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Thursday, April 16, 2009

Paying the Toll

As some of you know, I'm an Oregonian who currently lives in Texas. In all my days driving through Oregon, I have only had to pay one toll—which was to cross the Bridge of the Gods into Washington. Oregon uses gas taxes as a means of paying for roads, and it really seems that they have taken that to heart, and therefore keep the amount of toll-paying down as much as possible. Nowhere else, it seems, is that way. I was aghast when I had to pay 3 dollars every time I came from New Jersey to Philadelphia when I lived in Pennsylvania a couple of summers ago. I've just gone without paying a time or two. I was in a rental car, anyway. But now, I'm not so lucky. I never have that much money in my car—hell, I'm lucky if I have 90 cents in change. Isn't that what they designed credit cards for? Not having to worry about the frivolities of physical cash? So, when I had to pay the toll last summer while visiting a lady about cake for my wedding, I didn't have money in the car. So I just went through the toll booth in the lane for cars with an electronic toll tag, even though I don't have one. This had happened before—the state takes down my license plate and sends me a bill, tacking on an extra dollar for the inconvenience I've laden upon them. So, I got a bill for this day, too. And I meant to pay it… But then it ended up in a drawer somewhere and I forgot about it. And I meant to pay when I got the first and second reminder letters, too. But come on—you know how these things are! You stick them somewhere, and you only think about them when you get a bill from a BILL COLLECTION AGENCY with an additional payment of FIFTY BUCKS for not paying the toll. I almost piddled myself when I saw the letter in the mailbox—an official sort of letter from Idaho with my name on it. I do no business with Idaho, so I had a feeling it was nothing good. The only attention I might have deserved from Idaho was because of a toll road in TEXAS. So, surely my credit's taken a hit at this point, and I'm writing a check from our joint checking account, knowing that I'm going to have to come clean because James is the type who would look at our bank statement and wonder what a $50 charge was doing on there. Unfortunately, not saying anything about it and hoping James would never notice wasn't an option. Not saying anything about something like this is as good as lying in James' book. And I've never had the spanking for lying. James assures me that I really don't want to go there. When he talks about people deserving an "extreme spanking" where a switch is cut and all that nonsense, he describes the deservees as "women who drive drunk and women who lie to their husbands". So he puts lying to him up there with drunk driving and getting arrested. Perfect. He says it is because trust is so very critical to a marriage. So, knowing that I was going to have to tell James and just really, really hope that James had the best day EVER, I was dreading his coming home. He had gone with friends to play a game of disc golf that afternoon. I tried to make things better on myself by helping out in "The Wood Room", which is a room in our house that James is rebuilding (so named for its partly finished wooden paneled walls). The previous owner started converting the garage into a room, but only got about halfway done. I cleaned the dust and excess wall texturing off of the windows that were open right in front of the driveway. Chris, James' best friend, was actually driving the group to and from disc-golf, which is a rarity. Normally James comes home all by himself, as he has to spend an hour dropping off his friends, but when they both drove into the driveway, my spirits were up since they were both in a rather good mood—meaning that James probably won a game. Finally, James came in and asked how my day was and immediately thanked me for helping with the room. I had been working very hard all day—painting cabinets in the kitchen. Which really was not fun at all, and I probably looked as tired as I felt. So, when I finally told him about the bill, I sounded very angry with myself and the whole situation. He said that we would take a shower and talk about it later, but was cut short because Chris was suddenly standing right in front of the open windows.

James was about to discuss my upcoming spanking, which would have made a very good side-story to the event, because we were about to blow Chris' mind with the private details of our relationship. He had come back to grab his cell phone (which he'd forgotten at our place), no doubt in time to hear my confession and see how miserable I was about it. If it was me looking in on the situation, my brain would have already gone to what was going to happen. But I don't think Chris is that imaginative. Because, at this point, James didn't say anything about spanking yet—I like to think he won't decide to do it, although he said, "Take a shower with me, and afterwards we'll talk about it." Yeah, we'll "talk" about it. But it hasn't happened yet when he says "talk about it" that way that we've "talked about it" when I wasn't bare-assed and draped over his knee. Still, we showered together (we're big on doing that even when we aren't in the mood for anything sexual, because we can chat without being distracted by anything, and we both like taking long showers), and we tried to talk about other things besides what I'd done. But I couldn't keep myself from bringing up the issue. I was frustrated with myself. "I can't believe I let that happen!" I grumbled. "I know that sort of thing happens sometimes. I know you sometimes have trouble remembering things," he shrugged simply and kissed me. "Don't worry about it right now. After we're out of the shower, you should do a short write up on what happened exactly—because I don't really understand, and because it would be something to put on your blog. I'll read it, and then we'll talk about it." "Is there anything I can do to avoid a spanking?" I said, truly hoping there was something I could do to get out of it. "No," he said gently, so not to upset me. "I really don't think so." I sighed, feeling suddenly resigned to my fate. After the shower, I got on the computer and typed up this: Back when visiting the cake lady for my wedding, I had to go through the toll booth. When I saw it coming up, I tried to get off the road and go around, but my attempts didn't work. I didn't have money in my car and I had very little change in my car. My ash tray merely contained pennies at that moment. So, I just went through. And I wasn't worried, because a similar situation had happened before, where for a few extra cents, I could pay online after they sent me a bill. On the way back, I was on the phone, forgot about tollbooths, and got hit again by the bill. Again, I was unconcerned. The bill was going to come anyway.

