Building the Kingdom

BabyMan has decided that there are certain things that he simply will not tolerate anymore.  I'm not talking about the biggies... Disrespect, Disobedience and Dangerous behavior.. I've pretty much managed to think twice before I jump into one of those dark holes. I'm talking about all the little things that, when accumulated equal a spanking of epic proportions.  And as it turns out, there are quite a few of them.  I'm afraid that over the years I have neglected to take seriously the requests, the demands, the repeated reminders to these pet peeves, and as a result have caused the volcano to begin erupting all over me.

BabyMan is starting to build his kingdom one brick at a time. The little things that have been getting on his nerves will from now on be dealt with, where before, all he could do was nag.  Case in point:  A few weeks ago I had, for the millionth time, left the the hall closet door open. The hall is quite narrow, and BabyMan's shoulders are fairly broad.  Having to squeeze through the hallway without banging himself against the closet door was a skill that he's had to acquire since his constant demands for my cooperation in this area had been going virtually ignored.

"SugarAnne, come here."

I know that tone of voice. He's not angry. Irritated is more accurate.

I rise from my seat in the living room and walk to the hall.

"You see this?" he asks.

"What?"  I don't see anything out of the ordinary.  Just BabyMan standing in the hall with his hands on his hips.

"This door. Why is it so hard for you to close it?"

I don't know how to answer that. It's not hard... I just don't do it. What's the big deal, anyway?

"Okay," he goes on. "You hear this sound?" He closes the door, and a loud squeak from the WD-40 starved hinges reverberates throughout the unit. "That's the sound of a spanking," he said.

"What?"

"Every time you hear that sound, that means I had to close the door after you left it open. You don't want to hear that sound, believe me."

I think my jaw dropped open. and the corners of my mouth went up. He had to be joking.  "You're not serious," I said. "It's a DOOR! It's so not a big deal. You can close it yourself in a fraction of a second!"

"If it's so easy to close, then why don't you do it yourself instead of making me do it?"

Now, logic is usually on my side when BabyMan and I have minor disagreements, but on those rare occasions when he actually has a good point, It really pisses me off. I wanted to argue... but I didn't have a leg to stand on. "Fine. Whatever." I said begrudgingly.

"Excuse me?" he said. Time seems to stop when he wants to know if I have the nerve to repeat myself after I've said something clearly a little too flippant and smart alecky for the situation. He stares at me, piercing eyes boring into my lioness of an attitude, reducing it to a timid kitten.

"I mean..." Damn, I hate when he intimidates me with just a look. "I mean ... okay, I'll try."

"There's more," he said.  He walked into the bedroom and took down the leather paddle from the hook by the door and returned to the hallway, grabbed me by the hand and dragged me into the kitchen.  "I want you to take a look at this," he said as he waved the paddle in the air as though he were attempting to clear away the smoke of some annoying brush fire that wouldn't be doused.

I glanced up, and noticed, probably for the very first time, that every single cabinet was open as well as quite a few drawers.  I covered my mouth with my hand to hide my smile. "Oh...," was all I could say.

"Yeah, OH!" he mocked.  "I can't get through the kitchen without having to go through an obstacle course."  He wagged the paddle at an open drawer at the entrance of the kitchen.  "Do you have any idea how many times I've banged my shins on that thing?"

I really did try not to laugh, but an unintentional snicker snorted through my nose as I struggled to look away.  "I'm sorry," I said pathetically.  "That just kind of happens when I cook," I mumbled. When I cook your dinner!

"We've gone over this a million times.  Well I'm done.  I'm going to stop nagging you."

Good!

"And I'm going to start spanking you."

Bad!

I made an excellent effort if I may say so myself. It was actually several days before I lost the first battle.

"SugarAnne..."

There was that tone I've grown to know so well.

I was in the kitchen cooking. "Yeah, Babe," I sang sweetly.

"What is this sound?" Suddenly I heard the sound of a squeaky door bouncing off the walls of our home. It took me a moment to register... and then I felt my face flush and I bit my lower lip. Damn, I had been so diligent about this thing. I frowned.  I didn't even look around the corner at the offending evidence. I just stood there, searching the hard drive in my brain for a way to stave off the impending conviction. There was a way out of this, and I would be remiss in my duties if I didn't at least take my best shot through some ambiguous loophole.

