God Save the King

We have been enjoying the original House of Cards television series, made in the 1990s starring Ian Richardson, and not to be confused with the current American remake with Kevin Spacey and Robin Wright. The original is much better.

Recently we watched the episode from season two in which the king (admirably played by Michael Kitchen, who sounds exactly like Prince Charles) visits the poor neighbourhoods in some of the cities in England.
 

He is greeted by a rousing chorus of God Save the King played by the residents on a collection of steel drums. They did a pretty good job!

As it happened, I got spanked later that same day. Ron used, among other implements, a sturdy wooden spoon. As he paddled, I thought I detected a familiar rhythm.

"Are you playing 'God Save the King'"? I queried, referring to the television show we had just seen, and hoping he might stop to answer and give me a bit of a break.

"Could be," he replied, never missing a beat. Sure enough, he tapped out an entire verse of "God Save the Queen" (it won't be renamed "God Save the King" for a long time to come, I hope) on my poor bottom. His rendition wasn't as melodious as the steel drum version, but I added some vocal accompaniment.

Note to American readers: the tune is the same as "My Country 'tis of Thee" in case you want to hum along.

My Spanko Badge

Last  week we went to browse in a gift shop that's closing at the end of the month. Besides the china ornaments and kitchenware, there was a large selection of jewellery. I especially liked a silver necklace with a large heart, plus a smaller silver ring with three small charms attached to it.

Ron liked it too, so he bought it for me, along with a matching pair of earrings. Wasn't that sweet of him?


When I got home I removed the necklace from its cardboard backing and tried it on. It looked very nice against the plain purple top I had on. As the day wore on, I noticed that the heart twisted around on the chain, and somehow managed to become upside down.

Where had I seen an upside down heart before? Of course, at the bottom of each post that I write here. The silver heart now looked very much like the outline of a bare bottom. This necklace has now become my spanko symbol. I wear it proudly in public, and only those in the know, with spanko tendencies, will understand the significance.

Capturing the Moment

I was thrilled to find that last week's Red or Black post was Chrossed on the weekend. After all these years it's still gratifying when Mr. Chross notices one of my posts and singles it out for inclusion in his Spankings of the Week. My stats take a sharp upturn, and remain higher than usual for several days before settling back.

Speaking of stats, the number of pageviews I was getting dropped significantly after I added the adult content warning to my blog. My blog was no longer found in Google searches, and much of my traffic comes from Google. But then after a week or two, it once more reappeared in Google search, and now my stats are consistently higher than they were in the days before the adult content warning. Go figure!

But back to the subject of this post. I like to tell you about the spankings I receive. Trouble is, when something funny or memorable happens during a spanking, my first thought is, "I must blog about this" but then by the time the spanking is over, I have forgotten the details. This is especially true of the witty quips that Ron often comes out with. Unless I repeat the phrase over and over in my mind, it's often gone before I can record it. Spankings have a habit of driving all other thoughts out of my head, for some reason.

Ron would frown on my sitting down at the computer right after the spanking has concluded to blog about what had just transpired. To be honest, I don't feel much like sitting after one of his spankings. I try to jot down pertinent phrases on a bit of paper, but still I forget important details.

So the question is, how do I capture the moment? Setting up the laptop to record our session might be a solution, but I would be too embarrassed to ever watch it, and Ron would find it distracting. Maybe a tiny tape recorder like the ones we used at the office, hidden in my shirt, would be helpful. But they are quite expensive. I could hire a secretary to take down our memorable words in shorthand, but does anyone still know what shorthand is? How about if I stop Ron after he has spoken, then grab a pen and notebook and scribble down his words. No, scratch that. My handwriting would probably be unreadable because, knowing my husband, he would keep right on spanking.

I guess I'll just have to rely on my feeble memory to recall enough details from a spanking to create a post that is Chross-worthy.

Red or Black?

Last Saturday Ron and I had some fun with our ping pong paddle. It's a nice light implement, gives a good sting and makes a lot of noise, so we often choose it. The paddle is covered with roughened rubber, red on one side and black on the other.

Ron was busily whacking away, then he stopped and asked, "Red or black?"

I thought for a moment. "Red," I confidently guessed. After all, I had a 50/50 chance of being right.

