He Keeps Me Guessing

Sometimes I start to feel that our spankings have become routine and humdrum. It's not that they aren't thorough and ultimately satisfying. But they're usually a bit too predictable.

Last weekend I asked Ron if he had something special planned for our imminent get-together. His answer was disappointing but not unexpected.

"No."

"Oh." I glanced at the clock on the wall behind him. "But you have 15 minutes to think of something to surprise me with."

You'll never guess - he did!

First of all, he included the dressage whip among the implements lined up on the bed. That was a surprise, because he rarely uses it. The wooden paddle and the shoehorn beside it were familiar, but the way he went about his task was quite out of the ordinary.

Ron gave my bare bottom a generous taste of each of the implements, saving the whip as the final entry in the first round, and I remembered why I dreaded the last implement so much. Besides the general severity of the narrow black shaft, the small red-tailed tip wrapped and stung my right hip repeatedly. I was uncomfortable, but silently vowed to endure this special addition.

Round two of the implements followed. After an application of the shoehorn, I heard the whirr of the dressage whip near my head as Ron rapidly swished it back and forth.  I groaned to think that it was next, only to be fooled as I felt - with great relief - the wooden paddle instead. And so it went. Whenever I heard the swoosh, I tensed and moaned, only to feel a completely different implement on my backside.

But he used the dressage whip too. Each time, I made my displeasure known as it marked my bottom, but Ron didn't realize that most of my vocal protests were because of the wrapping.

Our session went on somewhat longer than usual. That was another surprise that pleased me, although it put my obedience to a real test. My right hip was getting more and more painful, but it is a point of honour with me that I do not attempt to change my position or ask that the punishment cease.

It eventually ended, and I enthusiastically thanked Ron for a very exciting time.

"That was a lovely surprise," I gasped. He grinned modestly and put the implements away.

Then I went to the mirror and looked at the results of his efforts. My bottom was dark pink, and the spot where the tip had wrapped looked like it had been attacked by a swarm of angry bees. It was covered with hundreds of tiny raised red dots, each one a souvenir of Ron's attempt to make this spanking special. It was over 24 hours before the skin returned to normal.

I must remember to be careful what I wish for.