Guest Post - A.J.

After reading the past two installments of The Souvenir Shop (here and here), regular reader A.J. told me of a similar experience he had with his girlfriend. He has kindly allowed me to share it with you, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

This is that story I mentioned. I've told others this story, so feel free to do with it what you will.

It’s about being in public with my then girlfriend, Sherry, where I went, maybe, one sentence too far when I should have kept my mouth shut.  Despite my speaking a bit too freely, it created one heck of a great memory that I have of being with her that goes back many years.

As background, I met Sherry while on a work project.  She was the person the client assigned to monitor the contractor (me) on our project, and with whom I had to meet twice a week.  And I liked her at first sight. Attractive, smart, with legs to die for, and those great stems went to a tush that can truly - truly - be described as ‘spankable’.  Smart and with a smart mouth where you never knew what she was going to come out with, saying something that would make you laugh and ask, "What did you just say?"  The more I looked at her and the more we were together, the more I fell for her. Meetings had led to lunches, to after work cocktails, to dating.  Serious dating.  Spend all our free time together dating.  Go with me on vacation to Hawaii dating.

About three months into our now-serious relationship, Sherry tricks me into spanking her (another great story).  That upped the relationship considerably (a world of trust) and we begin a whole new relationship that included the occasional fun-loving spanking (M/F).  Please note that we had a relationship that sometimes included spanking, and not the other way around. We never spanked in anger (we never got angry at each other), and never for punishment.  Every time it was strictly fun/fantasy, and it always led to more intimate moments!

About a month after that initial spanking (with a couple more in-between) I come out of the shower to see Sherry standing in the bedroom with ‘that look’ on her face.  She then announces:

“You know, you haven’t been spanked in more than 20-years. You’re way overdue!  It’s my turn.  Get over my knee!”

With that she sat on the edge of the bed and called me to her.

My mouth went instantly dry and my heart started to pound.  Oh, God.  What’s happening?  But fair’s fair; you give, you take, right?  I come to her.  She's sitting on the edge of the bed.  Back straight. Knees together.  And no expression on her face other than confidence and determination. She's all business.  This is real.  Heart starting to beat I slowly approach her right side.

"C'mon.  Get over.  Let's go."

OTK I went. Nervous as hell, but I went.  She pauses.  Left hand on my right shoulder.  Her right hand on my right butt-cheek.  Not rubbing; squeezing, testing.  Like an orchestra conductor thinking about the score in front of him, about to lift his baton; all concentration.  And then it began.

And I got my first adult spanking!  And it was a pretty good one, too! A bright pink and tingling butt that had me rapidly rubbing it as I knelt on the floor in front of her, foolishly grinning.  And Sherry got to give, not only her first spanking, but give that spanking to a man!  She was so giddily happy when it was over and peppered me with lots of questions: “How was it?  Did I do it right?  Was it too hard?  Too soft?  Tell me!  What was it like?”

“Yeah; you did a pretty good job!”  She was so happy.  Then she laughed and ‘ordered’ me to ‘thank her’ properly, and laid back on the bed.  And me being a gentleman....

And the relationship got stronger.  From then on, no one’s bottom was safe.  It was such fun.

Let me again caveat the story by saying this happened long time ago.  So while the events actually happened, don't hold me to exactly what was said.  It is just what I remember from that memorable day.

====================================

The Gold Cup is a historic horse race in Virginia that goes back more than a century.  Not your typical horse race, but a long steeplechase with hedges, water hazards, jumps, and more. It’s held in northern Virginia's ‘hunt country’.  Estate country.  And very rural.  How rural?  One favorite town nearby, back then, had a population of maybe 250 tops.

The race is held in May when it is finally nice and warm and winter is a memory.  And it’s expected you dress for the occasion, and I’m talking an elegant 'Great Gatsby' style and flair.  Women go out of their way to find that perfect summer dress; light silks or silk-like dresses that tease in the breeze. A couple weeks before the race I come into two free and very expensive tickets for the Cup.

