Monday, Monday....

I'll have you all know that I am totally squirming in my chair as I write this. All I want to do is go get horizontal in front of my TV and stop sitting. My bottom feels like I sat on a beehive. But I have a blog to write. People want to read about Erica getting her a$& beat. Would I let you guys down?

Feel sorry for me? Didn't think so. Pffffffttttttttttt.

New Guy was able to come over a bit earlier (around 5:00) because he had the day off. We sat on my couch chatting for a bit, but then he got up, pulled a chair away from the dining room table, plunked it down in the living room and sat on it, looking at me expectantly. I feigned ignorance. "You want to sit over there?"

"Yes, I do. And I think you should come join me."

I didn't agree and stayed right where I was.

"Are you going to make me come and get you?" Damn right I was. And he did.

Turned out he had some issues with my "proper behavior during a spanking" blog. Gee, there's a surprise. And when he gave me a hard whack with the tawse and I blurted out a four-letter word, he didn't approve of that either. Then, after I screeched, "Jesus Christ!", he said I was taking the Lord's name in vain.

"Geeeez... when I say something right, will you let me know??" I snapped. Pick, pick, pick.

He told me I deserved this; I protested and said I did not. To which he'd replied, "Well then, what do you think you deserve? A cupcake??"

(Yeah! Sounds good to me! Chocolate, please.)

He didn't agree and said I should say I was sorry.

I looked up at him thoughtfully. "You know, you say 'sorry' funny."

Well, he does! I pronounce it sahr-y, and that's the way I hear everyone else say it too. He, however, pronounces it sore-y. Freaking Minnesotans.

After that comment, he stopped talking and commenced walloping. After a looooong stretch of his hand, tawse and one of his leather straps, he asked, "Well, are you sorry?"

I paused, took a deep breath, turned my head and looked at him, smiling down at me. "Not... in... the... least," I hissed.

In response, he picked me up as if I weighed nothing, hauled me across the room and dumped me on the ottoman. The heavy strap and the paddle came out. "I don't want any more smart remarks from you, do you hear me?"

"Yeah," I answered. "From now on, I'll make stupid remarks."

Sheesh, you try to be agreeable...

But soon, I began to weaken and my sharp tongue dulled. And soon after that, I was muffling my screams in the cushion. I tried to be stubborn, tried to resist, but of course, I ended up hollering, "OK, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

He knelt down next to me, gently rubbling my bottom and back. "Shall I go get the lotion?" he asked.

I wasn't ready. Don't know why, but I needed just a little more. "No," I said, "you'll just use it and then start up again so it'll hurt more!"

"Would I do that?"

"Yes, Mr. Fink, you would!"

(Mr. Fink?? Where the hell did I come up with that?)

He shook his head. "And here I thought I was done. Go get that heart-shaped paddle." Remember, folks, I'm not stupid. This was not the time to say "Get it yourself." I retrieved it and handed it to him, resisting the urge to drop it at his feet. I was in enough trouble for pulling my pants and panties back up after I left the room. "You leave those down until I tell you it's OK to pull them back up, do you understand?"

Yup... I asked for it. I brought that paddling on myself. But holy gawd, did it hurt.

He was sweet, then. After I'd returned to Earth and asked, "What would you like to do now?", he smiled at me and said, "I wanna buy you a cupcake!" :-D

I laughed and asked if he'd make it a bowl of soup instead; I was starving. We decided to go to dinner. I first took him to a Thai place near my place, but it turned out they were closed on Mondays. So we went back to the deli where we'd gone before, and I happily chowed down on comfort food -- a big bowl of chicken matzo ball soup. He had a pizza.

Was I well-behaved during dinner?

When we got back to my place, he put me over a chair and strapped me with his belt. Does that answer your question?

Ah, don't worry, I wasn't really mad. We watched a DVD (Shadow Lane's At Your Service), got into a tickle fight (have you ever heard of anyone being ticklish around their knees? He is!) and of course I ended up back over his knee. I got away from him and he was chasing me around the room with my pants down -- and that looked so funny, he had to get a picture of it. Yes, I'm wearing my glasses.

I really don't think he was showing the proper gratitude. After all, he was yawning and I was concerned about his drive home, so I was just trying to wake him up. It worked, didn't it? Well?

Ah, I'm done now. I can go put on some soft jammies and sprawl out, watch the Tonight show, eat some chocolate. The heater is on -- warm body, warm bottom. Happy, happy Monday. :-)