"I didn't leave that open!" I said. Yes, this was the best I could come up with on the spur of the moment.

"Well, I didn't do it."

"How do you know? You could have."

"I never even open this closet," he said.

I couldn't argue with that. That closet is filled with laundry supplies and winter coats. It's too hot for a winter coat, and he hasn't done laundry in years.  Suddenly I was angry. It occurred to me that the closet door had originally been opened so that I could take out the iron in order to smooth out the wrinkles in his casual day work shirts.  I had been working my delicate fingers to the bone for his pleasure, convenience and comfort, only to be ridiculed for my efforts. 
"I opened it because I had to IRON YOUR SHIRTS!" I said indignantly.

He peeked around the corner. "I don't care why you opened it. There's no reason why you can't close it."

This is so unfair! No good deed goes unpunished?

"Pick a pervertable," he said.

I refused to cooperate in my own demise. "No!" I snapped. "I want to go on record as saying...This sucks!"

"Duly noted. Pick a pervertable."

I stood with my arms crossed and my jaw set, staring... waiting...

"If I have to pick one for you, you won't like it," he said calmly.

I turned to the crock on the counter, snatched a wooden spoon out of it, and shoved it at him.  Then I turned around and dropped my shorts and panties and bent over the marble counter top.  "This sucks," I repeated, again for the record.

I felt the wood make contact with my sit spot, only twice, but it was hard, and loud, and it stung like crazy.  These pet peeves of his have become almost an obsession.  Well, they feel like an obsession to me because I'm getting whacked for them a little too often these days.  These are things that I've made such a habit that stopping suddenly to change horses in mid stream seems almost impossible.  Lock the door, Turn the lights out, close the cabinets, close the shades, close out the browser on the computer, turn off the TV when you leave the room, keep laundry off the bed...

So like I said, the nagging has stopped and the spanking has begun.  And His Majesty continues to build his kingdom brick by brick, annoyance by annoyance, whack by whack.

Pillow Talk

BabyMan and I have a long standing tradition of waking up early and basking in the glow of each other's love and morning breath.  We usually take an hour or so to talk, debate, cuddle, laugh, tease, and often just wordlessly make passionate love before he has to get up and hit the showers. This morning started like so many others.  I opened my eyes to find BabyMan watching me sleep.

"What are you looking at?" I said with mock venom.

"I'm looking at you."

"Well knock it off," I closed my eyes as I smile and reach for him.

BabyMan leaned over and kissed me on the lips and propped his head up on his hands as he rested on his elbow.  "I saw your comment on Charlie's post."

"Which one was that?" I droned sleepily.

"The one where Tom subjected himself to physical punishment in order to understand what Charlie goes through."

I smiled. "Oh yeah!" I opened my eyes and perked up.  "Cool post, huh?"

"It was pretty interesting."  his eyes reacted to the silly grin plastered on my face.  "Oh, I see.  I suppose you think I should do the same thing?"

"I think every HoH should do the same thing," I laughed.

BabyMan smirked. "I don't think I need to go that far to understand what you're feeling when I spank you."

"Are you kidding? You have no CLUE what it feels like."

"Of course I do.  I got the belt a few times as a kid."

"Apparently not enough," I mumbled quietly.

"Excuse me?"

"I said... that must have been tough."

BabyMan's eyes narrowed as he shot suspicious lasers at me.  I giggled and slapped his shoulder playfully with the back of my hand.

"So you think that in order to better understand and empathize with you, I should call Ms. Hertz the  Disciplinarian, and make an appointment."

"That's a great idea!"

"Not gonna happen."

"I bet it's not even that expensive. I could give you a gift certificate for Christmas."

He turned and flopped his head back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling.

"Okay, okay..." I said.  "If it's a money issue, I could always do it myself."

"You... want to spank me?"

"Like you stole something!" I grinned wickedly.

"You're out of control, you know that?"

"No, really! You could bend over the bed and I'll give you a few whacks with the belt.  No big deal."

BabyMan started to laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"You are.  You're not going to hit me with the belt."

"The bath brush then."

"No."

"The Shredder?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"C'mon, Baby, work with me here.  I'm trying to bring us closer together."  I pounded lightly on his chest with my fist.  "Help me... help you. Help me, help you!" I said in my best Jerry Maguire impression.

