Special Treatment

A few weeks ago Ron went away on an overnight trip. Since one of the days he would be gone was also the day of our regular spanking date, I suggested that we reschedule it to the day after his return. I wanted to avoid any more miscommunication, and he happily agreed.

While Ron was away I had done some of the chores that were usually his responsibility, but on his return he decided that there was a lot of yard work to be done. After a day of physical exertion in the heat and humidity, he was ready for a shower and his recliner, but not for spanking. I on the other hand had read a few more blogs than usual (okay, maybe a lot more than usual) and had been looking forward to playing and loving. When Ron said we would postpone both for another day, I agreed reluctantly.

The next day there were no more strenuus outdoor chores to be done, but the trip had been stressful and Ron was still preoccupied with thoughts about it. The time for our date came, then the minutes started ticking by. Finally Ron asked if I wanted to, or if we should postpone again.

"You don't look very enthusiastic," I observed.

"To tell you the truth, I'm not in the mood."

"Then let's not bother," and I got up from the couch. I felt Ron's fingers on my back as he tried to reach for me, but I moved away and said I had to check on something in the kitchen.

Standing in front of the stove stirring a pot, I struggled with disappointment. I knew our schedule for the next day would not allow for any play either. Then I heard footsteps behind me, and whack! Ron slapped me hard on the bottom.

"Get upstairs," he commanded.

"But I thought you weren't in the mood."

I'm not, but I can still give you a good spanking!"

I didn't need to be told twice. That was the kind of order I was delighted to obey.

For us, spanking is usually the appetiser and lovemaking is the entree that follows. This time, Ron made it clear that spanking would be the main course. It was going to be all about me, and he would do everything he could to make me feel special.

He started by asking which implement I would like. While I pondered the possibilities he picked up the riding crop. That would be perfect! It had lain unused for several months and I looked forward to feeling its sting again.

After a few cycles of strokes of the crop alternated with gentle bottom rubbing, Ron surprised me again. He stopped and asked if I would prefer something different, because the crop wasn't doing much for me. I was touched by his perceptiveness, and I had to agree. The crop was making a great deal of noise but I really couldn't feel much sting, if any. He teased me about having calluses on my bum and I laughed and turned to look and see if I did. Talking, joking and laughing during a spanking? That was practically unheard of.

I was just about to ask for the plastic paddle, which delivers a real sting and is only used after a preliminary spankiing with something less severe. Then Ron took the dogging bat down from the bedpost where he keeps it and told me he'd use it because it was always reliable. I thought it was so sweet of him to give me what I liked best, so I gave up on sting to go for thud.
The bat felt firm and solid after the crop, and it covered a much wider area. The spanking had taken a distinctly erotic turn and I delighted in the hard caresses. Ron had essentially started over and I was thoroughly spanked a second time. The rubbing in between swats became more prolongued, and each time, his fingers strayed a little farther from the impact zone.

When Ron finally laid the leather bat down, he was very clearly "in the mood" after all. So was I, and we finished with a mutually satisfying activity for dessert. Satiated, we talked and laughed some more about the ineffective crop; Ron assured me that he had been using it energetically enough.

I regained my cheerfulness, Ron was no longer stressed, and the next day my sore bottom frequently reminded me of how much my husband loves me.