Wednesday WIN

A colouring book for grownups.

The Wrong Colour

Last weekend we took a break from household chores to enjoy some spanking activities. True to form, Ron was handling the implements in his usual skilled fashion.

There was the riding crop for the warmup. You wouldn't think it, but the crop is quite mild compared to some of his other weapons. The little purple hand on the end is just right to start things off.

Then there was the large bamboo spatula. It's very pretty, with stripes of various shades of light and dark brown, but that innocent pervertable packs a wallop!

The leather paddle came next, and the first set of smacks took my breath away. I knew that over the next several minutes I would come to enjoy it, but the first set is the hardest to take.

Ron rotated through the assortment of implements several times, keeping me on my toes and unable to settle into any single sensation for too long. Then he stopped and put down the weapon he held.

"Your bum is white," he observed.

"Really? How could that be?" I was still white after all that? There must be something wrong with the lighting in the room. "Use the paddle. that'll make me pink."

"Your wish is my command." Ron applied the leather paddle to try to correct the situation. It didn't work. My bottom stubbornly remained pale despite his best efforts.

"I give up." Ron put his arsenal away and I got up to inspect the damage (or lack thereof) in the mirror. He was right; my bottom was sore, but anemic. Why it failed to take on the usual colour remains a mystery. Perhaps I need to keep some cosmetics on hand to enhance the effects of a good paddling.

Autumn Colours

Thanksgiving Day was sunny and warm. We had eaten our fill of turkey with all the trimmings the day before and we both had the day off work. We decided to go for a drive to admire the changing colours of the leaves; it was the perfect time to see them at their best.
I was delighted to go on the excursion, but not so thrilled with the thought of sitting in a car for several hours straight. We had finished off the previous day with a spanking, and my bottom was still quite sensitive. Ron had had a preview of some autumn colours as he turned my bottom several shades of pink and red with his hand. I don't know how he knew I'd been hoping for a hand spanking; that man has a knack for reading my mind. I had welcomed the intimate feeling that only skin to skin contact can produce, but as he got underway, he surprised me with the force of his impact. It made me wonder, and not for the first time, how his hand could hurt so much more than any of our leather implements. Let's just say I was a lot more vocal than usual!
We got underway and once we were out of the city I forgot about my discomfort. We passed tree-lined fields, farms and villages, and forests presenting a massed display of many shades of green, red, yellow, orange and brown. Every so often we would drive by a lake. There was absolutely no wind that day, and the water's surface mirrored the colourful display above. It was a picture postcard day.

I thought back to the last time we had traveled the route, many years ago. We had not yet experienced the delights of spanking; that was still several months in the future. We were both grieving the unexpected loss of a much-loved dog. Her young and frightened successor was in the car with us, enduring her first outing with people who were still strangers to her. This time, I felt peaceful and relaxed, thanks in part to the stress reliever of the night before.
Our destination was a mountain with a lookout site. The parking lot was nearly full; it was a popular destination for many families that day. The view was spectacular. We looked down on miles and miles of colourful trees, intermixed with houses, barns, roads, and a lake dotted with boats.
After taking a few pictures, we hiked along a trail through the woods. Several times we passed large fallen logs, and I half-wondered what it would feel like to be bent over one and spanked. Not that I really wanted another one so soon, but it was fun to imagine. There was too much likelihood that we would be surprised by other hikers, so we didn't stop to experiment.
We returned to the car and went in search of something to eat. Last time, we had eaten a picnic lunch at a table under the trees so that our young dog could share the meal with us. This time we stopped at a small country inn and had a delicious meal. Then we had the pleasure of retracing our route along the bright, tree-lined roads all the way home.
It was the perfect end to a weekend devoted to giving thanks for all that we have together.