Sherry and I leave mid-morning and drive through the beautiful country-side on small winding country roads.  We get there, gamble on the races, sip champagne, see and be seen, and basically have fun.  But around 5pm she and I are getting tired.

Sherry:  “Do you mind if skip the last races and go home?”

“No; let’s leave now before the traffic hits.”

We leave and are back on those country roads and come to an intersection where there is a gas station, a general store, and - an antiques store.  And that’s it!  All else is open land. I decide to fill up the gas tank and pull into the station.  And that’s when Sherry spots that damn antiques store and announces she going there, ‘just to look around’.  I’m to top off the tank and come get her when I’m done.

Oh, God no.  Shopping.  We’ll be here at least another half-hour or more.

The car is topped off, I pay the attendant, get in the car and pull around to the front of the antiques store.

I go in the store and Sherry is wandering around the back of the room, looking at one dusty old thing after another.  It's very close to closing time and the place is empty.  I’m about to join Sherry when the female owner comes up and says hello to me. She is at least 50 years old, maybe 55, and very nice.  And...

“Is there anything I can help you find?”

“Oh, no; thanks.  I’m just here with my girlfriend over there.  She’s the shopper, not me.”

“You’re both dressed so nice.  We’re you at the Gold Cup?”

“Yes.  First time.  Quite a party. The races were fun, and all these women so beautifully dressed. I love that summer dress Sherry is wearing. She has this great hat that goes with it that’s in the back of the car.”

“How long have you two been together?”

“I met her early August so...nine months.  I didn’t realize it had been so long.”

“You must be having fun then.  How did you meet?”

I go into my story of meeting her while working and how much I love being with her and that we spent almost all our spare time together, etc., etc.  I talked too much about Sherry and how much I loved being with her.

With that she says:  “Oh, boy, does she ever have you all wrapped up.  Just like a Christmas present.  All you need is some ribbon and a bow on top!”

I just look at her and smile. Then…

“So when are you getting married?”

I froze. What...?  She had just used the “M-word”!

“(Mumbles something)...ummm, well, I think I’m too young to be getting married.”

“Well you must have thought about it at one time or another.  What age do you think is right for you?”

“Oh...28?”

“I was married nine years by the time I turned 28.  When’s your birthday?”

“December.”

“Five months ago.  And how old are you…?”

Nervous pauss.  “27...”

A real big smile:  “So, only seven months to go!  I assume you went to college; any of your roommates married?”

“Yes.”

“Do they have children?”

“Yes.”

(Grinning.)  “Married, and with children.  And you still think you’re too young?”

And there it was. The “M-word”.  I just had not thought about it, but there it was.  Could Sherry be the one?

I go up to where Sherry is, nervous and still thinking about that "M-word" all the way.   “About ready to leave?”  Please say yes.  Please say yes.  Please say yes.

“In a couple of minutes." Yeah, right. ”Looks like you had quite the conversation with that woman.  What were you talking about?”

“Nothing much.”  Yes, I lied.

A minute later the woman joins us and she and Sherry talk about all the dusty junk.  We’re never getting out of here.

I don’t know why I did it.  They’re talking, I’m looking around.  I see something in a barrel nearby and reach into it and pull 'it' out.  Some kind of paddle used for baking.  Very old.

I shouldn’t have said it.  I shouldn’t have said it.  I shouldn’t have said it.

“Look, Sherry.  A paddle in case I have to spank you and not hurt my hand!”

I shouldn’t have said it.  I shouldn’t have said it.  From the look on Sherry’s now rapidly-reddening face I knew I shouldn’t have said it.  I used the s-word, in public, to a civilian.

And that’s when "the sisterhood" stepped in.  The woman laughs, said something about all women getting a little spank now and then, and then sides up next to Sherry, takes the paddle from me and says, “Oh, that’s a nice antique wooden utensil."  Looking at Sherry. "But the thing about something like this is that it is an inanimate object.  It doesn’t care what it is used for – or who’s using it!”  And with that she extends the handle end of that paddle to Sherry who took it.  And then Sherry’s eyes lit up!

