I was asked to do something, given permission with certain guidelines. I pushed past the guidelines.
A little voice in my mind said, "you're disobeying him."
I ignored the little voice. I made excuses. It all made perfect sense to me, at the time.
But as the day dragged on, the little voice told me I hadn't done what I was supposed to do, and it would be wise to tell him that. And as I went over it all in my head, I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
He gave you guidelines.
He told you what he wanted you to do.
You disobeyed him.
I go to him. I open the door, and he's lying in bed, reading. I don't fear Jason. I do fear punishment. And I hate having to fess up.
"I have something to tell you," I say in a little voice.
He raises his eyebrows to me silently.
"I disobeyed you," I blurt out.
He exhales, and frowns. He doesn't like punishing me. This is the part I hate the worst. Letting him down. Seeing the disappointment on his face. He gets over it quickly, but I notice all of it, and it hurts. I hate letting him down.
A muscle twitches in his jaw. "What did you do?"
I plant myself face down on the bed. I tell him I know what he told me to do. And I tell him what I did.
"You disobeyed me," he states flatly.
"I didn't mean to...I...just pushed past what I was supposed to do and kinda got caught up and didn't pay attention to what I was doing...and...well...."
"I have one question for you."
Heart pounding, I lift my face and look up at him. "Yes?"
"At any point in the day did you think 'I shouldn't be doing this' and ignore that and choose to do it anyway?"
My heart sinks further. I sigh and look at the bed, and whisper, "yes."
"Then it's very simple. You chose to disobey me."
This is when I start backtracking, trying to make it easier. I dislike punishment spankings. I'm only human.
"Well...I did come to you and tell you!"
That does count for something...right?
He raises his eyes to mine. "There's no merit in that. You are supposed to come and tell me. That's like telling me you woke up in the morning."
So much for that angle. I sigh.
"Maybe a warning?" I whisper.
"No," he states emphatically. "You know what happens when you disobey me."
The wait is mercifully short. The kids are asleep.
He lays out his belt, then opens the drawer and takes out the paddle. As I go to brush my teeth, he lays the paddle on top of the belt and when I come back in and see it out, my heart pounds. There is something seriously intimidating about seeing the implements laid out.
I wait for his instruction. Will he place me over the bed? Sit on the edge of the bed and have me bend over his knee?
He is lying on the bed and pats his lap. "Come here and lie across my lap." This is my favorite position to be spanked, if a "favorite" one is possible. It's the position I get stress relief in and I'm rarely punished with him lying on the bed and me laying over his lap. I obey him, and get into position.
"Why are you getting a spanking?" he asks sternly. He always asks this.
"I disobeyed you," I say quietly.
"And what happens when you disobey me?"
"I get a spanking," I whisper.
He wraps his belt around his hand into a strap, and begins spanking me, slowly but very firmly, and within the first few swats I'm squirming. He moves me so he can swing harder, away from him but still over his lap. It hurts so badly and my head is buried on my arms. He lectures as he spanks, reminding me how important it is I listen to him, and why we have the rules we have, and how he wants me making the right decisions.
Swat after swat after swat lands. I'm holding my breath, trying to stay still but it's difficult. His arm lays flat across my back and holds me in position as he drops the belt and picks up the paddle.
It hurts and in the moment I can feel how serious he is, just by how firmly and deliberately he's spanking me. Sometimes I get a reminder spanking...a lighter one that tells me to be good and not get in trouble. But there is nothing but punishment now in the strokes of that paddle. He's making an impression. I feel the paddle hit my sit spot and my feet kick up. He almost hits my feet by accident.
"Put those feet down and lie still!" he reprimands sharply. I gasp, and quickly cross my ankles so that I can stay in position. It's easier to stay in position that way, and somehow I manage to...another round of the belt, some sharp, stinging swats with his hand, followed by another sound paddling.
He drops the paddle. This is when my emotions surface.
During the spanking, I try to take it. I think of what I've done and what I will do to make sure it doesn't happen again. But when he's done, and his hand is on my sore bottom, my emotions take over.
He soothes and caresses and I breathe easier now. It's over.
"I love you," he says, "you're my baby girl."
The tears begin, as he massages me tenderly.
"But I have had it with this." His voice takes on a stern edge. He promises that if this happens again, I will get a spanking that will make the one I just got look like a love pat. I cringe. I can't imagine what that would be like. The spanking I just got was awful.
Then he's soothing again, soft, calming words, and he's lifting me up and into his arms. His hands comb through my hair and he kisses my forehead as I cry onto his chest. He brushes my tears away with his thumb and rocks me.
"This is what we do," he whispers. "I spank you. You cry. And then we're done."
He rocks me in his arms as he says, "Get it all out now, baby girl."
I know what he means. He wants to know I've forgiven myself. He wants me moving on, and trying harder next time. He wants to put this behind us now.
"I'm sorry," I whisper.
"I know you are, baby," he soothes.
"Will you read to me now?" I ask. He's been reading to me before bed, and I love it.
"Not tonight," he says quietly. "You were a naughty girl, and naughty girls don't get bedtime stories."
I accept what he says without question. I'm getting what I need, right here in his arms, and I know now that when he reads to me I will enjoy it even more, because it will be my reward for behaving.
After a long time, he says "Go to sleep now." I roll over, and he puts the blanket on me and tucks it in all around me. He brushes my hair back and nestles his hand on my hip. I sigh contentedly.
I don't like being punished. But when it has to be done, I'm thankful he knows what I need.
The acknowledgment of what I've done wrong. That calm sternness that makes me take him seriously. The lecture that affirms his role, and his love for me. The firm and thorough spanking. The attentive aftercare, how he takes care of me when all is said and done.
I love the closure it brings.
I love the way we are brought back together, intimately.
Even though I dislike being punished, and he dislikes punishing me, this is why we do what we do.
And why it was, in so many ways, perfect.