Lemmings

"Everyone else is doing it. Why can't I?"

"If everyone jumped off a cliff, would you do it too?"

You've all heard some variation of this as a child, when you wanted to follow the herd, do what the other kids were doing, or have what you thought everyone else had.

So it was with me. I had heard so much about the wonders of the bath brush (aka dogleg brush) on certain blogs that shall remain nameless, that I had to find one for us.

I wandered through the bath department of several stores before I located my prize in The Pottery Barn. There were several on display, tastefully arranged in a decorative jug. I chose the one with the nicest finish and perfectly straight bristles. As I paid for it I felt sure the associate knew what its intended purpose was.

Ron usually strenuously opposes any addition to our growing implement collection. He is happy with what we have, and the drawer is getting quite full. On this occasion, when I unpacked my purchase and held it out to him, he examined it, smiled, and said, "Which side do I use?" How I wish he had sternly ordered me to take it right back to the store and get a refund!

Fast forward to my next regularly scheduled spanking. I knew I was in for a more severe experience than usual, but even so I was totally overwhelmed by the intensity of the first smack on my left bottom cheek. It seared my skin and made me cry out. The next one was just as bad, as the brush attacked the other side.

As Ron continued his assault, I squealed after every single swat, which is very uncharacteristic of me. I had to summon every ounce of self-control I possessed to keep from begging him to stop, or at least to ease up a little. It was one of the rare occasions when the thoughts running through my head were something along the lines of "Why am I doing this? I must be crazy! It hurts too much."

Ron paused to rub my aching bottom, and I caught my breath. When he resumed, the sting was still fierce but somehow more manageable, and I took the spanking more quietly. By the time he put down the brush for good, I had reached the point that, while I was glad it was over, I probably could have endured a few more if necessary. Gotta love those endorphins.

We need to have a serious talk about warm ups before I let that brush near my bottom again.

The lesson I learned? Following the herd can sometimes be a real pain.