I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. It’s not a great excuse, but its all that I have, so its what I am going with. I don’t wish to be telling this story to complete strangers, but I am in a great deal of trouble, and this is part of my discipline, and I think it would be best if I did as I was told at this point…so…here is how it happened.
I awoke to the sound of the phone blaring in my ear this morning, and that always annoys me. His overly chipper morning voice didn’t cheer me as it generally does. It actually frustrated me further. “Why are you calling so early?” I barked into the phone. His silence should have served as a warning, but I chose to ignore it. He waited a moment and then reminded me that I had asked him to call this early, because he was picking me up soon to make the 1 hour drive to his nephews birthday party. “Ok, I’m up.” I said into the phone, less sharply this time, but still dancing on the edge of disaster.
The moment I saw him, I was filled with shame for being so curt and abrupt with him. His eyes were stern, but concerned. The first words he spoke to me were, “Good morning, do we need to spend part of this ride going over respectful and approriate manners of speaking to me?” I felt the dark cloud of anger cross my face. I know better. He is the kindest man I have ever known, generous, loving, sweet and strong. However, he made it clear to me in the begining of our relationship that he expected complete respect from me at all times, towards himself, myself and all others, and anything less would not be tolerated. In fact, it would be delt with swiftly, firmly and unpleasantly. It wasn’t long before my sarcastic mouth got me into a position to find out exactly how unpleasant, unpleasant could be. I was pushing him now, and I knew it. I allowed the sullen look to sink in and then I uttered the ‘word’. There are few things that I can say that upset him more. In answer to his question, I rolled my eyes heavenward, looked him straight in the eye and said in my most defiant voice, “WHATEVER.”
He was silent for almost 10 full minutes, and my mind raced with excuses and apologies. I sank back meekly into the seat and waited for him to speak. He finally put his hand on my knee and spoke gently, but deliberately. “I think I might have mentioned to you in the past that it is absolutely unacceptable for you to use that tone of voice with me, ever. I don’t think I need to even address your choice of words, as you know exactly how I feel about that one. When we get home this afternoon I am going to adjust this attitude. This will be the second time I have had to discipline this same behavior, and as I have mentioned, if I have to do it twice, the second time will be MUCH, MUCH worse than the first.” My heart sank, because the first time he ‘adjusted this attitude’, he pulled me over his lap, removed my jeans and my panties and spanked my bottom as hard as he could with his hand, and when his hand got sore, he used my paddle-style hairbrush. Needless to say, I didn’t do much sitting for several days after that. I couldn’t imagine how much worse it could be.
It was a nice party, and a long, quiet ride home. He asked me if I was ok, and if I was dreading the evening. I mumbled something about, “..not feeling well…upset stomach…headache…” If I thought for a second that this little manipulation was going to get me anywhere, I was SO wrong.
I was surprised that we passed by my house and proceeded on to his. He explained that he had some supplies at his home that he would need this evening, so we were going there instead. Naively I thought, “Good, he doesn’t have a paddle hair brush…” When we got inside, he pulled be down onto his lap and cuddled me for a few moments. Telling me that he loved me, and always wanted only what was best for me. My well-being exceeded his own. He looked me straight in the eye and explained that he could never in good conscience spank me if my tummy was upset. My heart lept, until he said, “So we’ll work that out first. I think a glycerin suppository, followed by a mineral oil enema.” I was in complete shock. He couldn’t mean this. I had never had and enema in my life. I knew better than to argue though. That would have been disrespectful, and my bottom was going to pay for this day, in every concievable way it seemed.
