A Gastronomic Delight

One day last week, Ron promised me a spanking when I got home from work. In order to make sure that we could relax and take our time without worrying about dinner preparations, I stopped at the butcher's on my way home and bought a meat pie. We hadn't had that particular kind of pie before, but it looked good. All I would have to do was pop it in the oven and dinner would take care of itself.

When I arrived home, I showed Ron what was for dinner, and he showed me the way to the bedroom. He was his usual efficient self, and my bottom was very thoroughly dealt with. We were both very satisfied with the results.

Dinner was another matter. Far from being delicious, or even so-so, it was a big disappointment. If pork fat rules, then this pie was the king. The pastry had a greasy feel and taste, and speaking of taste, the filling contained a spice that you wouldn't ordinarily find in a savoury pie. To put it bluntly, Ron hated it. He assured me that it wasn't my fault; how could I have known it would be so awful? I thought I was off the hook.

I thought wrong! After eating all we could, we consigned the rest to the kitchen recycling bin and proceeded to clear the table and load the dishwasher. Ron was still muttering about the awful meal.

"A gastronomic delight," he grumbled sarcastically. Then he came up behind me as I was collecting the cutlery, and smacked me VERY hard on the left buttock, which was still very tender from his recent attention upstairs.

"Ow! That hurts!" For some reason, Ron had earlier given the left cheek far more swats than the right one. I don't know why; it wasn't his usual style. I rubbed my sore bottom and wondered, was that a punishment? We don't do discipline.

I glanced at Ron. He didn't seem motivated to extend his expression of dissatisfaction beyond that single swat, but his annoyance had vanished. Instead, he looked quite pleased with himself.