Thursday, May 28, 2009
The Story Unfinished, Part II
(Part I can be found here)
At the appointed time, Angela told the girls that we were going to the guest house to watch TV (I've always kept high-quality video screens at the guest house for my own sports-viewing pleasure) and visit with Liz, and headed off to the planned rendezvous. As we entered the guest house, I saw what else Angela's note had said. Liz was standing in a corner with her back to us and her hands behind her head. I could see that the butt plug was still snugly inserted, because Liz was not wearing any pants. Several spanking implements - a hairbrush, two leather straps, a cane, and two different-sized paddles - were neatly laid out on a table.
"I see that you prepared things as I asked you," said Angela. "That's good. It might save your butt a little abuse."
"Yes, ma'am," replied Liz, quietly.
"Now," continued Angela, "here's how things will work. You will do exactly as I tell you. There will be no hesitating and no complaining. If you don't like what I tell you to so, you can just leave. But remember, you agreed to this. We didn't try to coerce you or force you into anything. When I suggested a spanking, you didn't hesitate to say 'yes.' So I suggest that you quietly take your punishment."
"Yes, ma'am."
I found it interesting how quiet and accepting Liz seemed. We'd given her the night to change her mind, but instead she appeared to have done the opposite, that is, she seemed to have resolved to follow through completely, as if she truly felt like this would allow her to let go of her old life and start again. I saw neither fear nor defiance in her posture, but rather resigned determination.
Angela resumed her lecture. "You've acted like a child, taking what you wanted when you wanted it no matter what the consequences. So now you're going to get a child's punishment. But your punishment will be adult-sized. This session is going to be long, it's going to be painful, and it's going to be humiliating. So this is your last chance. Are you ready to go through with this?"
"Yes, ma'am," said Liz.
"Do you have any objections or disagreements with what I just said"?
"No, ma'am."
"Then let's begin."
Angela walked over and stood in the middle of the living room. "Elizabeth, come over here and stand in front of me." After a brief hesitation, Liz took a deep breath and did as she was asked. "Now Francis," (Angela was being very formal, because she usually only called me "Francis" either when she was angry with me or when she wanted to spank me), "Come over and sit on the ottoman." After I did so, Angela said, "Elizabeth, I want you to bend slightly forward and spread your butt cheeks nice and wide. I want Frank to take that plug out of your ass."
Liz pulled her cheeks apart and I eased the plug from her rectum. I saw Liz relax somewhat, meaning that the plug had likely still been causing her some discomfort. Angela asked me to take the plug to the sink and wash it off, which I did. I expected that the plug might get used again, unless Angela was intending to make use of a larger one.
"Now, Francis, please take the hairbrush from the table and seat yourself back on the ottoman." Although her back was to me, I could tell that Liz had tensed up again. Obviously, it was time for the spanking to begin, and the hairbrush meant that Angela was serious about the spanking being painful right from the start.
I fetched the hairbrush and sat back down. Angela ordered Liz to lay over my lap, which she did.
"Okay, Francis, I want you to choose one cheek and paddle it until I tell you to stop."
I chose the bottom cheek furthest away from me and began whacking it. I knew that Liz knew what a hairbrush felt like, so I started out striking her firmly but not especially hard. I wanted to build up the intensity so that Liz might initially find the spanking tolerable but become increasingly uncomfortable as I continued. And uncomfortable she became! As the swats became harder and more frequent, I could feel Liz tensing more, heard her breath hissing, until the hissing became vocal.
After probably a minute or so, Angela called a halt. "Did that hurt, Elizabeth?" she asked, almost tauntingly.
"Yes, ma'am," responded Liz through clenched teeth.
"Good!" said Angela. "Francis, now spank the other cheek." I proceed to pummel Liz' other globe, starting out harder than I had on the previous cheek. I wanted to startle Liz and make her squirm. Liz let out a shocked "Owww!" when I started, and reached down to clasp the side of the ottoman tightly with her fists. I made sure to thoroughly paddle Liz until her cheek was bright pink.
Angela had me stop, and made Liz stand up and face her. "Now your butt hurts pretty badly, right, young lady?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Reach back and feel your butt. I'll bet it feels pretty warm, doesn't it."
