Thoughts From the Corner

And now, here she was in the corner of the living room. What would it be tonight? The hairbrush? The hard leather slap of the tawse? Maybe the dreaded paddle that hung in the closet for special occasions? She closed her eyes …

I want you to know, we’re going to talk about this when I get home tonight,” he had said in a tone of voice that indicated ‘talking’ was the least of what they were going to do. She cringed a little inside, knowing that this was not his playful ‘spanking the brat’ voice, but a more serious and commanding ‘behavior adjustment’ voice.

“When I get home tonight, I expect to see one very repentant young lady with her nose in the corner. Is that clear?”

She had giggled, looking around nervously. They were walking in the middle of downtown, people all around them…what if someone had heard? He had stopped walking then and turned her to face him. Cupping her chin with his hand, he brought her face up so that she was staring into his eyes.

“Young lady, I am very serious about this,” he said measuring each word.

“Today was just the final straw – you’ve been trying to push my buttons all week. Now, I want you to go home and spend some time in the corner thinking about your behavior this week. And by the time I get home, you’d better have an explanation… and I better not hear, ‘I don’t know,’ – you’re in enough trouble already! Now…is that clear?”

The look in his eyes had captured and held her – all she could do was nod.

“Good. I’ll be home around six.” He kissed her lightly, and went jogging off in the direction of his work. She stood there on the street corner, oblivious to the people all around her, feeling electricity surge through her body. She stood there until he was out of sight.

And now, here she was in the corner of the living room. She had learned long ago not to defy him. She wondered if she should change from the frilly little skirt she was wearing to a sturdy pair of jeans? Not that it would do her much good – he wouldn’t let her keep them on anyway.

What was she going to answer him? Had she been trying to push his buttons? Yeah, she supposed that she had been. Why??? Because she was a brat, that’s why! Pushing limits – that’s what brats did, right? He knew that…he usually thought it was cute! She leaned against the wall; pouting. It wasn’t fair! So, maybe she had pushed it a little far during lunch today. He HAD asked her to stop – more than once, in fact. He was being all serious – worrying about the stupid presentation he had to give that afternoon – no sense of humor at all. She on the other hand felt frisky, playful – like a kid – a bratty kid. Blowing bubbles in her water, throwing popcorn at him, kicking her leg against the table. He had asked her to stop. And she probably should have…but…she just couldn’t. She wanted…something. His attention? Well she was certainly going to get some of THAT soon. Would he still be mad at her? That might depend on how well his presentation had gone. Would he finally see the humor in having to present a talk on teaching sex education – with a large wet spot on the crotch of his pants? (Courtesy of the orange juice she had spilled while kicking the table.) Probably not. She giggled to herself. Well, she thought it was damn funny (darn funny, she amended – another lesson he had taught her a while back.)

No doubt her bare bottom would feel the sting of the hairbrush tonight. She cringed. He really knew how to get her attention with that thing. Solid wood, polished smooth…at least in part by contact with her butt. She didn’t know what she disliked more – the rapid-fire spankings that left her frantically trying to escape from the unending sting, or the slow, deliberate ones, where every hard stroke took her breath away as it sunk in. Just thinking about it made her want to reach back and rub her bottom.

Usually, with “behavior adjustment” sessions like tonight he liked to divide her misdeeds and punish her for each one separately. This stretched the punishment out and made sure that she was truly repentant by the end. Sometimes he would use different implements for different misdeeds. What would it be tonight? The hairbrush? The hard leather slap of the tawse? Maybe the dreaded paddle that hung in the closet for special occasions? She closed her eyes at the thought.

One way or another the punishment was never over until she let go – stopped fighting and struggling against him and against the pain of the spanking. Until she relinquished control and fully accepted the punishment. Sometimes at this point she would cry. Sometimes not. But he always seemed to know when she had reached this point of acceptance.

And then, eventually, it would be over. If she had been really bad – he would sometimes make her stand in the corner afterwards too; but never for very long. He knew how much she hated this, how much she needed to be hugged and held and cuddled and forgiven. The connection between them…whether being held tightly across his lap, or held tightly in the comfort of his arms after it was all over…obliterated everything else in her life for that moment. It was that same connection that she had felt on the street corner when with his gaze alone he had made everyone around her disappear.

She closed her eyes, reliving the moment. She hadn’t realized just how much she had missed that feeling! These last few weeks, his new job, her studies, obligations, commitments, responsibilities – their relationship had become…well, ordinary. Like that special spark between them had died. In her own way, she had tried to set off that spark again…and she had gotten it. Yeah, boy oh boy, was she going to get it! And she knew what the theme of tonight’s spanking was going to be: Communication skills. She could almost hear his voice: calm, quiet, powerful. She needed to learn to talk about things that bothered her instead of acting out. She sighed, how appropriate – teaching her to communicate via a paddling. But she knew it wouldn’t really be like that. They would talk first…THEN he would punish her. For her behavior – never for the way she felt – only for the way she acted.

Then afterwards maybe they would talk some more. With her wrapped in his arms, feeling warm and relaxed, loved and cared for and totally open and one with him. She had to laugh. Yeah, she’d be feeling warm all right – more like scalding hot as far as her bottom was concerned. And she relished the butterflies in her stomach that were awakened at the thought.

She heard his key in the lock, his footsteps in the hallway…the butterflies surged again. She thought about the sting of his spanking hand and the gentleness of his hand on her face, the burning kiss of the hairbrush and the intensity of his gaze. She marveled at the range of feelings that he could elicit in her. She checked her posture, took a few deep breaths to calm the racing of her heart and waited for his voice to call her from the corner.

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