The Visit

[maryfj1972]

From my WP blog: http://thedisciplineofmary.wordpress.com/

Standing before you, I knew from experience I was certainly in for it and I also knew I had brought it all on myself. The trip up was excruciating and only because I insisted on being difficult. I didn’t get my way and I was adamant about making you pay for it by holding you hostage in your own car for two hours while I sulked, pouted, whined, and complained. But you are a patient man and your body language and demeanor do little to indicate the amount of irritation I am inflicting on your nerves. Blind to your subtle mannerisms—staring straight at the road ahead with a mild look of annoyance mingled with stony silence or the occasional slight nod of your head as if taking some sort of mental note of my behavior—I allowed myself with no amount of self-control to make what should have been a pleasant drive nothing short of miserable.

I had been making plans to have a few days alone. You would be leaving on Thursday and I looked forward to having from that day through Monday off to enjoy several days of complete solitude. I had requested those days off and it was no small feat either! But then on Monday you told me your trip was cancelled. No big deal; you’d still go to work and I’d have my days to be alone and I liked the idea of you coming home to me at night! But you dropped a bomb when you said your parents wanted us to come for a visit. How could I protest? You never get to go home, but that didn’t stop me from pouting. I made my disappointment clear by stomping around for two days, pouting, giving monosyllabic answers, and the occasional eye roll. You allowed me my display of disappointment, but I could sense your patience was wearing thin…and I only made it worse the day of our departure.

I stood in the living room looking out the picture window, the ardent sun fooling me into believing the fall day would be warm. I watched as you loaded the car with our suitcases; you told me to get a jacket when you came in. Wordlessly, I retrieved one from the coat closet, yanking it off the hanger in a huff and began shutting off lights, after you asked me twice. You looked at me occasionally, probably guessing something might be brewing, but choosing to wait to see if it escalated before you said anything. It’s not like you to indulge my pouting and acknowledgement equaled encouragement. You always give me the opportunity to reel in my temper and attitude of my own volition before taking it upon yourself to curb my insolence.

I got in the car, slammed the door harder than I should have, and crossed my arms.
“Easy on the door,” was all you said as you started the car and backed out of the driveway. I scowled in your direction and turned the radio on.

We drove without talking for about 30 minutes when you asked me if I planned to pout the entire trip. I responded by turning the radio up.



“Turn it down, Mary,” you said in an even tone.

“But I like this song,” I said enjoying the opportunity to aggravate you. I was even so bold as to reach and turn it up a bit more.

“Turn it down,” you repeated, “before I stop this car.”
I could see I had finally struck a nerve with my poor attitude. The daddy/daughter dynamic of our discipline centered lifestyle was suddenly shifting into high gear…and I chose to test you.

“You wouldn’t dare!” I said defiantly. No sooner had I said this than we see a rest area just up ahead. “Just my luck,” I thought as you slowed down and pulled in. We were one of maybe three cars and you parked under a shade tree and told me to get in the back seat. You did the same; the tinted windows offering a certain level of privacy in the nearly abandoned parking lot.

“Pull your pants down, panties, too, and don’t you even think of making me tell you twice,” you said. You hated doing this here, but the fact I dared you was a serious offense. I should know better than to ever, ever call your bluff, especially in the area of your punishing me and you were upset enough now to have spanked me in front of an entire room full of your closest friends and family, your patience having given out.

I obeyed, unbuttoning my pants and sliding them, along with my panties, down to just below my bottom and had barely felt the leather seat against my skin before you effortlessly pulled me across your lap(thank God for large cars), held me tightly at my waist, and proceeded to deliver a fusillade of hard, sharp smacks to my behind. There really was no room for me to kick or move, so I had no way to alleviate the pain and discomfort in moving or even squirming, for that matter. You generally admonish me for my bad behavior when you discipline me, but this time you said not a word, the spanking lasting maybe three minutes and hurting terribly; the lack of duration being made up for with intensity. And of course I was embarrassed. I was as hard wired in my modesty as I was in my deep-seated need to be spanked—neither part of my personality was going to change anytime soon. When you were finished, you told me to pull my pants up. You were in the front seat waiting before I finished composing myself and when I finally joined you, I was furious at you. We drove in silence for another thirty minutes when reached over and gently touched my hand and held it. I let you; it wasn’t like you to ever withhold affection regardless of your disappointment. You were a strict disciplinarian, not a cold-hearted control freak, and I was a lucky girl in that respect. I was still pouty, however, and kept looking out the window. I refused to look at you or even talk to you. When you suggested we stop to eat, I took the opportunity again be difficult.

