OTK Anyone?

Our good friend S alerted me to a site that specialized in all things related to my favourite position.

The logo is discrete but meaningful to those in the know.

 

S asked if I would wear a hat like this:

Or carry this bag

Would you?
 

 Slava Ukraini
Glory to Ukraine

Please Sir, I want some more

Two weekends ago I was lying across Ron's lap and he was energetically applying the riding crop to my bared bottom. As he spanked, I mused. (I'm good at multi-tasking.) It was funny, I thought, that the last time he had used it, he had switched to a different implement because I hadn't been reacting to it much. I had been disappointed with it too.

How different things were this time. The little hand on the end of the crop was making its presence known. Had Ron been practising? Or was he simply giving me harder strokes?

Then the swats stopped as Ron paused to admire his handiwork and to see what effect it was having on me. His hand gently rubbed my hot cheeks, then slipped in between them to rub even more gently. The rubbing became a little firmer and more rhythmic, and I realized we had moved on to the next phase. That was fine.


Or was it? The riding crop had felt good. I wanted more. When he continued his ministrations I weighed the odds. I knew where this was headed - where I was headed - and that was nice too, but first, I had to feel the crop sear my buttocks again. Should I speak up? Or should I go with the flow?

I made up my rapidly-dissolving mind.

"May I have a little more?" I whispered. Ron immediately withdrew his hand, and in a heartbeat I felt the welcome, rhythmic pain once more. He kept it up until I stopped squirming and ow-ing and settled into it. Then he put down the crop and picked up from where he had left off. This time I didn't stop him and, well, you'll just have to imagine the rest

"Do I have lots of little handprints on my bum?" I asked later, as we cuddled together.

"Dozens," Ron affirmed, and I couldn't wait to see them for myself.



The following weekend found me on my elbows and knees on the bed after Ron had decided that the belt hadn't been taken out of the drawer for quite a while. He made that implement hurt a lot more than I remembered, but it was such a good hurt.

Sets of whacks with the belt alternated with periods of caresses on my sore posterior. Each time the belt resumed its task, I felt it less and less, although I could tell that Ron was using more force. When he finally put the belt down, I sighed and started to roll onto my side. Ron put a hand on my back to stop me and asked, "Enough?"

I was thrilled at his considerate question. "You've never asked me that before," I replied, somewhat flustered. Should I ask for more? I thought it was over, and was okay with that. But this might be my chance to go for the hour-long spanking. Should I? Shouldn't I?

I lay back, then pulled Ron down beside me.

What a gentleman! In future I won't hesitate to ask for what I need, but then again, I may never have to ask.

The View from Here - OTK

The traditional position for spanking is over the knee. Although we have been engaged in "the sound of one hand clapping" for many, many years, we just never did it in that position. Why? I suppose because spanking wasn't a thing we did in isolation; it was always an extension of foreplay. I got kissed, caressed, fondled and spanked, in no particular order. So we never made special preparations or bothered much about technicalities.

Not that I didn't crave it. The thought of being across a lap or over a knee pressed all the right buttons for me. But I never spoke up. Oh, the odd time when we were fooling around on the couch I might have maneuvered myself into that position, but I don't recall staying there for long. Ron simply wasn't interested in doing it that way, and I suppose he had his reasons. It might have seemed like discipline or age play to him, and he doesn't care for either one.

Then came the revelations that blogging and the internet provided, and I was reborn. All of a sudden I was inspired to try new positions, new implements, new everything, with my patient but unsuspecting husband. I discovered that there was an over the lap variation that sounded like just the ticket.

And so, at my instigation, we did it, and I told you all about it. I was spanked while across my husband's lap. I loved the idea of it; there I was in the position of all my fantasies. I thought I really had arrived. Now we were finally doing it right!

But deep down, I was a tiny bit disappointed. It simply wasn't very comfortable. Okay, I know the spankee isn't supposed to be comfortable. A spanking hurts, right? But I mean in the sense of lying on top of hard, bumpy legs instead of a nice, soft pillow. Ron's legs are slender and not overly padded, and while my tummy has plenty of padding, it wasn't enough. I felt an uncomfortable pressure that made me squirm, and not because of the swats.

For that reason, I hesitated to try it again. Ron never suggested it, which led me to think that perhaps he hadn't enjoyed it either, although at the time, well, it sure looked like he was having fun. But after a decent interval, my craving for that position got the better of me and we experienced OTK, take two.