"Yes, ma'am. Very warm."
"Good. Now get back over Frank's lap. Your butt's going to get a lot more spanking before we're through here!"
I saw Liz' shoulders slump a bit, but she had to know that she would be getting multiple spankings on this day. After all, Angela had her put out six different implements.
(To be continued, again)
At the appointed time, Angela told the girls that we were going to the guest house to watch TV (I've always kept high-quality video screens at the guest house for my own sports-viewing pleasure) and visit with Liz, and headed off to the planned rendezvous. As we entered the guest house, I saw what else Angela's note had said. Liz was standing in a corner with her back to us and her hands behind her head. I could see that the butt plug was still snugly inserted, because Liz was not wearing any pants. Several spanking implements - a hairbrush, two leather straps, a cane, and two different-sized paddles - were neatly laid out on a table.
"I see that you prepared things as I asked you," said Angela. "That's good. It might save your butt a little abuse."
"Yes, ma'am," replied Liz, quietly.
"Now," continued Angela, "here's how things will work. You will do exactly as I tell you. There will be no hesitating and no complaining. If you don't like what I tell you to so, you can just leave. But remember, you agreed to this. We didn't try to coerce you or force you into anything. When I suggested a spanking, you didn't hesitate to say 'yes.' So I suggest that you quietly take your punishment."
"Yes, ma'am."
I found it interesting how quiet and accepting Liz seemed. We'd given her the night to change her mind, but instead she appeared to have done the opposite, that is, she seemed to have resolved to follow through completely, as if she truly felt like this would allow her to let go of her old life and start again. I saw neither fear nor defiance in her posture, but rather resigned determination.
Angela resumed her lecture. "You've acted like a child, taking what you wanted when you wanted it no matter what the consequences. So now you're going to get a child's punishment. But your punishment will be adult-sized. This session is going to be long, it's going to be painful, and it's going to be humiliating. So this is your last chance. Are you ready to go through with this?"
"Yes, ma'am," said Liz.
"Do you have any objections or disagreements with what I just said"?
"No, ma'am."
"Then let's begin."
Angela walked over and stood in the middle of the living room. "Elizabeth, come over here and stand in front of me." After a brief hesitation, Liz took a deep breath and did as she was asked. "Now Francis," (Angela was being very formal, because she usually only called me "Francis" either when she was angry with me or when she wanted to spank me), "Come over and sit on the ottoman." After I did so, Angela said, "Elizabeth, I want you to bend slightly forward and spread your butt cheeks nice and wide. I want Frank to take that plug out of your ass."
Liz pulled her cheeks apart and I eased the plug from her rectum. I saw Liz relax somewhat, meaning that the plug had likely still been causing her some discomfort. Angela asked me to take the plug to the sink and wash it off, which I did. I expected that the plug might get used again, unless Angela was intending to make use of a larger one.
"Now, Francis, please take the hairbrush from the table and seat yourself back on the ottoman." Although her back was to me, I could tell that Liz had tensed up again. Obviously, it was time for the spanking to begin, and the hairbrush meant that Angela was serious about the spanking being painful right from the start.
I fetched the hairbrush and sat back down. Angela ordered Liz to lay over my lap, which she did.
"Okay, Francis, I want you to choose one cheek and paddle it until I tell you to stop."
I chose the bottom cheek furthest away from me and began whacking it. I knew that Liz knew what a hairbrush felt like, so I started out striking her firmly but not especially hard. I wanted to build up the intensity so that Liz might initially find the spanking tolerable but become increasingly uncomfortable as I continued. And uncomfortable she became! As the swats became harder and more frequent, I could feel Liz tensing more, heard her breath hissing, until the hissing became vocal.
After probably a minute or so, Angela called a halt. "Did that hurt, Elizabeth?" she asked, almost tauntingly.
"Yes, ma'am," responded Liz through clenched teeth.
"Good!" said Angela. "Francis, now spank the other cheek." I proceed to pummel Liz' other globe, starting out harder than I had on the previous cheek. I wanted to startle Liz and make her squirm. Liz let out a shocked "Owww!" when I started, and reached down to clasp the side of the ottoman tightly with her fists. I made sure to thoroughly paddle Liz until her cheek was bright pink.
