That Hit the Spot

Here's what happened last weekend with the new hairbrush I told you about here.

I presented the bamboo stimulating hairbrush to Ron and waited for his reaction.

"We already have one," he observed.

"No we don't, I explained. (Actually, we have three brushes, not one.) "The one we have is round and has bristles. This one's square and has, um, points."

"I can't get the wrapper off," Ron grumbled, but I decided he was stalling. Some men just can't adapt to something new.

As I removed the cardboard sleeve I explained, "This brush has two sides, for two different sensations. Did you know that some paddles have sandpaper on one side?"

"Like the ping pong paddle?"

"No, that's rubber." I picked it up from out toybox and held it up. "It's only the beginner paddle. Maybe the expert model has sandpaper." (Note to self: check out sporting goods store for expert paddles.)

Ron examined both sides of the brush while I put the ping pong paddle away, prepared myself, and got into position. I was bending over the end of the bed when the flat side of the brush connected with my bare bottom - hard!

"Ow! Take it easy!" I whined.

The swats continued at slightly less intensity.

"I don't know what you're complaining about. You like this, don't you?" Ron asked.

"Haven't you ever heard of a warmup?"

"This is a warmup," Ron explained, then continued, "and it's over" and he stepped up the pace and the force of impact. Then he paused. I waited, then felt a dull, thuddy, not at all painful series of blows. He was using the pointy side of brush with all those stimulating pegs.

"Ooh, that feels strange. Try rubbing my bottom with it." Ron did, and that felt very nice indeed. This brush had been a wise investment,  I thought to myself. But all too soon, it was time for the other side again.

The brush attacked my sit spots again and again. I shuffled my feet and wiggled but maintained position, vocally expressed my displeasure. Ron kept alternating the sides of the brush, sometimes whacking with the pointy side and other times rubbing my increasingly aching backside. When he finally finished and I was allowed to stand, I noticed he was panting from exertion. The brush had cardiovascular benefits for both of us.

I examined my red bottom in the mirror and frowned in a combination of mock displeasure and real pain.

"It hurts," I whined.

Ron grinned and hugged me. "That hit the spot."

The new hairbrush is a keeper!

A Stimulating Weekend

I have some exciting weekend plans that involve the implement pictured above. It's a "Bamboo stimulating hairbrush" and I can't wait to try it!

On the other side of the cardboard sleeve, the product description explains that "the wooden peg bristles make it ideal for massaging the scalp and stimulating healthy hair growth."

Looks like I'm in for a double stimulation, from both the back and the front of the brush. I'll let you know the results next week.

The Hourglass

Some time ago, I told you about my desire to use an hourglass to time our spankings. My wish came true last week. (I know you're all saying to yourselves, be careful what you wish for.)

I had been browsing through some shops on my lunch hour, and happened to find a fifteen-minute hourglass, intended as a desk ornament. It was black wood, and the sand was sparkling white. The price was reasonable so I bought it, and started to plan how we would use it.

I still had some time before I had to return to the office, so I continued on to the next shop that looked interesting. Wouldn't you know it? There were hourglasses for sale there too. They were only five-minutes ones, and I didn't think that would allow us to even get started, so I left them on the shelf.

The following Saturday I told Ron that we had a new accessory for our spanking encounter.

"So, how long is it for?" he asked, but I wouldn't say. I didn't want him to worry about the length of time.

"That's for you to find out. Be creative and keep going until the sand runs out."

He chose the bamboo spatula, the belt and the ping pong paddle and got down to business.

The spatula was first, despite my objections. It is so stingy at the best of times, but on an unwarmed-up bottom - yeowch!

The belt came next, but Ron didn't give me much time to savour it before he switched to the ping pong paddle.

"You're using the red side, aren't you?" I thought a little conversation would help the time pass more quickly.

"Right." As Ron rotated through the three implements again and again, I guessed the colour of the side of the paddle he was using. I was usually wrong.

Even though I was becoming numb, the two wooden paddles still elicited shrieks from me. When the belt was applied lower down, to the top of my thighs, I felt that sharply too.

I looked up at the hourglass sitting on top of my dresser. Was it stuck?

"How's this working for you," Ron inquired.

"Oh, fine." Me and my bright ideas.

"Is it 20 minutes?"

"No, 15." No point in concealing the number now.

"You've got five minutes left."

Ron resumed his paddling with renewed energy.

 Suddenly I heard a loud crack and something hit the wooden floor to my right. The bamboo spatula had broken.

Ron was concerned. "Can it be fixed? Glued? It's split here." He showed me where the wood had separated.

"You would have to sand it. I might get splinters."

"It's not worth it then. But it was my favourite." They're all his favourites at the time. Ron put the spatula aside and picked up the belt. I glanced at the clock and did some rapid mental arithmetic. Thirteen minutes had passed. The belt came down hard, once, twice, then Ron stopped.

"There's blood."

"Blood? Really? Where?"

"Right here." Ron touched a spot between my cheeks. "I don't know how I did that but we'd better stop."

Fair enough. Together we watched the last grains of sand trickle down onto the tiny mound in the lower half of the timer.

Two hours later, I checked my bum in the mirror. It was still bright red. I told Ron, and he seemed rather pleased.

"That should do you for three weeks or a month."

I gave him a hug and a big kiss. "I don't think so. I'm so greedy."

Maybe I should go back and buy the five-minute timer. We could always turn it over when the sand ran out.

Salad Days

While browsing in one of my favourite home furnishings stores, I saw this lovely bamboo spanking paddle spatula. It's beautiful to look at, sturdy, and produces a nice sharp noise when... (Yes, I did try it on my palm when I hope no one was looking!)

I was shopping with an older female relative, and while buying the paddle might not have raised any eyebrows, I might have been questioned about why I needed more utensils for the kitchen. So I decided I wouldn't do it, and told myself the usual. Didn't need it. Had enough implements. Too expensive.

The next day, I was driving past the store, alone this time. Well, I wasn't exactly going past it to begin with, but it wasn't too far out of my way. I had a few minutes to spare, so I pulled into the parking lot, headed inside and wandered over to the kitchen department.

No one had bought the lovely paddle. It was still there. I picked it up, stroked it, hefted it for weight, and checked the price tag. It was smooth, solid, a decent weight, and not very pricey after all.

Lying on the shelf above was a pair of bamboo salad tossing implements. Mmmm, just the right size for.... And the wooden fingers would feel so nice....



At that point, my willpower dissolved and I scooped them up as well, then headed purposefully toward the checkout. The next time Ron suggests salad for lunch, we might have quite an adventure!