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[Posted to soc.sexuality.spanking, 23 March 2000]

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[Image of Little Miss Naughty]Mija Gets Punished
by Mija

Yes, this January Pablo and I had another one of our tearful airport goodbye scenes. <Ignoring the rolling eyes as sentiment overflows yet again> While this time I wasn't consoled by any pilots or 'uniformed crew members', I did manage to be blinded by tears walking out of the airport and knock over a small child (and what was it doing on its own anyway???) before walking face first into a pole and giving myself a bloody nose.

(An aside: I would swear that Pab himself got a little misty as he boarded. His feeling terrible about leaving does always make me feel soooo much better.)

The airport aside, this was a wonderful visit. We did all sorts of kewl stuff even aside from the retreat with my staff. Highlights included playing a spanko version of Trivial Pursuit with some friends. This was done as a switching game and happily I got to whack Pablo in front of people while he tried to play stoic. Unhappily I'd already been spanked lots that day and plus was wearing a very thin skirt - the levels included 'clothed' (for missing questions), 'over underclothing only' (missing pie questions) and bare (missing final questions) - while Pab was wearing jeans. Okay and there were different implements to go with different colors. But this was the Warner Brothers version which is so so so so hard because who watches Warner Bros TV after all? So anyway, even though these whacks were over clothing, they started to really really hurt because I was so sore. How sore? By the end I was begging for my smacks to go on my thighs. Nuff said I think!

Mostly though, our time together was very quiet and gentle. The fact we seem to need each other more and more and find being together as natural as breathing sometimes makes it hard to remember how finite the time truly is. Honestly I usually have a hard time handling our partings, but this time it was nearly impossible. The only thing that got me through it was that Pab kept telling me that it was the last time he'd visit before he'd be coming to stay. Yes, that's the good news. Sometime in the next 6-9 months Pablo is finishing his degree and moving here. The hard part is not knowing before then when or if we'll be seeing each other.

I got spanked and swatted and smacked a lot this week. Mostly play (though some of it serious play, you know?), but I'd mostly been really good since November so there weren't many punishments. In fact there was only one. For reasons best known to him, Pablo put it off to this morning. I'd honestly thought he'd forgotten or decided not to do it, until last night when we were getting ready for bed when he told me he was going to punish me in the morning. My stomach tightened and turned over because what I'd done was so stupid and had broken a promise I'd made to him on the only rule that was made by him without my direct participation.

I smoked once - even though I have asthma, and everything. Don't tell me it was dumb, that point's been really well made, okay? :( Not ever ever smoking is one of the only rules that Pablo made without me. That is, it wasn't something I suggested he help me with or sorta helped decide it would be a good idea. It's something he feels really strongly about and that I understood, or was supposed to understand, was just not something I would ever ever do. But I did it. And then rather than lie (which I would have been able to do but good a couple of years ago) I told the truth when he asked me. Which is why the horrid hairbrush isn't part of this.

Anyway, this morning he helped me put on a white shirt, short black pleated skirt, burgundy school knickers, school tie, ankle socks and shoes. Those of you who've read Mr. Stubbs' fiction won't be surprised to hear the uniform was very very neat and the collar was stiff and tight. He even brushed my hair into <gulp> pigtails. Then we 'talked' (okay, he talked, I sat very straight and nodded). Dressed like that, treated like that, I always feel like a kid, even have to fight my lisp returning. Then he pulled my wooden desk chair to the center of the room and sat on it and had me come over to stand in front of him. Two years ago I'd have been resisting like all heck. But something happened to me this summer when we were living together - I think like my brain finally put together that 'Stupid, if you keep resisting him and pushing him he's gonna whack you harder. Be good, dummy.' Plus too, I really do want to be good, you know?

So I'm standing there thinking 'my o my this skirt is short' and he tells me to hold it up, front and back, and then pulls my knickers down to my knees. This is really really embarrassing too. And the next thing I know I'm over his knee getting a very very upclose view of the carpet and holding onto the chair. Pablo just used his hand, but he can't have been holding much back and started very very very hard. And I'm trying to be brave as these loud spanks come down in my dorm room and echo off the walls. I'm supposed to be all tough but I started whimpering almost right away and found that tears had started. I'm not sure how many there were, but he helped me up and into the corner where I stood really still even though my skirt was pinned up and I could hear terrible sounds in the room.

Finally he called me over to sit on the bed where we 'talked' some more before he tied my wrists and ankles with my school ties and then put me face down on the bed where I flopped like a giant tuna. (Anne means 'grace' you know.) Pablo had taken out the ruler (which was for my legs if I tried to get stuff untied - that thing totally stings and there was no way in heck I was going to try and escape) and, worst of all, the tawse. This horrible Adam and Gillian creation scares me even more than the hairbrush paddle and black nylon cane (also produced by their sadistic craftspeople). Maybe those do hurt more, I'm not sure. But the tawse stings and hurts like hell and is relatively harmless on a damage level. That means Pab seems to feel no real need to use caution or not whack very hard a huge number of times. It's hellish for that reason alone. But also it feels (more than a belt does, oddly enough) more like the strappings my father gave me than anything else we use. So the head space is terrible too.

Pablo started hard across my bottom, letting the ends sometimes wrap, sometimes just land on one side (and worst of all in the middle). I could hardly breathe and was panicking, thinking I'd scream and someone would come in and see me tied and getting strapped. (Don't even laugh, it wouldn't be funny if you were me.) Pablo seemed to ignore me and just kept going, all the way down to the upper part of my thighs. Then he paused and I thought it was over, but he'd just moved to my shoulder and brought the tawse down horizontally so the tips dug into those tender places at the top of my legs. I know I screamed and begged a little and when another landed on the other side I flipped myself over (it was easier than it sounds 'cause I was levitating by then). I thought Pab would either be mad or stop but he was very gentle, stroking and soothing me like a little animal until I started breathing normally and then turned me back over and kept on. (Some of those were aimed right in the middle and on the inside which is just plain mean so don't start thinking he's all nice or something.)

Finally there were six last very very very hard ones and then it was over. By then I was sobbing out loud because this really really hurt and plus I felt terrible that I'd had to be punished on our last morning together (though come to think of it, that was really his fault after all since he'd decided to put it off so long <scowl>). Anyway I couldn't move while he untied me which he did and then rubbed some lotion on my very very sore skin.

I know he's spanked me harder and certainly left more marks, but never has it been so intense. The feeling that what was happening was beyond my control was both devastating and liberating. As I think of it right now it seems so much to represent our relationship.

And reminds me that he's coming back. For good.

Aside from that, any time I see someone smoking and think how kewl it looks, I remember how much that tawse hurt as it landed across my thighs.

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