Last week I walked by a small shop and in the window I saw a sign that looked very much like the one above. Apple Bottoms? That sounded like a spanko possibility. Unfortunately the shop was closed so I couldn't go in and investigate.
So I did the next best thing. I Googled it. Seems that Apple Bottoms is a line of clothing "...exclusively designed for females with amazing curves..." and is both "a fashion and a lifestyle brand..." Aren't these jeans fabulous? I hope my curves are amazing enough to fit into a pair just like them.
This is one of the gifts I gave Ron for Christmas. It's a scalp massager called the Tingler. It's made in Australia, and all I can say is WOW!! it was a last minute impulse buy, but it was the biggest hit of the season.
It really feels wonderful, whether you use it on your head yourself or let someone else do the honours. It's another great way to unwind after a hard day at work--besides a spanking, I mean. Canadian shoppers can order it from Added Touch.
The one thing that puzzles me is the name it was given in this British gift website. Orgasmatron? Um, I don't think so. Unless I've been using it on the wrong part of my body, or Ron's. it's not exactly suited for "down there."
And yet, the first thing Ron asked me, after he had been given a thorough tingling, was if it came in a vibrating model. And yes, it does. So maybe we need to investigate further.
In my eternal quest for the perfect belt, I found a lovely one at the local thrift store. It's quite similar to the one in the above picture: thick, black, reasonably wide, and just my size. This one is primarily intended to hold up my jeans, although if Ron would care to sample it as a spanking implement, he's more than welcome. Best of all, it's a genuine Versace, in excellent condition. The name is printed on the metal loop next to the buckle and embossed on the belt itself. And all for a few dollars!
One morning, I laid out my clothing on the bed, and this belt was somewhere in the pile. Fluffy was still snuggled under the blankets but watched me assemble my outfit. I then went to have a shower, and when I came back, there was Fluffy, contentedly chewing on the end of my beautiful belt. I snatched it away and examined the soggy, irregular end; it was now fat and puffy and wouldn't fit through the metal loop beside the buckle. Fluffy, who is not a puppy and should have better manners, sulked because I had confiscated his before-breakfast snack.
I showed the damage to Ron, who assured me that he would do what he could to repair the damage, or at least make it less noticeable. And he did. After letting the dog saliva dry, he trimmed, glued, pressed and painted, and a few hours later proudly showed me his handiwork. I thanked him and hung the belt up to wear the next day.
The following morning again found me assembling my outfit. Striped pullover, grey pants, socks, belt and underwear. Then I went downstairs to get my first cup of coffee before showering. When I came back, Ron was there, and Fluffy was beside him on the bed. Both were staring at a very well-chewed belt, although for different reasons.
"You left your belt on the bed again?" It was a question I didn't want to answer.
"I only left the room for a minute. I didn't think..." I said contritely. Then, "Don't worry about fixing it again."
"I won't." Ron left the bedroom abruptly, and I recognized that tone of voice. Oh well, I could probably do something about the damage myself. I hung the belt on the back of the door to dry and headed to the bathroom to shower.
I considered tossing the belt out, but hated to part with it. It fit so well. After my shower, I dressed then turned to look at the belt and see what needed to be done. It was gone. I checked inside the closet, but it wasn't there. Then I peeked into Ron's study. There on his desk was the belt, a bottle of glue, scissors and black marker. He was ready to repair it all over again.
Awww. Isn't he good to me? Although I'm betting that he'd probably like to improve my memory by applying that belt to a certain part of my anatomy, once the glue dries. But that won't happen. Ron doesn't give discipline spankings. In our house, punishment means NO spanking. When I asked if I was in trouble, he said, "No, there will be no trouble." So I guess you could say I'm NOT in for it.
Maybe I'd better think of a way to thank him for his hard work, and ensure my bottom gets toasted on Sunday.
This meme is from Hunter's April Star 1. I give you money and send you into the grocery store to pick up 5 items. You can only pick one thing from the following departments. What do you choose?
