Just Right

Eeks! Two and a half weeks since I posted! That'll be one for the punishment book.

Yeah, I really do have one, or so I've been told. I've not *actually* seen it and frankly, I think my boyfriend has forgotten all about it. (Of course, if he reads this in the next three weeks before he comes, I very well may yet learn of its actual existence.)

Though, he can surprise me sometimes. This last spring when I went to visit him, I was over his lap within an hour of arriving home from the airport. He wanted a good view of the big red knickers I wore as a surprise for him.

They didn't stay up for long, as you can imagine. Soon he was smacking me with his hand, then a brush. Happy, fun smacks. Stingy, but fun. Suddenly (at least it seemed that way to me) the conversation got rather serious. "Now about your writing..." he began (I'm currently writing a decidedly non-kink novel).

I hadn't done any the week before I left. There were a few seconds here and there in all the rush to get papers graded during Finals Week and packing and appointments and such when I did think about how I hadn't sent him my required 250 words/4 days a week. In those 2-3 seconds of thought I would think, "hmm, odd. He hasn't said anything." But that's about as far as that line of thought went.

Until I was over his lap.

"Now, why didn't you send me anything last week?" Calm and curious.

I mumbled something about being really busy with all of the things I just mentioned above.

"Fair enough. But, why didn't you talk to me about it? I mean, at least an email would have been nice."

I gulped. That was true. I could have been polite enough to have sent an email at the very least.

"I guess I just figured you assumed I wasn't able to with all the other stuff."

"Right," he said. "Well, I was waiting to see if you were going to say anything. I mean if we're going to take this discipline seriously -- "

"-- Oh, I do."

That's when I felt really bad. That I had ever let him think I didn't.

"So, how long have you known that you were in trouble?" he said after a minute or so of silence.

"About...two minutes."

"Really?"

"Yeah," I said. "I mean, I guess I figured since you hadn't said anything, it was okay."

"Ah, so you were waiting for *me* to say something. And would be disappointed if I hadn't."

I laughed.

"Well, I don't know that I'd be THAT disappointed."

Though, he was right. I probably would have been. At least a little bit.

"Do you remember what happened the last time you didn't do your writing?" He smacked my bottom lightly.

That whole summer before I left to visit in the Fall I had completely blown it off. A couple of weeks after I got there, I got a severe spanking over his lap with the hairbrush and then got spanked on the back and front of my thighs with a wooden spoon. It hurt like freaking hell.

"Do you agree that you deserve that again?"

I wasn't sure. On the one hand, I'd only blown it off for a week, not two months and I had a pretty good excuse for not getting it done. On the other hand, I really felt guilty about being rude and not saying anything and making him think I wasn't taking our disciplinary arrangement seriously.

However, I was exhausted from the 10 hour flight plus the multiple hour drives to and from the airports.

"Maybe, but I'm really too tired to handle that today."

"Fair enough." He smacked me lightly with the hairbrush. "But I am going to spank you with the hairbrush."

"Okay." I nodded. Buried my face into the arm of the sofa. He gave me several sharp spanks with the brush.

"An apology would be nice."

D'oh! Why didn't I think to do that?

I turned to face him (well, as best as I could considering my position).

"I'm sorry." Though the words felt completely inadequate.

"Thank you."

He didn't spank me as hard or as long as I thought he was going to. It was sorta just right. Sorta only because a small part of me wished it would have gone on a little longer so that I might have cried. But only a small part of me. The rest was relieved as hell. :)

And definitely just right in that it made me feel safe on so many levels.