Angela had me stop, and made Liz stand up and face her. "Now your butt hurts pretty badly, right, young lady?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Reach back and feel your butt. I'll bet it feels pretty warm, doesn't it."
"Yes, ma'am. Very warm."
"Good. Now get back over Frank's lap. Your butt's going to get a lot more spanking before we're through here!"
I saw Liz' shoulders slump a bit, but she had to know that she would be getting multiple spankings on this day. After all, Angela had her put out six different implements.
(To be continued, again)
Sunday, May 24, 2009
The Story Unfinished
A long time ago, in an imaginary blogosphere far, far away, I told you about my friend, a lovely lady named Liz. To refresh your memory, Liz and I were coworkers for a while at my first job out of college. During a nasty snowstorm that winter, Liz found herself stranded at my house both by the weather and a dead car battery. With nothing better to do, we spent the weekend naked, and exchanged several fine spankings. Shortly after that, Liz took a new job and moved to Florida. I did not see Liz again until many years later, when Angela and I were married and our two children had been born. Liz' life had completely fallen apart, as she had made a great deal of money during the "dot com bubble," and had continued to live a life of extreme excess after the bubble burst, until she had found herself alone and virtually penniless.
After relating her sad tale to Angela and I, Liz confided that she had sought me out because she thought I would know what was required for her to get her life pointed back into a proper direction. It was Angela who felt that Liz' behavior had been childish and immature, and that the best course of action was to give Liz a good spanking. To my surprise, Liz agreed.
Now that you are caught up, please allow me to resume the account that my imaginary real life interrupted previously.
After some discussion, we agreed to some ground rules. Angela would be in charge, deciding how Liz was to be spanked and with what implement or implements. I would do the actual spanking. I suggested a safe word, but Liz said she didn't think that one was necessary. We agreed that Liz would be spanked only on her buttocks, she would not be struck anywhere else on her body. Otherwise, the length and severity of Liz' punishment would be determined by my darling wife, and Liz could agree to what Angela decided or she could leave.
That being determined, Angela wanted some time to decide just what she wanted Liz to get, so we asked Liz to stay for dinner and spend the night in the guest house. We enjoyed a pleasant evening together, eating turkey spaghetti with homemade garlic bread and a big salad. Liz got along well with my offspring and played computer games with them until it was time for them to go to bed. Then Angela, Liz, and I sat around until quite late getting caught up and talking about bygone days when we didn't have to act quite so much like adults.
The next day was Sunday. I usually rise first on Sunday, read the paper for a while, then make everyone a nice, big breakfast. As I was cooking, I saw Angela stick a note into a little bag that contained a couple of other items. She said that she was going to see if Liz needed anything and headed over to the guest house. Angela returned shortly.
As I was finishing breakfast, Liz made her way over to the main house. She had obviously showered and handled her other morning ablutions. She was also walking somewhat gingerly, and had a distinctly uncomfortable look on her face. I surmised that Angela has invoked the first part on Liz' punishment. Knowing Angela like I do, I guessed that the bag she took to Liz contained a tube of warming muscle rub cream and one of our trusty, gel toys commonly referred to as a "butt plug."
As an aside, I hate the term "butt plug." It sounds too crass. However, I have not been able to think of a better name for that particular item. Once I t
ried calling them "Rodney," but Angela felt that name was not appropriate.
In any event, I postulated that Liz' discomfort was caused because the note in the little bag told her to apply some of the warming cream to the butt plug and insert it into her butt. I grinned inwardly at my darling wife's evilness.
We enjoyed a pleasant breakfast of omelets with tomatoes, mushrooms, and swiss cheese, along with some tasty sausages and sweet rolls (from a can ... I can't make everything from scratch). After the children excused themselves, the three of us chatted for a while over tea. At last, Angela suggested that Liz retire to the guest house, and that we would be along in about 30 minutes. After Liz departed, I asked Angela if she would share some of the details of what she had in mind for Liz' chastisement, but Angela just replied with a slight smile, "You just do as I tell you and everything will be just fine."
To be continued......
