Always Put the Yard Tools Away (2007)

Always Put the Yard Tools Away

I was busy preparing to put up our Christmas decorations on the front bushes and awnings of the house. Prior to adding the lights, and before my husband came out to help I set about pulling out all the dead or almost dead summer flowers from around the front bushes. I threw the dead rooted plants onto the grass.

“Hun, you want some help?” Thomas’ voice surprised me from within the garage.

“Sure. You want to give me a leaf bag and I will throw these plants in there.” I responded.

Thomas came around with the large brown leaf bag and began throwing the plants in.

“I am going to get the rake. One sec.” Thomas said.

My heart lept to my throat. “It’s okay. I can just use my hands.” Before I could finish the statement Thomas had walked back around the corner into the garage.

“Hun,” he shouted. “Where is the rake?”

“Uh, I don’t know. It’s not there?”

“No and neither is the pointed shovel or the clippers.”

I busily went back to pulling plants and raking the dead leaves from around the bushes in the front yard with my fingers, trying to get it done before he came back out.

“Don’t worry about it T. I got it. I am almost done.”

“Do you think the lawn guys took them?”

“Uh, no.” I shakily responded.

Thomas picked up the bag and held it open. As I dropped the last of the dead plants into the bag my eyes caught his gaze, and it was not a happy look.

“Tara Marie, where are the yard tools?”

“I uh, think I might have had them over at Wendy’s new house this summer when we were cleaning her back yard.”

“And it is now November…. Why have they not been returned?” Thomas questioned, voice getting deeper and slower.

I knew I was caught, might as well just come clean. “We uh, used them on her yard right after she bought the house and I guess I never took them back home.”

“You GUESS? Are they in her garage?”

“Well, no. I might have left them sitting out against the shed and then I realized it they were completely rusted, so we threw them out last month. I meant to buy new ones.”

“Tara, this happens all the TIME! This is why I hesitate to buy nice things.” His voice started to get louder.

“Thomas, shhhh… the neighbors.” I warned, as I felt the butterflies bouncing in my stomach, knowing I was in deep trouble, as I had a habit of not taking care of things and allowing them to become broken or lost.  My butt was about to get blistered.

Thomas glared at me and then picked up the leaf bag and walked it to the end of the driveway for garbage pick up. He then returned to where I was by the bushes testing lights in the outdoor outlet. He whispered in my ear, “Upstairs now. Leave your jeans on to start.”

To start….. Daring not answer back I headed through the garage, removed my muddy boots and walked upstairs, crawling on to the bed, kneeling and putting my cheek to the bedspread. He had not specified the position, but I knew him well enough to have a very good guess as to what I was about to receive.

I listened, trying to ascertain exactly where he was in the house. My mind raced… what was I getting… probably the big paddle, which is the usual implement when I am told to leave my jeans on…

I heard his heavy steps on the stairs. Then, he was in the bedroom. In his hands he held three of the long, green, bamboo-like stakes that I use to hold up flowers in the summer. They were the tall ones, probably four feet tall or so, very much like a cane, but more brittle.

Thomas took one of the green canes and swished it through the air. “I found these in the garage in your garden cabinet. I think they will do a wonderful job of reminding you to take care of our tools. Don’t you?”

“Yes Sir.” I squeaked.

Thomas placed the cane against my jean clad bottom. I cringed, bracing, thrilled I still had my jeans on.

“Oh, no, these will wait for your bare naughty bottom.  I just wanted to see how they felt.  I think we will start with the heavy wooden paddle.”

My heart sank.

Thomas walked to the closet and retrieved the heavy holed frat paddle that I dread so much.  "Raise your bottom Tara Marie.  Hold position and you will only get six."

I raised my bottom, knowing more would not be wanted given what I still had to come.

WHACK  The first strike landed perfectly across my tender sit spot, shooting shocking pain straight through me. 

WHACK WHACK  WHACK I managed to hold position, but the pain was pounding into my skull. 

WHACK.  

"Please T, It hurts so bad!"