"You win!" Ron cried, and gave me my reward: a flurry of swats with the red side, right in the centre of my sweet spot.

After a few more minutes I was asked again, "Red or black?"

This time I chose black.

Ron enthusiastically shouted, "You win!" and proceeded to give me my reward.

The third time I heard the question, I chose black again and my winning streak continued.

"Wow! I must have eyes in my bottom. Just like Laura Petrie, only she had eyes in the back of her...ouch!" My reminiscences of The Dick Van Dyke Show were interrupted by an extra hard swat with the red side, I think. (In case you aren't familiar with that episode, or never saw the show, watch it here. You'll find out where Laura has her extra eyes at the 6:30 mark.)

"Do you want to see what happens when you guess wrong?" Ron asked.

"Sure."

"You lose!" Ron announced, then gave me exactly the same treatment that I had received for winning—hard and fast in the lower middle of my bottom.

So, win or lose, it's all good when it comes to spanking.

Restoring Order

Last year I described how Ron sometimes uses the implements intended for my bottom in a random order. He does this to keep me focused as well as for his own amusement. For a laugh, I decided to help him keep our spankings orderly.

I took some cardstock from our stash of printing supplies and cut four little card tents. With a felt-tip marker I wrote the numbers 1, 2, 3 and 4 on them, then hid them in my top dresser drawer until Saturday.

When the appointed hour arrived on that day, I hurried upstairs ahead of Ron and arranged the cards in a row on the bed. I had hoped to escape to the bathroom before he came up, but as I turned to leave the room, Ron appeared in the doorway. He looked at the cards, laughed and said, "Well, now, that will keep me organized."

When I returned to the bedroom I saw four implements, each neatly placed below a card. In position number 1 was the dogging bat, a brown leather strap took position 2, the hard, black paddle was at number 3, and at number 4 was the rose paddle. And Ron stayed organized. Not once did the implements land on my bottom out of their assigned order.

When it was over, Ron gathered up the paddles and left to hang them up while I collected the cards and tucked them into the box where the smaller implements are kept. I wouldn't want to use them every time because after all, variety is the spice of life. But once in a while I will bring them out again.

Out of Order

Ron and I had quite a merry spanking session last Saturday. He had chosen four implements—a long black strap, a rattan carpet beater, a short brown leather paddle, and a black and red ping pong paddle—and arranged them on the bed for my inspection. A shiver ran down my spine when I realized what was in store.

I obediently removed my jeans and panties and got into position. Ron's usual habit was to give me several swats with each of the four implements in turn, and so he began. The leather strap seemed especially fierce that day, but the carpet beater was even worse. My attempt to dodge a swat only rewarded me with a whack on my calves and another on my thighs. The short leather paddle came as something of a relief and seemed almost gentle in comparison. The ping pong paddle too was not so bad, or maybe it only seemed that way because my bottom was warming up.

Ron cycled through the implements again, as he usually did. But as the spanking continued,  he often applied a few whacks with something that was not officially next.

"Out of order!" I cried.

"I just wanted to see if you were paying attention," Ron replied.

A few minuted later, it happened again. I got the carpet beater when it was actually the short leather paddle's turn.

"Out of order," I exclaimed again. "What's the matter? Are you getting bored?" Ron chuckled. "Maybe I should put labels on them. 1, 2, 3..."

Ron had a better idea. "No, A, B, C, D. Let's see... Ass, Bum, Caboose, Derrière. That sounds about right."

We both roared with laughter at his cleverness, and the spanking progressed in a very upbeat manner.

A Fly on the Wall

If you had been eavesdropping on our spankings over the past few weeks, you might have heard the odd snippet of conversation in between swats. If you weren't within earshot, I have collected them for you here.

Me: Ow!
Ron: What?
Me: I said 'ow'.
Ron: Does that hurt?
Me: Of course it hurts.
Ron: Then all is as it should be. Bum gets whacked. Bum hurts.

Me: Smart ass.
Ron: No, it's your ass that's going to smart.

Me: You are so masterful.
Ron: Ass-terful.

You're into Spanking If...

I found this clever sign last week on the tumbler blog, Plector, among a whole collection of similar signs. Originally I had included a link to the original post so you could see the rest of them.  Sadly, that blog has since disappeared, but I was able to find a few of the signs reblogged in other places.