"Sweetie, you could never spank me.  You wouldn't be able to handle it emotionally."

I was taken aback. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You could never administer a spanking like an HoH. Our job is a lot harder than you can imagine."

"Really? You wanna test that theory, Einstein?"

He turned his head and regarded me soberly. "You think all we do is swing an implement? There's so much more that goes into the administering of responsible discipline. Our mindset is constantly focused on the care and considerate execution of striking a fine balance between our love for you, our desire to drive home a point, and our devotion to a healthy measure of correction without causing injury."

There was an almost awkward considerable silence for a while as the two of us stared at each other, our heads on our pillows, our noses so close they almost touched.  He was so sure he had given me something to think about.

"Okay, I'll use the paddle on you.  But that's my final offer," I said.

"I'm not getting through," he placed a finger on my forehead and pushed my head back.

"I don't understand why you won't do this for me!  Tom did it for Charlie.  It's like the ultimate act of devotion."

"Well aren't you the romantic!  You know... other women ask their husband's to discipline them, not the other way around."

"Oh, and that makes them better than me?"

"I didn't say that."

"Do you know what you said the last time you spanked me?"

"Stop Squirming?"

"Besides that."

"No, but I have a feeling you're going to tell me."

"Take it like a man, you said."

BabyMan sat up and looked at me for a moment, then threw his head back and laughed hard and long.  "Did I really?" he blurted out between guffaws.

"Yes, you did!" I shouted to be heard over his laughter.  "These are the words of a man who is not in touch with his partner," I said punctuating every word as I poked him in the chest with my finger.

"I'm in touch with you, Baby.  Doesn't your butt feel like I touched it afterward?"

"Very funny," I tried to hide my smile.  "You know what I think?  I think that there should be a special day every year where HoH's get their butts whooped to give them just a little taste of reality.  Kind of like a holiday within the spanko community."

"That's my baby... always thinking." He leaned over again and kissed me.  "I commented to Charlie's post as well," he said as he climbed out of bed.

"Oh really?  What'd you say?"

"As far as I'm concerned, Tom took the hit for all us Hoh's.  It'll never again be necessary for any of us to experience physical punishment."

"How very convenient," I sneered.

BabyMan leaned over the bed and planted another kiss on my lips.  "But I love the fact that you want to bring us closer together, Sugar.  I'll be glad to contribute to the cause."

"Yeah?  And how's that?"

"I'm of the opinion that we become much closer every time I spank you.  Don't you agree?"

Phone Calls and Workouts and Lies

I'm a child at heart. I admit it, I embrace it, and I love it. I take pride in the fact that I still laugh out loud at Bugs Bunny cartoons, I search for new and exciting video games, and there are few joys in life that compare to a good rollercoaster. But as childlike as I am in my heart, my body has proven that time does indeed march on, as evidenced by the loss of cartilage in my hips. The effects of rheumatoid arthritis has been staved off through low impact exercise, nutritional supplements, and weight loss. But it creeps in when I overstep my bounds, which I am prone to do from time to time.

This year BabyMan surprised me for our anniversary by taking the day off of work, and taking me to Six Flags for the day, something I had been begging him to do since the last time we went about 3 years ago. I was in heaven. The weather was beautiful, the crowd was manageable, and I couldn't have planned a more perfect time. But walking all day on hard pavement inflamed my hips, and by the time we arrived home, I was in tears, and couldn't walk or stand. BabyMan instructed me to take a couple of Aleve, and go to bed.

He hated seeing me in agony, and announced that that would be my last trip to the theme park. I protested loudly. "NO! I can handle it. This is temporary. I want to go again next year!"

"I don't think so, Babe. Your body clearly can't handle it."

I couldn't let him give up on me like this. It's my body, I'll decide what I can handle. I decided not to argue about it at that time, after all, I have a year in which to convince him that I shouldn't have to give up one of my passions. The subject would be revisited when the time is right, but for now, I was in pain.

I woke up stiff, my bones creaking like rusty hinges on a door. Bearing weight on my hips and legs was frightening, but I knew that the unsteadiness would last only a couple of hours. BabyMan watched me, shaking his head as I gingerly stepped through my morning routine. I kept a brave face and shrugged it off as though it were nothing. "I'll be fine as soon as I get my bearings," I assured him.

