Naughty Irish Imp

Naughty Irish Imp

Sunday, April 1, 2012

Life Goes On


"Oh my God, these fucking Boston drivers" I yell out while slapping my palms impatiently on the steering wheel while stealing a quick glimpse down at the clock, 145pm. "Damn it, come on".
**Pause is 03/02/2012 and I'm on my way to meet with my Disciplinarian, for our first face to face....or should I say our first bottom to hand,brush,belt,etc meeting. I had court this morning for one of my numerous traffic offenses, which just so happens to be the topic of this punishment session. We had agreed to meet at the location at 1pm, but I'm running late (story of my life) from court. One of the very first things Professor had told me was that if I ever used what I & those close to me refer to as, Natalie-Time, that I would be a very sorry little girl.**
To every other driver on the freeway this afternoon I must look like some bipolar driving disaster. One moment I'm rushing in typical Natalie fashion, punching the gas pedal and accelerating to close to 95mph; but then a moment later I am slamming on the brakes and trying to carefully maneuver through 6 lanes of traffic at more acceptable speeds hovering closer to 75mph. This strange sort of battle has been happening a lot in the past several weeks since I began talking to Professor. Like some strange battle of the wills. My natural tendency to behave carelessly being challenged by that 'think twice' voice in my head. That deep, penetrating voice of the man I'm hurrying to meet with.
Rewind a month and tell me that Id be having such internal conflict to combat my typical wreckless behavior all in an effort to please a man I hadn't even yet met with in person....yep Id have laughed, likely hysterically. How is this even possible? I mean, I'm Natalie. Natalie doesn't care what anyone else thinks of her behavior. Natalie isn't concerned with the perception her behavior creates in the minds of other people. How did this happen? Yes, of course Ive known I needed to find a Disciplinarian for a while now, but I really wasn't looking for one when I stumbled across Professor. I was actually trying to find a suitable disciplinary match for my little sister. Maybe its fate, who knows. One thing is for certain, for all of my guards, all of my rigid defenses, all the walls carefully built up over time....somehow this man has gotten through each of them and without even once seeing me. This entire whirlwind relationship has caught me off guard. Ive never been the kind of girl to open up to, much less give a damn about a person so quickly. Yeah, fate.
I pick up my cell phone and send a text confirming the address and trying to explain my not being punctual. I get no reply. So send another. Then his ring tone, I glance down at the text, "I don't text w/ drivers". My heart flutters, "Damn it, what the hell was I thinking? Oh my God." I could be a typical brat and tell him I was pulled over when I sent the text but that's not the kind of girl I am. Ive never enjoyed the game playing with a disciplinarian. Not to mention, Id be furious if he lied to me so I'm not about to lie to him. Rule #1 from Professor to his newly acquired daughters (Lauren & I), Open and honest all the time; no exceptions. I wont lie to him and I'm pretty sure if I tried he would see right through this one. I mean really, we may not have been together in person yet and he may have just 'adopted' me as his own a month ago, but the man isn't ignorant & he knows I am constantly texting when I'm driving.
I pull into the hotel parking lot and glance down at the clock again, 2:12p. I slide out of the SUV and walk to the back to grab my bag of implements and the print outs he requested. I press 'lock' on my keypad and start to walk up the stairs. Reaching the top of the flight, I turn my cell phone off and turn to walk down the hallway toward room #231. My stomach is in knots and a large lump has appeared at the back of my throat. My palms sweaty. I'm the picture perfect portrait of nervous. Looking up at the gold plate on the door and taking a deep breath as I re-read it several times, "231.....231....231.....231" while trying to summon the courage to knock.
I knock softly on the door and it quickly swings open as if he had been standing behind it, just waiting for my knock. I swallow hard and glance up at him. My mind is racing. He is tall, standing right in front of him, my short Irish stature rises only to about his chest level....fine with me, if I were at eye level we would have a problem....the man has incredibly expressive brown eyes. He has a very prominent jaw and it tightens slightly as he looks down, giving his naughty girl the once over. Ive never been a shy girl but feel incredibly so right now. He has broad shoulders and is, aside from the current set jaw and steely gaze, very handsome. He finally breaks the silence, "Hello Natalie." He steps back slightly to let me into the room.
