I got spanked at the weekend!

Well, not literally, not in a physical sense. But my girlfriend Bobbi gave me a severe verbal chastisement that left me feeling sore, embarrassed and ashamed. I would have preferred the option of offering my bare buttocks for a hard spanking, delivered with the rigid palm of her hand, or twenty merciless strokes from a bamboo cane. But no - she selected the far more painful punishment of carefully chosen words. She gave me a tongue-lashing, and it hurt like hell.

And what, you might ask, was the reason for this punishment?

Simple. I made the Big Mistake of blogging about a particular aspect of our relationship. I thought Bobbi had already agreed to it, but I was wrong. And so - and not for the first time in my life - I badly misunderstood the situation. I screwed up. I shared intimate details of our relationship with anyone who dropped by. The blogpost in question caused much wailing, and much gnashing of teeth, not only for Bobbi but for two other people as well. Oh dear, oh dear! It all hit the fan at very high speed.

Whatever were you thinking? asked Bobbi.

I really didn't know the answer. It's not like I was massively drunk when I wrote the blogpost. Maybe I was trying to make a point.

Things have settled down a bit since Sunday. Our relationship is back to normal. The 'aspect' I blogged about has gone away, and the controversial post has been removed. I think I've been forgiven, or maybe I'm just out on parole.

Oh well. Life goes on.

Below, as a kind of footnote, is how I imagine the punishment if Bobbi had chosen to wield a thin length of bamboo instead of a torrent of words.

* * * *

I approached the table nervously, clutching the hem of my short blue skirt, as if I expected a gust of wind to blow it upward. But there was no breeze in Miss Roberta's office. It was a small, musty-smelling room with only a single tiny window. She and I were alone, just the two of us. I tried to start a dialogue, in the faint hope that she might not carry out the punishment.

'Please, Miss Roberta. Please don't do it. The cane hurts so much.'
Be quiet, Yasmin. You must endure the penalty for writing those foolish messages on your blog.
'Please, Miss. I promise to be....'
Silence! Lift up your skirt. That's it - all the way up to your waist.
'I'm so frightened, Miss.'
Try to be brave, Yasmin. Bend over and touch your toes.
'Don't. I beg you. Please don't.'
Don't what?
'Please don't pull down my panties.'
Stop whining, you silly girl. Bend over and touch your toes. Keep still.
'I can't, Miss. I'm trembling all over. I don't want to be caned.'
Relax your buttocks, or the strokes will be twice as painful. Are you ready?
'Oh God! Please don't hurt me. I promise I will never....'
THWACK!!

The stroke put a line of fire across my naked bottom, leaving a narrow red-pink stripe on the skin. Another stroke followed. THWACK!!  And then another. THWACK!!  My rear cheeks were already stinging terribly, but the cane hadn't finished with me yet.....

* * * * * * *