"I'm sure you will, " he said. "But I don't want you going to the gym today, no matter how good you feel later. Okay?"

"No problem,"

"I mean it," he reiterated sternly.  "No gym."

I really did plan on taking it easy. But as the morning wore on, a few truths came to light. I hadn't had a good workout in over 3 days due to another minor illness, and... I had gained 3 lbs over the weekend.

What could be the harm in doing a few minutes of cardio on the elliptical? 

At about noon, I got dressed, grabbed my MP3, a bottle of water and took off for the gym. The cardio was tough, but I even had enough energy and stamina to work on my abs and obliques.

Okay, big mistake. I admit it. My hips were throbbing by the time I got to the wifi cafe where I opened my laptop and began chatting with a friend as I worked on another post. I was there almost an hour before I realized what time it was.

Now, I had made a valiant effort to keep in contact with BabyMan during the day last month as he asked me to, but unfortunately fell short enough times that he felt the need to extend the task to the 15th of July (our anniversary). And I was keeping up with it pretty well... Until today. I was busy, tired, distracted and in pain, and I dropped the ball. I excused myself from chatting to my friend and feverishly dialed his work number.

"Hey, Baby," I said nervously.

"Hey, Beautiful," he said cheerfully. Good he doesn't realize what time it is. We spoke for a few minutes about his upcoming sermon at a friend's ministry that evening across town, and then...

"What makes you late today?" he asked

Damn!

"I'm sorry. I screwed up. I just got so busy..."

"Really? Are you chatting on the computer?"

How does he know these things?  "Uh, well, yeah, a little."

"So, let me get this straight. You can find time to talk to friends on your laptop, but you can't seem to call your husband in a three hour time span?"

I didn't like the way this conversation was going, and I didn't have a good enough defense. Then things suddenly took a turn for the worse.

"Did you go to the gym today?"

Why, oh WHY did he ask that?

"Well, uh... yeah. For a bit."

"So you disobeyed me and worked out when I told you to take it easy today?"

This was turning out to be such a crappy day! What came out of my mouth was a series of grunts. "I... oh....uh...you...uh...,"  it was one long vowel movement.

"I'll be home at 5:00. Be ready. Girl up. Short skirt. Make me a salad for dinner. I'll just have enough time to eat, go over my sermon, spank you and get on the road."

God, I hate it when he's so non chalant about this.  Like spanking is simply an obligation that interferes with his life, like getting a haircut.

My call waiting signal on my phone went off. I looked at the caller ID. "Mom's trying to call me," I said. "But your more important. I'll call her later."

BabyMan laughed. "Oh, now you're trying to score points, huh?"

"Is it working?"

"Nice try, Baby. I'll see you at five."

I was putting the finishing touches on his salad when he walked in.  He kissed me, dropped the mail on the counter and said, "let's take care of this."

In the den, BabyMan constructed what he called a “spanking station” consisting of the couch’s armrest, a dining room chair and a pillow, designed to hoist my behind high in the air. During the spanking I kicked and bucked until he pinned my legs down with his, and then proceeded to incinerate my behind with the leather paddle and then the bath brush.

After he was through, he had me remain in position to think about my actions and my inactions of the day, his version of “Corner Time.” I held my place for several minutes and sobbed quietly while he turned to the computer and brought up the sermon he was to deliver this evening.

After a while he turned to me and released me from my position of penance. I rose silently, and melted as he folded his arms around me.

“Thank you for my salad,” he said. “It looks delicious.”

“You’re… welcome,” I choked out as I fought to calm my breathing.

“I need to go over my sermon. Will you listen to it and tell me what you think?”

“Sure,” I stepped back from him and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. “What’s the subject?”

BabyMan smiled. “Obedience.”

Jamaican Me Crazy

I was recently reminded by a fellow blogger that my husband had made a post a while back alluding to an incident that took place on our Jamaican vacation, called Let Freedom Sting.  It occured to me that I had posted my version of this story in a forum many months ago.  I'm afraid it doesn't make me look too good, but... I'm kind of getting used to that.