Can you think of any additional ways to tell if you are into spanking?

Musical Interlude

 

In this holiday season we enjoy listening to all the old favourite Christmas songs on the radio. We also play our Christmas CDs in the kitchen while preparing dinner together. The other evening Ron was stirring something on the stove and I was bending over in front of a low cupboard, looking for a baking pan. The music was playing, and suddenly I felt a stern hand on my bottom, smacking it in time to the music.

"That's your song," he explained. I listened, and heard Joan Baez singing "The Little Drummer Boy".

"Rum pa pum pum, on my bum," Ron sang.

I guess he had a point.

* * *

The next afternoon I was bent over the end of the bed, struggling through our weekly spanking session. Ron had brought out the big wooden spoon. We both like it (him more than me, though) because of its unusual musical capabilities. When he whacks my left cheek, it makes a distinctive sound. When he whacks the right one, the tone is different. Ron decided to have some fun. He tapped out a rhythm  then stopped.

"Can you guess what I just played?"

"I have no idea." Wrong answer.

"Let me play some more," and he did.

"Still don't know," I answered. I was getting a bit sore from all the percussion.

"It's 'God Save the Queen'", Ron announced proudly. "Listen." He proceeded to play the first verse over again.

"Yes, yes, I get it. That's lovely." I laughed with delight, surprised that Ron had chosen that particular song, since he's quite opposed to the monarchy. I guess he knew I would like it, since I'm quite an enthusiastic supporter of the Queen.

I was even more surprised to hear what came next.

"You can use that in your blog."

So I did. See how obedient I am?

The gods are displeased

Last weekend we were nearly interrupted again during our spanking fun. Ron was using his favourite wooden shoehorn, alternating with a large wooden spoon, and I was just over the initial shock of the assault to my posterior. When he switched to one of the leather paddles, I breathed a sigh of relief and settled in to enjoy the thwack of skin on skin.

All of a sudden we heard a rumbling noise. The lamps on the bedside tables shook. What was that? A heavy truck passing through our neighbourhood? Earth-movign equipment? Not likely on a Sunday afternoon. A low-flying plane? Thunder? An earthquake?

We waited, poised for flight. No further rumblings happened, the lights stayed on, and we decided there was nothing to worry about.

"The spanking gods are angry," Ron surmised.

I laughed. "Then what can we do to appease them?" I asked.

"I can think of something." Ron illustrated his point with the shoehorn on my bottom.

"That ought to satisfy them, but let's make sure," I agreed.

Work Around

Last week I told you about our interrupted spanking. Well, it nearly happened again.

Ron was using the dogging bat quite energetically, and I was loving it. Suddenly he stopped. I thought he had paused to switch implements, but the pause lasted too long. He tapped me on the bottom, said "look" and showed me the end of it.

"What's the matter? Did you break it?" I was only joking; the supple leather was unbreakable, as was the stiff nylon core.

"Look. Blood." Ron showed me the tip, flecked with red dots. We had only started, so I couldn't see how he could have done any real damage to my posterior. Besides, our spankings are never severe enough to draw blood. That would be a big no-no.

"Did you do it with the hairbrush?" That was the first implement used in our session.

"I don't know, but there's a blood blister on your butt."

"Where?" He touched it with his finger, and I could feel that it was on the inner curve of my left cheek, quite near the cleft. It seemed to be in a spot rather out of harm's way, and not at all sore, or at least not any more painful than any other part of my bottom. Oh, dear, was he going to atop before we had even started?

"Never mind," Ron said. "I'll work around it." So he did. I was paddled high and low, and on the outer curves of my bottom, but no implement touched the marked spot. Ron's aim is pretty accurate when he tries.

Priorities

Sometimes I wonder about Ron's priorities.

Take last weekend, for instance. I was bent over the bed and he was giving my bottom some very emphatic attention with a thick leather paddle. I was past the initial, ouchy stage and was settling in to enjoy the thuddy slap of leather on flesh.

All of a sudden it stopped. "Sonofabitch!" I heard Ron exclaim.

"What's the matter?" Was my bum turning a strange colour? Had the paddle broken? Was someone watching through the window?

