The Moleskin Notebook: Pink Blossoms

Two nights ago, with me bitterly cold and dying to get to a warm bed, Uncle Nick decided to have a little goodnight speech. "Sweetums, I am so happy to see that you are on the road to recovery". I must admit that I did become all Bambi-eyed but just as I wanted to shed a tear about his soft heartedness and concern, he added, "therefore, I have taken out the moleskin notebook, and we will commence to sort you out in the morning." I would like to advice him that his choice of a loving goodnight wish leave much to desire, in addition...”we”? Who exactly are “We”?

With millions of nervous butterflies in my stomach, the first thing I decided upon yesterday morning was to stick to a policy of best behaviour. No questions or arguments about anything, in fact, if Uncle Nick had to tell me that the trees were covered in spring blossoms, I would have commented on the lovely pink and whites colours of the flowers. The morning did seem to glide past peacefully and it appeared that my determination to maintain a low profile was starting to pay off. 

Lulled into my happy little world and with a light heart, I went off to have my shower; after all, we did decide to go shopping, with Uncle Nick knowing exactly which shops I needed to visit. I was dressed, ready to go, when he walked into the bedroom. The conversation started innocently enough. I heard how happy he was, and then everything went wrong. Within a couple of seconds, the "BUT" word made its presence known, and from then on, it was downhill only...for me that is.

A date was mentioned upon which my behaviour was deemed as unacceptable, with a rather specific reference to my tendency to throw tantrums. I did bravely attempt to provide, which in my opinion,  were very plausible explanations for the unfortunate incident. Uncle Nick only had a small smile when my mumbling presentation of all the mitigating factors came to a rather awkward end. I must admit, as he took my arm, I seriously did measure the distance to the door, but alas, it was a bit too late for an escape attempt.

I was unceremoniously pulled over his knee, my skirt was raised, my panties pulled down, and in between a lecture, his hand were smacking my bottom for what seemed forever. Even worse, quite a bit of the lecture was given with certain of the words accompanied by smacks as equally forceful. Of two things I am certain now; a part of my anatomy needs no further heating in this freezing weather, and I am seriously to perform some strategic planning...I think I promised Uncle Nick the moon, stars and some pink and white blossoms on frozen trees.