The fourth day of our wonderful Jamaican getaway at a beautiful resort in Montego Bay had been sullied by a wave of hormonal disharmony. I found myself being annoyed and irritated at everything and everyone and opted to disappear rather than talk to my husband about what was bothering me. I greeted BabyMan first thing in the morning with a series of grunts, and snapped that nothing was wrong when he inquired about my mood. I didn't join him in the gym like I had every morning since we arrived. I ate breakfast by myself, and when I spotted him approaching the dining hall, skirted off to the pool. When I saw him approaching the pool area, I got up and went to the lobby of the resort and dashed out the front entrance.

Across the street was a small structure that had once been a bus stop, but was now housing four Jamaican gypsy cab drivers waiting to snag tourists for a cheap tour of the island. I approached them somewhat assertively to find how warm and welcoming they were. We engaged in conversation, these four entrepreneurs, and myself. They called me Princess and kissed my hand. They asked about my hometown, I inquired about the history of the island of Jamaica... it was all very comfortable. I lost track of time, realizing later that I had been hanging out with four strange men for the better part of an hour. I thanked my hosts and turned back toward the resort.

"Before you go, Princess, how 'bout some good smoke?"

I stopped in my tracks and turned to look at the oldest man in the quartet. "Excuse me?" I whispered

"You smoke?"

"You mean..."

"Ganja. Yes. Got some good stuff here."

I knew it was all over the island. There's an entire religion that incorporates marijuana as spiritual enhancement, it's a way of life to a huge population in Jamaica. It just never occurred to me that the island natives would have the nerve to offer it to the tourists. It is, after all, still officially illegal here. I was surprised that he felt that I was approachable to the subject. I had told him that I was the wife of a pastor, what made him sense that I would be open to this? This was exciting, delicious, intriguing. I smiled almost flirtatiously. "You in a generous mood today, or are you looking to make a buck?"

"I'm sellin' Sweet Ting" he said. "But I'll part wit a sample just to wet da appetite, eh?"

I began shaking my head in protest. "My husband would kill me if I..." my voice trailed off as I gently touched the goose-bumps on my arm. "I haven't smoked weed in almost 20 years."

"Don't yah tink you should get reacquainted den?"

I glanced back at the resort, and then back at this captain of industry. "Tell you what, Hon. If I decide to take you up on that, I'll know where to find you." He kissed my hand again, and I ran off before I had a chance to change my mind.

Passing the pool, the dining hall, the bar, I didn't spot BabyMan.  I finally found him lying on the bed in the room watching a movie on HBO in his swimming trunks. He didn't look happy. I decided to stay quiet, despite my much improved disposition. I thought it best to turn and get out of there fast.

"Where have you been?" His voice was tense. Not a good sign.

I stopped in my tracks and pivoted to face him. "You know... around," I said.

"Uh huh," he said as he sat up in the bed. "Sugar, I don't like the way you've been treating me all morning. You won't talk to me, you've been avoiding me for hours. What the hell is going on?"

"I'm sorry. I'm not mad at you. "

"I didn't think so. I haven't done anything to deserve this."

"I can't seem to control my emotions today," I dropped my head in contrition. "I'm really sorry. I felt one of my temper explosions coming on this morning and... well I disappeared to protect you."

He looked at me and nodded his head sympathetically. He really did understand, he had seen the hormonal imbalances turn me into everything from a sex crazed commando to a tantrum prone lunatic, and, God love him, he had exhibited patience far beyond what I deserved over the last few months. But he'd be damned if he was going to let me put a damper on our Jamaican vacation. "I understand your emotions are out of control. But you have to communicate with me. We've been down this road too many times before, and I won't allow you to just withdraw, leaving me to figure out what's going on."

"I know. I..." I stopped cold as I watched him grab the pillows and stack them at the edge of the bed. I closed my eyes and tried desperately to squeeze a tear out of my eye. Nothing. I whispered a couple of curse words to myself. Okay, I had been here before. No big deal, So I was going to be spanked for withdrawing and running away without a word to him. I can take it. We hadn't brought the paddle with us on this trip so he'll have to use his hand. I can handle this.

"I'm going to help you get back on track, Baby," BabyMan said as he rose and walked to the chair where he had tossed his clothes.

I clenched my teeth and placed my thumbs inside the waistband of my bathing suit bottoms and pulled them down below the sit spot. "I really am sorry," I repeated as I draped myself over the pillows. I cradled my chin in the palms of my hands as I watched BabyMan reach for his shorts on the chair and pull the belt from the loops. This was new. I never thought that he'd actually use his belt, as he had never used it before. "Hey, wait a second," I began my protest when I felt his hand on the small of my back. It was too late. I bit my lip and closed my eyes tight.

