Fantasy Friday - Cleaning the House

* In case you don't have Words From the Hart  on your blogroll yet, she has a new post up and she's asking for advice. Now who among us doesn't like to give advice? Hope you can drop by. 

Happy Friday I hope some of you were able to stay warm this week. School was out here for a couple of days due to snow. I hate to complain about the cold, because so many places are SOOOO much colder. But it’s cold enough for me.

Now to get us a little warmer we have another brand new story today. This is another new writer too. Out writer is Grace, and she is one of my younger readers and contributors.  Nothing wrong with that, most of us knew we were drawn to spanking long before we were looking for gray hairs after all. Grace has shared her first story with us and she has done a wonderful job. Sit back and enjoy…

Cleaning the House

My husband stares into my eyes, pulling me in for a hug. 

“You’re going to get the cleaning done while I’m at work, right?”

“Yes,” I sigh, knowing the consequences if I don’t obey. My husband, perfectly reasonable, helped me start the cleaning yesterday. But he just received a call about a work emergency and can’t help me finish. His parents are coming late tonight, and we both want to impress them. 

“You know how my parents can be,” he says, “They’ll want everything perfect or we’ll never hear the end of it.”

 “Don’t worry, honey. I’ll get the cleaning done.” I sigh again, thinking of the complaining we endured the last time they came.

“How about I make this more interesting?” he says, giving me a sharp swat to the butt as he pulls away from the hug. 

“Okay,” I answer, as if I have a choice. I see the gleam in his eyes. Knowing where this is going, I tremble with fear and excitement. 

“You better clean really, really well or there will be serious consequences. The kitchen especially. If I come back and there’s even a speck of dust or little smudge anywhere in the kitchen, you will regret it.”

“Hmmm,” is all I can say. I know I can’t literally get the kitchen spotless, yet I understand why he’s doing this. Most of his parents’ grumbling last time had been about the kitchen.

“What was that?” he asks, still in a commanding tone.

“Yes sir.” I reply, knowing he means business.

“That’s my girl,” he says, pulling me in for another hug. “I love you, Grace. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He gives me a quick kiss and goes out the door. 

I begin cleaning, better and more efficiently than I normal, nervous about the upcoming spanking. I’m grateful for his authority. I know I wouldn’t be cleaning anywhere near this well without it, and I want to make him proud.

After a few hours, the house is mostly clean. I just need to finish the kitchen, but I know it has to be beyond spotless. I take a break for lunch, and then begin really working on the kitchen.

************

 “Honey, I’m home” my husband yells as he comes through the door” Smiling, he can already tell the house is quite clean. “Good job sweetie!” He walks through each room, inspecting my work. My stomach has butterflies as he checks the house. “Everything I’ve seen is good so far. Just need to look at the kitchen” 

I know he will find fault in the kitchen. There’s no way to get a room that size completely clean without even the smallest smidgen of dirt. He begins checking everything, from floor to ceiling. Sure enough, he points out several flaws. There’s a smear of dirt on one of the cabinet drawers, some water hiding behind the kitchen faucet, dust on top of the refrigerator, and little spots of dirt throughout the kitchen. Although I know I will be punished, I can tell he isn’t really angry and it won’t be too bad.

Until he opens the fridge. Crap, I totally forgot about that.

“What’s this?” He asks, seeing the mess inside the refrigerator.  It hasn’t been cleaned at all, meaning it’s a total wreck.

“I’m sorry,” I stammer, “I completely forgot”

“I see,” he says. I can tell he doesn’t mind the other flaws, since they’re minuscule, but I’m going to get a real punishment for the fridge. “Alright, you clean the fridge now. I’ll take care of the rest of the stuff you missed in the kitchen”

“Yes, sir.” I say as I get back to work.

Once I finish, I show my husband. He approves of the clean fridge, and we still have a few hours before his parents come. “Okay Grace, let’s get this over with. Go and wait for me on the bed. I’ll be there in a few minutes”

I pull off my jeans and underwear, shaking a bit in anticipation. The minutes feel like hours as I wait. 

After what feels like forever, even though I know it’s only a few minutes, my husband walks in. Before coming toward me, he takes out the box under the bed. From the box, he grabs the hairbrush and a paddle. He sits on the bed and I lay across his lap without protest. I know it will hurt, but also that I need this.

He begins with his hand, not too hard, slowly turning my ass a shade of pink. He reminds me how it important it is that our house is clean for his parents, lecturing as he spanks. He asks, “What if it was my parents who saw the fridge? You know it would have reflected badly on both of us, and we would’ve never heard the end of it.” He continues lecturing and spanking. I try to respond with “yes sir,” at the appropriate times, but it’s difficult to concentrate. As it continues, his hand comes down harder and harder, to the point where it really hurts.

After the warm up with his hand, he picks up the hairbrush. He tells me the spanking with the brush is for everything I missed in the kitchen, except the fridge. I gasp with the first strike. Wow, he isn’t going easy on me. By the time he’s done with the brush, I know my ass is bright red, and it burns like crazy. I’m just to the point where I think I can’t take anymore. 

Then he picks up the paddle. Yikes, that paddle is not fun. Usually he only uses it for serious punishments. But I know impressing his parents means a lot to him, and I understand why he choose it. He spanks me with it again and again, past the point of what I think I can take. Until finally, he stops and tells me it’s over. 

I hug and thank him. Nothing makes me feel loved like a good spanking, and he knows it. I love the closeness, and that he cares enough to correct me. We cuddle and kiss for a few minutes before pulling ourselves together to greet his parents. 