Again I thought that it wasn't the pleasantest position. Although the thrill of it made me ignore the discomfort, it was still there. Ron always leaves the choice of position up to me, and I let several months pass before I decided to give it one more try.

But they say the third time is a charm, and so it was for us. I don't know why. I had taken steps to reduce some of the excess baggage around my midsection, and possibly that made our bodies fit together more snugly. Maybe I was more relaxed and less worried that Ron didn't want to spank me in that position. All I know is, once I settled in, it felt fine. Until the paddle descended on my bottom, that is. But that was an entirely different sort of discomfort that I was quite happy to endure. As far as being over his lap was concerned, I never wanted to leave it.

Perhaps it's a simple case of practice makes perfect, or of getting used to something different. It doesn't matter. Our version of OTK is something I look forward to now, and I know Ron will gladly give me all the ouchy attention I need.

Lost and Found

Last year I found a wonderful place to buy small but unique gifts for the holidays. Lately I have been making plans for another excursion to the same location, but while cleaning my closet I came across this wooden spoon.

I had picked it up last year, intending to present it to Ron at just the right moment, but somehow I either lost my nerve or misplaced the spoon. So, I couldn't justify another trip that might result in more implements coming home without trying out last year's find.

I considered leaving the spoon on Ron's bedside table as an obvious hint, then thought better of it and slipped it into the drawer. I'd let him make the ultimate decision.

That decision came sooner than I expected. We were rather overdue for some intimate time together, and the pillows were arranged against the headboard of the bed. I was in for an over the lap spanking. Ron reached for one of the implements hanging on the bedpost, then stopped. Ever the gentleman, he politely inquired, "What would you like?"

"Pick something short," I advised. He looked at the pillows and thought a minute, then opened the drawer.

"When did you get this?" He held the spoon up and examined it.

"Oh, last year some time. I'm not sure exactly."

Ron smacked it against his palm a time or two, then settled himself against the pillows and motioned for me to assume the position. I did so, wriggling a little to get comfortable. I felt the bowl of the spoon pressed against my cheek, and waited.

Smack! Ow! Smack! Ow! it had been a long time since the last wooden spoon spanking, and I had forgotten what a wallop they packed. I squeaked after every stroke and kicked my legs. Ron had to caution me to keep still, and I did with difficulty. For some reason, the swats to my left cheek hurt twice as much as those to the right.

"I think I should return that thing to the store," I grumbled.

"Do you want to try something else?"

"No, I'm okay."

Then Ron got creative. Instead of the steady right-left pattern, it became three right, three left, two right, four left. Then the swats started falling at irregular intervals, in some bizarre pattern. I thought to myself, Morse code? Who is he trying to contact? Or is he beating time to a song only he can hear? What the heck is it? Buddy Holly? Whatever it was, the strange uneven beat made me giggle, even as the swats stung me. Encouraged, he continued performing his percussion on my posterior.

Ron stopped, put the spoon down, and gently stroked my bottom. I relaxed; that felt good. Then he resumed his rhythmic right-left pattern, but with his open hand. Slow, even swats, back and forth, that felt like caresses to me. I love hand spanking, but rarely get it except for playful swats while I'm clothed. He didn't stop for what seemed like a long time.

Then after a little pause the spoon was put into action once more. This time I barely felt the sting. I kept silent and still and drank in the heat, the sound, and the impact and well as the warmth and strength of my husband's body beneath me. I didn't want it to end. The rhythm became erratic once more. Jerry Lee Lewis, I guessed.

The solo ended, and Ron began to gently rub my bottom. Mmmm, this is nice, I thought. I hope he keeps on doing it. I wonder if he'll use his hand again. I hope so. But this is nice. I love bum rubs even more than back rubs. Maybe I should ask him to spank with his hand again. But this is nice. He isn't stopping. I'm so happy, I think I'll close my eyes. I wonder if his eyes are closed too. Mmmm, this is nice....

Before I actually fell asleep, Ron's hand slipped between my legs for a different kind of stroking. I abandoned any thoughts of a snooze as I rapidly became aroused. In an unusually short time his gentle touch had brought me to the edge and I was soaring.

That spoon was a wise investment.

My Fortune

Isn't it amazing how accurate these things are?