"Good afternoon Sir." I manage to finally return his greeting as I walk past him to sit my bag down on the dresser. As I am unpacking my implement collection for him on top of the dresser, his voice makes me jump with, "That is what you chose to wear to court, young lady?" Oh how those two words turn my stomach.....about the same effect as hearing, "Natalie Lynn" or "Little girl". My face feels hot, I'm sure I'm turning as red as my Old Navy sweatshirt right now as I answer him. "Yes Sir, I mean, No Sir.....I wore these jeans but had on a t-shirt, I only just threw on the sweatshirt Sir. May I go change?" I turn
to look at him hoping he will grant my request. "Not yet. Finish placing all of your implements on the dresser, I want the email and court transcript in my hands, place the Bruins t-shirt on the bed and then come over here to the desk so we can talk before I decide if I want you to change." I am really, *really* regretting my choice of attire for court now and praying he doesn't ask to see the t-shirt under my hoodie.
I slowly walk over, stopping just in front of the desk at which he is now seated. He rises to his feet and grabs a paddle from behind his chair and hands it to me. I take the implement in my hand and examine it as he speaks, "This is a paddle I picked up on campus Natalie. If you break any of my rules when you're being punished for your behavior, I will paddle your bare bottom with this paddle and you will be a very sorry little girl. Is this clear?" Running my hand over the smooth surface while weighing it in the other hand, it is heavy, as I reply a simple "Yes Sir." He takes the paddle back from me and sits back down as he begins to speak again.
"Before we get started Natalie Lynn, I received a text message from your sister that I am going to read and Id like your responses to it, understood?" I'm confused, curious, anxious as I nod and offer another, "Yes Sir." Standing in front of him with my hands clasped together in front of me, I listen intently as he begins to read. "Wednesday night something crazy happened at the hospital and Natalie has been freaking out about it Professor." Those initial words are all I need to hear, I know what this is about now and I turn around to mouth a 'fucking bitch' before turning to again face him, hoping he doesn't ask what I just mumbled, as he continues to read the text in its entirety and then looks up from his phone at me and starts to speak. "What happened at work Wednesday Natalie?" I swallow hard again and try to find the words to answer him. " did my job Sir." is all that escapes.
His eyes narrow and his jaw clenches as he replies, "Is that what I asked you, young lady?" I regret my choice of wording and answer, "No Sir. I'm sorry." He leans back in his chair and waits. I explain to him the situation as it occurred. A patient on her death bed, struck down by a mystery ailment and the decision a resident and I made to ignore conventional medicine and the orders of attending physicians to perform an extremely risky procedure in a last ditch attempt to save her life. I go on to answer his questions about my avoiding the director of emergency services and not answering to him about the ordeal yet. He tells me that Lauren suggested I make this call prior to my punishment session for two reasons. One, I have to return his
call so I don't lose my job and I have to be very careful to not lose my temper while I'm speaking to my boss. Two, I have been so focused on this that Ive not concentrated on anything else and I likely wouldn't get anything out of this session if my mind was so intently focused on the work turmoil. He seems to agree and asks me if I do as well. I sigh and reply, "Yes Sir. May I get my phone?" He seems pleased by this and grants my request. I quickly grab my phone and make the call Ive been trying to avoid for 2 days now. With some quiet prompting from Professor in the background, I survive the call and am able to express my thoughts on the choice I made in a respectful way and the call ends with a very flattering compliment from my superior.
As I rise to my feet to return my phone to my handbag, Professor speaks again. "While you're over there, take off your sweatshirt Natalie Lynn. I want to see the shirt you wore to court this morning." I'm full of panic. I know the shirt I have on is not as bad as my Bruins 'Go Puck Yourself' shirt but the pink "Part Irish, All Trouble" shirt I am wearing is still a choice I know I will soon regret. I slowly do as I was told and return to stand in front of him, my eyes locked on the floor. He sighs audibly and I know he is not pleased by what he sees.
"You chose to wear that shirt and jeans to court to send a message, didn't you Natalie?" I know he is right, "Yes Sir." He rises from the chair and stands inches from me with his hands on his hips. "Look at me when I'm speaking to you. You thought it would be acceptable to dress like that for court? To get your little jab of disrespect in, if even through your attire?" He scolds. I know these questions are rhetorical and remain quiet as he lectures. "Go put your nose in that corner" he barks as he points across the room. I walk over to the corner and stand there, my hands at my sides.
