Who’s Sorry Now?
Who’s sorry now, who’s sorry now,
Whose bum is throbbing, I’m sobbing, and how,
Who’s black and blue, who’s sniffling too,
My makeup’s smeared over you…
Yeah, it’s an old song. Deal with it.
Wow. I do believe Mr. New Guy outdid himself. He knew what I needed and he delivered. No nonsense tonight.
Oh, I tried sassing. I mean, I’m still me. He thought it was disrespectful in the beginning that I was giggling. “I don’t think you’re listening. None of this is registering.”
“Say something worth registering and I’ll register it,” I tossed back blithely.
“I’ll just let my hand do the talking,” he growled. And he did. Then his belt. A lot. Fast and hard, until I was breathless. I shut up then; he meant business.
He didn’t bother with the toy bag tonight. It was just his hand and his belt, fiercely. And I had to answer his questions. I refused to at first, but I quickly realized that wasn’t going to fly. “You need this, don’t you.” Silence. THWACK! “Don’t you!” “Yes!”
He struck low in the sweet spot and I buried my face and shrieked into the cushion. “That registered, didn’t it?”
“Well, yeah!” I hollered. “That was my leg, stupid!” Oh no. I didn’t really say that out loud, did I? Yup. I’m afraid I did. Damn, I’m pretty stupid myself sometimes.
That was the last time I said anything like that. Ouch.
I had to count. I had to say thank you. I had to promise that I’d publicly say I was sorry. I was angry… but I wanted it. I loved this strict side of him. I crave that.
I was so close… but not quite done. So when he said, “Have you learned your lesson?” I whimpered, “Not yet.”
“Not yet? Do I need to paddle you?” I didn’t answer, just cringed and buried my face. He took that as a yes.
I felt that horrible thing rubbing against my inflamed skin and I knew it was going to hurt like hell. He took his time, teasing me with it, and my legs trembled. “No,” I whispered.
“Did you just say ‘no’?” I nodded. “You don’t really want me to listen to you, do you?” I shook my head.
It only took a few. My resistance shattered, all the stress of the past few weeks gushed forth and I wept. He stopped, sat down next to me, quietly rubbed my bottom and back. I cried for a long time.
My first words when I could speak? “That was so… fucking… HOT.” He laughed. “I’m so glad you feel that way… I thought the same thing.”
I couldn’t look up at him for quite some time, though. I feel so embarrassed and silly after I cry. He didn’t push me, just let me keep my face hidden. Said that my tears were beautiful.
For this moment, I am at peace. Well attended to, cared for and de-stressed. Thank you.
I had my way, then had to pay,
I’m glad that I’m sorry now…