Friday, 6 January 2012

Spanking a Moose, Part One

How time flies... Back in September I reported that Marina, AKA the Moose, was down for a spanking, and it came to pass that on the 21 December that backside was duly bared and roasted.The reasons for the spanking are contained in that earlier posting, and I spent a pleasant few months getting the Moose into the correct from of mind to go across my knee. Put another way, but the time the 21 December 2011 rolled along she was shaking like a leaf, and almost ready to wet herself. I would like to report that I had a great deal of sympathy for the poor dear, but sympathy was the last thing on my mind as Retribution Day drew near.

Once I had arrived in Mexico City I wrote to the Moose and reminded her of what lay in store, and I reminded her of why it was going to happen. I also asked her if she understood what had led up to the moment and requested that she give me her full, uncensored feeling on the matter. Her reply, which used her old pet name for me, came in four texts which for the sake of clarity I have edited together as if they were one:
Dear Hamster,

I am writing this message as a response to your request. Last year I was very bad because I did not do as I had promised. I was too much in shock after seeing you and as a result, I failed to keep my word. I am deeply sorry for acting in such a way. You did not deserve it.

However, I do deserve to be punished for this action and I am willing to go through this ordeal if that is what you decide. I am sincerely sorry for my behaviour. Thank you for being here and for giving me the chance to make things right.

Let's just pause her for a moment and reflect this this is not my translation, those words are exactly as the Moose wrote them. Not bad for a girl who speaks English as her second language, eh? Quite how I managed to let this one slip through my fingers is still something that baffles me, by the way.

Enough of this idle chit-chat - I replied suggesting a time and place for our meeting and the Moose replied accepting both. This was my final text that day:

"Good, now think on this: I am going to smack your bottom until it is the colour of a ripe tomato."

The following day I decided to see how the girl was considering her fate so I texted her as follows:
"Is the time flying or does it hang heavy in your mind as you ponder tomorrow?"

This reply came shortly afterwards:

"I am working at the moment, but I have had a headache for several hours now. I think that it is due to tomorrow."

"The lot of a poor Moose is not easy," was my only reply.

As noon drew near the following day I wandered from the metro station to the coffee shop where we had agreed to meet. A few texts had passed between us, but I was not thinking of Mooseish matters as I strolled down the broad avenue called Tlalpan in the direction of coffee and Marina. If I thought about anything at all it was probably how nice the weather was compared to the cold damp country that I had left behind a few days earlier. The vibration of my mobile phone shook me out of my day dream. It was a text from the Moose who was waiting for me at the coffee shop:

"I have a horrible stomach ache, I am nervous and I hate it!"

The hour of retribution was at hand.

To be continued.

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