Choices

I had managed to avoid threatened Christmas Spankings and deliberately ignored the hints about Birthday Spankings. I rejected any offers for a New Year Eve spanking, based on double jeopardy; surely, I cannot have both a birthday and a New Year spanking on the same day! It was a good innings, even if I have to say so, a very successful streak avoiding anything that looked as if it could endanger the status, colour and heat levels of my bottom.

However, it only took FOUR wretched days into the New Year to be brutally reminded or rather to have a part of me brutally reminded that complacency can be very dangerous. I had rather very carelessly risked my bottom’s wellbeing levels, disregarding common sense and self-preservation, by practising my ostrich skills. Very easy to do by the way; stick your head into sand, ignore everything that may or is trouble, and hope, no, believe that when you lift your head out the sand, it all would have gone away.

My agreed upon weight assistance programme is very straightforward. Targets have been set per week, I miss the target, and I face the consequences. It was also made very clear to me that the targets and weeks that fell over the festive period were my problem. I could have offered various reasons why those couple of weeks did not quite go the way it was intended, but in the end, the proof was in the pudding...eh, scale.So today, I had to face the consequences. All forty-eight of them. For once, I did not argue, protest or even try to get out of it, guilty as charged for falling off the wagon, straight into the sugar bowl.

After lowering my panties, and had assumed position, offering a bared bottom to redeem myself, he only asked one question; “Are you ready?”  My answer was a simple “No”, with nothing else said, but as the first stroke of the cane burnt across my bottom, I knew that as he had no real interest whether I was ready to receive the punishment. At the same time it struck me that my body was also no longer interested whether I am ready or not to follow a healthier regime, it has now become a necessity. Stroke after stroke of the cane, eleven of them, burnt this knowledge with the shame deeper and deeper into my soul. When the first whack of the bath brush connected against my bottom, I was almost relieved to concentrate on the pain, so different to that of the cane, if only to get away from the inner turmoil, the bitter disappointment in my own failure. As he alternated between cheeks, taking his time delivering the next twelve strokes, the impact of the hard wood enhanced the fire of fresh cane strokes already delivered.

I did not even lift my head as I heard the swishing sound of the cane again, his experimental swings cutting through the air. As I felt him approach, he quietly informed me that the last twenty-four strokes due will be harder. The twelve strokes of the cane blurred into one, as he repeatedly let the cane burn over my sit spot, and I knew that he was making sure that I would remember the next target that has been set out. The first whack of the last twelve due, had me clenching down hard.  Not only was my bottom already on fire, but the hard, relentless whacks of wood against my bottom, alternating between cheeks, created deep burning echoes, and I could not help myself whimpering, trying hard to hold onto my composure, and oh so hard, not to move my legs.

When silence fell again in the room, the sound of rattan and wood against flesh no longer to be heard, and the burn on my bottom had combined with the burn of the shame in my soul, I knew, that no matter what reasons I want to uphold, I was given a choice in the beginning. I always had a choice, and always will have a choice – but it is up to me... and for the sake of my health, my wellbeing, whether I am ready or not, that I have to make the correct choice.