Horrid O’Clock
It is horrid o’ clock. You pass me my coffee. It follows the two cups of tea that I have already had.
I still cannot speak. I am not alive yet, I need another two hours.
It takes a very dull person indeed to be good in the morning. I am not dull.
I am wearing pyjamas, I am pink and blonde, I am wrapped up, I am in total denial of the Monday morning in which I exist.
You stand at my side and you offer me your hand.
In fact I must protest. This is not an “offer” this hand, it is an instruction, it is a decision of yours.
But you had not realised that there is a very interesting news article on about share prices and interest that I have to know about.
You are clearly not a patriot. You ignore this vital information and leave your hand there. I am horrified by your lack of interest in the fiscal future of your homeland.
You lower yourself to my eye line, this makes you somewhat harder to ignore. I am game though and give it a whirl.
“You,” I am told, “are coming upstairs now.” I consider my options.
1) Go on a quick training course to learn how to turn become a ninja in order to disappear and escape your evil clutches.
2) Declare diplomatic immunity.
3) Do as I am told.
It takes a while and while I was considering the legal implications of applying for diplomatic immunity in one’s own country I found myself walking up the stairs.
“It is most ungallant for a gentleman to take advantage of his superior size and strength.”
Nothing. We are at the top of the stairs.
“It is also ungallant to ignore your paramour, who does her best to surprise and delight you in a myriad of ways.”
Zilch. We are almost in our room.
“We live alone, why do we walk upstairs to do this?”
You stop (hurrah! Victory is mine.) You turn and look down at me, I am damn close to five foot four and it is not fair to make me feel this short.
I wait for you to tell me that I am right and to ask me if I would like more toast. I smile in a welcoming way.
You look into my eyes and raise your eyebrows. I consider saying something smart. I feel, though, that my wit may be better represented by my silence at this juncture.
At some point, I do not know where and I do not know when but you acquired the skill of walking into a room holding my hand, sitting on the bed and putting me face down over your lap in one movement. It is impressive in one way, somewhat disconcerting in another.
I tell you how disconcerted I am. You respond by taking down my pyjama bottoms and not a little down either but past the thigh point.
Things that are a bad sign when your other half is a spanker.
1) The look. This can be when you are alone together or with friends. If you are with friends then it is best to move in with them and return later when he has forgotten, this may take a couple of years.
2) A thoughtful expression on his face while he looks at an object and slaps it on his hand or thigh. This is considered very bad if he then looks at you and very bad indeed if he looks at you with “the look.” See point 1.
3) When you are being especially and delightfully witty and he leans back and smiles at you and says something along the lines of, “You carry on honey, I am just making sure that I do not forget anything that you say.” If this is accompanied by the look it is best to take provisions and move into a cave.
4) When your tender and wonderful lover takes great care to remove your knickers or any such covering down well past thigh level. It means he has a plan. Plans are not good. The only good thing about this is that you cannot see “the look.”
I lie over your lap. I am starting to consider not making anymore smart remarks. This remains the case right the way up until your hand makes first contact with my bottom.
“Wait, wait, wait.”
You wait, I am briefly aware that you wait just to see if I can get myself into anymore trouble.
“OK, the thing is we need to consider your needs.”
No response, I take this as agreement.
“Your hand was mightily abused yesterday, it is important not to overuse a limb. You are ..”
You respond with a veritable plethora of slaps to my abused bum. No response to my loving concerns other than this. Bloody, bloody hell that hurts!
I make a proper determined bid for freedom, one hand against your side, and push, one thing tensed for a lever. I succeed in showing you the inside of my thighs and tipping myself into a place where I am totally unable to move. You are clearly a cad as you take this as an invitation to redden my inner thighs with a volley of quick slaps until I forget all reason and make real plaintive offers to be “good” and, horror of horrors, I mean it!
I even think that I hear you chuckle. Not even laugh, chuckle, at me!