Produce: Grape tomatoes
Frozen: Dr. Oetker pizza
Meat: Pork back ribs
Canned Goods: Italian wedding soup
2. Let's say you're heading out for a weekend getaway. You're only allowed to bring 3 articles of clothing with you. So, what's in your bag? socks
3. If I were to listen in on one of your conversations throughout the day, what 4 phrases or words would I be most likely to hear?
"You're absolutely right."
"Whatever you say, Sir."
I learned something today; I can go home now."
"When do you want it?"
4. So, what 4 things do you find yourself doing every single day, and if you didn't get to do them, you probably wouldn't be in the best mood?
Kiss Ron good-bye and hello
Read my email
Laugh at the dogs
5. You're driving down the road, and suddenly you're hit with this sense of road rage. What 3 factors probably contributed to it?
I've never had road rage. I'm a patient and cautious driver, so I'm sure I've inspired road rage in many others.
6. You just scored a whole afternoon to yourself. We're talking a 3 hour block with nobody around. What 5 activities might we find you doing?
Read spanking blogs
Bake something yummy
Do a logic puzzle or Sudoku
Write some blog posts
Read a book
7. We're going to the zoo. But, it looks like it could start storming, so it'll have to be a quick visit. What 3 exhibits do we have to get to?
I haven't been to a zoo since I was a child, and I loved to visit the goats, peacocks, and bears.
8. You just scored tickets to the taping of any television show of your choice. You can pick 4, so what are you going to see?
Canada's Worst Handyman
9. You're hungry for ice cream. I'll give you a triple dipper ice cream cone. What 3 flavors can I pile on for ya?
Chocolate fudge brownie
Tiger tail (orange and licorice)
10. Somebody stole your purse/wallet. In order to get it back, you have to name 5 things you know are inside to claim it. So, what's in there?
A letter from my chiropodist
A card with the number of my printer cartridge on it
Plastic penny holder
A note with directions to a mall in a nearby town
Bottle of hand sanitizer
11. You are at a job fair, and are asked in what areas you are interested in pursuing a career. Let's pretend you have every talent and ability to be whatever you wanted, so what 4 careers would be fun for you?
Copy editor for a big newspaper
Paint stirrer tester
Porn control officer at the Canada-US border
12. If you could go back and talk to the old you, when you were in high school, and inform yourself of 4 things, what would you say?
Relax, smile, and be friendly.
Love and happiness will come in time.
Follow your dream, but figure out what it is first.
Don't be afraid to take risks. Please feel free to use this meme on your blog.
Mike recently wrote about his wonderful find of "Bottoms Up" kitchen linens. I found a place in our downtown shopping district that caters to tourists and carries Canadian-made merchandise and souvenirs, including some of the items seen on the Hatley website. I didn't see anything with the "Bottoms Up" slogan, but did find their "Bear Bum" shorts.
I can't wait for summer so I can wear them. Now what could I be doing so they attract Ron's attention? Harvesting vegetables, weeding the flower bed, picking up doggy deposits, tying my shoelace . . .
I promised you that the backscratcher would be at the top of the list for New Implement Month. So, without further ado . . .
For some reason, I'm usually a bit shy about telling Ron when I have a new implement for him to try. But this time he beat me to it. He brought up the subject himself, although not exactly the way I had intended. Here's how he started the conversation.
"You know that backscratcher you have in your room?"
"Yes!" All my new, untried goodies are displayed on the wall. It's about time he noticed it.
"I thought maybe we could use it, you know, as a backscratcher. We don't have one."
"Sure. Good idea. But first we need to try it out the other way."
"It looks kind of flimsy. I think it'll break just like the shoehorn."
"But I expect you to be very gentle. I'm sure you won't break it."
So the ice was broken, and Ron knew what was expected of him. Not that I really thought a "gentle spanking" was possible, but I had heard so many scary stories about backscratchers, I wanted to lay out a few ground rules.
