Restaurant Ruckus

Hello, Blog World! 
Mistress is working, so I thought I should play a little. I was cruising through old posts and smiling a lot at the silliness. That's who I am, I guess: silly. I'm okay with it. But I did feel silly enough to think I should post about a spanking Mistress has not gotten around to telling. It all started at the restaurant...

I looked at the menu and sighed quietly. It was impossible, because everything listed seemed to have ingredients I did not know or could not pronounce. The waiter approached while I was still trying to figure out what kind of food this restaurant served.

"Do you know what you want to get, babe?" Mistress asked me sweetly. And I'm sure not at all condescendingly.

I randomly pointed at something and said, "This." Mistress looked at me in surprise. 

"Are you sure?"

Her tone of doubt sort of backed me into a corner mentally. "Of course, I'm sure!" I replied, not as polite as I know how to be. I looked at the waiter deliberately to avoid the raised brow of my mistress. In a sweet voice, I said, "This for me, please." I pointed at the menu item.

Mistress ordered next and the waiter went away. When we were alone again, I busied myself with my beverage, trying to avoid the steady gaze Mistress fixed on me. When I could not stand it anymore, I peeked up at her. To my surprise, she was smiling, although--as I suspected--her brows were raised.

"You're being silly," she warned me. I did not recognize it as a warning exactly, because her tone was playful rather than stern. And she shook her head at me.

When the food arrived, mine was beautifully plated, but I still had no concept of what it was. To be honest, I had not even known how to pronounce it. Mistress ate her own meal with gusto, but kept a close eye on me. I picked up my fork and moved some stuff around on my plate, but the blob in the middle made me nervous. Mostly because Mistress was watching me so closely.

"Not hungry?" she asked me.

I looked up at her eyes and glared at her. "Leave me alone!" She was being mean, obviously, holding knowledge over my head and teasing me with it.

"Pura, you're on thin ice already. I don't suggest pushing me with disrespectful comments."

Her calmness was irritating. "It wasn't a comment. It was a command," I muttered as I tried to figure out what the food was made of. I tried to smell it inconspicuously, but I honestly had no idea. It did not look like snails, but Mistress' expression suggested it might be something as unpleasant.

I took a tiny taste, and found it was not gross. It was not what I would have expected, but it was not gross.

"It's good," I told Mistress triumphantly.

"I wouldn't know," she answered. Her glib reply made the uneasiness rise up again, and I put the fork down. 

"What?" I demanded, getting worried by her expression. "What is it, Mistress? What did you get for me?"

She snorted a little, and answered, "I did not order it, love. I would not order foie gras, and if I had known they served it here, I would not have made a reservation."

I had heard of foie gras before, but did not know what it was. "Is it some kind of snail or insect?"

She shook her head. "No. It's duck liver."

I pulled a face at that. "Why wouldn't you order it?"

"Foie gras is a result of pretty harsh animal cruelty. I'm surprised you were willing to get it."

I was stunned, and horrified. Mistress knew I would not want to eat something obtained from animal cruelty. And she had let me order it anyway! I was furious in an instant.

"Why would you let me order it?" 

Her brows arched even higher. "You insisted, Pura. I asked you if you were sure, and you very insistently told the waiter what you wanted."

I was really upset now. "But you knew I did not know what it was."

She shook her head. "I wondered, I suspected, but I did not know, which is why I asked you if you were sure that was what you wanted."

"You were smiling," I accused her. "You were smiling and these @$$^!%$ are in the back treating animals cruelly, and you were smiling about it."

Her tone quieted, which should have been my first warning. "The ducks are on a foie gras farm and not in the back of the restaurant, and I was not smiling about that at all. I was smiling at you because you were being coy with me. But I'm not smiling now."

"I'm not eating this!" I snapped. People at other tables were starting to look our direction now, but I did not have energy to spare for them. "I'm not eating this and you are a terrible person for letting me order it!"

She snorted again. "I would never make you eat anything, Pura. And I am not a terrible person. How was I supposed to know you did not know what you were getting?"

"You knew!" I shrieked at her. "You knew and you let me get it anyway!"

Her voice lowered further as the waiter approached in concern. "I did not know, Pura. But your current behavior is unacceptable and will result in punishment if you do not desist."