“I’m not hungry,” I mumbled.

“Oh my God, Mary…you were born hungry! You eat every three hours like clock-work…don’t be difficult. Now where do you want to stop?”

I rolled my eyes and sighed heavily.

“You know as soon as we get there, they’ll want to go somewhere and eat. They always do!” I said. My tone was accusatory; as if their wanting to go out and celebrate a family gathering was a character flaw of some sort. We both knew my outburst was a clear indication that I would find fault with everything you and they did this weekend, and I was making sure you knew I was not OK with having my weekend plans made for me.

“Hmmmm, yeah…we probably won’t be going out when we get there,” you said. I had no idea what you meant at the time; I assumed your spanking me a few miles ago would have to do til we went home on Monday. I never dreamed you’d ever punish me anywhere besides home, and especially not at your parent’s. Caught up in my petulant behavior, I forgot you always, perforce, take care of my attitude as quickly as possible.

We stopped at a sandwich place and I picked at my food, my mood seemingly worse the closer we got to your parents. I wouldn’t speak to you, but instead chose to pout and complain about the restaurant; my constant kvetching finally getting to you. It was then you leaned over, held my arm just above my elbow, and whispered, “I hope you’re really enjoying your little mood and the fact you are making this the most miserable trip home I have ever made. You know good and well that acting like a child has guaranteed you a long trip over my knee and I’ll make sure it happens before the weekend is over. Now get in the car.”

I swallowed hard and followed you out. I tried to bring a bit of levity to the situation by offering to drive. No. You were fine to drive. I suggested your favorite CDs to play. “Whatever you want to listen to is fine,” you said quietly. I made comments on the pretty scenery to which you only offered a “Hmmmm,” which absolutely drives me insane. Finally, I reached for your hand and you didn’t pull away, but held onto mine tightly.

“I’m sorry…I really am. Please don’t spank me for this. You understand I had wanted those days to myself; I had my hopes up and I love your family, I do, but I’m just not in the mood for company this weekend,” I implored.

“Of course I understand your disappointment. But you have a terrible way of handling it—and acting like a child is NOT the way to handle it. I wanted to go on my trip, too. You don’t see me stomping around like a five year old who didn’t get his way, do you? You don’t see me making life miserable for everyone I come into contact with because my plans changed. Now, you chose the behavior, so you choose the consequences. Now, what happens when you act like a little girl, Mary?”

“I get a spanking,” I said quietly, holding your hand very tightly.

“That’s right. And you deserve one, don’t you?” you asked calmly.

“Yes,” I said whispering and looking at the floor.

We were now minutes from your parents and you said we’d deal with this a little later. I knew you would…and the butterflies began to flutter.

We arrived at your parents around one o’clock and after hugs and hellos and bringing in luggage, your mother suggested we go grab something to eat.

“No, we are pretty tired, mom. We actually stopped a while back. Why don’t you all go get a sandwich or something and we’ll all go out someplace nice tonight?”

“Oh…well, are you sure?” she asked, with a note of concern.

“Yeah, of course. It was a long drive and we both could use a little rest. We’ll visit when you come back and go out tonight, ok?” you said, and suddenly I was on to you. I opened my mouth to agree with your mother and caught your eye. The look you gave me dared me to protest us staying here alone.

I could feel the mental high five beaming from your brother as he gave you a salacious grin; he thought your plans to be alone with me were of an amorous nature. The look was a sharp contrast to your mother’s disapproving glare—we weren’t married and she was not enamored with the idea of us “getting it on” like a couple of teenagers under her roof. If only they knew our alone time would consist of nothing like that! As much as I hated the thought of your mother regarding me as the hussy who seduced her son, I preferred that idea be planted in her brain than one of my impending punishment.

