Lost and Found

Last year I found a wonderful place to buy small but unique gifts for the holidays. Lately I have been making plans for another excursion to the same location, but while cleaning my closet I came across this wooden spoon.

I had picked it up last year, intending to present it to Ron at just the right moment, but somehow I either lost my nerve or misplaced the spoon. So, I couldn't justify another trip that might result in more implements coming home without trying out last year's find.

I considered leaving the spoon on Ron's bedside table as an obvious hint, then thought better of it and slipped it into the drawer. I'd let him make the ultimate decision.

That decision came sooner than I expected. We were rather overdue for some intimate time together, and the pillows were arranged against the headboard of the bed. I was in for an over the lap spanking. Ron reached for one of the implements hanging on the bedpost, then stopped. Ever the gentleman, he politely inquired, "What would you like?"

"Pick something short," I advised. He looked at the pillows and thought a minute, then opened the drawer.

"When did you get this?" He held the spoon up and examined it.

"Oh, last year some time. I'm not sure exactly."

Ron smacked it against his palm a time or two, then settled himself against the pillows and motioned for me to assume the position. I did so, wriggling a little to get comfortable. I felt the bowl of the spoon pressed against my cheek, and waited.

Smack! Ow! Smack! Ow! it had been a long time since the last wooden spoon spanking, and I had forgotten what a wallop they packed. I squeaked after every stroke and kicked my legs. Ron had to caution me to keep still, and I did with difficulty. For some reason, the swats to my left cheek hurt twice as much as those to the right.

"I think I should return that thing to the store," I grumbled.

"Do you want to try something else?"

"No, I'm okay."

Then Ron got creative. Instead of the steady right-left pattern, it became three right, three left, two right, four left. Then the swats started falling at irregular intervals, in some bizarre pattern. I thought to myself, Morse code? Who is he trying to contact? Or is he beating time to a song only he can hear? What the heck is it? Buddy Holly? Whatever it was, the strange uneven beat made me giggle, even as the swats stung me. Encouraged, he continued performing his percussion on my posterior.

Ron stopped, put the spoon down, and gently stroked my bottom. I relaxed; that felt good. Then he resumed his rhythmic right-left pattern, but with his open hand. Slow, even swats, back and forth, that felt like caresses to me. I love hand spanking, but rarely get it except for playful swats while I'm clothed. He didn't stop for what seemed like a long time.

Then after a little pause the spoon was put into action once more. This time I barely felt the sting. I kept silent and still and drank in the heat, the sound, and the impact and well as the warmth and strength of my husband's body beneath me. I didn't want it to end. The rhythm became erratic once more. Jerry Lee Lewis, I guessed.

The solo ended, and Ron began to gently rub my bottom. Mmmm, this is nice, I thought. I hope he keeps on doing it. I wonder if he'll use his hand again. I hope so. But this is nice. I love bum rubs even more than back rubs. Maybe I should ask him to spank with his hand again. But this is nice. He isn't stopping. I'm so happy, I think I'll close my eyes. I wonder if his eyes are closed too. Mmmm, this is nice....

Before I actually fell asleep, Ron's hand slipped between my legs for a different kind of stroking. I abandoned any thoughts of a snooze as I rapidly became aroused. In an unusually short time his gentle touch had brought me to the edge and I was soaring.

That spoon was a wise investment.