After relating her sad tale to Angela and I, Liz confided that she had sought me out because she thought I would know what was required for her to get her life pointed back into a proper direction. It was Angela who felt that Liz' behavior had been childish and immature, and that the best course of action was to give Liz a good spanking. To my surprise, Liz agreed.
Now that you are caught up, please allow me to resume the account that my imaginary real life interrupted previously.
After some discussion, we agreed to some ground rules. Angela would be in charge, deciding how Liz was to be spanked and with what implement or implements. I would do the actual spanking. I suggested a safe word, but Liz said she didn't think that one was necessary. We agreed that Liz would be spanked only on her buttocks, she would not be struck anywhere else on her body. Otherwise, the length and severity of Liz' punishment would be determined by my darling wife, and Liz could agree to what Angela decided or she could leave.
That being determined, Angela wanted some time to decide just what she wanted Liz to get, so we asked Liz to stay for dinner and spend the night in the guest house. We enjoyed a pleasant evening together, eating turkey spaghetti with homemade garlic bread and a big salad. Liz got along well with my offspring and played computer games with them until it was time for them to go to bed. Then Angela, Liz, and I sat around until quite late getting caught up and talking about bygone days when we didn't have to act quite so much like adults.
The next day was Sunday. I usually rise first on Sunday, read the paper for a while, then make everyone a nice, big breakfast. As I was cooking, I saw Angela stick a note into a little bag that contained a couple of other items. She said that she was going to see if Liz needed anything and headed over to the guest house. Angela returned shortly.
As I was finishing breakfast, Liz made her way over to the main house. She had obviously showered and handled her other morning ablutions. She was also walking somewhat gingerly, and had a distinctly uncomfortable look on her face. I surmised that Angela has invoked the first part on Liz' punishment. Knowing Angela like I do, I guessed that the bag she took to Liz contained a tube of warming muscle rub cream and one of our trusty, gel toys commonly referred to as a "butt plug."
As an aside, I hate the term "butt plug." It sounds too crass. However, I have not been able to think of a better name for that particular item. Once I t
ried calling them "Rodney," but Angela felt that name was not appropriate.In any event, I postulated that Liz' discomfort was caused because the note in the little bag told her to apply some of the warming cream to the butt plug and insert it into her butt. I grinned inwardly at my darling wife's evilness.
We enjoyed a pleasant breakfast of omelets with tomatoes, mushrooms, and swiss cheese, along with some tasty sausages and sweet rolls (from a can ... I can't make everything from scratch). After the children excused themselves, the three of us chatted for a while over tea. At last, Angela suggested that Liz retire to the guest house, and that we would be along in about 30 minutes. After Liz departed, I asked Angela if she would share some of the details of what she had in mind for Liz' chastisement, but Angela just replied with a slight smile, "You just do as I tell you and everything will be just fine."
To be continued......
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
The Rest Of The Family
Now that all of my wonderful readers know much more about me than you probably cared to, I feel that I should provide an update on the other members of the Spakowiak family.
Colette once again is playing catcher for her high school softball team, and playing rather well, I might add. She has a strong and uncannily-accurate throwing arm, and is very adept at keeping mis-aimed pitches in front of her. She has even improved in fielding bunts, which is a common occurrence in fast-pitch softball. Unfortunately, my daughter cannot hit a lick. In twenty games, Colette has two hits, neither of which has gotten past the pitcher. However, she leads the league in throwing out runners at second base. In her first game this season, a pitch rolled about six feet from her and the runner on first tried to advance. Colette had the ball and threw the runner out by ten feet. Her team is currently playing in the state tournament, where they have won their first two games.
Maribel is back home. She was invited to a WNBA tryout in Chicago, which she attended. She said that she performed well, but was not invited to any teams' training camp. Maribel enjoyed her time in Israel, and has an open invitation to return next year, which she is mulling over. She confided to me that she's not sure if she wants to dedicate so much time to working out, practicing, etc., when they only play once a week. Bernie is helping her look into different opportunities in Europe and the US, including coaching. For now, she is working out and playing slow-pitch softball. With the men. Most of whom she can out-play and out-drink. She makes me so proud.
