This weekend's story from Mandy, friend I haven't heard from in a while. I'm hoping that by posting some of these old stories so me folks will pop back up again.
Oh no, oh no, oh no. I was in so much trouble. I hurried to remove the bird from the roaster, and watched in horrified stupor as my hand opened and jerked away. I had been in such a rush that I hadn't taken the time to put my whole hand over the potholder, as a result I had wrapped my index finger around a 320 degree wire handle. My left hand dipped sharply and the bird took an unexpected final flight down to my freshly washed kitchen floor and skidded across the waxed surface.
The dogs that had stayed out of my way while I was cooking found this temptation too great. Before I had even plunged my hand into a sink-full of cold water, left over from the breakfast dishes, the dogs were messily dividing up their plunder. I started to yell for them to go away, then gave up. My finger was already starting to blister, and I now had no idea what I was going to do for dinner.
If I hadn't gotten that ticket this morning after getting into that fender-bender I might have run up to the grocery store for a rotisserie chicken or two, but I was now a little leery of driving until David checked out the car. Plus, it was snowing and I knew that the driver-side headlight was out.
David didn't know about the fender-bender yet, I was not going to call it an accident, even to myself, and I didn't want to tell him over the phone. It occurred to me that my burned finger was the perfect excuse to ask David to stop at the store, but I knew I would be in even more trouble if I asked him to go to the store and didn't tell him about the car. No matter what I did I was going to be in trouble.
Brrrt brrrt brrrt, I jumped as my back pocket buzzed. My mother-in-law was calling. "Hello Martha." I answered.
"Hi sweetie!" She spoke. "I'm just letting you know that Frank and I are about ten minutes away. We're stopping at the grocery store. Did you need any last minute items?"
God bless Martha. "Could you pick up a couple of rotisserie chickens?" I asked. I quickly related the series of unfortunate events that had unfolded in the last five minutes. "I can pay you back when you get here." I told her.
"It's no trouble Sarah, just take care of your hand. We'll be there soon." Martha assured me. "Is David home yet?"
"No, but he should be here any minute." I told her. I thanked her and hung up.
Well that was one problem dealt with. If only my other problems were as easy to solve. I glanced around my ransacked kitchen. Even if I somehow hid all the spoons there were plenty of things I could imagine David using on my backside. "We have way too many things in this house I could be spanked with." I muttered under my breath. I shooed the dogs downstairs and closed the basement door. They happily took the carcass of my turkey with them.
I had just finished cleaning the remainder of the grease off the floor, quite a feat while trying not to use my right hand, when I heard David's footsteps on the porch. There was no way he hadn't seen the dented, slightly crunched vehicle in the driveway. My backside spasmed, as if it anticipated his reaction and my hand rushed guiltily back to comfort it. I winced as my blistered finger made contact with my jeans.
David walked into the house, bringing most of the cold into the house with him. "What happened?" he asked, both words tinged with worry and icy determination.
"I got into a little fender-bender, I'm okay, the car still works, I didn't want to worry you." I blurted out in a rush. "Your parents will be here in a couple minutes." This last was a frantic effort to put off the inevitable, something I was sure he realized when he started walking toward me without even removing his shoes. He stopped only when he heard the distant sound of his mother's laughter, followed by the sound of a door closing.
"We will discuss this later." He promised, as he returned to open the door for his parents. There were hugs all around; David's mom set the rotisserie chickens on the counter as Frank asked David what happened to the car. "I was just about to find that out when you arrived." David replied. "Why don't you and mom let me take your coats? Sarah can tell us what happened over dinner."
I busied myself setting the table, smiling gratefully when Martha began slicing up one of the birds. The table was set in no time, and all of us bowed our heads as Frank said grace. I didn't pay much attention to the generic prayer, worrying myself with how I was going to tell David what had happened, while minimizing the damage that would later be done to my backside.
I looked up to see everyone staring at me, and realized that someone must have asked me a question. "Excuse me?" I asked.
"How is your hand, dear?" Martha repeated.
"What happened to her hand?" Asked David and Frank.
"Why, she burned it quite badly." Martha replied.
"Show me." David said. I uncurled my hand and extended it toward him. "How did this happen?" He asked, concern furrowing his brow.
