good sense prevailed for once. I did take my life in my hands and turn my head enough to glare at him, but the look on his face made me turn my eyes right back to that blessedly blank intersection I was becoming so familiar with.
Looking back, I can’t imagine why I didn’t kick off my panties, turn my back on the corner and stuff the Hersheys in my mouth while I told him what I thought of his therapy in no uncertain terms. But I can’t recall the thought even crossing my mind.
What I can still recall — vividly — is the shame that I had brought this on myself and the dread that I might not be able to manage the well-deserved penalty like an adult. The latter concern would turn out to be totally justified, not too many minutes beyond that time. I would be a squalling, bawling mess of a little girl before Chandler ever got started with the actual spanking. It would go downhill from there. But for the moment, I was still relatively safe in the corner and still living with the illusion that I had some choices that would make this whole thing relatively painless.
“I d-don’t want to,” I told him with a break in my voice.
“Don’t want to what, get spanked or cut your own switch?”
I couldn’t make myself repeat either thing. “Neither one,” I whispered miserably, wishing desperately that he would stop talking to me if he wasn’t going to let me at least look at him. Surely if he could see the tears I knew were pooling in my eyes, he would have some pity for me.
“Well, that’s part of the problem. You think you can get away with saying you won’t do something just because it doesn’t appeal to you. Like giving up chocolate or not drinking soft drinks or like getting a spanking. But you’re about to find out those words aren’t worth the breath it takes to say them. And since you’ve decided to test me on it already, I withdraw my offer to get the switch. You can do that little chore yourself, and you can cut about four of them and bring them right back here with you. I advise you to choose some full of sting, because if I find out they’re not, you will be going back there with your sore bare bottom hanging out and cutting four more. Do I make myself clear?”
I really, really wanted to throw the DC in his face, but then there would be less for me to drink and, right then, what I was holding in my hand represented the only bright spot I could see in a long day of misery.
I managed to nod while I stared at the wall.
He pinned my trembling chin between his thumb and finger again and made me look at him.
“Sir. Remember that. Use it. It says something to your brain and your will, something you need to hear.”
I managed to tack it on to an affirmative response, but I almost strangled, and he turned my face right back to the corner before my tears could have any effect.
I think he smiled a little bit, though. At least his voice sounded like he was smiling.
“Good girl.”
The little glow I felt at his praise didn’t last long.
“Now, this is how that little session will work. After you collect the switches and strip them — and don’t worry about that, I’ll show you how — you’ll do your corner time and there’ll be a new supply of treats. You’ll put the trash back on the tray again, but in the middle of the bed this time. I’ll have a pillow in place for you over the rail at the foot of the bed. When you bend over, guess what will be right in your line of vision?”
I could have sworn the DC can suddenly doubled in weight and I realized the Hersheys were melting in my hand. Too bad I didn’t have a passion for M&M’s.
“More journal time then. I can’t swear to it from personal experience, but I suspect it’s even harder to sit on a bottom decorated with a lot of stripes than one with just my handprint. You can let me know for sure afterwards.”
“No switches tomorrow, though,” he said cheerfully. “Not unless you make that necessary, at least. And I really hope
Looking back, I can’t imagine why I didn’t kick off my panties, turn my back on the corner and stuff the Hersheys in my mouth while I told him what I thought of his therapy in no uncertain terms. But I can’t recall the thought even crossing my mind.
What I can still recall — vividly — is the shame that I had brought this on myself and the dread that I might not be able to manage the well-deserved penalty like an adult. The latter concern would turn out to be totally justified, not too many minutes beyond that time. I would be a squalling, bawling mess of a little girl before Chandler ever got started with the actual spanking. It would go downhill from there. But for the moment, I was still relatively safe in the corner and still living with the illusion that I had some choices that would make this whole thing relatively painless.
“I d-don’t want to,” I told him with a break in my voice.
“Don’t want to what, get spanked or cut your own switch?”
I couldn’t make myself repeat either thing. “Neither one,” I whispered miserably, wishing desperately that he would stop talking to me if he wasn’t going to let me at least look at him. Surely if he could see the tears I knew were pooling in my eyes, he would have some pity for me.
“Well, that’s part of the problem. You think you can get away with saying you won’t do something just because it doesn’t appeal to you. Like giving up chocolate or not drinking soft drinks or like getting a spanking. But you’re about to find out those words aren’t worth the breath it takes to say them. And since you’ve decided to test me on it already, I withdraw my offer to get the switch. You can do that little chore yourself, and you can cut about four of them and bring them right back here with you. I advise you to choose some full of sting, because if I find out they’re not, you will be going back there with your sore bare bottom hanging out and cutting four more. Do I make myself clear?”
I really, really wanted to throw the DC in his face, but then there would be less for me to drink and, right then, what I was holding in my hand represented the only bright spot I could see in a long day of misery.
I managed to nod while I stared at the wall.
He pinned my trembling chin between his thumb and finger again and made me look at him.
“Sir. Remember that. Use it. It says something to your brain and your will, something you need to hear.”
I managed to tack it on to an affirmative response, but I almost strangled, and he turned my face right back to the corner before my tears could have any effect.
I think he smiled a little bit, though. At least his voice sounded like he was smiling.
“Good girl.”
The little glow I felt at his praise didn’t last long.
“Now, this is how that little session will work. After you collect the switches and strip them — and don’t worry about that, I’ll show you how — you’ll do your corner time and there’ll be a new supply of treats. You’ll put the trash back on the tray again, but in the middle of the bed this time. I’ll have a pillow in place for you over the rail at the foot of the bed. When you bend over, guess what will be right in your line of vision?”
I could have sworn the DC can suddenly doubled in weight and I realized the Hersheys were melting in my hand. Too bad I didn’t have a passion for M&M’s.
“More journal time then. I can’t swear to it from personal experience, but I suspect it’s even harder to sit on a bottom decorated with a lot of stripes than one with just my handprint. You can let me know for sure afterwards.”
“No switches tomorrow, though,” he said cheerfully. “Not unless you make that necessary, at least. And I really hope
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