He led me to his bedroom and made me take off all of my clothes. He then went about gathering his supplies. A small bottle labeled, “Glycerin suppositories”, the KY jelly, a thermometer that I suspected, and correctly so was not of the oral variety and some rubber gloves. I can’t imagine the look on my face, but he was very gentle about the whole proceedure. He explained that he was going to take my temprature first, because it was possible that I wasn’t feeling well, and thats why I was behaving so badly. He had me lie face down on the bed and he sat next to me. He snapped on a glove, and I watched, in facinated terror, as he pulled the thermometer from its case, and opened the tube of KY. I buried my head in shocked humiliation as he then put some lubricant on his finger and spread apart my bottom cheeks. He applied the lube to my anus, and then pressed gently, introducing his finger and a little bit of the lube inside of me. He told me to relax and I felt the thermometer poised at my opening, as he began to slide it in, I couldn’t help it, I tensed every muscle in my body. He asked me once to relax, and then told me in no uncertain terms that this piece of equipment WAS going into my bottom, and we could do it hard or we could do it easy, it was up to me. I took a deep breath and relaxed. Hot tears of shame slid down my cheeks as that apparatus disappeared into my ass. He kept two fingers on the thermometer for the entire 5 minutes that it was inside of me, and he occasionally moved it in and out, or twirled it around inside of me. Finally he extracted it and read the result. “No temperature.” he announced. I looked up at him hopefully. Maybe now he would just spank me more severly and not go through with this awful plan. He already had the cap off of the suppositories. He explained that he would insert it deep into my rectum and that I would then be required to lie still for 15 minutes, at which point he would administer the first enema. He asked me to pull my knees up underneath me, so that my bottom was high in the air. He again put a dab of lube on the end of the suppository and another on my anus. It slipped in easily, and he pressed just inside and stopped, explaining that it would insert more easily if we allowed it to melt just a bit. After several seconds, and without any warning he firmly pressed the wretched thing deep inside of me. He left his finger in place for much longer than I thought was necessary. He finally pulled it out and left the room. I could hear him in the bathroom, running water, opening and closing cabinet doors, preparing for my most horrifyingly embarrassing moment. He finally came to get me, and when we walked into the bathroom I recoiled in horror. I saw a bulging 2 Quart red bag hanging from the shower bar, as my eyes travelled downward the length of the tubing, I saw a large device that I assumed was the nozzle that would be inserted inside of me. There were several towels on the floor, as well as a small pillow. “Lie down, with your head on the pillow, the same way as before.” I almost couldn’t make myself do it. I have never had anything larger than a finger in my ass, and I have never been in such a submissive position with anyone before. I did as I was told though, and this time when I felt his fingers lubricating me, he did a much more thorough job. He slipped 2 fingers inside of me, twisting them around and lubing me generously. All of the sudden I was hit with a cramp from the suppository I guessed. I looked up at him in a panic..”I have to go…” He rubbed my back gently and said, “Take some deep breathes, because you are going to have to go MUCH worse than this by the time we are finished here.” I was again in tears. I felt him p
ressing that huge nozzle a
gainst my opening, and I forced myself not to fight it this time. After a moment of gentle pressure it was deeply and securely inside of me. I heard a click as he started the flow. Warm water rushed inside of me. Strangely enough, it didn’t hurt or panic me. I concentrated on breathing deeply, and not fighting the sensation. He stopped the flow a couple of times to allow me to deal with the cramping, and he even rubbed my distended tummy, and spoke quiet, encouraging words to me. Finally it was all inside of me, and he pulled the nozzle out, roughly. “Now” he said sternly, “You will lie here for 10 minutes before you expel that enema, and you better not make a mess in my bathroom.” He busied himself in his bed room, as I fought to handle the severe cramping while still retaining the enema inside of me. Finally he came in and told me I could go. Without any false modesty I flew the toilet and began to relieve myself. He quietly closed the door to allow me some privacy. I cleaned myself up and went and stood in the doorway. I was ready to have this all be over.
He stood up and moved towards me. “We are almost done, my good little patient.” He stepped back and began to unbuckle his belt. I backed up against the wall and stared at him, wordless. Speechless. He took my hand and pulled me towards the bed, where he had me place the palms of my hands on the bed. I have never felt so exposed. Bent over at the waist, hands on the bed, and about to be spanked with his belt. He explained that I was going to get 50 swats with his belt, and if I moved out of this position then that one wouldn’t count. He asked me to count aloud, explaining that if I didn’t count it, it didn’t count either. He then rested the belt against my bottom and lectured me for a long time, about respect, and back talk, and how neither would ever be tolerated. He mentioned briefly that in the future it would be in my best interest to NOT feign illness in a misguided attempted to avoid or delay my punishment, or I could expect the same treatement that I had gotten today. And then without any further warning I felt the first wildly painful explosion on my bottom. ONE I shrieked, unprepared for how much a spanking with a belt actually hurts. I fought the urge to stand up with every painful blow, and I missed a couple of counts because I litterally could not speak. He has a pattern that appears to include making the first 10 and the last 10 the hardest, but he likes to swat the same place over and over a couple of times in the middle. He had hit the same spot about 4 times in a row by the time we got to 40 and I was pretty much an incoherent mess. Sobbing, begging, screaming and trying to count. The last one was the hardest yet, and I shrieked and stood up, dancing around a bit to try to relieve the intense sting all over my poor, tortured backside. He threw the belt to the ground and grabbed a hold of me. Holding me so close and so gently. Speaking soothing words of comfort to me. I calmed down quickly and tried to apologize for being such a spoiled, disrespectful brat. He held me in his arms for a long, long time. I have never felt so loved and cared for in my life.
He then explained to me that he thought I should share this experience. Partly so that I would have to think about it at length again, and hopefully THAT in itself will deter any future outbursts. But also because he thinks it might be helpful for others to hear our stories, because this lifestyle is very rewarding and happy.