Left dry-cleaning in my car

 Left dry-cleaning in my car

Spanking 7/11/2025

So this week I feel I was really on my game. Especially after my slipping up several times over the past few months. I pride myself in trying to always do the right thing. I do not brat. I try to honor hubby. I obey him and I really try to respect him, following Ephesians 5:22

Thursday morning had started like most others—coffee brewing, the faint hum of traffic outside, and the usual scramble to make sure everything was ready before the day began. I’d picked up my husband’s dry cleaning the evening before, feeling quietly proud to have remembered it at all. But somehow, between the grocery bags and the phone call from my sister, the hangers had stayed in the back seat of my car.

Friday came early, and I was halfway to work and I was chatting with my friend when his call came in. I told my friend I have to go. 

I answered with a friendly, “Hi Honey1” I heard his echoey voice from the laundry room. It wasn’t angry, just surprised. “Sweetie, did you ever bring in the dry cleaning?” My heart sank before I even answered. The image of those shirts swinging gently from the car hook flashed through my mind.

“I completely forgot,” I admitted, hand on my forehead. He sighed—one of those long, patient sighs that said everything words didn’t need to. He sounded so disappointed as he said,  “Well, I guess I’m ironing this morning.”

Imagining him smoothing out the wrinkles on his shirt, I felt that familiar mix of guilt and affection. He wasn’t upset, not really; he just hated to be rushed before a big meeting. I called my daughter and asked, “Hey baby girl, are you ready for school?” She replied, “Yup, all ready to go.” I said, “Hey if Daddy ask, please help him and Iron his slacks and shirt.” She said, “Okay Momma.” I said, “Thanks, you're the best.”

 I called hubby back and offered some help saying, “baby girl is ready for school and said she would iron for you.”  But he said, “Don’t worry about it” — The kind of statement that says I love you, but you really need to stay focused next time.

The rest of the day moved along, but the thought of my mistake stayed with me. It wasn’t about the shirt or the slacks; it was about being reliable, about keeping my promises in the small things. I had my co worker cover my last period and headed home early.  

When he came home that evening, I made sure the kids were out of the house and the house smelled like dinner and lavender candles — my quiet way of saying I know I slipped up, and I’m sorry.

He set down his briefcase and pulled me close. “Rough day?” I asked.

“Long day,” he said with a grin. “But it went well.” Then his tone softened. “I know it wasn’t on purpose, but you do get distracted sometimes.”

I nodded, cheeks warm. “I’ll do better. I really felt bad about it all day.”

“I know you did,” he said, brushing a stray hair from my face. “Come here”, he said, grabbing my hand and leading me to the living room. 

I was nervous as I followed him barefoot. He sat in the chair and looked up at me and said, “This isn’t punishment, it’s a reminder helper” I nod humbly as he reached under my dress and pulled my panties down to my ankles. I stepped out of them and he picked them up and placed them on the coffee table. 

He guided me over his lap and lifted my dress and laid it on my back. My exposed bottom could feel the ceiling fan and I grabbed his leg to steady myself. “You understand why you are in this position baby?” he asked. I squeaked out, “Yes sir” He tapped my side and I reached back with my right hand. He took it and held it in the middle of my back, pinning my dress against my back. 

This his free hand landed on my poor bottom. I swear his hand is made of Iron. The smacks kept coming and never let up. Back and forth and all over my bottom. I was trying to hold it together but as he worked down to the lower bottom I broke and started crying. The crying didn’t slow him down and in fact he started speeding up. 

Panic set in as I tried to squirm but his hand kept landing on my poor bottom. Crying turned into squeals, squeals turned into yelping and then full blown screaming as he didn’t let up. I was blubbering, promising and begging. But he didn’t stop. I honestly thought it was going to go on forever. 

Then he slowed and stopped as I lay limp over his lap, blubbering and hiccopping. He rubbed my back and said, he loved me so much and that this in no way did not take away the fact he was so proud of me for all the things I do. Then he helped me up, slipped my dress off, led me to the corner and had me stand there with my angry red bottom on display in just my bra.

While I stood there calming down, I could hear him serving food and placing it on the table. When he called me out he smiled at me and said, “Let’s eat” I smiled wiping a tear from my face and despite not wanting to sit, I sat there and had dinner with my husband in just a bra. 

After dinner he told me to get cleaned up and dressed for bible study and he said he would do the dishes. I have the best husband in the whole world. 

Side note 1: At bible study I was really worried that others could tell I was spanked. I was very self conscious and tried to sit without squirming or making a face. But also worried that sitting too slowly would bring attention too. 

Side note 2: I had to re-arrange the whole dishwasher after bible study. It is not often he helps in the kitchen and it shows. However, the wonderful act of doing it for me is amazing.