See pictures from Cali's First Punishment Series at sweetcali's profile
What a bad day for this. Why am I in such a bad mood? It’s unusual for me. So he tells me to stand in the corner and wait till he “decides” what to do. Just for the record, I don’t fully agree with this part of the punishment. I was goofing off – nothing serious. I made a few jokes. OK – some of my comments were bratty. Now he’s giving orders and has me squirming in the corner wondering what’s next.
“Lift your skirt. Take your panties down. Hands behind your back or on your head or something or other... I’m in such a mood that I think - sometime, when he’s not looking; I’d like to flip him the bird with that hand behind my back…
And my backside is exposed much too quickly, with my skirt hiked up and my panties down around my ankles.
I understand I’m due for a real punishment for the other stuff – for my irresponsibility and recklessness with giving out my email address and phone number to that crazy guy I had only known online for five or six days. OK, and for giving him a picture of me. What a horror show that turned into. He paid a search firm and found out my identity, sent emails to my work address, said he could make me let him spank me and he could tell my family and job about this if I didn’t give him a blow job (which I didn’t – I’ve never even met the guy).
Yep Cali, that was just plain reckless and stupid. And it came back to haunt me big time. Actually, in a way, I’ve already been punished for that, haven’t I? And I think of a classic Philly expression “I’m just sayinsall…” The guy had me beyond worried for 3-4 weeks, I’m pretty sure he’s not totally gone. It’s finally been more than a week since last contact. Maybe it’s over. But I had to give up my screen name, my profile and email address…all so that this guy couldn’t keep hounding me.
And while I do feel this shows that I’ve been, in some way, cosmically punished for it, I did tell Logan that I would accept any punishment he felt was appropriate and I’ll honor that. That punishment I understand. And I swear I will not try to weasel out of it, I will try to hold whatever position he requests (demands?), I’ll do everything he asks as quickly as I can, without attitude and I will accept it with grace. I’m pretty sure I can do that. Maybe the “grace” part will be the exception – but I’ll do my best. I did something foolish and irresponsible and maybe getting the first true punishment in my entire life will be the best way to make sure I don’t do it again.
But this? This part of the punishment - for being bratty? I’m going to take it, but I don’t like it. He seems to think it’s truly deserved. Turns out that what other guys see as flirting or essentially positive attention or call “banter” (and actually enjoy), he classifies as disrespect. I guess he has a point, he did warn me. Whatever, let’s get this over with. And suddenly, I remember he’s in the room with me.
“Cali - I said hands on your head, not behind your back.”
“OK” I say as I move my hands to above my head.
“OK?? And why are you looking around? Didn’t I say face the corner and stand still?”
“I know Logan, I’m just trying to…”
“I told you miss, and may god help you if you continue to forget - it’s yes sir and no sir when you’re in this room. And I don’t want any back talk young lady, am I clear?”
And suddenly I’m 6 years old and stammering. “Ok…Ok... (he stares) “Yes. Yes, you’re clear. Yes Sir” (geez)… Forgetting my place, I unconsciously take a few steps toward him, I don’t know why, but I just want a hug from him, let him know I’m sorry for disappointing him, make sure he’s not mad at me…
With a look of disbelief he stares at me – “Did I tell you to leave the corner? Cali! Get back, face the wall, hands on head. I am NOT going to tell you again. What do I have to do to get your attention?” And he covers the space between us in three long strides, wraps his arm around my waist like a vice and administers 6 thorough whacks on my bare ass – while I’m standing in the corner!
“Do I have your attention?”
Shit! Even in the fog of the shock from how rapidly that happened (and how much it hurt), I know enough to quickly say “yes sir.” I notice that the “sir” sounds like it has 3 syllables.
I have no idea why, but I really do very much want to please this man. So I do as he asks – in corner, hands on head. But you know, half hour ago we were eating pizza, talking, joking around, and getting to know each other. You know, like equals? Oh yes , there was that undertone, the occasional comment or ‘look’ that cut through my psyche, reminding me why I was in town and what was in store. But mostly, we were like 2 old friends hanging out. Now? There’s a completely different dynamic and it’s clear he is in total control. And while I love turning that control over to him, I also innately feel utterly compelled to rebel against it.
And I know I’m acting silly. I’m so grateful for his advice, friendship, and I have finally found something I’ve wanted all my life - someone who won’t ‘give me an out’ when I mess up - someone to hold me accountable. I know it sounds crazy to want this but honestly, if I say something to any of my close friends like “I’ve really been goofing off at work, it’s getting pretty bad...” their immediate response is always something like “Cali, don’t be so hard on yourself...I’m sure they’re totally happy with you…I bet you still produce more than anyone else…” Not just 1 friend – ALL of them. I guess I was such a good girl for so long, none of them think I do anything wrong. And I realize that I’ve acted a little rudely to the one person who knows me well enough and is strong enough to call me on my behavior. And I worry that maybe Logan is getting frustrated with me. I’ve said I want this but there’s that piece of me that I have trouble controlling; that instinctively rebels against it.
I suddenly notice that he’s moved behind me, his mouth about 3 inches from my ear. I feel his warm breath on my neck and I want to lean back against him, put my head onto the curve of his neck but I don’t think I’m allowed. And I worry that he’ll take it as some sort of a come on. It wouldn’t be, I just want to feel connected to him. I can’t wait until l understand all the rituals and rules around this stuff. And while I’m at it, it would be great if I could also understand my feelings around this. I know, without question, why I do the things I do in my life, how I feel, why I feel how I feel. With this, with him, I’m pretty much never sure. He’s uniquely able to put me off balance in a way no one else ever has. There’s something about the way we communicate, about the way (he says) none of my looks, brains, accomplishments will matter when he knows I need to be held accountable. There’s something so comforting about it. At least at this point, prior to my really experiencing him holding me accountable, although with that last move, the quick swats, I’m not so sure!