"The other light's out." I looked up and saw that the bedside table lamp on Ron's side was off, while the one on my side was on. Let me give you a bit of background here. A week earlier, the bulb in my lamp burned out. Ron had taken the lamp apart in order to replace the bulb and had spent a good half hour trying to put it back together again. It was only after I came to his rescue that together we succeeded in reassembling the lamp.

"Never mind about that. We'll fix it later."

He then said some unprintable words, followed by "That makes me mad!" He illustrated his point with a rapid flurry of swats on my bare bottom. Then he tossed the paddle aside and headed over to the lamp.

"Well, I guess we're finished," I said to myself. As I rubbed my bottom Ron rushed past me and headed to the basement to get a new bulb. I had to rub soothing lotion on my own bottom and put the implements away.

I dressed, went downstairs and busied myself in the kitchen. A few minutes later Ron appeared and proudly announced that the crisis was over and the bulb had successfully been replaced.

"It didn't even take you an hour and a half this time. I'm impressed." This last remark earned me a couple of hard swats. It was the least he could do after so rudely interrupting our session.

Stop the Spanking!

We all enjoy spanking for one reason or another, but sometimes the one on the receiving end feels the need for a little more control. Have you ever wished that you could press a pause button and take a little break, or rewind to the beginning and start over when you thought the spanking was nearing the end?

Ron sent me the link below, and while it isn't about spanking per se, I think the idea is right, and a clever person  could modify it to suit an OTK situation.

http://www.worktobejudged.com/strippause/peca.html

When the video pauses, press PLAY to make it continue. It's some interactive fun, and very creative.

Spank the President

 I don't follow American politics, but an article in The Huffington Post caught my interest. In a recent interview, Congresswoman (or is that Congressperson?) Michele Bachmann objected to President Obama's decision to grant amnesty to thousands of undocumented immigrants. She declared that the only way Congress could stop him was by spanking him.

"He has a perpetual magic wand and nobody's given him a spanking yet and taken it out of his hand. That's what Congress needs to do". I'd like to see them try it.

Watch the short but significant portion of the interview here.

Sting and Thud

As we prepared for our regularly scheduled spanking last week Ron announced, "I need to start the potatoes at 5:00 so I can put them in at 5:30." Ron was making ham and scalloped potatoes for dinner. It was the last subject I wanted to discuss at the moment; i had other things on my mind. "I hope you can squeeze me into your busy schedule," I remarked sarcastically. "Oh, I think I can accommodate you." Then he started spanking my bare bottom briskly with a broad, light wooden paddle, as if in a race against the clock. The implement lineup was a mixture of wood and leather. Some sting and some thud - just the way I like it.      When he used the wooden shoehorn, Ron concentrated his strokes on the area just at the top of my thighs, a place that I consider especially tender, and I complained loudly. That only prompted him to apply the paddle and the other implements that followed more vigorously to that area. "Does that hurt?" "Ow! Yes!" "That's good, eh? Hurting is good!" And he continued to prove his point on my rapidly reddening backside. "Yeah, I suppose." But not really. I was wearing a short-sleeved cotton shirt with no bra underneath, and it kept riding up, partially exposing my breasts. I reached back and pulled it down to my waist. Ron immediately pushed it back up. A few minutes later, after more wriggling on my part, I felt it ride up again. I pulled my shirt down; Ron pushed it up. I got the point; he was in control. With a last flurry of very hard strokes from the big leather paddle, Ron announced, "you're done". But as I struggled to regain my composure and stand upright, he landed one final whack on my posterior. "Ow! That hurt!" I whined. "Bummer," was his unsympathetic reply. "Smart ass," I retorted, but I had to laugh.

Another Corrie Spanking (sort of)

Lately there hasn't been much spanking or even any spanko innuendos on the popular British soap, Coronation Street. But that doesn't mean it isn't on the actors' minds. Bill Roache, who has played the role of Ken Barlow on the show since its inaugural episode, recently appeared in a television interview. Can you believe it? He told TV host Jeanette Thomas, "I'd love to smack your bottom."



Naughty Ken! He has always been a womanizer. Married four times, with 28 affairs to his credit, this is the first time his penchant for spanking has been revealed to the public.

Come Spank with Me Again

A few months ago I told you here about a television program that I enjoyed, called Come Dine with Me Canada. In my previous post I conjectured how funny it would be if someone discovered spanking implements in the home of one of the competitors. Well, a recent episode featured an episode absolutely chock full of spanking. Yes, the real thing!