“Suit yourself, then. We’ll be back in an hour or so,” she said. They left and as their car left the drive way, you took my hand and led me upstairs to the spare bedroom. It was like walking the green mile as we ascended the stairs and made our way to the last bedroom down the hall. You patted the foot of the bed and instructed me to sit down. You then went back downstairs to procure a dining room chair. You entered the room and placed the chair in front of me. You then took your belt off, met my apprehensive gaze as you did so, and sat down. You placed the belt on the bed beside me. Your knees were open and directly in front of mine; my own were pressed together between yours; my hands resting in my lap. I pretended to be focusing on the neatly combed fringe of the area rug beneath my feet.

“Look at me, Mary,” you said, taking my hands in yours. A lecture and a brief outline of what I had done wrong, the reminder of my impending spanking, and a clear expectation of future behavior always preceded punishment. I glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. 1:30.

“I’m pretty disappointed in your behavior the past couple days, and especially with your behavior in the car. I don’t get to see my family often and we rarely get to go anywhere together and for you to behave that way is unacceptable. Did you really believe I’d let it go because we are at my parents’ house? I said, look at me,” you said calmly.

“No…I don’t know,” I said, biting my lower lip and looking at you. It was so hard to look in your eyes; seeing the disappointment. The butterflies were stirring; I just wanted this over with; I knew I was going to be spanked, but you were dragging it out. The longer you lectured, the more anxious I became. I was not just a little worried that this was going to be a hard lesson you were about to impart; your didactic style of discipline of lecture coupled with punishment was the norm. I had no choice but to endure the anticipation of your hand making contact with my behind. I was still feeling the sting of the spanking from earlier, and I was unsure I’d be able to be good during what was sure to be a hard one.

“If it was your family, I’d be glad to go. In fact, I have. We have spent time with them and I’m glad to do it; you need time with them and we always have a good time. What you are doing has been nothing short of disrespectful. Don’t you agree?” you asked. There was only one answer you’d accept.

“Yes…you’re right. I’m sorry…” I whispered.

“OK then, baby, I accept your apology. When they come home, I expect you to be a whole lot more agreeable. Now, I need you to stand up,” you said. You gently gestured for me to stand, scooted your chair back, and maneuvered me to your left side.

You then waited. I knew to unbutton my pants and lower them, as well as my panties. My jeans were tight and you helped tug them down. My sheer pink panties were next and they too joined my jeans right at my knees.

“Hmmm, take them all the way off,” you said. We both knew this was going to be harder than most spankings—I had disrespected you and in a sense, your parents, and this was going to be one spanking I’d remember for a very long time. Too many clothes would somehow prohibit the proper administration of what would very soon be a harsh, yet deserved punishment.

You gently guided me across you lap and I settled close to you, my hands flat on the floor. You positioned me to where I got a much closer look at the fringe on the carpet; it would serve as a nice focal point. You grasped my waist firmly and without warning or any amount of ceremony, began spanking me hard, alternating between the left and right cheek as they quickly turned pink. I clenched my teeth and dug my nails in the carpet, determined to not make a sound. But that didn’t work. I didn’t yell out, but I could not help but breathe harder and whimper a few times. I tried to relax my entire body and just take the punishment, but you were spanking me so hard, I involuntarily brought both legs up, interfering with your swing.

“Put ‘em down…now,” You said calmly. “And spread your legs. Good girl.” And I did so…slowly… and you spanked the back of my legs and inner right thigh just as hard and as quickly as you spanked my bottom.

Once my legs and thigh were sufficiently punished, you began spanking my behind again…and once again I kicked. You noted out loud I was a nice shade of red and as your hand rested on my bottom you brought your left leg over my legs and had me pinned. I took the opportunity to rub the tenderer parts of my behind and usually you’ll tell me to move my hand…but this time you merely held it firmly at the small of my back. I was immobile. I knew I needed to just relax my body…and take the rest of spanking. Tensing up and getting upset would result in my crying or worse…yelling out. My spanking seemed to go on forever, but never diminished in intensity. Occasionally you’d stop and with your hand resting on my behind, you’d ask me if I was going to behave and be pleasant the rest of the weekend. I bet your arm would be sore tomorrow with the force you used in delivering the countless swats to my poor behind. I could feel myself get wet although the pain was almost more than I could bear. I never cried out…but suddenly a sob escaped me…and within seconds I was really crying. As soon as you noticed, you stopped. You took me in your arms and I instantly tried to push you away. You didn’t let me. You were stronger and you gathered me up and held me close while I cried and I said I was sorry over and over. I promised to be good and you shhh’d me and rubbed my back and kissed me gently. Once I calmed down, you loosened your grip and tilted my face to yours.

