I don't seem to suffer from diarrhea of the mouth when it comes to confessing to Daddy. In fact, I received my first punishment about a month ago, and I didn't confess the whole truth. I don't think I needed to, and I'll explain why.

I was supposed to make a phone call to follow up on some financial papers. I thought it was silly to call about them on Monday when I was told it would take 3-4 business days to receive them. I had planned on giving them 3 business days and then calling. Much to my dismay, when Daddy asked me about it, I had totally forgotten to make the call. I also didn't receive the forms I needed before my trip.

When I arrived, Daddy and I exchanged pleasantries and took my bag into his bedroom. He pulled my pants down and bent me over the bed where all of his toys were already laid out. I was happy and excited, thinking we were going to play, until he asked me if I remembered him telling me to do something. Unfortunately, there isn't a trap door built into the bed, and I was pinned in place. I gave the somewhat honest excuse that I just forgot to do it. There was no way in hell I was going to tell him that I didn't do it on purpose because I thought it was silly to call at the beginning of the week, especially since I did end up forgetting to do it later. He suggested that maybe I needed something to help me remember and proceeded to spank me. I usually enjoy spankings. Not so this time. In fact, I begged him to stop, and he didn't. He ignored my cries and continued until I was in tears and all hot and clammy from the pain. As I sniffled into the comforter, he lectured me on how disappointed he was, how things like this destroy trust and respect, and how I'd feel if he "forgot" to do something for me that I thought was important.

As I began to straighten myself up for dinner, which Daddy was cooking for me, he asked me if I was okay and whether or not I understood why I'd been punished. I understood perfectly that I deserved it, not so much for childish irresponsibility but for thinking I knew better than he did what needed to be done as well as how to do it and then failing. I was a smartass, and I was deeply ashamed of it. I ended up sobbing on his shoulder and telling him I was sorry. He stroked my hair and wiped my tears away then told me everything was okay and that he still loves me.

I don't think Daddy needed to hear the whole truth regarding that incident because I suspect he already knew. "I forgot" is such a flimsy excuse anyway and, as he pointed out, very disrespectful. It shows that my mind was not on the task and, therefore, not on pleasing him, which is my #1 priority. It's a lesson I won't "forget" anytime soon.