To recap how the show works, five strangers each host a dinner party over five consecutive days, and at the end of each evening the guests rate the party on a scale of one to ten. At the end of the week, the high-scoring competitor wins $1,000.

In each home, a room is set aside to be used for private feedback from the guests. I'll call it "the confessional" - a term used on a similar show called Dinner Party Wars. Individual guests go there to give their honest opinion about the food, the drinks (or lack thereof) and the other guests. During the evening, the camera alternates between the actual dinner party in progress, with frequent comments by the narrator, and the confessional, where guests say what they really think. So you might see a guest take a bite of dessert, say "It's delicious, I love it!" at the table, immediately followed by the same guest saying "I hated it" in the confessional.

 Now on to the spanking episode in Season Three, Episode Two. The host for the evening is Danielle, who is young, friendly, and very casual in her approach to the challenge. She forgets to supply napkins at the table and, when a guest complains, she produces folded paper towels. The guests are Colleen, a fifty-something woman with an irritating laugh; Sandra, a homemaker who devotes most of her time to her makeup and wardrobe; Fraser, a congenial financier, and Tim, a math nerd and food snob.

Left to right: Colleen, Sandra, Danielle with the spoons, Tim and Fraser.

While Danielle prepares the appetizer, the four guests explore her home. In her bedroom they discover a messy closet, piles of shoes, and a mysterious pair of spoons.

COLLEEN: "I don't know what he heck these are."
FRASER: "Maybe these are giant chopsticks."
SANDRA: "I think they're for spanking." Sandra procedes to spank Colleen with one spoon, while Colleen spanks herself with the other.
SANDRA: "I think she likes that."
NARRATOR: "Whatever gave you that idea?"
COLLEEN: "Spank me again! Spank me more!" Sandra glady obliges.
TIM (in the confessional): "It's clearly something she's into."

At the table, as they sample Danielle's scallops appetizer, Fraser mentioned the footwear they found, and Danielle explains that she was a stepdancer for several years. Sandra now feels the time is right to bring up the subject of their other discovery.
SANDRA: "What were those sticks? We found some sticks. I thought they were for spanking so I spanked Colleen."

It turns out that Danielle isn't kinky after all. The sticks are wooden spoons used as traditional musical instruments.

Later, Danielle does a little impromptu dancing at the table, and encourages her guest to join in and "bust a move". Sandra and Tim comply, then Fraser stands up and starts to move.
COLLEEN: "You want me to spank you?"
NARRATOR: "We all do."

Colleen does so, and as the two of them gyrate together, she slaps Fraser's butt with one hand while she spanks her own with the other, amid whoops of joy.
SANDRA (in the confessional): "Colleen, she likes to do the spanking."
NARRATOR: "We noticed."
There are more closeups of Colleen's butt as she spanks herself.

I would have given this evening a ten for the entertainment alone, but Danielle's guests weren't so kind, and her score was mediocre.

Spider on the Wall

Last weekend Ron had an especially hard session in store for me. On the bed he had laid out his choice of implements for the afternoon: a heavy black leather strap, a delrin carpet beater (so much harder to take than the rattan one) and a short rubber paddle, textured and coloured to resemble old brick. Since I was always allowed to choose one additional implement from the toy box, I selected a thin wooden paddle made for a beach game. It had a large surface area and made a loud noise but was relatively harmless.

Ron started off with the leather strap, and for some reason my bottom felt more sensitive than usual.  It might have been because of the scented lotion I had recently rubbed on, or maybe I was just tired.

"Go easy with that thing," I cautioned.

"You like it rough," Ron countered, but he did slow down, and the whacks were a tad less forceful. He then switched to the ouchy carpet beater, which I tolerated less well, and then on to the evil rubber brick, which I absolutely hated. It was something of a relief when the beach paddle came into play. Noisy, a little stingy, but otherwise entirely tolerable.

After the warmup (such as it was!) Ron cycled through the implements again, giving me approximately twice as many swats with each one as he had in the first round. I wasn't anxious for more from the brick, and squeaked as each swat landed. I think he was using the carpet beater when he suddenly stopped and stepped back. What was he up to now?

