wrap up as I had things to attend to.  Oh the irony if I earned a spanking because I didn’t complete a chore because I was spending too much time writing about a spanking story!  

As I shared in that post, I was at the store and was tempted to buy something without permission.  I shared before that years ago I went through a compulsive shopping issue.  It actually spanned several years.  As part of putting my contract together I wanted to be subject to a budget, and it evolved to where I must ask Mike for permission to buy anything other than everyday household items like food and toiletries.  

The item was nothing extravagant – it was a simple blender.  Ours broke quite some time ago but we rarely use it and didn’t miss having it.  But I saw a cute one that was also on sale and I thought it would be fun to get.  I imagined the smoothies I could make, both alcoholic and kid-friendly versions.   I rationalized that I shouldn’t bother Mike at work with this, and I would just get it.  It seemed unnecessary and it was so clear to me we would use and enjoy this blender.  I went so far as having it in the shopping cart!

VICTORY!
I then had this deja vu moment as thoughts of
Post 71. Good Girl came to mind.  Not just the feeling I had for transgressing, but also the punishment!  Ouch!  Yes, the discomfort of a spanking can be a great deterrent.   So, I put the blender back on the shelf!   Win for DD.  Win for Jenny.    

This happened during the day while our son was at school.  Mike was working for home.  When I got home I shared this story with Mike thinking he would have the same sense of accomplishment for what our DD had done to help me mend my ways.  Instead, he sternly spoke to me.

DEFEAT?
He said, “Jen, yes, I am very happy you didn’t buy something without permission.  That would have certainly been bad to do, but, that doesn’t excuse how close you came to trying to rationalize actually buying it.  It concerns me that you went so far as to have the item in your basket.  While you should have a sense of accomplishment for putting it back, I none-the-less feel a responsibility to address your actions.”  He went on to say that he felt it wasn’t enough for a punishment to serve as a deterrent.  He felt part of the goals of DD, as I have expressed them, were to actually change my thoughts and behaviors.   While clearly it changed my behavior — I didn’t get the blender — it didn’t change my thoughts. 

There was silence when Mike was done speaking.  I didn’t know how to react and frankly there wasn’t anything I could say.   Trying to defend my actions would make it worse, and part of me understood what he was saying.  It was just so disappointing to go from this emotional high of thinking of this as a triumphant “win” to the sudden and jarring conclusion that it wasn’t.  I could tell Mike was thinking about what to do. 

LINES
He told me to go to our room, put on the tack bra, and sit and write lines.  I would keep writing until he came to the room.  The line was, “I will always ask Sir for permission to buy something that I am not allowed to buy without his permission.”   He had me repeat the assignment to ensure I understood it.  He then told me to go our room.  Walking there I kept repeating the line to myself so I wouldn’t forget it.

He came into the room about 10 minutes later.  I had written 12 lines.  He told me to lay on our floor, face down, hands behind my back while he reviewed my lines.  This pressed the tacks firmly against my breasts.  He then told me all 12 were incorrect.  I left off the word “his” as the second to last word.   He also did not like the way I wrote the word “permission” as it was messy on four of the lines.  He said that is 16 mistakes, and thus would earn me 32 spankings, two for each error.  

MORE LINES
He then said I had 10 more minutes of writing and he expected to see 15 perfect lines. He would add another 2 spankings per error and add 2 spankings per word that I was short.  In other words,  there were 20 words in the line.  If say I only got to 14 lines at the end of 10 minutes, he would add 40 spankings (20 x 2).  He had me repeat these rules back to ensure I understood them.  

He had me get up off the floor and told me not to adjust my bra and to sit and write.  He got out his phone and started the stop watch and said, “your time starts now.”

I’ve had to write lines before, and I’ve been timed before, but never had him there staring at me.  Also, when I’ve been timed I have been able to look at a clock so I could tell how I was progressing and whether or not I should try to speed up or not.  It was terrible not knowing how much time was elapsing.  Adding to this was the sharp pains in my breasts where several tacks were poking me something fierce.  

I was trying not to think much about the time and concentrate on my penmanship, but when I finished the eighth line I did think to myself, “okay, just over half way done and I think that was about five minutes.”   When I got through with line 12 i thought, “well, that’s as far as I got last time and I am going a little faster, so probably have a few minutes left.  It will be close.”   Line 13, “I will always ask Sir for permission to  – “STOP!”
Mike told me time was up.  