Angela has designed software for teachers and schools that allows them to create their own "intranet", or internal internet, that can only be seen by someone within that school's network. It has a piece that lets students make really slick, colorful web pages. Teachers can put up homework assignments, correct answers, reading suggestions, and reminders. It is really colorful and fun, and Angela has sold it to a couple of local school districts for a criminally low amount of money, considering how much time she has invested into it. She is negotiating with a larger software company for rights to the software, but Angela wants to retain the rights to the source code, which the other party is not so sure about. Angela says she'll pass up the deal if she can't keep the rights to the code.
Luke seems to be doing well. He has met with teachers from the local high school to gauge his progress, and they have given him satisfactory grades. He does well when he can learn the material through mostly reading, but he struggles with math. Still, he understands the fundamentals. He and Colette are actively "dating", which is an interesting challenge since they both live under the same roof. However, we have set some rules that seem to be holding. For example, since Luke is staying on the third floor of our house (which, as you will recall, is a converted large apple barn), Colette has to ask us when she "wants to go over to Luke's." I did once hear them giggling behind the closed door of Colette's bedroom, but it turned out that they were just watching Monty Python clips on YouTube.
Cat's kittens are growing up quickly. They are almost three months old, and they tear around the house with wild abandon. Cat has let Princess, our other cat, help with the kitten-rearing, so the two adult cats have been spending considerable time together. The kittens are good about using a litter box, but because our house is so big, we have had to put out several litter boxes. When a kitten's gotta go, it's gotta go. No matter how far apart they get, when one gets tired and decides it's time for a nap, the other two inevitably find it, so they sleep in one fluffy lump. Cat tried to herd them back to the laundry room, but the kittens are getting too big to herd. We've started offering them soft kitten food, but they still seem to prefer mommy's nipples. I can understand that preference. I have always been partial to Angela's nipples, but for a completely different reason.
As for yours truly, I am slowly getting around better. I can pretty much walk around the lower floor of our house, albeit with the aid of a walker, and sometimes I need to rest halfway to where I am going. I have started to regain some feeling in my butt, so Angela has started to give me a brief spanking every day, I tell her how much of it I feel, and she journals the results. She says it is for scientific purposes, but I'm not so sure. I'm scheduled to have an MRI next week, and, if the swelling around my spinal cord has gone down enough, the doctor is going to schedule me for surgery.
If you have stayed with this missive, you've noticed that nothing especially exciting has been going on. I'm still bored, and I've talked to my employer about picking up some work, but they are holding off for now so they do not stress me too much, as if boredom isn't stressful enough. So I'll find things to do, and continue to write. I'm convinced that I'll be walking normally eventually, although I may never be able to compete with Maribel on the basketball court any more. That's okay, she's been better than me for a couple of years, anyway. Perhaps, soon, I'll even be able to receive a proper spanking again. Now that would be fantastic.
Colette once again is playing catcher for her high school softball team, and playing rather well, I might add. She has a strong and uncannily-accurate throwing arm, and is very adept at keeping mis-aimed pitches in front of her. She has even improved in fielding bunts, which is a common occurrence in fast-pitch softball. Unfortunately, my daughter cannot hit a lick. In twenty games, Colette has two hits, neither of which has gotten past the pitcher. However, she leads the league in throwing out runners at second base. In her first game this season, a pitch rolled about six feet from her and the runner on first tried to advance. Colette had the ball and threw the runner out by ten feet. Her team is currently playing in the state tournament, where they have won their first two games.
Maribel is back home. She was invited to a WNBA tryout in Chicago, which she attended. She said that she performed well, but was not invited to any teams' training camp. Maribel enjoyed her time in Israel, and has an open invitation to return next year, which she is mulling over. She confided to me that she's not sure if she wants to dedicate so much time to working out, practicing, etc., when they only play once a week. Bernie is helping her look into different opportunities in Europe and the US, including coaching. For now, she is working out and playing slow-pitch softball. With the men. Most of whom she can out-play and out-drink. She makes me so proud.
