Someone, for reasons best known to themselves, decided to give me a pair of knickers with the words, “Spoilt brat” emblazoned on the back. They are most attractive, navy blue and covered all over in silver stars and clingy in just the right way for a girl that owns a bottom that likes to be noticed. (The bottom likes to be noticed, not me. I am both shy and retiring almost all the time.)
I can only think these knickers were an ironic gift, like giving a runner some slippers or presenting the Queen with a washing up bowl. I had not realised the giver overwhelmed with a sense of irony but I am not so arrogant as to think I know everyone perfectly.
Either way, here I am, me with some rather stylish knickers with the words, “Spoilt brat” glaring out from them.
What was I to do?
It would have been ungrateful not to wear them, indeed only a spoilt brat would decline a gift and so by refusing to wear them I would have become deserving of wearing them. These knickers are not any normal knickers- they are a paradoxical knickers.
I would not like to suggest to the giver that I was unable to detect irony or reluctant to be the butt of a joke. I think it is a vital skill to be able to take a joke which is why I encourage DJ to develop this skill himself. He seems reluctant to learn this for some reason. I think he spends too much time with a cane in his hands to embrace the role of pupil. Actually, I think he spends too much time with a cane in his hands full stop.
When I considered wearing the knickers I did feel a little hint at something that I could only imagine was mischief tugging at my brain. (Obviously, I rarely feel mischievous so I am not good at detecting the sensation.) It seemed to me that, were I to put them on, it would cause a ruckus, the kind of ruckus that would be fun to run away from. This is the kind of ruckus that makes me giggle and later squirm and sometimes insist on being left alone to catch my breath. I like ruckuses and besides, they can be terribly warming in this cold weather.
I also had to consider that by wearing them I would be placing temptation squarely (roundly?) in front of the man I love. It may surprise you to know that DJ is something of an aficionado of the spanking arts. He seldom needs an excuse to pull me over his lap and brighten my bottom beyond all reason. I do not think the man even knows what “Stop” or “Get off me or I shall bite you*” means. So if I were to wear them would it be tempting him or would it showing faith in him not to react in a predictable manner?
Confusion abounded. (Maybe this is how Tops feel every day.)
Reader, I wore the knickers.
I would like to be able to tell you that Mr Black managed to control himself and not go for the obvious action. I would like to tell you that when he saw the wording he did not leer at me in what can only be described as a rakish manner. I would like even more to be able to tell you that afterwards I thought that I made the right decision to wear the knickers.
All I can tell you is that knickers that are snug and comfortable pre-DJ-spanking become horribly uncomfortable afterwards. My bottom was swollen, sore and hot so much so that I had to dispense with the knickers entirely.
But it was all good in the end. DJ knew just what to do. And he did it very well indeed.
I do not think I am a spoilt brat, rather I am a lucky girl who finds it a bit sore to sit down.
*That is another story for another day.
**That is also another story for another day.
PS Sir SpanksALot (who asked me about “punishments that go beyond spanking and corner time into realms off the beaten path, so to speak. Are these fancies of his or do you, as his girl, suffer these sorts of punishments in real life? (If so I would be very keen to get your perspective on such practices”)
It would be entirely my pleasure to write about the travesty of injustice that is my life with DJ. I am sure I will find you sympathetic.
PPS Thank you so much for all the comments. I am sorry I cannot reply but I do sit often DJ’s lap when he responds and I am grateful and humbled that people take the time to speak to a girl who must remain silent for a whole week.