Afterwards you allow me up, taking me into your arms and onto your lap, I lean against you, you kiss me on the head.
“We will do this again tomorrow darling,” you whisper, I smile into your chest.
Filed under: Indigo Sigh | 23 Comments
Tags: spanking
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Spanking, spanking stories and spanking articles for adults
This blog is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented here are intended for adults. Nothing here should be interpreted as advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
All characters appearing in short stories on this blog are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
This blog aims to explore themes of erotic discipline, female submission and spanking. It features stories, anecdotes and observations by DJB and others.
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A Voice in the Corner 
Oh yes I can relate with this Horrid 0’Clock it brings back many a thoughtful sore memory for me too. Oh those extra precious minutes as one wakes up saying lie on lie on then to rudely awakened with the blankets pulled back and pyjama bottoms pulled down whack whack on the still sleepy bottom cheeks. rude awakening for sure, many a morning sometimes the wooden spoon or fathers belt when the hand would do.
By ‘father’ I am sure you mean in a role play sense rather than an actual parent as that is a world away from anything we discuss here.
But it is good to be able to wake up gently, isn’t it?
Stern measures are often needed, but always with soft words and a lot of sweet comfort, after.
Exactly. And before. Also during.
I agree with bothFrader and George and like the naked pictures too of the women and they are posed.
DeborahGifford
Thank you, pretty pictures help. 🙂
Adorable girl! Clearly this was all a mistake. I agree about Horrid o’clock as well. Only the completely deranged are cheerful in the morning.
I love how you worked out that DJ is deranged! I only heard the laughter but you saw the truth. I have no idea why DJ has been so strict about me commenting before- it is so helpful for us to chat like this. Xx
Uh-hmmm
Chatting is lovely. You have nothing to worry about, DJ. We will only talk about good and helpful things to do.
If you allow me to advice, if you feel you need more than two options, you may wish to consider that the real issues about diplomatic is not legal, but more in, …welll.. the appropriateness of the adjective.
Is this an option that leads to champagne and chocolate and involves no actual effort in being ‘good’? Because that is the only option I am interested in 🙂
If you allow me, again, to advice, I would tone down ambitions to being able to sit (as opposed i) not being able to sit or ii)) be told to: stand) quietly (as opposed to, well, you know) and peacefully (idem).
Sitting is lovely. I am sitting, right now, in his lap and I have a lovely glass of wine – I am being perfectly behaved. 😉
Isn’t having to be awake in the morning punishment enough?
I know!!!!
Someone should speak to him about this.
How about you ?
I’d be glad to; anything to help. Um, er, I don’t have to do it in person, do I?
Very wise 😉
DJ always likes politeness so I think it best to speak to him. I think that is what he would find wise. (I am here to help.) Xx
Indigo, I think that courtesy is important, too, and, to my way of thinking, doing things expeditiously is part of that. Therein is the problem. There are about 5500 miles of land and sea between us making it difficult for me to appear promptly for a personal discussion with DJ. Perhaps, as an alternative, I could send DJ a respectful, deferential email delineating the horror of being awake in the morning. Oh, even better, I could direct the email to you, and you could be my voice by reading it to him. That would be most helpful, don’t you think?
Well, I get up at 4.45 am every week day, usually with a cheerful grin on my face. I don’t see myself as dull, just well-disciplined. And I thought all spankos were deranged, some more than others 😉 There’s something about having your jammies taken down. I wear a nightie but sleep naked myself, my bottom constantly accessible, but I love the thought of having them pulled down. Then again, thoughts are always cosy, an irl spanking usually not. Still, I think I need a pyjama… Thanks for inspiring me and all the best to both of you.
You don’t get up early, you get up late at night when it is acceptable to be chirpy so I will stand by my comment. 😉
I also sleep in a nightie or nude, jammies are for pootling around in and avoiding spankings in.
It is lovely to meet you. 🙂
That’s one way of looking at it I guess 😉 The pleasure is all mine and I follow your posts with great interest 😀