“We’ll take it!!”  (Note:  I do not recall if she said “We’ll take it” or “I’ll take it”, but given the context, I think that’s important.)

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!  I was only jok...”

“We’ll take it!  How much?”

“No, no, no. We don’t need...”

"The sisterhood" has got me now, and lays it on thick.

Said the woman, semi-seriously and not at all to me:  “Well...it is a true antique with a history.  On the other hand it has been here for quite a while."  Pause. "How about one dollar?” A dollar?

“We’ll take it!”

“But you’ll also have to take one of those leather straps over there.  No one really ever buys them and I need to get rid of them.”

Two for a dollar!  Fifty cents each?

“We’ll take it!”  Turns to me. “Pay her!”

"No, no, no, no; we don't need it and I was only jok..."

“Pay her!”

The sisterhood doesn’t say a word.  Standing together they both just look at me with ‘that look’ on their faces; huge grins mightily trying to stifle back the laughter.  They both knew how this was going to end.

“C'mon.  Pay her.”

I pull out my wallet and put a dollar into her hand.  What have I done?

But 'the sisterhood' is not yet done fucking with me.

The woman, smiling so sweetly and dragging the moment out, asks:  “Would you like a receipt?”  Said not to me who had just paid her – to Sherry!

“No.  We have to get home.  We need to talk.”

I am so fucked.

'The sisterhood' then takes a minute to pick out a leather strap as I watch.  Sherry then takes my arm, “Let’s go home and have that talk.” Sherry leads me to the door.  The woman is almost bursting.  She watches us almost make it to the door and then shouts out to Sherry the then-equivalent of, “You go girl!”

We get into the car.  “C’mon.  Start the car.  Let’s go.”

“Are you OK?”

“Yes. C’mon.  Start the car.”

We drive.  Not a word is spoken.

“Want to talk?”

“We’re going to talk, later.”

We drive.  In awful silence.

We get to her condo.   She has me drop her off at her door.  I'm to park the car and join her.

I come into her condo and she calls out for me to come into the bedroom.  Dry in the mouth I come into the room and find Sherry standing there, summer dress now off, paddle and strap in her hand, and a pile of pillows ominously stacked in the middle of the bed.  No.  No.  No, not looking good.

And then, and ever so sweetly to me: “We should have had a discussion before getting something like this.  We could have had more fun by together looking for something we have never, ever, used before.  But here it is.  And since I’ve never used something like this before, I need to get some practice.  You do want me to be the best at everything I do, don’t you?”

How do you answer that question with anything but, “Yes”?

A pause.  “Uh-huh.”  I am so fucked.

Matter-of-factly:  “Good.  Get those clothes off and get over those pillows.”  (Note:  We had never spanked each other this way, only OTK, so this was an ominous first.)

Down to my shorts and over the pillows.

“Ummmm...no.  This doesn’t look right.  I’ll be right back.”  She leaves the room and returns with another pillow, a big bolster that she puts on top of the others and has me get over them.  I’m now, basically, in an inverted, butt-high, full-arm-swing-swat-level, 'V' position.

Sherry pulls my shorts down to my knees.  Then she picks up that oven paddle and closely looks at it.  Pretending to study it.  Turning it in her hand.  Just mind-fucking me.   “Oh boy.  I’ll bet if you’re not careful with something like this, it could really hurt.  (To my face)  You know I would never want to do that, don't you?  Hurt you?  So I’ll have to practice, to learn how to use it safely.  Right?”

Barely breathing:  “Uh-huh.”

She positions, taps my bottom a few times with that paddle.  I grip the bed sheets.  Then,

Smack!  Right cheek.

Hey!  Not too bad.  It was just as hard as if she had used her hand.

“OK?”

“Uh-huh.”

Smack!  Left cheek.

Smack!  Right cheek.  A bit harder.

Smack!  Left cheek. A bit harder.

“OK?”

“Uh-huh.”

WHAAAAACK!!!!   A ferociously hard whack to my right cheek!

