“Yes, Mommy” – Part One: What’s Gonna Happen From Now On …

Sometimes when we get complacent, we forget the important things that others have made possible for us. And the hardest thing in the world to do is to say you’re sorry.

………

But an apology is two things:

Recognition that you’ve done or said something you shouldn’t have.
A Declaration that you won’t make that mistake again.

For some, it actually is easy to apologize without meaning it. And those are the ones who need learn not just the true meaning of “I’m Sorry”, but also the lesson which comes along with “Yes, Mommy.”

Warning: This ain’t no Daddy/BabyGirl story. And it’s Adult, Baby!

ABGussy.com

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Part One – What’s Gonna Happen From Now On …

Gus walked into the house the same as he had every other day after spending some time with friends. Bouncing a tennis ball, he looked around his Mother and Father. Things had gotten easy for him and he was beginning to think he could get away with anything he wanted to. Little did he realize how very wrong he was about that.

“Were you just bouncing a ball in the house?” his mother asked, entering the room with a tone and look of disbelief that he would do such a thing.

He knew the rules and he knew them well. And this infraction with the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gus lied, nonchalant to her authority.

“I just heard you bouncing a ball,” she stated, standing her ground and determined to produce results in him which her kindness had failed to do.

“Well …” he said, looking for a quick excuse.

“I told you before there is no bouncing a ball in the house,” she stated calmly.

But the look in her eyes had grown serious. Gus swiftly realized it was going to take a little extra effort to wear her down this time. But he was cocky and confident. And all it would take was a little bit longer before her backbone would give out.

“I’m sorry,” he said, unconvincingly.

“I’m sorry what?” she asked back quickly.

“I’m sorry, Mommy,” he replied in a voice as monotone as a lack of truthfulness could be stated in.

“That’s more like it. What are you doing with a ball anyway? Where you find that? Off the street?” she asked, delving into the specifics of his latest infraction of disrespect.

“Mm-hmm,” he mumbled, presenting her the ball.

“Oh, that’s disgusting! Why are picking up toys off the street?” she asked in repugnance at the mere thought that her son would pick something up which could be filthy with disease.

“I like toys. I don’t have a lot of them,” he answered, trying to play the guilt trip card.

But she was buying anymore of his attitude or indifference. She loved her son dearly and it was time to show him that motherly love comes in many forms and for many reasons.

“But that came from the garbage. Who knows what’s all over it. Some dog probably slobbered all over it,” she stated emphatically while taking the ball from him and rolling it to the corner of the room. “And then you’re bouncing it in the house? Eww.”

Now that the disgusting object was out of the picture, it was time to deal with him. This had to stop. His defiance and ungratefulness had to be addressed in a manner more severe than her prior attempts.

“Fine I’ll go get another one,” he said with stubbornness.

“Yeah, you can go buy one with your allowance,” she said, dusting her hands off. “But I don’t think you’re getting allowance this week.”

He sighed, growing tired of listening to her go on about the ball.

“Don’t give me that sigh,” she snapped with her strictest tone yet.

“But I want a toy,” he said, trying to explain to her again why he picked the ball up.

“You can have a toy, but I don’t want you getting ones out of the garbage,” she said.

“Okay,” he said blandly, ready to concede the great ball debate.

“Okay what?” she asked with raised eyebrows.

“Okay, Mommy,” he answered like a robot.

The stand-off had begun and for whatever reason, he just didn’t seem to care about her concern or her persistence in the matter.

“Have we forgotten that that’s who I’m supposed to be around here?” she asked, pressing deeper into the issue of his disrespect.

“I’m sorry, Mommy,” he said, awaiting his chance to walk away from her as usual.

“Say it one more time,” she said, beginning to final get some control of him.

“I’m sorry, Mommy,” he repeated.

“That’s right and you have to remember that,” she said, trying to deal with the mixture maternal instincts and pending rage.

But even as she struggled with it, she knew what had to be done. It was important, however, that he understood why first.

“You been slippin’ up to much,” she said in explanation. “First off I catch you bouncing a ball in the house. Why are bouncing a ball in the house, for one. You should know better?”

She gave him an opportunity to respond, but he said nothing.

“Did you take the garbage out earlier?” she asked, beginning to list the infraction that had her so upset with him.

“No, Mommy,” he admitted, beginning to realize he wasn’t getting out of it this time.

“Why not?” she asked.

“I forgot,” he answered, solemnly.

“How could you forget? Were you too busy thinking about playing? How do you forget about taking out the garbage out? A simple task I tell you to do,” she said with building anger.

“I wanted to go play,” he responded in a whiny tone.

“You can play after you’re done with your chores,” she said firmly.

“But I wanted to play now,” he answered, feeling it unfair that he would have to wait to do what he wanted.

“No, chores come first. Then you can play. I told you this before,” she said more firmly.

“I didn’t know you were gonna be home now. I was gonna do them later,” he said, with stubborn resistance.

“You shoulda done it when I told you to do it. You understand?” she asked.

“Yes, Mommy,” he answered in the same nonchalant tone he started with.

The stand-off went on. And it made no difference how many times he said Yes, Mommy, he just wasn’t learning the lesson.

So she took him by the ear and began to list what else he had been neglecting to do, like the dishes, making his bed and so on.

“Do I need to give you a reminder?” she asked, nearing a boiling point.

“No, Mommy,” he said with the same tone of indifference.

“Oh, I think Yes, Mommy is definitely the answer there,” she said, trying a new way to get through to him.

She pulled him to the center of the room, sat on the chair and bent him over her knee.

“And Mommy’s gonna give you a good reminder,” she said, striking the first blow to his bottom.

Her right hand cracked across the seat of his jeans and it was a gentle tap. At last, she had an outlet for the anger that had been welling up inside her. And more importantly, it was an outlet that had a purpose.

She was a mother and didn’t subscribe to hitting and beating anyone. But this was a spanking and she felt she had exhausted all other avenues of communication.

“There’s no reason that you shouldn’t be doing your chores,” she said, delivering smack after smack to each cheek separately.

The crack of her offerings reverberated off the walls as she repeated the reasons for his spanking. He didn’t fight her at all and the more she spoke, the more indifferent his tone became. He was stubborn.

Her spankings became more rapid in pace and he frustration with him built. She kept stopping herself to go back to trying to reason with him verbally, always to no avail.

“This is what’s gonna happen from now on. I told this would happen, didn’t I?” she asked, disappoint in him.

“Yes, Mommy,” his robotic auto-response sounded.

“Mommy is always right,” she said, returning to crack her hand across the seat of his jeans.

After 20 or 30 strikes, his body began to twitch at the pain.

“Oh, I know it’s gonna hurt,” she said, continuing his spanking with force. “If you wanna bounce balls in the house and not do what Mommy told you, then that is exactly what’s gonna happen.”

His body kept twitching at the cracks.

“Do you have anything you want to say?” she asked, pausing from administering his punishment.

“I’m sorry, Mommy,” he said with emotion for the first time.

“That’s … much better,” she replied, hearing the change in his tone. “And you keep it up with the Yes, Mommys.”

“Yes, Mommy,” he responded with a shaky tone, trying now to please her.

“And that should be the only thing to come out of your mouth every time I talk to you: Yes, Mommy.”

“Yes, Mommy,” he replied without hesitation.

I think you’re gonna need a little reminder to keep the Yes, Mommys up and to do your chores from now on,” she said, returning to spanking him.

If he only knew what that reminder was about to entail …

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Continue on to Part Two: Go Get the Strap

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