It was a simple enough request. We were moving house and I'd just transferred a load of boxes to the new house, choosing my wife's larger car. My wife had asked me to make sure I took the boxes out before she drove the car to our son's soccer game in the morning.
But I was tired and there were hours to get the chore done and yeah, well, I'm sure there were other great reasons. I took a couple of boxes out and then promptly forgot about the boxes crammed into the car. Next morning my wife got up early and took my son to his soccer game while I looked after our daughter. The boxes were so far out of my mind by now that I didn't remember them until Pam returned.
"You did not take the boxes out of the car," she said. "I was not impressed." The last she said with that look and tone that made me realise a trip over my wife's lap may be in my near future.
"Oh," I said, suddenly remembering. "Did you get the boys to help?"
"No, it was quicker to do it myself," Pam said. "We missed the start of the game by five minutes." The glare followed. That glare.
I was definitely in for it. It was hard to think of good arguments in my favour. I hadn't done it simply because I'd been too lazy the night before to do it right away.
The tumult of the move and an overnight visitor at our new home provided a stay of execution. It wasn't until Sunday night that my wife had a chance to demonstrate her displeasure.
The house was quiet and my wife came into the bedroom. "I hope you have prepared some implements for me to use."
I swallowed. "Ah, they're unpacked and in your drawer." I had done this before the 'great box incident'.
Pam briefly rummaged around in the drawer for a moment, though in the dark I'm not sure whether her selection was random or by design. We then shared a brief cuddle before my spanking, with me apologising for my actions and Pam reiterating her annoyance.
"I was not happy," she said.
"Did you think about it at the time," I asked, wondering if she had realised I needed to be punished.
"Definitely," Pam said. "But I've been so busy."
I soon found myself bare bottomed over my lovely wife's lap. She didn't start smacking straight away, taking the time to repeat how inconsiderate I'd been, how I'd caused her a lot of stress trying to get to the game on time. I could only agree that I deserved every smack she thought I had coming.
Pam's spanking began. We were yet to install the new soundproof doors we had on order, so the hand spanks were lighter than usual, though they still smarted. Tonight Pam was being particularly vocal in her scolding, an ominous sign.
Her hand rained down. "I am being considerate and warming up your bottom," she said, "unlike my inconsiderate husband."
The warm-up was soon over. My bottom stung, but the heat was nothing like the temperature it was about to reach. Pam grabbed an implement and rubbed it against my bottom. I knew what it was at once - the horribly stingy black paddle. It doesn't leave a lasting impact, but stings like a million bees in Pam's hand.
"That's a better reaction," Pam said, after the first smack provided an "ow". After a couple more smacks, Pam stopped to adjust her position. "I need to move the pillows so I can get a better swing."
The spanking continued - the "better swing" working only too well. Soon I was squirming, but there was no avoiding that horrible black paddle.
"I'm getting rid of some of that frustration," Pam said.
My communication skills were limited to "Sorry" and "Ow".
Pam switched to her thick wooden spoon. She started slowly, but soon had me writhing trying to avoid the smacks. "I think you're going to feel this on the train tomorrow," she said, continuing to scold as the spoon fell. "This new room is nice and sound proof. Think how hard I'm going to be able to spank you. You'll be the best behaved husband ever, and I will be very well rested." (*)
I was now really feeling my wife's spanking and promising to behave better in future. This had, as usual, limited effect.
"Did you hear Helen say she might sleep over tonight," Pam said, pausing briefly. "I was thinking how is that going to work? I have a naughty husband who needs to be punished."
After about two dozen hard and fast smacks with the spoon, my wife put it down and picked up her new "Obey your wife" paddle. "This paddle weighs a tonne," she said, rubbing it over my bottom. "You're really going to feel this. You need to show your wife more respect and consideration."
Then the paddling started. It was hard and fast and unbearably painful. My bottom, already tender from my wife's efforts, was an inferno. Within a dozen or so smacks I had tears in my eyes.
Pam paused for a moment. "What should you have done?"
I was sobbing softly. "Obeyed my wife and got the boxes."
"That's right," she said.
That thick wooden paddle slammed into my blistered cheeks, again and again on what felt like the same spot. Pam was clearly upset tonight and let me have it about two dozen more times rapid fire until I was crying softly.
"I think maybe you've learned your lesson," she said.
The paddle was put aside and Pam rubbed my bottom until I calmed down. Then it was time for hugs and kisses. It was a sound lesson I felt for the next two days, though afterwards we both agreed it was well-deserved.
(*) When I'm spanked, my wife earns a long sleep in the next day.