He told me to get back on the floor on my stomach while he reviewed my work.  10 words left on line 13, plus the 20 for line 14 and 15.  So 50 missing words.  That’s 100 spankings.  

He then said, “Again, you wrote the word “permission” a bit sloppy.” One…two…three…four…five times.  And on two of the lines you didn’t capitalize “Sir.”
That’s seven mistakens, for 14 more spankings.  So let’s see,  32 + 100 + 14. That’s 146. What do you think of that?” 

What was I to say other than, “I think this is good. Thank you, Sir.”   He then said, “Well, not quite good enough.” 

“I am going to give you your 146 spankings, then you are going to sit on what will be your red ass and you will write the word “permission” two hundred times.  We will then see if there are more spankings to come.”

Up to this point I was very composed.  He had me stand up and he removed my bra.  There were several tacks imbedded in my breasts such that my bra stayed stuck to me even though it was unclasped and the straps were  off my shoulders.  He pulled gently to fully remove the bra.  There was a short-lived but sharp sting as the tacks came out of my breasts.  While not overly painful, it made me start to cry.   As I shared in the prior post, I don’t cry that much over a punishment and when I do, it is mostly about what I was feeling at this moment.  

I was feeling very humbled and very remorseful.   The issue of controlling my shopping habits has a long and painful past.  I was feeling the guilt of those past transgressions, a guilt I thought had left me for good, but re-emerges anytime I make this type of mistake.
Further adding to my emotions was a part of me that was saying to myself “but I did so good in putting it back.” 

THE SPANKINGS
Mike said not all the spankings would be on my butt.  He went “Catholic school nun” on me and gave me 10 strikes with the ruler on each palm.   Those actually hurt more than spankings.  He then administered the remaining 132 on my butt, a combination of hand, belt, paddle, and wooden spoon.  The majority were with the spoon.  He said he choose the spoon because it was a kitchen item and thus seemed appropriate since this was prompted by a blender.   

YET MORE LINES
My butt was very red, sore, and ultimately bruised.  It was hard to sit and write “permission” 250 times, especially as my palms were still stinging as well.  He didn’t give me a time limit and it took about 30 minutes to complete.  I brought my papers to his office and he reviewed the lines.  He asked me if I were him, how many mistakes would I find.  I told him while every line was not identical, I felt they were all extremely legible and clear.  I always get a little nervous when he asks me to critique myself.  Luckily, he agreed.

FINAL PUNISHMENTS
I noticed that he had a butt plug, lube, and a ball gag at his desk.  He told me he wasn’t quite done with me yet.  He had me bend over as he inserted the plug and then he told me to stand in the corner in his office with my hands clasped behind my head.   He put in the ball gag and as I stood in the corner he rubbed my red butt and gave me five or six quick swats by hand.  At that time I didn’t expect more spankings and was now unsure of what was to come.  I was already quite sore and I immediately started to cry.

He gave me several more by hand and then explained that this was specifically for the transgression regarding the blender whereas the other spankings were over the mistakes in my lines.  He then spanked me some more by hand, maybe another 15 or so, then sat back down at his desk and went about his work.  I cried for several more minutes.  

If you aren’t familiar with ball gags, they can make the jaw uncomfortable after five minutes or so, but more than the discomfort, it is the drooling that bothers me the most. Quite a bit of spit ends up dripping down on and between my boobs and it just feels uncomfortable.  Add to that the tears and snot from crying and well, you get the picture. 

About fifteen minutes later he walked over, removed the plug and bit, and we had our Closing Ceremony.  That was that.  All was forgiven.  I left his office, cleaned up, and went about my day. 

REFLECTION
As I reflect on this punishment, I think about what if Mike had looked at my actions the way I initially did – as a triumph!   Would the encouragement and recognition of a job well done been more effective than a punishment?   Hard to say, but I believe Mike’s actions were justified given my history with shopping.  It is a history I need to always keep in mind so that next time, I don’t even think to put the item in the basket.  There are reasons I agreed to asking Mike for permission, and reasons I wanted his help in addressing my bad habits.  I accept his judgement that a punishment was in order and believe it will help ensure my compliance with the commitments I have made to him and to myself. And ultimately, that is what my Domestic Discipline is all about. 

Next: 143. My Evolving Submission