Angela has designed software for teachers and schools that allows them to create their own "intranet", or internal internet, that can only be seen by someone within that school's network. It has a piece that lets students make really slick, colorful web pages. Teachers can put up homework assignments, correct answers, reading suggestions, and reminders. It is really colorful and fun, and Angela has sold it to a couple of local school districts for a criminally low amount of money, considering how much time she has invested into it. She is negotiating with a larger software company for rights to the software, but Angela wants to retain the rights to the source code, which the other party is not so sure about. Angela says she'll pass up the deal if she can't keep the rights to the code.
Luke seems to be doing well. He has met with teachers from the local high school to gauge his progress, and they have given him satisfactory grades. He does well when he can learn the material through mostly reading, but he struggles with math. Still, he understands the fundamentals. He and Colette are actively "dating", which is an interesting challenge since they both live under the same roof. However, we have set some rules that seem to be holding. For example, since Luke is staying on the third floor of our house (which, as you will recall, is a converted large apple barn), Colette has to ask us when she "wants to go over to Luke's." I did once hear them giggling behind the closed door of Colette's bedroom, but it turned out that they were just watching Monty Python clips on YouTube.
Cat's kittens are growing up quickly. They are almost three months old, and they tear around the house with wild abandon. Cat has let Princess, our other cat, help with the kitten-rearing, so the two adult cats have been spending considerable time together. The kittens are good about using a litter box, but because our house is so big, we have had to put out several litter boxes. When a kitten's gotta go, it's gotta go. No matter how far apart they get, when one gets tired and decides it's time for a nap, the other two inevitably find it, so they sleep in one fluffy lump. Cat tried to herd them back to the laundry room, but the kittens are getting too big to herd. We've started offering them soft kitten food, but they still seem to prefer mommy's nipples. I can understand that preference. I have always been partial to Angela's nipples, but for a completely different reason.
As for yours truly, I am slowly getting around better. I can pretty much walk around the lower floor of our house, albeit with the aid of a walker, and sometimes I need to rest halfway to where I am going. I have started to regain some feeling in my butt, so Angela has started to give me a brief spanking every day, I tell her how much of it I feel, and she journals the results. She says it is for scientific purposes, but I'm not so sure. I'm scheduled to have an MRI next week, and, if the swelling around my spinal cord has gone down enough, the doctor is going to schedule me for surgery.
If you have stayed with this missive, you've noticed that nothing especially exciting has been going on. I'm still bored, and I've talked to my employer about picking up some work, but they are holding off for now so they do not stress me too much, as if boredom isn't stressful enough. So I'll find things to do, and continue to write. I'm convinced that I'll be walking normally eventually, although I may never be able to compete with Maribel on the basketball court any more. That's okay, she's been better than me for a couple of years, anyway. Perhaps, soon, I'll even be able to receive a proper spanking again. Now that would be fantastic.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Relief
You'll forgive a cranky, old, injured, imaginary poophead for not writing anything recently. You see, I have been laying here feeling sorry for myself. My family has been wonderful, seeing to my every need no matter how cranky I may become. My employer has assured me that, despite the pathetic economy, my job is safe, and, in fact, it is actually helpful for them to have me on the disability list since it makes their payroll look smaller. The house is not falling apart. And the doctors have assured me that my recovery is proceeding well and that I should be up and walking very soon.
So why am I depressed? Well, quite simply, I cannot pee by myself. Whenever I need to use the facilities, I have to obtain the attention of someone within the house so that they can help me into a wheelchair, follow me to the loo, and help me mount the toidy. Everyone here has been cheerfully helpful, and have never made light of my inability to make it to the bathroom on my own or my having to sit down to urinate.
Today I have decided to write because this situation changed. Earlier, Angela was at the store, Colette was at school, and Luke was in his bedroom on the third floor of the barnhouse. After finishing my tea, I had taken a brief nap, having nothing better to do. When I awoke, naturally, I had to pee. I started to reach for the telephone so that I could use the intercom function to summon Luke, but then, out of impatience and frustration, I decided that I would make my way myself. I have been attending physical therapy regularly, so I can usually briefly stand on my wobbly legs and take a few steps with the help of parallel bars. So today, I hoisted my broken ass out of bed, grabbed my walker, and dragged myself to the rest room where I was able to empty my bladder.
This accomplishment made me feel really good, not so much because I was able to get there myself but because I really had to pee. After briefly resting, I dragged myself back to the bedroom and rewarded myself with another nap.