"You may have thought that shirt was a good idea this morning young lady, but pretty soon you will be regretting it along with your reckless driving practices." his voice startles me as he speaks only a few inches from the back of my head. I press my face closer to the wall and close my eyes. After what seems like forever, he speaks again. "Come here young lady. I am left handed so you will stand on my left side. I want you right here and pull down your jeans to your knees." I slowly walk over to stand next to him and fumbled with the button of my jeans for a moment before sliding them down my thighs. "Your driving is ridiculous, dangerous, reckless and just stupid. This lesson is long past due for you and you will be learning it over my knee." his words have barely finished when he takes hold of my wrist and pulls me down over his knees.
My long, red hair now blanketing the floor beneath me as I try to prepare myself for what is to come. He has his right hand on the small of my back, reminding me not to move from position. Suddenly a SWAT.....SWAT.....SWAT stinging my bottom as he lectures. I cant hear what he is saying, my mind is again. I hadn't seen him grab an implement....what was raining down on my stung far more than a hand. After a few dozen swats have landed he speaks, "Go bring me your brush." I slide off of his lap and pick up that awful bath brush of mine and return it to his waiting hand. Quickly glancing around before being instructed back across his strong lap, I don't see any implement and realize that stinging object must have in fact been his hand. Damn lefty.
Laying back across his lap and trying to steady myself for that damn brush. It has been almost 2 years since I have felt that thing on my bottom and I haven't missed it one bit. I know I deserve this spanking and I do truly feel guilty for the choices I have made so I am determined to accept my punishment and be a 'good girl' throughout, no matter how much it hurts. I don't have to wait long for the first burning CRACK.....CRACK.....CRACK....CRACK.....CRACK.....he spanks in a rhythm, making sure to emphasize certain words with a CRACK! Taking his time to properly paddle my entire bottom and sit spots. My thin lace panties offer so very little protection. The swats stop for a moment and I feel the brush resting on my lower back. Then his fingers pulling at the waistband of my panties and in one, quick motion yanking them down to mid-thigh. Almost as suddenly, the brush is again raining down on my now, very bare bottom. I bite the inside of my bottom lip and try to focus on his shoes, the carpet, anything at all to keep me from wiggling. CRACK......CRACK......CRACK.....CRACK. That polished, solid oak stinging my bottom with every swat. This man can spank.....remarkably well. He continues to lecture as he spanks. Everything from the volleys of multiple swats falling on the same spot in quick the slower but more firm
swats he is placing on my thighs.....this man can spank. I fight back the urge to say, "Umm lied to me. You said you were 'good at this'....thats an under statement. You tricked me." Oh the things that run through a girls head when she is upended over a capable man's lap to get her naughty bottom spanked.
Im so lost in my own cluttered mind that when he finally stops paddling me, I hardly notice. He softly pats my bottom and says, "I want you back in that corner young lady." I whisper a quick, "Yes Sir" as I scurry back to the corner trying to slow my breathing and fight the urge to reach back and rub my throbbing bottom. I listen intently as I hear him behind me moving around. My mind again racing.....what is he getting.....where is he at.....what implement is next. I again, dont have to wait long for an answer as my mind is quieted as I outwardly jump hearing his deep voice booming from across the room. "Natalie, I want you to stack 3 pillows in the center of the bed and lay over them."
I quickly do as instructed though my mind is now in a panic. There are only a small handful of implements that this position is typically used for and the two at the top of that list are the two I hate the most; a belt and the rubber looped strap. As I nervously crawl up onto the bed I hear him grabbing his chosen implement, and the distinct jingle of a buckle immediately tells me what he has selected....his belt. Im fighting back the urge to cry now, as much because I know I deserve this as I am struggling to maintain my 'tough girl' image. His strong hand slaps down a paper infront of my face, it is the email my friend, Brad, sent to me after he pulled me over for driving intoxicated two weeks prior. "I want you to read this email Natalie Lynn."
