The Mute Spankee

Valentine's Day was, for the most part, rather uneventful (with one exception, which I'll get to in a moment). I'm still recovering from this dreadful flu and yesterday I could only manage a few croaky words. Today my voice is better - it's sliding into that sexy Demi Moore/Stevie Nicks gravelly territory. I wish I could lock it in like this. Sidenote: what is it about that kind of voice that's so attractive? I get it, I think it's hot, too, but I can't put my finger on why, on what evolutionary quirk favors a woman with a raspy voice. I'll enjoy it while I have it and try to remember that when it goes away it will be because I'm recovered, so I should be grateful. I'm not recovered yet, though, as evidenced by the fact that I was out for the night at 8pm. Happy Valentine's Day, indeed!


But, on the other hand, I had good reason to be a little tired. Yesterday afternoon I had my first session with a new friend, S. He and I have been discussing via e-mail my goals and my daily checklist of things I'm to have done by noon, and then by bedtime, respectively. Now, Readers, these things are not complicated or difficult to do. I'm thoroughly capable of doing them all, and when I do them all well and in a timely fashion, I'm happy and able to focus on my work - crucial, as I'm self-employed, and work at home. Yet, for some reason, when left to my own devices, they don't always get done. When I have someone to whom I'm to report, I have a much better track record, and thus am a happier girl overall. Plus, when I have someone to whom I report, I get spankings!

So I'm very happy to have made the acquaintance of S, as he seems amenable to helping keep me on track. Still and all, strange to meet a new spanker on Valentine's Day, when I'm effectively mute!

When S arrived, he had a look around at the things he knows I'm to have done. He pointed out a pan in which I'd made toast and left sitting on the counter with crumbs in it. And remarked that the bed was rather messily made, with a couple of sweaters tossed across it. Dang it!

We sat on the couch and he explained to me what I was being spanked for. The housekeeping infractions, not checking in with him one day when I'd finished my tasks, and an impertinent tone in an email (I was a good girl and didn't argue this point. It probably helped that I had no voice). He informed me that he'd brought an implement, but inadvertently left in the car. "Libby, should I go get it, or should we just do bare hand?" "Bare hand!" I managed to squeek.

"All right then," he said. "Stand up. Trousers down." I did as I was told, and laid across his lap, my bottom raised and vulnerable, my face squished into the sofa cushions. I tried to ready myself, but the first slap came as a shock, and had I voice I would have squealed. But let me tell you...OWWIEEE! He's a very hard spanker, Readers. I don't tend to bruise from just a hand spanking, but he left a definite mark on my behind. I think my legs compensated for my voice...I almost kicked him in the face involuntarily (and I thought of you, Pink...you're totally right...mind of their own!)

Now, I've mentioned before that whether I've broken rules or not, I fully expect to get spanked. To me it's a matter of degree - will it be a firm motivational spanking, or a hard punishment spanking? That way neither of us are inventing infractions for which I'm to be spanked. So, Dear Reader, don't take future spanking reports as indicative that I've been bad, only that someone local's keeping me on track!

xoxoxox
Libby