"Hold still young lady.  You are going to learn to take care of your toys."

"Bare your bottom for the last one naughty girl."

My heart sank, he was set on blistering me.  I went up on my knees and lowered my jeans and panties, gauging how severe the paddle was to my bottom.  It was definitely burning now.

He lightly tapped the heavy wooden paddle against my upturned bottom.  I knew it was going to burn like hell.  I held my breath.  He pulled back and WHAP the wood connected with my naked bottom, flooding me with pain.  I held position, knowing I had a long way to go.

His large hand felt my hot bottom and tapped me gently.  "Keep this bottom up young lady.  What happens to naughty girls that do not put their tools away?

"I get spanked Sir."

"That is right."  He picked up the green cane and held it against my blazing sit spots.  Then, without warning, his hand went back and SWISH the first strike hit with good force. The sting from the switch was immediate and rushed through me as it connected with the center of my bottom. He waited a few seconds for the sting to set in and he then pulled back for a second strike. He proceeded to switch me from the top of my thighs to the top of my bottom. When he had finished ten strikes my backside was pretty well lit up and I had tears flowing softly. He did not hit that hard, as the cane did not break, but he hit hard enough for me to definitely feel it with great intensity.

“Have I made myself clear?” Thomas asked, setting the cane against the dresser.

“Yes Sir.” I responded, still holding position.

“Hmmmm.... I think we need to discuss this a little more. Get your hairbrush.” Thomas stated as he pulled the chair from beside the dresser to the space by the bed.

I stood and completely removed my jeans and panties, eyeing my dark red, striped bottom in the mirror as I retrieved the hair brush from the night stand and walked to the chair. I stood before him, scared, but also thankful for the spanking regiment as well. The fact that he spanks me when he knows I need it, no matter how much it hurts, always makes me secure and calm inside. I could tell he was not furious, just determined to get a point across.

Thomas took the brush from me and patted his lap. I climbed over, placing my hands flat on the carpet. He positioned me to his liking and then gently tapped my bottom, tracing a few of the marks from the switch lightly with is fingers. My heart was pounding in my bottom and I held my breath, waiting for him to start.

Without a word he started spanking me lightly with is hand and then harder and harder, keeping a steady pace. He paused and then reached down for the brush, causing my heart to race even more, but I knew not to talk. His left hand held my waist tightly and he held rubbed the cool wood against my bottom.

I braced for the brush, knowing that it was almost over, but that this would hurt the most. His hand went up and the brush came down hard and with a solid rhythm. He alternated cheek to cheek, down to the thighs and then across the center. Not with extreme force, but hard enough to definitely be remembered. I started to whimper and kick and he increased the intensity until I settled back down. He gave me four very hard final smacks and then set the brush on the floor and rubbed my blazing bottom.

He rubbed some of the heat out, tapping now and then and pinching here and there. I calmed down and laid still, focusing on his hand and the security of being over his lap. I also knew that although I was thoroughly spanked, it was not that bad on the scale of discipline spankings in our household.

He tapped my bottom twice. “Who loves you?”

“You do Sir” I responded.

“Good girl. Are you going to take better care of our tools?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Good. Up you go. Let’s get the lights up before it gets dark.”

I sat up and he kissed me on my forehead. “You sure you want to do the lights?” I asked

“I am sure Baby. That can wait till later.”

I stood up and he watched me get dressed again. We headed outside and put up the lights and decorations, finishing just as it became dark enough to really appreciate them..

Maintenance (2009)

A few years ago Thomas and I had developed a system of maintenance spankings… every Wednesday at 7pm I was spanked. Time went on and we both were promoted at work and things just became so busy that the scheduled spankings faded away. Well, I asked him if we could start them up again as part of our New Year’s Resolutions a week early (That ordeal is a different story), and here is the true life account of my first maintenance spanking in quite a few years… There have been plenty of spankings, but the scheduled maintenance spankings had not been routine… until yesterday.

What was I thinking asking Thomas to start Maintenance Spankings again? Why do I do this to myself? Oh, yes, it is because I need it.