I slowly start to skim over the words and he speaks again, "Read it outloud." I take a deep breath, praying I can find my voice and hesitantly begin to read. After four sentences, "Stop" his voice dripping with displeasure. I close my eyes, knowing what is coming. The first searing swat landing on my upper thighs as I again am fighting back tears. Seven more well placed swats find their mark before he speaks once more, "Continue". I pick up where I had left off and try to read much quicker, hoping to get in more than four sentences before being stopped again, thinking to myself, at this rate my bottom is *really* going to get it. "Stop". Again his belt rains down, fast, angry swats with the force of a man determined to teach his errant child a lesson. As with the brush, his swats are accurate, placed with surgical precision aligning one after the next to criss-cross my bottom. My breathing is ragged as I try desperately to choke back my urge to whimper.
"Next." he says and I again, continue to read aloud the desperate pleas of a dear friend, truly concerned for my safety. After two or three more small reading sessions interrupted by a couple dozen burning swats with his belt, I start to focus more on the words I am reading than on the sore state of my bottom. I can hear the pain in his words. The genuine concern. The disappointment. That is the emotion I can not help but zero in on. To the outside world I am very careful to portray a strong, independent, abrasive woman with a merciless tongue and do or die attitude that has no concern for opinions or displeasure of others. This is a facade I carefully, painstakingly sculpted years ago to protect myself from the people I knew would inevitably hurt me. It took a lot for anyone to see through that but those who had, could see and come to know the real me. The girl who's stubbornness, though it often gets her into trouble, had gotten her far from her roots. The girl who never met a challenge or dare she wouldn't attempt. The girl who loved with her whole heart and would give anything for those she loved. The girl who could not stand to disappoint. Brad's email accompanied by multiple groupings of dozens of swats had gotten through to that girl.
"Give it to me" he ordered, his hand outstretched waiting. I picked up the piece of paper and handed it to Professor, taking that opportunity to steal a glance up at him. The look on his face surprised me. We were far from finished and I could see that by seeing the resolve on his face, but I caught a glimpse of something more. Something that stung my heart as much as his leather belt was stinging my bottom. He cared for me. It had been just weeks since we had crossed one anothers paths, and all contact up until this first fateful meeting had been via email, instant messaging and phone calls but he truly cared for me. That look of disappointment on his face was not the well-rehearsed look of a disciplinarian with no emotional ties simply trying to aid a scene. That look of disappointment was genuine. He cared about me and he was honestly disgusted by my ignorant choices. An unwavering sort of paternal determination to ensure I took this lesson to heart accompanied the disappointment on his face. A tear escaped my right eye as I quickly turned away and laid my head on my arms, hoping he hadn't noticed the tear. My heart truly sorry for what I had done and my mind so angry at myself for being so stupid and now trying desperately to analyze what I had just seen. "I want you to stay there and not move Natalie, you deserve the whipping I'm about to give you and I want you to think about that." I again, shook my head and offered a, "Yes Sir".
In that moment, as he resumed strapping my bottom and thighs, I completely disregarded his instructions. I couldn't focus on what I had done wrong....not yet anyway. I had to interpret this moment....this man....that look. Sure I had seen looks on par with this one several times in my life but this was different. Those people were biologically mandated to be disappointed in me when I screwed up....and my husband, well he wasn't biologically mandated but he was kind of matrimonially obligated. So from them I understood, but this.....this was new. How Professor? How can you care about me like this? I'm bad Professor. Don't you see that? Bad....really bad. In fact, that's how you came to know me in the first place. It isn't like we met professionally so you got to see my positive side first. It isn't like we were dating so you got that 'honeymoon phase' of only good things before you slowly started to see the negatives. You met me because of this. Our relationship was born and constructed because of my bad behavior and needing to be held accountable. You got the pleasant, "Nice to meet you, I'm Natalie" and then the never-ending list of ignorant things that Natalie chooses to do. You got a bird's eye view of everything bad Professor. How can you care for me? How can you care for a girl who is so bad? Then it crossed my mind....maybe, just maybe he meant what he had said in email. Maybe he did see what he was getting into with my sister and I and wanted to do it anyway. Maybe he really was going to, as Lauren phrases it, 'keep us.' Perhaps that look stemmed from his undeterred, unconditional paternal-sided love. He had said it a few times by phone or email and each time it made me smile, 'his daughters' and 'his girls'....maybe he meant it. He had seen the bad but perhaps, like any good parent, he saw the good that was being masked by the irrational behavior. He knew I knew better and he had made it his job to punish me for choosing not to do better.He was in this for the long haul. He cared for me....he believed in my ability to act much better than I had been. Perhaps not biologically....perhaps not matrimonially.....but regardless, this man had an emotional stake here. He cared.