"You have to communicate with me, Sugar. You can't keep doing this to me. It's unfair." He punctuated each sentence with a gentle, merciful slap of the belt. I had anticipated intense, searing pain, but instead received an unimpassioned temperate spanking that left me somewhat confused and relieved.

It took me a moment, but I suddenly realized what was happening here. He was unsure of using the belt. He was hesitant... cautious...timid even. The belt slapped my bottom leniently, just enough to create a light sting, but not enough to be categorized as painful. I took sharp breaths through clenched teeth, and whimpered just enough for him to be satisfied that he had made an impression.

Now, here's where things began to turn south.  I don't know exactly how I suddenly became a conniving, manipulative, scheming opportunist. Normally, I'm not... Really! But it was then that something went off in my head telling me that I could use his lack of determination to my advantage. The devil was sitting on my shoulder whispering a plan in my ear. He's scared to use that belt on you. You know he should have burned your butt. You got away with murder here. You know what else you can get away with? You can buy a joint from that dude across the street. C'mon, you may never get another chance like this. You know you want to.

Lying there, upturned ass, contrite as hell, my halo being restored to it's normal vibrancy, I felt an evil grin begin to take form at tha corners of my mouth.

Our practice is that after a spanking I am not to move out of place until he gives me permission. I waited patiently while I watched him toss the belt on the bed and retrieve his glasses, book and beach towel. "You can get up now," he said quietly.

I rose, adjusted my bathing suit, and sat on the bed. The devil on my shoulder took over, telling me exactly what to say.

"Baby, what would you say if I said I was offered pot by one of the locals?" I said.

BabyMan turned off the television, grabbed his sandals and sat next to me while he slipped them on.. "I'd say I'm not surprised. Those cabbies across the street offered it to me yesterday." He suddenly frowned, "Is that where you were this morning, hanging out with those guys?"

"Yes," I said sheepishly.

Exasperated, he shook his head.  In all fairness he should have reached for that belt again. Wandering around outside of the resort without him was another act of disobedience. I smiled when I realized that once again, he simply didn't have the nerve. This was going to be too easy.

"What would you say if I said I'm considering buying a little?" I was pushing my luck at this point, but luck was clearly on my side.

He took his glasses off and rubbed the lenses on his shirt. "I'd say think again."

"Now wait a minute, let's talk about this. I'm just talking about a little... and you know I've been hormonally nuts lately, it'll really calm me down."

"Sugar..."

"And you know we smelled someone smoking it when we were on our balcony the other night. It's not like it's a big deal around here."

"Sugar ..."

"And since I haven't smoked in years, just a teeny bit would do the trick. We're just talking about medicinal purposes here."

"SUGARANNE!"

"WHAT?"

"What is the matter with you? You know better. We had this conversation years ago and agreed that neither one of us would allow it in our lives again."

"Yeah, well maybe I want to revisit that agreement."

"I'm not going to argue with you about this. The answer is no." His face softened. "Now come on, let's go to the pool."

As he headed for the door and opened it, he looked back to see that I had remained seated. I opened my mouth and the words that came out surprised me. It was like the devil sitting on my shoulder was talking a mile a minute and I was having a hard time keeping up. "I'm gonna do it," I said. "I... I think this is an opportunity I may never have again, and... I... I think I may not have the willpower to withstand the temptation..."

"Sugar, are you saying that you're going to disobey me?"

"I'm saying that you helped me quit cigarettes by giving me a reminder of what a punishment would feel like if I fell off the wagon." I picked his belt up off the bed and held it out to him. "I think you should do the same here."

Now I knew what that scheming little devil on my shoulder was doing, and how very, very clever of her! Find out what he's capable of. Can he really bring himself to use the belt effectively? Not a chance. He was as afraid of that thing as I was.  If you scream and cry and carry on as if you're being tortured, BabyMan will think he's done his job, and you can get away with a really nice high or two!

"Sugar, with the cigarettes we were dealing with an addiction. Your lack of willpower was understandable. Now you're just talking about an act of defiance."

"We're talking about an act of desperation. I need something to take the edge off. And I think this might help me get over the temptation."