Well, there I sat at the kitchen table filling in my analysis of the past week. He had given me a checklist to fill in and I was doomed if I did and doomed if I didn’t as far as the answers. To make things worse, the lovely, yet awful ginger plug was securely in place and he was enjoying the view of his bare-bottomed wife squirming in her chair filling in the checklist.

Rate each item on a scale of 1-10:

Bathroom cleaned: 8

Closet door closed: 6

Bedroom/Bath counters clear: 6

Kitchen counters clear: 7

Dishes maintained: 7

Floors Swept: 8

Laundry maintained: 7

Lights turned off: 5

Bed Made: 10

Bedroom picked up: 7

Downstairs picked up: 6

Preparation for maintenance (plug, notification): 10

Cupboards/fridge organization maintained: 8

Respect: 5

Other infractions: 9

Grading Scale:

Hand – 120-115

Belt – 115-110

Wooden Lighter Paddle – 110-105

Wooden School Paddle – 105-100

Bath Brush -100-95

Lexan 95-90

Tawse 90-85

(All subject to change per Thomas)

“Tara Marie, are you finished?” Thomas’ deep voice carried into the kitchen from the den jolting my mind off the ginger plug and back to the discipline session of the moment.

“Yes Sir.”

“Well, bring it up to my office and we will review it.”

I delicately took the paper Excel spread sheet and led my husband up the steps and into his office, making sure to keep my cheeks tightly clenched to hold in the plug as I climbed the stairs. Standing in front of his large cherry desk, I handed the checklist across the workspace to him, eyes focused on his perfectly blotless blotter. (I hate that he is so neat!)

“Well, Tara Marie, I agree that these maintenance spankings are long past due. I hope you are aware that your answers had better not be much different than mine; you know the consequences.”

“Yes Sir.” I swallowed hard, praying that he would not be too strict. My bare bottom was fully exposed and I was scared. My husband is a wonderful man, but a severe, no nonsense spanker. The burn of the plug was beginning to wear off, but it was still very uncomfortable and the anticipation of the spanking to come was eating me inside.

“To the corner young lady and I will input your answers.”

I stood with my nose deep in the corner as we reviewed the list together. (Well, he did all the talking, I dared not argue.) My 7 on keeping the counters clear changed to a 4 and my 6 for keeping the downstairs picked up also was changed to a 4. He laughed at the 10 on making the bed… stating that he would go with it only because he had been off that week and was out of bed after me every day, making it his responsibility for making the bed. My 8 for keeping the refrigerator organized changed to a 4 as well. Finally, the “other infractions” I gave myself went from a 9 all the way down to a 5 as he reminded me of various bouts of attitude, slovenliness, and laziness.

“Tara, I kept the fridge organized and the pantry. You did a great job cooking for everyone, but you never put anything back in the same place it came from. You either left it on the counter of put it on a completely different shelf. That discrepancy will cost you.”

I swallowed hard from the corner. I could not believe he was being so strict. I heard him clicking on the computer as he entered the numbers on the spread sheet. Why do men love Excel and the little formulas so much?

“Tara Marie, your total is 96. Do you know what that gets you?”

“Yes Sir.” My heart sunk as I realized from memory that I was about to receive a thorough dose of the bath brush… and that was a minimum, as everything was to his discretion. I had gone from thinking I was getting the light wooden paddle to the heavy solid bath brush.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

I desperately wanted to tell him that it was not fair to be so rigid on the first week back of doing this. I had not known until that day that we were starting this back up, so the numbers would be low. Instead, I kept my thoughts to myself and simply answered, “No Sir, sorry Sir.”

“You will be. Your answers will cost you in severity. Look at me.”

I turned to look at him. I knew from his demeanor that he was not going to go lightly on me. I loved that fact, but it terrified me as well.

“The plug stays in. Go get the brush and wait for me in the corner.”

I turned and left the room and walked down the short hall into the bedroom. I placed the dreaded bath brush on the dresser. I removed the rest of my clothing (the top and socks, I was already bare-bottomed) and waited in the corner.