"Is everything alright, ma'am?" the waiter asked when he got to the table.

"No!" I yelled at him. "You should not serve something that is cruel to animals!" I glared at Mistress. "You should not have let me order it. It's not okay!"

The waiter reached for my plate. "If you are dissatisfied with your meal, I would be happy to ask the chef to prepare a different dish."

"No!" I yelled again. "I don't want anything." I was blushing to my hairline now, and the embarrassment made me angrier. "I'm leaving." I stood up.

"Sit down, Pura," Mistress ordered me, but as soon as she turned to talk to the waiter, I marched away. I did not want to stay there where people were staring and Mistress was being a colossal @$$-hat, and the menus tricked you into ordering cruel food. I left the restaurant and went to sit in the car. 

When Mistress joined me, she said very little. Her silence was grating on me, because I imagined she was judging me and angry about my outburst. So, I did the unwise thing and picked a fight with her.

We were still arguing when we got home. She stormed into the house in a fury, and I very triumphantly followed her in. My triumph ended when I made myself a peanut-butter sandwich and sat alone with it at the kitchen table. Mistress had gone upstairs and all was quiet up there. Alone, I started to feel bad for the way I had acted. I started to feel sorry for the accusations I had made and the angry words I had said in the car. When I finished my sandwich, I went upstairs, quietly, to find Mistress and apologize.

When I walked into the bedroom, I found her seated on the bench at the end of the bed. And she had a paddle in her hand.

"No!" I cried in dismay, when I realized she intended to spank me. 

All she did was arch a brow at me. "I came up here to apologize!"

"Good," she replied. "Then we're halfway there." And she crooked a finger at me to come to her.

Submission is not easy for me. I have been accused by readers in the past of bratting on purpose and then submitting easily because I just wanted to be spanked. If that's what you think of me, I am sadly represented here. I am a confident, independent, powerful woman in the real world. It is for exactly that reason that submission is so good for me. It requires me to be vulnerable and allows me to be intimate. I have been hurt before, and intimacy is very difficult for me. And more than anything, I want to be vulnerable and intimate with my wife.

Submitting myself to her hand and then, in succession, to her knee, is not easy ever. But I trust her enough to do almost every time. 
She pulled me across her knees and started spanking with her hand. Sadly for me, I chose to wear a thong to dinner, and the skirt over it was very little protection against the hammering of Mistress' stern palm. It wasn't very long before I was sorry for arguing with her and making a scene at the restaurant. 

"If you did not know what you were ordering, you should have told me so I could help you. Not asking for help when you needed it was childish."

Lectures are the WORST! 

"I'm sorry!" I cried in desperation. She snorted, probably for my tone, and kept right on swatting my backside with fervor. When the skirt was lifted, I moaned in defeat, even though I knew that was going to happen. Mistress almost always spanks on the bare. Long before she finished spanking with her hand, I was sorry I had not been vulnerable enough with her at the restaurant to ask for her help. 

When the paddle touched my backside in a warning tap, I whined out another apology, but Mistress did not back down. The paddle landed hard. Probably harder than it ever had before, although I always think that, so... who knows? What I do know was that twice Mistress had to warn me to put my hands in front of me, and more than twice she had to readjust me for falling out of position. When the paddle stopped, I was glad to have her palm again, although it was not very much gentler.

"What will you do in the future?" she asked me while she spanked.
I hate answering questions when I'm over the knee, but I've learned through painful experience that I hate not-answering even more.

"I will trust you and ask for your help when I need it."

"Good girl. And will you continue to blame me and fight with me when you fail to ask for my help?"

"No, Mistress!"

"Alright," she answered, and spanked me a few more times just to be mean. Afterward, though, she pulled me into her arms and I buried myself in her neck.

"How cruel is it, Mistress?" I whispered. "Are they really horrible to the animals?"

She kissed my head and did not answer, which was all I needed to know that the answer was yes. I cried against her neck and she promised we would never go back to that restaurant again. 

Part of me does wonder, though, if her insistence that we not return to the restaurant was really because, after my outburst, she was asked by restaurant staff not to return. But she never answers that question.