I was feeling quite apprehensive when I placed the backscratcher on the bedside table for Ron's convenience. When he came into the bedroom, he saw it but didn't say anything; he had expected it to be there.
"You'd better save that for the end," I muttered. He understood.
At least, I thought he understood. After some kisses and a few firm hand spanks, Ron positioned me over two pillows on the bed and reached for the bamboo implement. What was he doing? I looked away and braced myself. then I felt . . . a tickle? The teeth of the backscratcher gently scraped back and forth across the left cheek, then across the right.
I burst into giggles, and Ron laughed too. His hand took over and he gently kneaded each cheek in turn. Then he reached for the leather paddle and got down to business. My laughing stopped as the sound of the slap of leather on skin was quickly followed by an electric sting.
Ron proceeded to rhythmically spank my bottom, alternating left and right. Then he stopped, and gave me another gentle massage with the teeth of the backscratcher, then with his hands. It felt very nice, and I laughed again.
My husband resumed his rhythmic swats with the paddle, then decided it was high time to replace it with the backscratcher. I felt a sharp sting, then another, which told me something had changed back there. It didn't make as much noise as the leather paddle. Quiet but . . .
No, not deadly. It wasn't bad at all. Even when Ron decided to finish with a flurry of very fast, hard swats, I was certainly uncomfortable but not exceptionally so. I was very well warmed up, which could account for my being able to withstand it. I will admit, my bottom protested when Ron rolled me over onto my back and slipped his hands underneath me to cup my burning cheeks with his hands. I quickly forgot my discomfort as his hands strayed elsewhere and I turned my attention to other urgent matters . . .
After we had rested and cuddled for a while, I got up to dress, and checked my bottom in the mirror as I always do. It was a bit pink. Disappointing! And while it was hot and stinging for about two hours afterward, by the next morning I didn't feel much at all. That's very unusual for me. I usually delight in the afterburn of a good spanking for at least 24 hours.
So about the backscratcher being pure evil, I'm not sure I can go along with that just yet. Maybe you're just wimps. Maybe I need to try it without a warmup first to appreciate its true evil nature. Maybe Ron was too gentle. Maybe I bought the wrong kind. Maybe my bum is tougher than I thought.
Update: the backscratcher has disappeared from its place on my wall. I checked the implement drawer in case Ron was planning on testing it again. Not there. I guess he has hidden it away for vanilla purposes only. Now that's turning the tables!
Before you think I've completely lost my mind, let me explain.
Sunday is the day my husband and I reconnect through spanking and lovemaking. For both of us, it's the perfect end to a weekend. It's something I look forward to all week, and no matter what else is going on, my weekends are always full of anticipation.
Once the spanking and the fun that follows are over, I feel relaxed and contented, and ready to face the upcoming week. Anxiety and frustration are disarmed and the ups and downs of the week gone by are forgotten.
All day long on Monday I have a subtle reminder of the lovely time I had the day before. I can usually count on my bottom being a little tender. Every time I sit down, I might wince, but I smile too. It helps keep me awake during long, boring meetings, although I might be a little inattentive. If it's my turn to take the minutes, they may be a bit sparse.
If I'm really lucky, and Ron has been very thorough, the tingly feeling might last through Tuesday as well. So I think Tuesdays are okay too.
Here's what I gave Ron for Valentine's Day two years ago, to celebrate our very recent return to spanking. I thought it was the perfect way to commemorate my introduction to wooden spoons outside the kitchen.
In one trip to a dollar store I bought all the components and assembled them secretly. I wrapped the arrangement in red basket wrap, tied a big bow on top and tucked a funny card inside.
Ron was surprised, to say the least. After he had admired it sufficiently he asked a practical question.
"Where should we put it?"
"In the bedroom!"
He had to ask?
A recent study carried out at Albright College found that it is often difficult to tell whether the expression on someone's face is one of pleasure or pain.
Ninety-one participants were shown pictures of the faces of men and women expressing either sexual pleasure or pain. Women were better at identifying pain, while men were better at recognizing arousal. The expression of pain was correctly identified more often than one of arousal. (Read the full story here.)