When Angela got home, she asked me, "What time did Luke come downstairs?"
"He hasn't," I replied.
"Then why is the toilet seat up?" One of the remarkable characteristics of women is the ability to always monitor the state of the toilet seat.
"Because I had to pee," was my response.
"By yourself?"
"By myself."
"Why didn't you ask Luke to help you?"
"I didn't think I could wait that long, and I didn't want to risk peeing on Luke." Angela thought for a moment, then nodded satisfactorily and left to put away her purchases.
So how did I feel? In a word, relieved, no pun intended. Not so much because I was able to accomplish something on my own that had previously required assistance, but because I now knew that I could pee when I wanted to, not when someone was available to help me. I also felt somewhat smug because I was getting my proper indepencence back. After all, even though I am imaginary, I am still a man, and the man is supposed to be in charge, to be king of his castle. He's not supposed to have someone help him pee.
I never realized how important peeing is.
Now that I can pee (okay, I'll stop talking about urination now), I promise to be more regular in indulging my loyal readers with my golden prose. Firstly, I owe you an update as to the events here at the Spanko household. I also should like to deal with some unfinished business with regards to a couple of tales that I began quite some time ago but have never completed. After that, I'll let my imagination carry me where it may.
For now, it is time for another nap, and then I will get to writing, although there is one additional update that I need to provide to you. Whilst my injuries continue to heal, I still cannot feel my butt, which for a spanko, is tragic indeed. But I have a feeling that this, too, shall pass.
So why am I depressed? Well, quite simply, I cannot pee by myself. Whenever I need to use the facilities, I have to obtain the attention of someone within the house so that they can help me into a wheelchair, follow me to the loo, and help me mount the toidy. Everyone here has been cheerfully helpful, and have never made light of my inability to make it to the bathroom on my own or my having to sit down to urinate.
Today I have decided to write because this situation changed. Earlier, Angela was at the store, Colette was at school, and Luke was in his bedroom on the third floor of the barnhouse. After finishing my tea, I had taken a brief nap, having nothing better to do. When I awoke, naturally, I had to pee. I started to reach for the telephone so that I could use the intercom function to summon Luke, but then, out of impatience and frustration, I decided that I would make my way myself. I have been attending physical therapy regularly, so I can usually briefly stand on my wobbly legs and take a few steps with the help of parallel bars. So today, I hoisted my broken ass out of bed, grabbed my walker, and dragged myself to the rest room where I was able to empty my bladder.
This accomplishment made me feel really good, not so much because I was able to get there myself but because I really had to pee. After briefly resting, I dragged myself back to the bedroom and rewarded myself with another nap.
When Angela got home, she asked me, "What time did Luke come downstairs?"
"He hasn't," I replied.
"Then why is the toilet seat up?" One of the remarkable characteristics of women is the ability to always monitor the state of the toilet seat.
"Because I had to pee," was my response.
"By yourself?"
"By myself."
"Why didn't you ask Luke to help you?"
"I didn't think I could wait that long, and I didn't want to risk peeing on Luke." Angela thought for a moment, then nodded satisfactorily and left to put away her purchases.
So how did I feel? In a word, relieved, no pun intended. Not so much because I was able to accomplish something on my own that had previously required assistance, but because I now knew that I could pee when I wanted to, not when someone was available to help me. I also felt somewhat smug because I was getting my proper indepencence back. After all, even though I am imaginary, I am still a man, and the man is supposed to be in charge, to be king of his castle. He's not supposed to have someone help him pee.
I never realized how important peeing is.
Now that I can pee (okay, I'll stop talking about urination now), I promise to be more regular in indulging my loyal readers with my golden prose. Firstly, I owe you an update as to the events here at the Spanko household. I also should like to deal with some unfinished business with regards to a couple of tales that I began quite some time ago but have never completed. After that, I'll let my imagination carry me where it may.
For now, it is time for another nap, and then I will get to writing, although there is one additional update that I need to provide to you. Whilst my injuries continue to heal, I still cannot feel my butt, which for a spanko, is tragic indeed. But I have a feeling that this, too, shall pass.