I rose as he took the belt from my hand and sighed. "Okay, let's get this over with," he said almost sadly. He tapped the bed in the place where he wanted me to bend over. I turned, lowered my bathing suit, and placed my elbows on the mattress. This was going to be a breeze. The devil whispered excitedly in my ear again.  Even if he spanks you twice as hard as he had a moment ago, it would still all be worth it. The belt is no longer a threat to you, but apparently it he's scared to death of it.  You're home free, and you won't have any problem buying a joint in the next day or two and smoking it on the beach. you can do it openly, honestly, take your so-called "punishment" and it will all have been worth...

WHAP!

The first blow cut off my breath and my head bolted up. "HOLY SHIT!" I yelled. "No, no, no..." this was not what I had planned! I put my hands on the bed and attempted to push myself up but felt a strong hand on my back push me back down. WHAP! The second blow struck the exact same spot as the belt wrapped around my right cheek and stung my hip. I had no time to recover from the second blow, when a third came, and then a fourth. I felt the tears push through the back of my eyeballs and spill out onto the bedspread. WHAP! I reached back with my right hand to protect myself from the assault.

"Move your hand, Sugar. You know the rules."

"Wait, wait, wait, WAIT!"

"Wait for what? You wanted a demonstration of the consequences of disobeying me," WHAP! "You're going to do what you want to do regardless of my word?" WHAP! "Possibly getting caught and winding up in a jail cell," WHAP! "compromising the integrity of our ministry," WHAP! "maybe having to hire a lawyer to keep you out of a foreign prison system," WHAP! "possibly starting a new habit that's going to compromise your health," WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

I was panicking now. There was only one way out of this, and that was to run. I lifted my knee up onto the bed and began to furiously crawl across the king sized mattress toward freedom... until I felt a strong hand wrap around my ankle and pull me back. I watched helplessly as my nails dragged along the bedspread. A strong arm wrapped around my waist and lifted me back in place.

"Oh no you don't. We're not done."

"Baby, Please! I didn't think..."

"No, you didn't think." WHAP! "You wanna smoke? I'LL MAKE YOUR BUT SMOKE!"  WHAP!  My butt was indeed on fire. My cheeks were being set ablaze by a branding iron, and there was nothing I could do about it. I reached for a pillow and shoved my face into it. I heard myself screaming. My head was spinning as I pounded the mattress with my fist. I lifted my head and shrieked several expletives that I hadn't used in years.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

I couldn't take it any more. My arms buckled, and I collapsed on the bed. I was hyper-ventilating as though I had just run a marathon. He lifted me up again to continue, and I started to sob uncontrollably. WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

Suddenly it stopped and the silence was almost deafening. I waited for permission to move while he waited for me to calm down.

After a coupple of minutes, he said, "Okay, you can get up now."

Trembling, I reached back and gently touched a horrible tender swelling on my backside as BabyMan sat down on the bed beside me. I lifted my head from the tear and sweat soaked pillow, stood up and hobbled over to the bathroom to examine myself. There it was. I stood horrified as three large black and blue marks began to form on my right butt cheek right before my eyes.  BabyMan walked in behind me and caught a glimpse of my mark of distinction, and a long whistle escaped his lips.

"Look what you did to me, you lunatic!" I snapped. "That wasn't a spanking, that was a whipping, and you know it!" I whined. "Do you have any idea how..." When I looked at his face I noticed a hint of a grin at the corners of his mouth. "What the hell is so damned funny?" I snapped.

"You are," he sighed. "You thought I was too much of a wimp to use this thing," he slapped the belt in his hand.  "And you thought smoking some weed would be worth a wimpy spanking.  Am I close?"

My mouth fell open.  "How... I... you... "  I looked to the devil for some answers.  The little bitch  had conveniently disappeared from my shoulder.  "How did you know?" I mumbled.

"Give me some credit, will ya? I took it easy on you earlier because I knew you were feeling bad, and it wasn't necessary to blister you to make my point. And just to make it clear, that was just a sample of what would happen if you disobeyed me on this subject. A punishment would be worse.  A lot worse."

We both stared at my bruise in the mirror for the next couple of minutes in silence. "Still want that weed, Babe?"

"Noooo," I moaned.

"Good!" BabyMan perked up cheerfully and slapped me hard on my bruise. "I'm hungry. Let's go to lunch."