I heard him enter and pull the chair away from next to the dresser. (He also locked the dogs out, as they get very defensive when he spanks me.)

“Over.”

I carefully lowered myself over his lap. I grabbed the wooden rails of the chair and focused on the tan rug. He adjusted me, secured me in place with his arm and patted my bottom.

“Hold your position young lady.”

He began to spank my upturned bottom with his large hand. Slow at first, then increasing with speed and intensity. He spanked me thoroughly moving from cheek to cheek, down to my lower thighs, to the top of my cheeks and back across both cheeks at once with one hand. He stopped occasionally to rub and admonish me and poke at the plug, but he would then start right back up again. I remained quiet, holding back the tears, focusing on the plug and the deep warm pain pulsating through my entire body from both the spanking and the plug.

He stopped spanking and I felt him release me.

“Go take the plug out Tara Marie.”

I stood quickly and went in to the bathroom and removed the plug. I knew I had plenty of spanking still to come. I caught a quick glance of my already strawberry red bottom and thighs in the mirror and hurried back over my husband’s lap, afraid to take too long. He repositioned me and then waited, resting the bath brush on my warm bottom.

“Tara, I am waiting.” Thomas said as he rubbed and lightly patted the brush against my hot bottom.

My mind scrambled…. I almost stuttered, but then I remembered the routine…“Will you please paddle me Sir?” I asked, genuinely sorry now and truly scared of what was to come.

“And what implement do you deserve to be severely paddled with Tara Marie?”

I paused, sighed deeply and then responded in my most respectful voice, “The bath brush Sir.” My heart pounded in my throat.

Without warning he hit me very hard one time on each cheek in rapid succession. The pain from the strikes took a second to register, and then the sting seared into my backside. I clenched and then relaxed, kicking my legs up and raising my head by straightening my elbows. I knew instantly that those movements just guaranteed that he was about to thoroughly light up my backside.

“Tara Marie.”

Two more HARD whacks met each cheek. I held still this time. Then the rapid fire started. He worked in the same manner as he had with the hand, thoroughly punishing every inch of my bottom and upper thighs. I began to cry and wiggle. He held me tightly and intensified the spanking… fast then slow, hard then soft. I was on fire everywhere. He spread my cheeks and lit up every inch of the tender spots between the cheeks. I started to wriggle and cry. Panic started to set in, but he spanked me through it until I submitted and hung loose over his lap, crying hard. He continued to spank until he knew he had worn me out. I cried heavily as he spanked every bit of resistance out of me.

“Very good baby.” He rubbed my blazing bottom as he spoke. “You are very very well disciplined. You took that very well”

I sobbed as he continued to rub. “Are we finished young lady or do you need more.”

“No Sir.” I replied.

“No Sir we are not finished or No Sir I need more?” (Thomas knows me too well.)

“No Sir, I need more.” I whimpered. (Why I do that to myself I never know… I do not want to say it, but it always comes out.)

He rubbed my bottom. Everything burned and I could feel that my cheeks had already turned hard from the severe spanking. “Your bottom can’t take much more Tara. You will receive four more hard smacks and then you will be finished. You are to count them.”

My crying had slowed to a solid whimper and I braced myself for the strikes. He delivered four solid smacks two to my upper thighs and two to my bottom. I counted all four. When it was over he just rubbed me. I finally sensed that I was allowed to sit up; I kissed his neck and cuddled into his lap.

“You needed that, didn’t you?”

“Yes Sir.” He held me for a few more minutes and then patted my raw bottom as he lifted me off his lap.

“Clean up and we’ll watch a Netflix. Two came today in the mail.”

“What?” I responded back between sniffles. “No sex?”

“No, you know the rules, not after a maintenance spanking under 80%.”

I cleaned up and met him downstairs to watch “The Contract” or something like that. Needless to say, we had no sex last night, but this morning was another story. I have a feeling these Maintenance Spankings will be around for quite awhile.