A Double-Cheeker

 Lately Ron has been using a new technique. It started with the paddle, called "The Wedge", that I bought him for Christmas. It's big and wide, and he found that he could apply it to both my bottomcheeks simultaneously.

"This one's a double-cheeker," he enthused.

His interest in double-cheeking continued the day I brought out some implements we hadn't used in a while. One of them was the leather belt. That too was applied across my full bottom. Goodness, that man's technique with a belt has improved so much since we started. He never leaves bruises any more, and although he's a wood lover, he really makes it - and me - sing.

His latest double-pronged attack was with the black leather strap. He alternated it with two other implements that were used singly, but each time he applied the strap, it was to both cheeks at once - sometimes across the middle, or a  little higher, or (ouch!) low, just above the tops of my thighs.

What do I think? Well, it all hurts, but I have been used to the left - right - left - right pattern for so long that it took a bit of getting used to. Still, change is always exciting, and I enjoy variety, so I'm all for it.

Which do you prefer? Individual attention to each cheek, or the combined method?

Double your Pleasure, Double your Pain

This happened last weekend on the day of our usual spanking date.

Ron had been very generous in his selection of implements and equally energetic in their application. In fact, my bottom felt like it was on fire by the time he let me get up.

A couple of hours passed, and the burn was still there - a happy reminder of our afternoon fun. As we cleared the table after dinner, Ron gave my posterior a solid slap as I bent to put the plates into the dishwasher.

"Ow," I yelped.

"Did that hurt?" my dear husband queried innocently.

"Yes," I whined in mock annoyance.

"Good." Ron sounded satisfied that his earlier exertions had had the desired effect.

Later as we snuggled on the couch watching tv, I squirmed from time to time as my sore bottom reminded me of the earlier spanking. At bedtime I stood up and rubbed my cheeks.

"Oh, they're still sore," I informed Ron. "You did a very thorough job." I put my arms around him and hugged him. "Thank you."

He seemed happy to hear the praise. By way of reply, a hard swat landed on my right bottomcheek.

"Did that hurt?"

"Yes!"

Another swat. "Did that hurt?"

"Ow! Yes!"

A flurry of open-handed swats followed, interspersed at intervals with the same question. I giggled, wiggled, and replied emphatically in the affirmative. By the time he stopped I had been treated to my second spanking of the day, and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

We gasped, still out of breath from laughing, and Ron gestured to the couch we had recently vacated. Our three furry companions were lying there quietly - Fluffy and Crookshanks together at one end, and Fang at the other - and all seemed totally unimpressed by our antics.

"They aren't even bothered by all the noise," Ron said. That had often been a concern in the past, but obviously our pack has adjusted to loud smacking sounds.

This opens the door to all sorts of possibilities.