Friday, June 19, 2009

Prissy Princess Mode, x/F, domestic discipline

I know I've been a bit bitchy lately, and that you have been busy with work, but everything just started happening at once, and then it all started to escalate.

I am ashamed to admit, that I have been know to do this before.

To get into my prissy princess mode, where if I'm not the center of attention, I start to fuss and pout and cause problems.

Something else I have also learned, through much experience over the years, is that if I do just little stuff, it gets the point across, but it's so minor, that I really don't get into trouble for it, even though I know I should.

Like, when you come in after working hard, and I have already had supper, using the excuse that I was starving and couldn't wait. And then when you get ready to eat, going into the other room because this program I've been waiting for all week is now on.

Or if you go to bed early, I have a reason to stay up. Or if you stay up, I go to sleep, wearing nice conservative jammies, stuff I usually don't wear, so you can't get easy access at night. Or not really denying you sex, but I don't have to, as you are to polite to come right out and ask for it from me, especially with the body language I have been giving off, you can tell I am not interested, but baby, I am, I just need you to take charge again, but there is no way I can tell you that.

At times like this, it's as if I see myself do these things, know why I am doing them, hate it that I am, but can't stop myself.

And somehow, you, sweety that you are, haven't picked up on this yet, not wanting to push, and so I in my twisted little mind, make this all YOUR fault, and start acting out in even more ways.

I had gotten myself in a pretty good little funk, when I finally get home from work. I have on tight linen slacks, that show off my curves nicely, and a silk short sleeved top. But when I come in, you are sitting there in the living room, watching tv.

As soon as I get in the door, you call out hi, and I grunt back noncommitaly, not going to make these easy for you at all. I start to go into the kitchen, when I am CALLED back to the living room by you, in that 'better not push your luck young lady I mean it' tone, and my heart thrills even as my lip comes out in a pout as I sigh dramatically and flounce back to be called in front of you before I can sit.

You start to lecture me as I stand in front of you, but still, that other me won't give up control, and even though the real me is estatic about you being back in charge, the other me pouts and fidgets and looks anywhere but at you. I am the epitome of the spoiled young wife.

And then you take me by the hand, and forcefully PUT me across your lap, head hanging down, feet hanging down, denied the comfort of the couch, positioned like the deserving brat I am.

You speak only one sentence to me, but it is all that is needed.

"Missy, we'll start the talk over again when I am sure that I have your undivided attention."

Then CRACK! I gasp in a breath, and I know from previous paniful lessons that you have the heavy wooden oval brush, and you are raising your arm up high, and giving it that little extra wrist snap, and keeping it in place for that extra split second.

Oh honey, getting brushed like that hurts like you would not believe, and while your real wife would love to do nothing more than abjectly beg for forgiveness and mercy, the bitchy counterfeit me won't give in, but fusses and resists and backtalks something awful.

And still that brush comes down, and even over thin pants and thinner panties it hurts so unbelievably bad. I'm crying now, despite my resistance, but mostly just crying and protesting.

I realize you are no longer spanking me, as I feel you undo the zipper at the back of my pants, and then I am whimpering "no, don't pull them down, you don't have any right, you can't..."and of course, you can pull them down, anytime, anyplace you see fit, that is what I vowed to you when we married, and you do have the right.

And I know this , and the real Angie is as dizzy with my love for you as I am from the pain in my poor ass.

And I know that this isn't even close to being over yet.

Then my wispy pink little panties are also at my ankles, and the brush resumes it's work. You spank hard and it just doesn't stop, but I finally am no longer doing any threats or demands or anything, but begging and pleading and asking for forgiveness.

I snuffle, the tears are running down my face, and my nose is running. I must look a fright. But there is no doubt who is now in charge.

I am being taken in hand, firmly and decisively, and this is discipline, not fun and games, your fingers have not strayed once.

At last, the spanking done for now, and I am listening most attently in that most childish of positions, as you detail my many faults, listing them all! I am amazed both that I have racked up so many, and also that you actually have noticed and remembered it all.

"To your corner now, young lady, and rub even once, or turn or say anything other than a response to a question, and you will be going bare bottomed outside to cut switches. Nod if you understand."

And I nod frantically, no longer obstinate at all. I waddle to my corner and put my nose against the wall, and keep my hands by my sides, so there is no touching or rubbing at front or back, and think, just like you mean for me to do. I hear you moving around, and hear you pull the chair out, and position it so you can see better, and I blush. Then, I hear the snap whirr of the polaroid, and the sound of our digital camand digital vid! I groan, but show my obedience by staying as I was told.

You tell me that these will be getting sent to our friends, as the part one of my punishment session, and I about die from shame!

Then, your fingers lightly on my ear, I am led without any resistance back to the stool, and you place your foot on the lower rung, and flip me over your up turned thigh, then reach forward to pick up my punishment paddle, the wicked one with all the holes. And I feel you twist away, and then recoil and the paddle slams into my ass, and the burn from the brushing has been instantly rekindled, and at the last second, you let the paddle slide up my ass, and oh how that burns!

These are hard, no nonsense punishment spanks, full armed, full strength, and I will be bruised and marked and blistered, we both know it and I revel in the knowledge that you love and care for me enough to take charge of me and not let me get by with such, such, flagrant rudeness to you.

I feel my pussy dampening know, but no real erotic feelings on my part, though I hope you notice and like, but no, this is more the primal female submission to her mate, her body reacting to her mates dominance. I revel in your strength, the ease in which you can move and hold me and do what you will with me, and then, the paddle is put down, my cheeks are spread wide, and the spanking brush is introduced again, this time to tender and other wise sheltered inner cheeks, and you even make sure to soundly, soundly spank my anus!

I notice that I am no longer being spanked when I realize I am again standing in Angie's corner. And I hear the recording of my bottom for posterity going on behind me.

Then I am called to you, and pants and panties still binding, I make my way in front of you, head down, in obedience and submission.

"I would like my apology for the way you have been acting, now, little wife."

And even though my bottom is literally blistered, my heart swells at your words. You know, and I know, that I was in the wrong here. And now the slate was almost clean, would be when I had admitted my wrongdoing. And so I did, fully and contritely.

A brilliant smile awaits me, and you grab my sore ass hard, and as I yelp and squirm, you take my mouth, claiming it. Then with a final pinch and swat, you tell me that for the rest of the night, I will be dressed as I am right now, pants and panties down. Because, you tell me, you like it and it turns you on. I blush, suddenly shy in my submissiveness and tell you "yes dear".

And I go to make dinner, thinking of the other things that we will most certainly be doing as the night goes on.


1 comment:

  1. Angie,

    This was a wonderful piece. Thanks for writing it. You captured for me the complete aspect of not being able to pull yourself back. Despite many opportunities to get control of myself, I often feel my immature comfort in misplaced anger. I appreciate the insight:)