His well-worn belt continuing its unforgiving assault on my horribly sore bottom as I tried to rationalize and over-analyze the moment. I had been spanked many many times before and knew I needed it, knew I deserved it. Knowing all I was risking professionally, physically, personally by choosing to drive drunk or otherwise recklessly by speeding, texting, my road rage, etc I started to truly let Professor's words and the words from Brad's email sink in. I felt horrible. I wasnt just hurting myself, I was hurting the people who loved me the most. I know in that moment that Professor could sense the emotional turbulence, the anger, the guilt....his swats fell quicker, harder which was exactly what I needed in that moment. Another thought came to me....and ordinarily this thought would have been paralyzing, but somehow in this moment, the
thought was almost freeing....he was inside of my head. He wasnt just giving me what I deserved, he was giving me what I needed and I hadnt had to put a voice to my needs....he knew and somehow my knowing he knew was incredibly reassuring.
"Come here Natalie" I heard his voice as he stopped strapping me. I slowly rose to my feet and walked to him at the foot of the bed. "Sit up here." He said while patting the top of the dresser. I carefully sat down on it, trying to keep my hands pressing into the wood to avoid sitting completely on my very tender bottom. He sat down directly across from me on the foot of the bed. "Life isnt always easy Natalie and alot of the things you have had to deal with arent fair. But when you choose to drive without regard for your safety or that of other people by drinking and driving or speeding or driving distracted or any other number of things, you're only making a bad situation worse. You're acting out like that is not only hurting you but it is hurting the people around you, who love you Natalie. Your family, your friends, your son. It has to stop Natalie, you have to choose to stop it. Life goes on goes on." I knew he was right. I sat there across from him and looked at him for a moment, directly into his eyes and let those words register in my head."Do you think you have been spanked enough?" His words surprising me. My bottom was on fire. I could feel the skin tightened and throbbing but inside, I was hurting more. Guilt, anger, remorse, shame. "No Sir." I said while watching him closely. "Good, I dont think you have been either. Im not going to say anything Natalie. I want you to concentrate on whatever it is you need to, and make sure this sinks in. Hand me your brush." I carefully lifted myself off of the dresser and handed him my brush as we walked back over to the chair infront of the desk.
I lowered myself down, across his strong lap again. He spaced his legs apart more this time so I was just barely touching the floor with my toes. I kept my hands firmly planted on the floor, crossed my feet at my ankles so I wouldnt squirm and hung my head as the heavy swats began again. He would swat slowly but firmly and then fire a half dozen or so very briskly making me gasp. My bottom hurt so bad but this part of the spanking was fixing all of the emotional turmoil. Slowly and painfully, relieving the stress, the guilt, shame, fury, disappointment. He picked up the pace again applying very quick, harsh swats to my sit spots and upper thighs, but he didnt stop after 6 or 7 and return to the slower swats to give me time to slow my breathing. He kept peppering my upper thighs in earnest and I began to softly whimper and struggle to remain still. Just as I thought I might not be able to stay in position, thought that I might cry stopped.
I laid there collecting my bearings, slowing my breath, choking back my tears. I felt his hand rubbing across my back and then softly stroking my hair as I laid over his lap....a very contrite and properly punished girl. I closed my eyes and tilted my head slightly toward his touch. After a moment or two, I felt a cool touch on my smoking cheeks. He gently rubbed a cream on my bottom and thighs. Massaging it into the angry skin. After another minute I slid off of his lap to return to the corner and stopped kneeling directly in front of him and looked up at him and whispered a "thank you Sir."He smiled down at me and said, "You're welcome Natalie. I want you to think about this when youre in the corner until I call you out....Life Goes On." I smiled up at him and returned to the corner to process the session.
"You may pull your pants up young lady and then come over here so we can talk." he said from his chair again seated behind the desk. I slowly and very cautiously pulled my panties and jeans back up over my freshly spanked bottom and walked over and sat gently on the chair across the desk from him and we spent the next hour or so talking with one another, laughing, and just enjoying each other's company. I left that evening to begin the 2 hour drive home with an extremely sore bottom but an overwhelmingly peaceful mind.

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