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From: JennieK@selin.com (Jennifer K.)
Subject: ~ABPES/B "Bottom Punishment" (story)
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"Bottom Punishment", part 1
by Jennifer Knoll (JennieK@selin.com)
http://come.to/punish.me


"I know you and I know your rear, my dear," He said this morning,
"and the burn fades to something you *like* much too quickly."

That was how I started my day after T. fell asleep the night
before, while I was waiting upstairs for a bedtime spanking.

The love/hate relationship I have with the fact that I'm watched
over and well-disciplined kept all my attention last evening, as
I sat on the bed, and let myself sneek a book off the side table.
I figured He was giving me tons of extra time to think about the
stuff I'm supposed to keep better track of in my life. Like the
expiration date of my car registration, for example.

But an hour went by, and then it was going on two hours, and all
that time to think about what was going to happen! For pure
punishment, T. usually uses His belt, but never before He starts
to lecture me about keeping better track of my life, and wanting
me to "thrive" (He loves that word, uses it to mean almost
anything -- I always think of bumblebees, like a "hive", and that
makes me think of stinging, which is appropriate I guess *s*).

He usually stands over me, after sitting me down on the bed, and
goes over what I'm to be punished for. If it's something *real*,
you know, something I really feel I messed up on, then this
always gets me into the punishment headspace very quickly. I feel
bad for letting Him down, you know how that feels probably. And
the longer the scolding, the more disappointed I know He is, and
so the harsher the punishment. I usually end up staring down at
His shoes by then, and blushing like mad. Smaller and younger and
more embarassed by the second!

It's only when I see His hands move out of the corner of my eye,
down from where He usually has them on His hips, and to His belt
buckle, that the butterflies in my tummy really kick into high
gear.

Do you ever question your willingness to be a grownup that's
disciplined? I only do at this very moment. I suddenly want to
stand up and say, "Okay, ha ha, this was a fun game, very cute,
but I'm a grown woman, it's not fair to make me look and act and
feel like a badly behaving girl."

But deeper inside I know that this need is a big part of me, and
much as I usually hate the moment of punishment I find thinking
about that moment later on terribly thrilling, I'm not going to
call that big timeout in my life, no way.

"Alright Jennifer," He'll say as He begins to very, very slowly
unbuckle His wide chocolate-brown leather belt. More like milk
chocolate, and don't think I haven't had time to study it
carefully!

"You know what's about to happen, now don't you."

Of course it's a retorical question, and He always asks it, which
I can understand; it puts an image in my mind of me, dangling
over His lap, kicking and squawking and pleading while He straps
my bottom over and over and scolds me. He knows what that kind of
thought does to me. Total dread, but also total tummy twinges,
kinda *low* down in the tummy, you know? *s*

And of course as any misbehaving woman or girl might know,
there's something totally focusing about the :::thwip::: sound as
He pulls that big belt out of the loops. A warrior unsheathing
His weapon, or a master whipping out His artisan's tool, either
way it's an expert arming Himself to do a job right.

Shiver.

Only this morning it went just a little differently. When I woke
up, still curled there on the bed where I was waiting for Him
last night, He was standing over me with one of His warm sweet
smiles (bastard) and holding something in front of Him,
sing-songing me awake as if it was the nicest morning wake-up you
could imagine.

Which I thought it was, until I focused on the thickish beige
cylinder, with the bulging part along the middle, and the
tell-tale blue-and-white colors of the tube He gripped along with
it. KY jelly!. Johnson-and-Johnson, *another* pair of bastards!

I must have looked comical, trying to come awake, trying to focus
on what He was carrying, half smiling 'cause His face was so warm
and His voice so soft and inviting. I smelled the Irish Spring on
Him, wanted to nuzzle where He hadn't shaved for some reason.

But He was reaching across me as He spoke, pulling the unused
pillows on His side of the bed over into the middle, stacking
them. Uh oh.

"Well now, brighteyes, *you* have an errand to run this morning,
now don't you." Another rhetorical question, He likes those. I
thought quickly, pretty much awake now, as He arranged and
plumped those pillows into as high a stack as He could. Bastard.
:)

The registation. The car. Oh man, yes I had to get that
registration taken care of! And it would cost more to re-register
them than to renew them. And if I'd been stopped it would have
been a massive ticket, and maybe even towing if they impounded
it. We'd covered this ground last night. I think I moaned as it
all came into focus, or something, because He smiled as He leaned
over me (spicy scent of Gleen toothpaste mingles with the lovely
Irish Spring) and patted the pile of pillows He'd made.

And then the confusion evaporated like a droplet in a
scalding-hot pan. He tapped my bare left hip, where I lay on my
back, and held up the objects of today's repurcussions, the beige
plug and the ominous TUBE.

"And as the first part of your punishment for that unacceptible
LAPSE," He narrowed His eyes at me on that last word, turned His
warm-honey smiling face into a silent scold, and held it a few
seconds.

"For *that* lapse, you are going to wear this reminder," He held
the embarassing, totally intimate objects up in front of my
astonished face again, "while you go down to the DMV and take
care of things. The way a grownup girl SHOULD have taken care of
it *before* it expired. Then she wouldn't find the waiting
*nearly* as much of a lesson as she's going to today, I'm sure.
And mornings seem to be their busiest time, little lady. Tick,
tick, tick!"

He actually said that. "Tick tick tick". Bastard.

And He was unscrewing the cap, sizing up the end of the dreaded
PLUG, when He said, "Time for it, Jennifer, and you know where to
be. Come on, over the pillows, bottoms-up, let's get this
overwith. You're going to wear this until you can get back here,
no excuses, no quarter I'm afraid. *Then* we'll finish with part
two."

After all these times, do you ever still hate putting *yourself*
into position for a spanking, almost worst of all? I mean, of
*course* I screwed up my quivering tummy, and kneeled up, then
lay over the pillows, as instructed. I knew that He wouldn't
hesitate to give my bottom some real "incentive" (as He says) to
obey, and then I'd just have to do it anyway, if I dawdled much.

So even though my face burns when I position *myself*, wriggle my
hips to be over whatever I'm put across, all that, it wasn't even
really *that* that got me into total punishment headspace this
morning. It was the other thing, the *helping* Him with this
indignity to my feminine modesty, that pushed me over.

"Now, you've been here before, misbehaving girl... You know what
I expect. Open up, give me a wink, and let's get this correction
underway."

Oh, gawd. Bastard. He knew I'd obey, knew I'd lay there with my
face pressed onto the mattress, burning and burning and burning,
and reach back with both hands, to open myself, SHOW my, my, my
deepest SELF, to Him. To *help* Him punish me this way! Burning
face, quivering tummy, dread, fear, and wetness. Oh yes, absurd
as it is, I'm a crazy one, I could feel all melty inside, too.

Bastard.

Let me tell you, the DMV *is* the busiest early in the morning,
and is it possible that He *knew* how they've converted to a
number-calling system, rather than standing-in-line system when
He thought of this punishment??

Do you KNOW how He somehow conspired with the DMV to give me the
gift of not being ABLE to think about the second half of my
punishment, when I got home?? Do you KNOW what they now think is
a customer convenience, and expect all ten thousand of us who are
waiting to DO, instead of standing in a line, as we wait for a
computer to call our number out??

Sit.

Bastard. :)


*END*

by Jennifer Knoll
JennieK@selin.com
http://come.to/punish.me



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