Spanko Shopping

Ron and I shop for groceries together every weekend. He likes to accompany me, mainly to make sure I don't slip too many low-fat, high-fibre, low-sodium or otherwise healthy goodies into the shopping cart.

On a recent excursion we were in a playful mood; we were both thinking about the upcoming spanking that is also part of our weekend routine. Our minds were very much on that subject as we took a shortcut through the health and beauty department.

Along each aisle were small signs at regular intervals indicating the type of merchandise available. At the head of one aisle I saw a sign for Implements. I had to check that one out. Sure enough, there were the hairbrushes! Dozens of them in various shapes and sizes. I wanted to linger, but Ron reminded me we didn't use the one we had often enough.

Next, we detoured through the assistive devices. We passed crutches, neck and wrist braces, and other assorted paraphernalia, then Ron suddenly pointed to a display and said, "Look!" I looked, and saw an exquisite collection of long, highly-polished rosewood shoehorns.


"Beautiful," I murmured as I caressed one. "This is what I want for Christmas." I seem to have a thing for shoehorns.


At the checkout, we had a small difference of opinion over a magazine on display. Ron, who always has the final word on such matters, said, "You don't need that magazine."

As he pushed the cart past me, I replied, loud enough for anyone nearby to hear, "No Sir."

I rarely call him Sir when we are out in public, but I was feeling quite reckless by then. Our eyes met, Ron smiled slightly, and I could tell that his thoughts at that moment were very clearly along the lines of "wait till we get home" in the best possible way.

To pay for our groceries I brought out a brand-new credit card that has a time-saving feature. Instead of swiping the card through a slot, you just tap it against a special plate.

So I tapped the corner gently. Nothing happened.

"Try again," the cashier advised. I did. Still nothing.

"May I?" The cashier took my card, gave it a sound whack against the plate, and handed it back. "You have to smack it."

Smack it? I glanced at Ron with my eyes wide. He grinned.

"Ooh, can you do that again?"

"Only if you want to pay twice." Right.

I can't wait to come back next week," I giggled as I waited for my receipt. Now I really didn't dare look at my husband. I was losing it, fast! "Sorry, I don't get out much!"

I signed the slip, waved good-bye and joined Ron beside the cart.

"So you spanked your MasterCard," he teased.

We laughed all the way to the car, and headed home.