On Tuesday night, my husband was discussing a subject that occurs to him from time to time—the possiblity of creating a spanking machine, for use when he's too tired or too busy to do it himself. “I could have a dial to adjust the hardness of the strokes” he said thoughtfully “It could go from “mildly irritated” to “extremely pissed off”.”
Well, yesterday morning I did something incredibly stupid, which made him really, really angry. He was so angry he did something he'd never done before, which was to give me a hard smack while the children were still in the room. I was slightly embarrased, but I don't think they noticed; if they did they didn't comment.
Anyway, when we got back from taking the children to school he said to me “You know I was talking about the spanking machine—where do you think the dial is now?”
“Er, extremely pissed off?” I suggested. “Correct!” he said grimly, and took me upstairs to demonstrate. And it HURT. Afterwards he was still livid. “I want the kitchen cleaned up,” he said to me, “and you are not to put the computer or the TV on until you are finished, and if any parcels come for you you're not to open them until I say you can. Is that clear?” “Yes,” I said.
So I went and cleaned up the kitchen, and when a parcel came for me I left it on the table. My husband came down at lunchtime and noticed that it was unopened. “I'm glad you're doing as you're told,” he said. “I'm feeling suitably chastened,” I explained. He raised his eyebrows. “You don't imagine the chastening is finished, do you?” he asked me. “No,” I replied meekly. Sure enough, I got chastened considerably more at bedtime.
This morning, when we got back from delivering the kids to school he said, “First things first, upstairs, knickers down.” “The dial isn't still on “extremely pissed off”, is it?” I asked nervously. “No, but I thought a warning shot across the bows would forestall any trouble today,” he retorted. It wasn't a particualrly long spanking, but in my already tenderised state it didn't need to be.
The thing is, his anger was real, and so was my contrition, and the pain in my bottom is definitely real. But all this is a massive turn-on. I would never deliberately do something to make him angry, especially not that angry, and what I did was incredibly stupid, but his way of responding thrilled me very deeply, and I think about it now with this very intense guilty excitement. So does being so turned on and so thrilled by the whole thing mean it isn't real, or that it is just a bedroom game? Would it only be real if I hated it? I don't know, and I don't really care; I just wonder.