“Ahhhhh!  Oh, sweet mother of God!!!”  My entire body arcs up, legs out, head up and I can barely breathe.  My right cheek is on fire!  If the neighbors were on the other side of that wall they would surely have heard me yell.

So empathetic.  So compassionate. So not either of those:  “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.  Did that hurt?”

“Did it(sputtering) #$%^*&% hurt?????   Yeah it hurt!  Jesus...”

Oh, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.  I’m just trying to learn how to use this thing.  Here, hold on a second...”

WHAAAAACK!!!!    (Same thing; left cheek!)

“Owwwwwwwww!  Oh sweet Jesus, what the #$%^*% did you do that for???”  (Now I'm a little angry.)

Wait for it. Wait...

“I told you I was trying to learn how to use this, because I want to be the best for you.  You do remember you said you wanted me to be the best at all I do for you, right?  So it’s important that your left cheek match your right cheek - for balance.”

Now, my ass is on fire but even I had to admit – that’s one hell of a line.  Yeah. For balance. Sure. That makes sense.  Who wouldn't understand that?  Say, why don’t you take another shot?  I almost laughed.  Almost.  And then...

“But, you know what? You were right!  My hand doesn’t hurt a bit!”  (Big shit-eating grin.)

Oh, shit!  I almost laughed at that one, too.  She and her smart-mouth are enjoying this, savoring every moment.

I got several more like that; a series of firm but not-to-hard swats followed by a couple of real stem-winders that took my breath away.  In all, maybe 35-40 smacks.  Sherry finally puts the paddle down on the bed and announces it is over.  Finally; it’s over.  I start to get up.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.  Where are you going?”

“You said it’s over!”

“Yeah.  With the paddle!  (Picks up the strap and with an evil grin)  I still have to learn how to use this!” (Another big shit-eating grin.)

“Ohhhh.”

I give up.  I can’t win.  She’s got me and got me good.  I go back over the pillows, hang on, and hold my breath as she approaches with that strap.

"Slap."  A pathetic little slap, and only one.  She has spanked me with her hand harder than that.  Then it was over.

Sherry drops the strap next to the paddle, comes close to me and says, “Maybe these are not for us.  Whadayasay we put these away - and never use them?”

Damn.  I wanted to get my turn using them on her but, no; enough is enough.   Lesson learned.  I agreed.  Not for us.  We put them away for good.

Later that night we are in bed, holding each other.

“How’s your butt?”

“I can still feel it.  I’ll have bruises down there tomorrow.”

“Sorry.  I only wanted to give you a couple real stingers, not to bruise you.  But you deserved something for pulling that stunt.”

“I know. I know.  I went too far.  Won’t happen again.”

(She gets the giggles.)  Me:  “What’s so funny?”

“I’m just thinking I should have gotten that receipt!  She would have had to write it out by hand and I’d love to know what she would have written.  ‘One-each, boyfriend corrector?  Red-bun turner?’ And the price – 50 cents!  I think I would have framed it!”

(She’s laughing. Turns and looks right at me.)  “Maybe I’ll have you go back there and ask her for that receipt!!  Or go with you to see the look on her face as you ask for it! (More laughter!) Oh, God wouldn’t that be something to see!  (Even more laughter.)  I wonder if she would ask you how that paddle worked out for you?”  (A lot more laughter.)  “And you had to tell her!”  (Gales of laughter. Her face is filled with laughter and smiles.)  “And if you didn’t - I would!”

Well, it was funny.

I lied and told her my first thought in that store was to ask the woman if I could try-before-buy, and used it on Sherry in a back room.

“In your dreams!  If anyone was going to try-before-buy it was going to be me!  And I’d let her watch!"  Brief pause. "Or help!!”  (Starts laughing hard all over again.)

“Oooooh.  Now you’re turning me on.”

“Oh, really?  You’re such a perv!”

She continued to laugh and tease over all of this, and me too.  Later, we would only tease when we would threaten to "get the paddle" or strap, but we never actually used them ever again - and I never attempted that kind of ‘joke’ ever again.  Other things, yes; but never that.

Boy did I love her.

Thank you, A.J. That's quite a story!