I quickly relayed the story and David's brow smoothed out. "Why weren't you paying attention to what you were doing?" he asked.
I sucked in my breath sharply; this was not good. Now I would have to tell him about the car accident, I mean fender-bender. He would be even more upset because my concern over the acci... fender-bender was the cause of my becoming hurt. I didn't want to proceed, but I wasn't really being given that option.
"Well," I began, "Do you remember that doctor's appointment I had this morning, because of my tiredness lately?" David nodded. "I was on my way back, thinking about what the doctor had said, and I didn't notice the light on the corner turn yellow."
"What!?" David exclaimed, nearly leaping out of his chair.
"The light turned yellow, the car in front of me could have made it, but they stopped. I tried to stop in time; I just didn't quite make it. I think maybe we need new brakes." I temporized.
"I just changed those brakes last month." David gritted out.
I winced. I should have remembered that. This was not going well. Now my news that should have made everyone so happy was just going to get me in more trouble. David and I had been told by a fertility specialist that my untreated endometriosis had made it unlikely that I would conceive. We had tried anyway for the last two years with no results; today I had learned that we had finally been successful. "There is good news." I forged ahead, somehow not hitting the happy note I was going for. "The doctor was able to tell me why I've been so tired lately."
"Why was that, honey?" Martha asked, reminding David that we weren't alone.
"It's a very temporary condition." I said. "It should only last about eight more months."
Martha squealed, and Frank looked at her without comprehension, then looked at me as what I had hinted at so broadly sank in. "You're pregnant?" he asked. "I thought you couldn't get pregnant."
"So did we. But, apparently that wasn't true." I snuck a glance at David. He was looking at me with the strangest expression. Joy mingled with fury in his eyes. I certainly hoped joy would win.
"Mom, Dad, I love you, but after dinner I would appreciate it if Sarah and I could be alone." he said. "We'll call you to set something up tomorrow."
Frank chuckled good-naturedly, and within a half-hour he and Martha had left. No sooner had their car pulled out of the driveway than David had locked the door and led me to the living room. He took my hands, turned them so he could see my burn, and planted a kiss on the biggest blister. Then he sat on the couch and pulled me face down over his lap.
I had expected to end up in this position, but that didn't mean I wanted to be in it. I started to complain, and David silenced my whining with a particularly stinging swat. "Be quiet." he said as he pushed my jeans and underwear down my legs, and pulled them all the way off, leaving them in a crumpled heap on the floor. "So, let me get this straight," he began, massaging my bottom absently. "First you found out you were finally pregnant, against all the odds, then you didn't pay attention while driving, and got into an accident."
"Fender-bender" I protested.
He smacked my bottom, hard, then continued as if I hadn't interrupted.
"... you didn't call me."
"I didn't want to worry you." This time he didn't content himself with one smack, he landed several, until my backside felt as blistered as my finger.
"...You came home and hurt yourself because you wouldn't take the time to calm down. You still didn't call me. Then, when it was time to tell what had happened you tried to minimize what you had done to avoid getting into trouble. Do you have anything to add?"
I thought hard. There was a lot I wanted to say, to show him it wasn't as bad as he thought it was, but I had a feeling that if I tried to argue my way out of trouble I would just be in more trouble. "No." I replied.
"That's what I thought," he replied. Without another word he declared open-season on my bottom. His smacks built in intensity from fierce and fiery to molten magma, turning my bottom into a place so sizzling hot I thought it might melt off my body.
I had long since stopped fighting him, lying still over his knee, except for the sobs that shook my body, when he ceased spanking me. He rubbed my poor abused rear, his work-roughened palm scratching a stinging relief to the same area he had set on fire. He lifted me into his arms and carried me to bed, placing me delicately on my tummy.
I heard him moving about the room, getting ready for bed, and thought I felt a feather light kiss on my damp cheek, accompanied by the words, "Sleep sweet, we'll talk in the morning." as a fuzzy blanket of grey tinged sleep carried me away.
Thanks Mandy. I hope you are still writing and that you'll share another story with us soon. We'll be waiting. Until then I hope there are others of you out there writing and willing to share. If you are please send them to firstname.lastname@example.org