“We aren’t quite finished, Mary. I need to finish your spanking…are you ready now? You stood up and helped me to stand. You then took two pillows from the bed and placed them one on top of another at the foot of the bed. You instructed me to lay on them and inch forward with my toes above the floor. With no more preamble than that, you took the belt and began spanking me quickly and with equal force of your hand spanking. Any kicking was understandable, but was met with a firm swat with your belt across the back of my legs. Most swats were met with an audible response consisting of only a quick groan and then my hand flew back to protect my bottom from any more punishment…and to get in a quick rub to better endure any more of your belt.

“Move you hand; you know better. Keep both of them stretched out in front over your head,” you said.

“I can’t,” I managed to say, sniffling.

“Do you need me to hold them for you?”

“Yes…”

“Put them behind your back,” you said quietly.

I did so and you held them tightly, pushing me down into the mattress.

“Keep your legs down,” you said resting the belt on my bottom; your tone more stern. You then delivered the remaining blows quickly and harshly and I again let one sob escape…and the floodgates were once again opened! You have never been uncomfortable with my crying after or even during a spanking, regardless of how intense. This time was no different. You put the belt down and sat down. In a single motion, you grabbed me up and held me as a cried in your arms.

“I’m sorry…I’m really sorry. I was awful…I’ll be good…I promise,” I managed to choke the words, barely comprehensible. But you understood.

“I know….I know you’re sorry…Shhhh…it’s ok…it’s all over. I know you’ll be good,” you said in a soothing tone. “Get your clothes on; I’ll put everything back. You go and compose yourself; they’ll be home in a few minutes.”

I moved quickly; putting my pants back on; the fabric of my panties and the denim against my red, spanked behind proving quite uncomfortable.

As I emerged from the bathroom after making myself presentable, we heard your family pull into the driveway. You gave me a once over glance and a quick kiss on the forehead before we met them in the living room. Your brother erroneously mistook my flushed appearance for afterglow while your mother’s reproachful gaze at me like I was some sort of harlot did little to boost my confidence level after such a sound spanking, but I managed a big smile and asked how she was enjoying retirement. A gracious and polite woman, she wasn’t out to completely disrespect me and her demeanor softened and we spent the afternoon in pleasant conversation; the visit turning into one of relaxation and high spirits.

Dinner was a bit uncomfortable—for me anyway. I felt every smack of your hand and swat of your belt as we sat through the meal. Your furtive glances as you sat comfortably did much to arouse me and your little smile told me you were turned on, too. You put your right hand on my leg under the table and gave a very hard, reassuring squeeze…and inched up my thigh. I reached down and placed my hand on yours and held tightly. The rest of the evening was more than pleasant—the conversation and alcohol in ample supply. It was probably ten before we got home. Everyone said their goodnights and we finally went upstairs.

Once in bed, you rolled onto your side and began fingering me between my legs and I instinctively spread wide, giving you complete access. You massaged my throbbing pussy through the thin fabric of my panties as you kissed me hard. You then reached in and fingered my clit til I came…You then told me to take my panties off…as well as my nightie. You shed your clothes and I could see you were already hard. You nestled beside me and I pulled you on top of me. I like your weight on me, feeling you close, and looking up into your eyes. I opened up completely and you slid inside me and we made love nice and slow, the only sound was our whispering in the darkness….how much we wanted each other…how good you felt inside me…how wet I was….soft moans…your sweet, gentle laughter…both of us thankful the bed did not squeak.

You put your arms around me and held me tightly as you gently slid in and out…your thrusting becoming intense only as you were about to come. You came inside me and I held you tightly, kissing you and then burying my face in your neck…

The weekend flew by and the trip home was a marked contrast to the trip there. We talked about everything from the most banal TV celebrities to politics to music to work…everything except what happened the first day of our trip. That was your way—to deal with an issue and then let it rest. No need to analyze or dredge it up…it was over and done.

And if only more people believed that way…hmmm…

[jezy]

great...love the extreme punishment followed by sweet love

[tammiejo1973]

I loved your story, thanks for sharing it.