Through the Kitchen Window

Our spanking fun happens in the bedroom, but the kitchen is the room where we talk about it, and it's also the location where I am most likely to be the target of random swats. Here are a few vignettes.

---

We were both bustling about the kitchen, and I wasn't paying much attention to Ron, when I suddenly saw a movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned around quickly to see him threatening my bottom with the medium-sized cutting board.

"What are you up to?"

"Nothing."

"I saw you. You were going to whack me with that thing."

"No I wasn't."

But I could see the grin starting to appear at the corners of his mouth, then he laughed.

Five minutes later, as I walked past him on my way to the stove, I caught him brandishing the cutting board again.

"Oh, all right. Get it over with. I hope you rinsed it off." I bent over and put my hands on my knees. WHACK!

"Ow! #%$^@! That hurt," I grumbled, but I was secretly pleased that he had satisfied his creative urge at last. That cutting board had done vanilla duty for far too long.

---

We were discussing our dogs, as we often do, and Ron mentioned that Fluffy had never had his teeth cleaned by the vet.

"Sure he did," I corrected him, then reminded him of a few of the details of Fluffy's overnight stay at the clinic a couple of years earlier.

"I remember all that, but he never had a dental then," Ron objected.

I realized I wasn't going to convince him, so I bit my tongue, and Ron left the room. I heard him go upstairs, and then came the sound of rustling paper. He was looking through the medical files for our four-legged kids.

Some minutes later, Ron came back.

"You were right," he announced. I was standing at the sink scrubbing carrots.

Of course I was. I told you so, I thought to myself.

Smack! A strong hand connected energetically with my bottom.

"Ow!" Did I actually have a husband who was also a mind-reader? Every woman's dream.

---

I was lost in thought, in front of the refrigerator, staring at the shelves of vegetables and other perishables, when Ron appeared behind me.

"Why are you standing in front of the fridge with the door open?" and to punctuate his question, he gave he a hard swat on the bottom.

I jumped, and tried to answer him, but by now I had totally forgotten what I had been looking for. So I acted nonchalant.

"I was just trying to annoy you so you would spank me. And it worked!"

---

I was looking over Ron's shoulder as he added salt, then pepper, to the vegetables sauteeing on the stove.

"That's enough," I muttered as he twisted the pepper grinder. Pepper isn't my favourite condiment.

"You don't usually say that."

"No, I don't," I agreed and laughed. Something seemed to be on his mind besides cooking.

I put my arms around him for a hug. Ron's hands found their way to my armpits and he squeezed.

"Don't. I don't like that."

"Oh, well then," and he squeezed again.

Aha! So that's how to get him to do something I want. Just tell him to stop. "Keep your hands off my bottom."

The hands slid down and gently cupped my cheeks.

"Don't you slap them." The swats started.

"Ouch! That's too hard," I giggled, and the swats got harder.

"Don't you dare whack them a whole lot more." The smacks increased in intensity and speed.

We were both laughing so much that we had to stop and turn our attention to the browning vegetables.

I've finally figured him out!