As I had pointed out in my last entry, I have lately been rather in the doldrums. Working has become a chore, giving way to mindless hours of computer solitaire and napping. Even the start of baseball season has failed to capture my imagination. My moods have been one of general grumpiness, my responses usually unintelligable, one-syllable grunts.
Late last week, I was sitting and staring at my computer when Angela hobbled by. She politely inquired if all was well, and I responded with a resounding “Ugh.” Later, she brought me a cup of tea, to which I thanked her by way of a muttered “Ummm.” After leaving the tea, she asked if I was okay. I responded with an enthusiastic “Uh-huh.” Angela looked at me for a few moments longer, then walked away. I resumed staring.
Perhaps a quarter of an hour later, Angela reappeared at my door. Rather than hot tea, however, she was holding a nice, sturdy, wooden paddle. When I saw the paddle, I just sighed, as I did not think that I was in a spanking mood. My dear wife was not deterred.
“On your feet, buster,” she said. “You need this, and you know it.”
Grudgingly, I rose, rolled my chair out of the way, and assumed the position over my desk. As I was wearing my comfy sweat pants, Angela easily tugged them down below my knees. She took note that I had been too lazy that morning to bother donning underpants. Without further delay, Angela got right to the task at hand.
The paddling she gave me was hard, deliberate, and exquisitely painful. She paused only briefly between swats. After so many years, she knows how to make the pain just right. She initially had me squirming and tightly gripping the desk, but as I acclimated to the searing heat on my backside, I relaxed and gave in to it. After a goodly number of whacks, Angela’s back began to hurt, so she pulled over my chair and resumed paddling from a seated position, from which she is more than competent
It was exactly what I needed. When Angela finished, my butt was seriously roasted. There would be bruises, and it felt like she may have even paddled a bit of my skin off. I remained in position for a minute or so, to catch my breath and enjoy the sensation. Angela took the opportunity to warm her hands on my toasted tushie. Then she patted my butt and said, “Okay, mister, time to get back to work!”
I was actually cheerful and productive for the rest of the day. I decided that the best way to savor the feeling was to work the rest of the morning sans pants. An hour or so later, Angela came back to rub some skin lotion into my poor, punished posterior. She said that she didn’t want the skin to crack or callous, so that it would soft and smooth the next time I would be subject to the paddle.
Sometimes the easiest solution is the last one that we think of. A flower. A tasty meal. A good book or movie. Comfortable sex. They won’t cure all the ills of the world, or eliminate everything that might cause one stress. But they make one feel good, and help one to renew their strength so that they are more able to deal with life’s little challenges. My dear readers, we are spankos. A good spanking makes us feel good. My dear wife recognized that. So, despite her pain, she did for me a most wonderful thing. She gave me a good, hard spanking.
Nay, friends. She gave me a fantastic spanking!
# posted by Frank Spanko @ Thursday, May 22, 2008
: May 31, 2008 6:57 PM 