So, a couple of months later, the bill did come. I can't remember when it did, but I have a feeling it was just in time for the month of my wedding, and it was immediately forgotten about. And another bill came. I'm sure it said, "Seriously. Pay it." And I really meant to—I was just not on the internet already, and I meant to get back to it. And it got buried in paperwork and forgotten about. I can't remember if there was a third or not—but if there was, I didn't even open it. I just meant to get online with my credit card and pay it. But I kept forgetting to do it. And so, today, I saw an envelope, that was quite thick and from Idaho. It was from a financing company, asking for money for my tickets, originally of a $2.50 value, and with $50 of administrative fees. Now, I just feel foolish. $50 is a lot of money! And all because I kept putting something off… Of course, this sealed the deal. James hadn't quite understood before that I had gotten two extra warnings from the toll road company. So, there was quite a few "boo-boos" involved. After I had handed him the laptop and he sat down to read what I had written, he sent me into the bedroom and told me to undress (even though I had JUST gotten dressed) and to be in the corner with only my panties on, and to have the belt and the paddle out of the closet and on the bed. A trifecta of punishment is nothing to look forward to. But preparing for the eventual punishment, for me, is far easier than receiving extra for not doing as instructed. I got ready, and by the time I was nearly naked in the corner, James was done reading and was in the bedroom, thanking me for getting all of that done and, as always, he told me he loved me very much. Then he started the lecture. Listening to his lecturing always tends to be a bit awkward—I'm nearly naked, and I'm normally very nervous and twitchy. But I do remember him mentioning the point that if I had just gone through the toll booth without paying, it's no big deal. Even if I forgot to pay until the first notice, it's no big deal, probably just a few swats with his hand, if anything. But ignoring the first notice… and then ignoring the SECOND notice… and possibly a THIRD… that got me into REAL trouble. And from now on, if he sees a bill waiting around the house that I haven't taken care of, I will get spanked immediately. (A bill specifically for me that is, James takes care of most of our finances, and we share our bank account, so I don't have very many bills to pay.) If I ever let something go this far without taking care of it again, I'll get a switching. (No, I've never actually been switched yet. It just sounds scary. James would never break the skin of course, but I'm sure it would hurt far worse than any spanking I've had before.) When I see something important I need to take care of, I need drop everything I'm doing and take care of it so that I don't forget. I'm sure there was more to the lecture, but that was the bulk of it. And then I was pulled gently over his lap and the spanking began. As always, it started with the hand. You might think "Oh, a warm up!" But you're wrong. I swear James is a distant relation to the Tin Man. Call it what you will, but I'm definitely going to call it part of the real deal. It was even much longer of a hand spanking than usual, with special attention being paid to the backs of my thighs and the inner sides of my bottom cheeks. After this "Warm up" my ass was already beat-red, and I was already crying. (And normally a hand spanking does NOT bring the tears out of me). He saw that I was already upset and gave me a hug and held me for awhile before he sent me back into the corner for a few minutes. (Trust me—corner time is awesome. It's time to cool down and collect myself so I don't lose it completely.) Afterwards, it was another lecture and we were back at it. You all might remember the last BIG spanking I got with the belt. Well, this was no different. It was another moment of me laying with my back on the bed, James holding up my legs and going to town on my bottom. He spanked my already red bottom and thighs all over again. But I was bawling already, enough so he had to stop a couple of times to comfort me and give me a rest. But he wouldn't be talked out of finishing. I cried all through my corner time afterwards. My bottom was throbbing, and most of all, I felt so stupid. He thought it was going to make me feel better when he came back with the wooden spoon and said that he was going to use that instead of the paddle. But I don't remember it making me feel any better—I was pretty inconsolable. I don't know why, but when your ass is that red, you can feel everything! FINGERS feel like murder, let alone a wooden spoon. It felt like medieval weaponry. When he finally decided that my ass was PLENTY red, he gave me my last 10 spanks on the inside of my thighs—which I think were even more tender than my bottom. I think that might have been his point, though—he KNEW I hated those, but he wanted me to learn the lesson so he never had to follow through with the threat of cutting a switch. He made it clear that he really wanted it to be the last spanking for at least a good while, especially about the issue of procrastinating and then forgetting important things. (Yet, I got a spanking not three days later because of the food journal issue, which I wrote about a few days ago). Fortunately for me, he didn't follow through and use the switch for that spanking, because he felt he hadn't been reminding me properly. Of course he had no such worries in this case, since he had never known about the toll issue in the first place. Afterwards, he had to comfort me for a LONG time before I felt normal again. It’s funny how the events during the course of the day could turn to that. An ass that I LITERALLY could not sit with for 2 full days. Sigh! I like to think one day I'll screw my head on straight and avoid forever these sorts of situations. I've been doing quite well with the checklist James made me print out, so I think I'm on the right track.

4 comments:

Spella said...

Hi Korey,
Just came across you blog a couple days ago. It is my new favorite "must read"! Keep up the good work.

Spella

Spella said...

Dear Korey,
Just found you (Link from mybottomsmarts).
You are my new "must read blog". Great content, great chemistry between you and James, and intelligently written. Thanks...keep up the good work!

Korey said...

Thanks Spella! What a compliment! I really try to put a lot of thought in my blogs... which is probably why I post only once every couple of weeks. It really means a lot to me when people come out and tell me how much they're enjoying it! Make sure you subscribe via email--I live off email subscriptions like I live off icecream... I can't say why I love a rising subscription number, but I do! I really do. :) Until then, check in often! I actually have a small folder of 3/4th written blogs, so this blog has a few years of life left in it! Thanks again!!!

Anonymous said...

Hi Korey, thanks for checking out our blog. I love yours too! I check you out everyday to see if there is anything new.