I was planning on telling the backstory in relatively chronological order up to now- I thought it would just be two or three more posts, and it'll probably be more like five. So many spankings are going by, and where's the fun in linear timelines, anyway?*
When M. and I agreed to start using spanking for discipline instead of just play- which was only about two weeks ago!- he had me make a list of things I was going to be spanked for. We wanted to ease into this, so right now I have only two rules, but we usually look at The List every two days or so and add things that I need to do within a certain timeline, like cleaning the kitchen or calling my doctor.
I'm categorically awful about things like this. I work best under absolute deadlines, which means that I'm very good at school and my job (I'm editor in chief of a literary journal). I often think about papers for weeks and then write them at the last minute, but they always get done, and I'm a straight-A student. I pay rent and my credit card bills on time. But smaller, day-to-day tasks have been procrastinated for days or weeks, since there wasn't any real consequence if I didn't do them.
The two things that are always on the List are waking up on time- over break, that's 9 on weekdays and 10 and weekends- and monitoring my smoking. I've smoked almost a pack a day for almost five years, and have decided to get serious about quitting. Aside from the obvious and important matter of my health, I'm a singer, and cigarettes don't exactly do wonders for my voice. In the past, I've tried to quit cold turkey, and it's been disastrous- I went a week last summer, but was so awful and miserable to be around that M. actually told me to go smoke because he just couldn't deal with the way I was acting. That was pretty serious- he hates smoking and has never done it, and he's usually incredibly patient and supportive.
This time, I planned to quit months in advance. My quit date was supposed to be 1 January, but I'm going to be using the patch, and my health insurance will pay for it if I get a prescription. I couldn't get a doctor's appointment until 9 January, so my quit date is now the 10th. In the meantime, I've been trying really hard to eat healthy- to assuage fears about gaining weight- and I've been gradually reducing my smoking since 1 December. First I went down to fifteen cigarettes a day, then ten, which is half of what I used to smoke. Starting yesterday, I was supposed to be cutting down by one per day, so that when I actually go on the patch I won't be coming off of a really heavy habit.
I've been doing really well, overall. I've been spanked twice for smoking eleven cigarettes instead of ten, but that's still a significant cutdown, and the punishments haven't been very severe- the first time I got a hand-spanking and the second time I got the hairbrush over my panties.
I could easily have stayed within my limit yesterday if not for the influence of alchohol. Thursday is my band practice night, and we always share a bottle of wine and some beer. My mandolin player smokes too, and excessive smoking is difficult to resist in the atmosphere of slightly tipsy music-playing with friends. So while M. was tuning his banjo, we went out to the porch and I smoked my ninth cigarette. And then we were having some animated conversation, and I just decided that I didn't care, I was going to smoke my tenth. Stupidly, after he left, I went out and smoked another one before bed. 'I'm going to be spanked either way,' I thought, 'so what's the difference?'
I confess to feeling somewhat defiant about the whole thing. M. is strict, but we're easing into things and so far the punishment spankings have not been very hard. They've certainly been enough to make me squirm and whimper, but I have a high tolerance for pain and I guess I need something more serious, something to really make me regret my behavior. The desire to follow the rules, especially ones about smoking, helps. But obedience doesn't really feel good unless disobedience feels painful...
I took out my contacts and washed my face and put on pajama pants and went upstairs to our room. M. was on the computer, and I curled up in bed with The Economist and waited for the usual question at the end of the day. "Combien de cigarettes aujourd h'ui?" (It's another post for another time, but we speak French at home a lot, especially regarding disciplinary matters.) Anyway, the question didn't come. I think M. had commented when I went out for my ninth cigarette and didn't know I had gone out again, so he thought I was within my limits. I waited a while and then decided I'd better confess, which I did in mumbled tones with my face behind the covers.
"I see," M. said in a tone I haven't heard much of yet, one that still makes me want to hide under the bed. "Well, I'm finishing something up right now, but as soon as I'm done you're going to be punished." Great- I now had to wait, with that little knot at the bottom of my stomach, part guilt, part fear, part anticipation. That knot I've spent my whole life craving.
About twenty minutes later, M. pulled out the drawer under our bed, pulled out the razor strop, and draped it over the footboard. The knot in my stomach twisted as he pulled the covers off of me. "I'm going downstairs to brush my teeth. I want you to stand up and pull down your pants and think about what you're being punished for." He waited for me to obey and left the room, and I stood there feeling utterly stupid. 'What was I thinking?' It felt like forever before he came back up the stairs, pausing in the doorway to look at me, to watch me blush. He came over to me and had me kneel on the bed, sliding my new white cotton panties down to my knees.
He spanked me hard with his hand for a few minutes, and then he picked up the strap. The first few strokes were gentle- he hadn't wielded it in months- but gradually they became harder, landing squarely and heavily on my sit spot again and again, as I whimpered and tried my best not to squirm. The whole thing only lasted a few minutes. "Ok, you can get into bed now," he said, easing me onto my stomach and sliding my panties down. He kissed me on the top of the head and crawled into bed beside me.
We talked a little bit about what I needed to do to make sure I didn't go past my limits, and I confessed that I was scared about quitting, didn't know how I would be able to do it. M. was snuggling me and reassuring me very sweetly, and I mumbled into his shoulder, "You might have to be a little stricter."
"It hasn't really sunken in tonight, has it?" I sighed. "No, sir." "Well, I can take care of that right now." He didn't make me get up, just rolled me back on my stomach and lifted the covers to spank me with his hand. I swear, sometimes his hand hurts more than any strap or any paddle. He spanked me for a long time, pinning my legs down when I kicked, until my bottom was as red as it's been in months and months. "Brave girl. Eight cigarettes tomorrow, ok?" Spank. "Yes, sir."
I'm sitting on a pillow today, and appreciating the fact that it's very, very cold here- not much motivation to go out to the porch!
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3 comments:
Interesting post - there are a few things at once I personally could relate to.
What makes you speak French, just for fun or is M. French? I used to speak very good French and now work as a translator from French into English, as well as other languages. But I no longer write or speak that fluently because of the lack of practice.
It looks like you are having a sweet time with M. - is he previously vanilla like my husband or was he into that sort of thing from the start :)?
Both J. and I used to smoke lots (but I'd smoke two packs a week and light cigarettes at that), when we lived and went to school together in what I like to call the Obscure Country in the Balkans, whose entire national crop is tobacco (ever handled leaf tobacco? Leaves incredible dirty, sticky, black juice on your fingers). So everyone smokes there. We actually were glad that we were both smokers.
However, after we got married, we quit entirely together at the same time - I guess I was never that much of smoker and J. has incredible willpower I guess. Now that we are having children I don't want to smoke around my children, and, unlike in the Obscure Country, here cigarettes cost just so much! I mean, over $3 a pack!
In the meantime, is the patch thing safe?
M. is American by birth, but his family moved to France when he was four and stayed till he was fourteen, because his father was working over there. His family's French is so-so, but M's is perfect because he went to school there, and his friends didn't speak much English.
I started taking it in school this year, so I've only had French 101, but I'm fairly advanced because we speak it at home so much, and I seem to have at least a little bit of a knack for languages- though not like you do, from the sound of it! Anyway, there's just something about French that makes it easier to talk about this stuff- less embarassing, I guess. I'll probably spend some time pondering that more in future.
And yes, M. was vanilla before we were together, but I told him about my "orientation" the first time we slept together, as we were starting to become attached. Back then I wasn't ready to talk about punishment or discipline or D/s, but I knew I wasn't going to be able to go through another relationship without spanking, at least as play. But more about that in a later post!
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