~o~

Thank you again Grace. I hope you will keep read and writing out here. I always love having new stories to share with my readers. Please send your stories to elisspeaks@yahoo.com

We have a new friend!

Lovely day here in the south – provided you like white! I have a day off school  and although we’ll have to make it up sometime, I’m one of those – I want what I want when I want it – and a day sitting by the fire writing is just what I wanted.

And I have something to write about! Last week we had a great Fantasy Friday story by Alyssa Hart. Today she has taken a deep breath and jumped into the world of blogging! I believe like so many of us Alyssa stumbled into our version of blogland and realized she had found kindred spirits.

Remember when you were the ‘new kid’? I remember wondering if anyone would be reading or stopping by to say hello.  If you get the chance today, go by and welcome Alyssa at

Words From the Hart

And if you didn’t get the chance to read her Fantasy Friday last week go back here and check it out.

Welcome Alyssa! I think you’ll fit right in.

About Blondie’s Paddle

I’ve gone by Blondie Place and looked at the paddles many time. Just as the cane is traditional in England, the wooden paddle it traditional in the south. My parents didn’t have one – they rarely spanked, and only with their hand when it was necessary. But the baby sitter had one, never saw her use it, but every one of us knew it was on top of the refrigerator. And, of course, every teacher had one. They were use frequently, but never on me. I was a good girl. Paddles were one of the things I fantasied about and this particular one at Blondie’s always caught my attention.

And then I won one! Yeah me! It arrived the other day and it was just as pretty as I thought it would be. So smooth, nice dark stain, great size, I just looked at it a while before I showed it to Nick. He too admire it and thought we didn’t have a lot of time I got a few swats with it and it left me smiling.

The next time he had it in his hand was when I hadn’t recorded my weight. The paddle was used for much longer, but still over the jeans and I have to tell you that was some sting. I could feel it for a while afterwards, and I like that.

Then came Sunday – there were several things Nick wanted to address, one that seemed to be particularly on his mind was that I either blogged or emailed him that there hadn’t been any spanking is several weeks. When he was quite definite that it had only been two weeks – not ‘several’.  Well, yes and no… but he was holding Blondie’s paddle so I thought it was in my best interest to agree. Now we’re down to the bare.

Now to describe the paddle on the bare - #!@*$#!@@%#!, if you’ll pardon my French. Yep, it packs a wallop for sure. It’s a dilemma, I want spankings to last longer, but it HURTS! And this paddle…

After giving it much thought I know exactly where the paddle would best fit into our lives. I think we should frame it in a beautiful glass showcase. Truly it’s a work of art and its beauty needs to be displayed. Nick, however, disagrees and says it’s just fine the way it is. We’ll have more discussion with it about it in the future. But I’m still very happy I won it. Everyone needs to have one in their toy box (or framed).

Silence as a weapon

Our weekend had it’s up and downs. Friday was a good day, going into school late and coming home to a husband who soon had the lovely paddle I got from Blondie in his hand. I’d forgotten to write down my weight that morning. I’m supposed to do that. He reminded me with the new paddle. I’ll be telling more about the paddle soon.

Saturday was nice, cold enough to curl up by the fire and do some final edits on Cassie’s Tale and to work on the third book. Saturday night we went out with friend. It was right after we ate that something happened.

I said something and Nick rolled his eyes and laughed. Unfortunately, it was something important to me, and my feelings were really hurt. Taking the time to look back at it now, it was no big deal. I know he had not meant to hurt me at all. But I was caught off guard and it hurt.

So I went silent. I didn’t intend to use it as a weapon, I just didn’t know what else to do. I don’t mean completely silent – I answered direct question. But I just didn’t feel like engaging in small talk. So I shut him out. I could have told him that his actions had hurt my feeling, but I knew exactly what he would have said.

Do any of you remember the old movie ‘Yours, Mine and Ours’ with Lucille Ball and Henry Fonda? In the movie Fonda scoops up his hysterical thirteen-year-old daughter, not knowing what’s wrong and takes her to the doctor. The nurse, Lucille Ball, tells him she’ll be fine, she was only upset about ‘becoming a woman’.

Fonda responds by saying, “Is that all? Why didn’t she tell?”

“Because you would have said, ‘Is that all?’ Miss Ball answered.

That’s how I felt. He would have said it was no big deal (and he would have been right), but I didn’t want to hear him say it right then.

I had gone into my writing room and he finally come out and offered some playtime. I just couldn’t, I told him I was too full and just didn’t feel like it. All that was true, but of course I didn’t tell him the main reason.

After Nick went to bed, I sent him an email explaining why I’d gone so quiet earlier. I told him why it had upset me and I also told him I wasn’t upset any longer, once I’d had some time to go over it in my head, I did realize he was simply teasing and never meant to hurt me.

He answered the email much as I thought he would. It wasn’t exactly what I wanted to hear, I still don’t think he understands why I was upset, but I also don’t think I could explain it to him. He did say that he never meant to hurt me and I do believe that.

He also told me that my giving him the ‘big chill’ had hurt his feelings. I didn’t want to do that either, but I know it happened. So I guess silence is a weapon. It’s not one I like, and I don’t ever what to hurt him. But sometimes I don’t know what else to do when I’m hurt, I don’t fight, I don’t yell or scream, I don’t throw things – I just take refuge in silence until I can resolve whatever it is in my mind. I try not to use it often.

To end on a happier note, we are fine now. And we had a wonderful Sunday afternoon. I’ll tell you all about it – and Blondie’s paddle – very soon.

I'm at Celeste Jones today, come by if you can.