Out of Order

Ron and I had quite a merry spanking session last Saturday. He had chosen four implements—a long black strap, a rattan carpet beater, a short brown leather paddle, and a black and red ping pong paddle—and arranged them on the bed for my inspection. A shiver ran down my spine when I realized what was in store.

I obediently removed my jeans and panties and got into position. Ron's usual habit was to give me several swats with each of the four implements in turn, and so he began. The leather strap seemed especially fierce that day, but the carpet beater was even worse. My attempt to dodge a swat only rewarded me with a whack on my calves and another on my thighs. The short leather paddle came as something of a relief and seemed almost gentle in comparison. The ping pong paddle too was not so bad, or maybe it only seemed that way because my bottom was warming up.

Ron cycled through the implements again, as he usually did. But as the spanking continued,  he often applied a few whacks with something that was not officially next.

"Out of order!" I cried.

"I just wanted to see if you were paying attention," Ron replied.

A few minuted later, it happened again. I got the carpet beater when it was actually the short leather paddle's turn.

"Out of order," I exclaimed again. "What's the matter? Are you getting bored?" Ron chuckled. "Maybe I should put labels on them. 1, 2, 3..."

Ron had a better idea. "No, A, B, C, D. Let's see... Ass, Bum, Caboose, Derrière. That sounds about right."

We both roared with laughter at his cleverness, and the spanking progressed in a very upbeat manner.