It would be even more difficult if they had been asked to examine the faces of people being spanked. Pleasure? Pain? Where does one end and the other begin? It's not just facial expression, either. The whole range of emotions and physical sensations that we spankees experience is hard to pin down and identify, never mind explain to the uninitiated observer. It's a continuum of delight and aversion that fluctuates and contradicts itself even as it's happening.
This thing we do is complicated.
Greenwoman wrote about snoring last year, and I was reminded of her post after a conversation my husband and I had over breakfast recently.
Ron was complaining about having had a disturbed night.
"You were snoring," he grumbled.
"Who, me? I don't snore," I assured him. "That was Crookshanks." Cats are handy things; you can blame almost anything on them.
"No, it was you," Ron continued. "And when I whacked you, you started to moan."
"Of course I moan when you whack me." Did I sleep through something interesting, like a spanking?
"Not there. I whacked your head."
My head? Now, why would he whack my head when there was a perfectly good bare bottom at his disposal?
Mike, at spanked hubby, has told me that many of his regular readers can no longer see his blog. Since many of those readers come here too, he has asked me to let you know he's still there, and would like to help with the problem.
If you want to email Mike, his email address is firstname.lastname@example.org
I'm sure he'd be glad to hear from you.
This is a problem that seems specific to blogs that have warnings about adult content or offensive material.
If you are one of the readers who can't see Mike's blog and you aren't using Firefox as your browser, you could try that for a start. You can download it for free here. You could also try reading it through a reader like Google Reader.
If you use Internet Explorer, try upgrading to version 7.
Please, don't read his blog -- or any spanking blog -- from work. It's very dangerous, and not worth the risk of outing yourself unintentionally.
It's also not a good idea to use a beta version of a browser; there could be bugs in it that still need to be fixed.
If you can't see my blog either, except through a reader or RSS feed, please let me know.
It could have happened to anyone. Ron came home yesterday and showed me his right hand. One finger was very bruised and swollen. Somehow he had managed to get into a disagreement with a revolving door, and the door had won. Of course, I was very concerned and sympathetic.
"But that's your spanking hand!"
"So it is."
Ron turned me around and gave me an experimental swat on the bottom.
"Ouch," I said appreciatively.
"OW," Ron echoed. He didn't sound happy. But then, in an attempt to reassure me, "I'll have to use the cane."
The cane? He must be joking, right? There were other implements he could hold just as easily. More easily, in fact. The cane was heavy, and long, and . . . Maybe I'd better get some aspirin and ice to help his hand get back to normal.
Or maybe not.
Aren't these wonderful? Imagine these naughty tealights being tied up so that the matchbox can have his way with them. And wouldn't they set the tone for an evening bondage session?
Tsk. The things I find in our supposedly vanilla shops downtown. I suppose it does attract the tourists.
How about this pair? You know I love leather, so these really speak to me.
Maybe I can start a new system of signals. I'll light the rope candle if I want Ron to tie me up. And I'll light the leather strap one if I want him to use his belt on me. And if I light both . . .
I've been taking an inventory of all the implements around the house--in drawers, hanging on the walls, on tables and in closets--that have never been used for their intended purpose. That's right; we have several perfectly good pervertibles that have never been introduced to my bottom.
Why, you ask, are they gathering dust? There are a couple of reasons. Some are hidden in drawers because while they seemed like a good idea at the time, I simply haven't found the courage to actually go through with trying them out. And some are out in plain view, begging to be used, but Ron hasn't taken the very blatant hint.
So it's time for action. I'm declaring this to be Try a New Implement Month, and want to share the fun with you. Each week or so, I'm going to choose a new implement and leave it out for Ron to use when he spanks me. After, I'll report back on how it felt, what Ron thought about it, and whether I'll ever let it near my posterior again.
For week number one, I'm choosing the backscratcher. Stay tuned.
P.S. Happy Groundhog Day and Candlemas.