And I realize I’ve been off, in my head again for a few minutes
I feel his breath on my neck again and I resist the urge to lean back into him, wishing I knew for sure how he would respond to that. I want to tell him – ‘I get the rules Logan – not trying to break the rules - I just need to feel connected. That’s when I can truly turn over control.’
And his mouth is inches from my ear, he’s talking almost in a whisper but it’s clear that he’s reprimanding me.
“Sweet sweet Cali – I don’t think you really understand what’s going to happen here, nor do I think you comprehend how unacceptable this type of behavior is or what the ramifications should be. That was merely a small taste. So I’m going to do you a big favor. Let’s start over, but keep in mind; this is your last chance. No more do-overs, do you understand? It’s yes sir and no sir and I don’t want any long explanations or excuses. You are not in control here.”
Actually, hearing that ominous sound in his voice makes me answer quickly and nicely “Yes sir.” And I look down at my feet to show I’m sorry and make a mental note to stay in the moment and be a good girl.
“That’s better.”
Logan lets out a long breath and exhales in a way that seems to say “unbelievable” or more likely “what am I going to do with this one?” He moves to the other side of the room, pulls the chair from the desk and sits down. “Pull up your skirt and panties and come over here Cali.”
I am so grateful to have those back on! I walk directly over to him and although I know he’s going to take me over his knee, and I know I should stand on his left side (I noticed earlier that he’s left handed), I can’t stop myself from standing towards his right, directly facing him as he sits on the chair so that I’m just a few seconds further away from being over his knee. I wonder if he notices. Truthfully, in the few times I’ve been spanked, I often don’t know what the other person wants me to do based on their gestures. So it’s probably not too unbelievable that I didn’t happen to stand exactly where he would want me.
“Take the skirt off”
My eyes widen, but I don’t hesitate as I dutifully unzip my skirt and step out of it. And I think – well that protection didn’t last long.
He takes my wrist and pulls me to his left side and puts me gently but very firmly over his knee. He starts without warning - a hugely strong slap on my right cheek, then immediately on my left cheek, alternating for about 10 swats before I ever saw it coming. “OWW!” Another three letter word that somehow turns into several syllables. And I’m thinking - A little warm up would have been nice.
And it’s like he’s reading my mind - “I know – you were expecting a warm up and typically you would get that, especially your first time, but not with the behavior you displayed.”
His arm is wrapped around my midsection, holding me firmly and he quickly administers 10 more serious smacks. “I….Told….You…That….You…Would…be…Sorry…and …I…Meant…It”
My legs start scissoring back & forth. “Logan… it hurts… owww…” My knees bend and with the length of my legs (I actually have a 36” inseam
) I can just about cover my ass with my feet, trying to interfere so he’ll stop slapping it or at least slow it down.“Put those feet down, do you hear me?”
I start to get angry and resent the extent to which he has control. And I know I’m in the wrong but I can’t seem to stop my response. I know I should be saying ‘Yes sir” but when I open my mouth, I say “FINE” and it comes out more like an angry declaration, instead of the promise of acquiescence that I know should be forthcoming.
And to make matters worse, without meaning to, I kick both my legs a couple times in what is clearly a defiant gesture before forcing my feet to stay on the floor. And I realize he’s right – I’m a brat. I’m like a little angry kid, stomping my feet. What am I so angry about?
But there’s no time to get in my head to think about it because understandably, that was pretty much it for Logan’s willingness to tolerate my behavior, however new I am. He doesn’t even seem angry, just determined.
The next volley of slaps seems like it lasts forever. And it really hurts. They cover my backside and more than a few fall into that particularly sensitive area where my ass connects with my thighs. And I realize I’m trying to escape into my head, to zone out like I’ve been able to do when those few others had spanked me. But the way this is happening, the position I’m in, the intensity of his hits won’t let me get there. And it makes it hurt more. And I realize that I’m being forced to be present for this spanking in a way that I never was for the others.
As Logan continues, my legs start to take on a life of their own, kicking up and down, almost seeming to try to swim away from the punishing slaps. And Logan starts to reprimand me, his voice determined and stern, his hand coming down with every word... “I do not know what is wrong with you Cali. Did you somehow think I wouldn’t react to this behavior? Did you think I would let you get away with your rudeness, your attitude? I promise you girl, you WILL be rid of that attitude by the time we are finished. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir” I say. Only this time there’s just one syllable in sir and it comes out in that voice that sounds like I’m 5 years old, tinged with fear, awe and sorrow. Fear that he won’t stop, awe that he could have this effect on me, and sorrow that I’ve disappointed him.
“I don’t know if you do Cali, I think unless I really make an impression on you, you’ll forget all about these lessons just as soon as the redness leaves your ass, I really do.”
“No sir, I’m really sorry sir”
Logan finally stops. He rubs my back, his had settles on my left cheek. He seems to be thinking.
“I’m so sorry Logan, I don’t know what happens to me...I’ll be better, I promise” I say. And I don’t say it because I think it will change what comes next, I know it won’t, but because I really am sorry that I haven’t done a better job at accepting this.
He lifts me off his lap. In silence, he marches me back to the corner, directs my head deep into the intersection of the two walls. "Stay there. Panties down, hands on your head while I decide what I'm going to do next."
And although Logan was completely frustrated at my continued defiance, I know he couldn’t help but smile as this woman who he knows takes no grief from anyone in her life, at his demand - stood in a corner, with her panties down to her ankles, her hands on her head, exposed from the waist down, scissoring her legs and fighting back the possibility of a tear while she waited obediently to hear what he would have her do next.