"I see a spider," Ron announced. I felt the implement land on the bed beside me, and assumed he was joking, but then I saw him walk over to the corner of the room.

"What? I just did the dusting. I didn't see any spiders," I protested. Ron did, on the wall above his bedside table. He quickly captured it in a tissue and went into the bathroom to dispose of it. And that's when I had my chance. I seized the evil brick paddle and slipped it under the bed, then casually bent over the bed again and waited.
 
When Ron returned, it didn't take him long to notice that something was missing.


"Where's the brick?"

"Oh, is it gone?" I asked innocently. "I didn't notice." Ron didn't believe me. He looked around the room then announced, "I'm not playing anymore."

Oops! I glanced around too, pretending to be searching for the errant implement. Ron soon discovered it in its hiding place and gave me a long paddling of hard, swift strokes with the brick as punishment for my naughty deed. By then I was well warmed up and delighted in the forceful treatment.

Sometimes spiders are quite useful to have around.

Say what?

 Our spankings are always for fun, although at times I wonder exactly who is enjoying it more. Sure I like being spanked by the man I love, but do you want to know something? It hurts. I have been known to loudly protest when my bottom is being subjected to torment, and Ron is invariably quite unsympathetic. I'll let you eavesdrop on a few recent exchanges and you'll see what I mean.



H: It hurts!
R: I'm whacking you; that's why it hurts.


H: Ouch!
R: It's supposed to hurt. Isn't that the idea?


H: (While he was using the shoehorn on the crease where my thighs end and backside begins) Ooh! You've found my Achilles' heel.
R: That's not what it looks like from here.
H: I hate to think what it looks like.


R: It's wood day!
H: Ow!


H: (As the big wooden paddle is applied) Ow, that hurts!
R: Ha ha! Is that a good hurt?
H: No, not yet.


H: Ow.
R: What?
H: OW.
R: Eh?
H: OW!
R: Oh.


R: It's leather day!
H: Ow!
 

H: Ow.
R: When you're getting whacked, "ow" is good.

Big Spanking Love

Lately we have become addicted to watching DVDs of Big Love, a television series that aired on HBO from 2006 to 2011. It's the story of Bill Hendrickson, a successful businessman in Utah who is also a practising polygamist. His three wives, Barb, Nicki and Margie, each live in separate houses with their children, and share a common back yard as well as a husband. The trials and tribulations of their private lives are evenly mixed with shady business dealings and conflicts with the leader of the polygamous "compound" where Bill grew up.

In such a patriarchal setting I decided that spankings were inevitable, and I though that finally, in Season 2 episode 8, I had found one. Bill and Margie are in her bedroom. He holds her close and asks, "What do you like?"

"When you please me."

"That's naughty, Margie." She gazes at him and nods. "You're a naughty girl."

That sounded like an invitation for a spanking, and said as much to Ron as we watched. But alas, it was not to be. The "naughty" thing that she liked, and what he apparently enjoyed too, was oral sex, performed in front of a curtainless window so we got a very nice view of each of their bare bums. So, by the way, did Nicki, who was watching from her house.

Bill with Nicki, Barb and Margie

But that was only a hint of things to come, and in Season 2 episode 9 we have the real thing. Sort of.

Margie is doing the shopping at Home Plus, a big box hardware store that Bill owns. She stops to chat to Benny - Bill's sixteen-year-old son by his first wife Barb - who is working there for the summer. Greg, Benny's supervisor, walks by and comes over to greet Margie with a warm hug. Greg has recently been transferred from Bill's other store, hasn't seen Margie for a long time, and doesn't know about her relationship. She excuses herself as quickly as possible, but not before another, even longer hug from Greg. After Margie is gone, Greg asks Benny how he knows her, and Benny explains, "She used to babysit me and my sisters."

Greg then asks, "Did she ever give you a spanking?"

Benny ignores this but when Greg goes on to say that she was "the best piece of ass I ever had" and that she would be worth a second try, Benny he shoves Greg into a display of space heaters. 

Out in the parking lot, Bill helps Margie put her parcels into the trunk of her car, and they discuss household matters. When he closes the trunk, he smiles and says her name. Margie looks up expectantly, assuming he is continuing the conversation. Instead, he slaps her bottom and says, "Thank you for shopping at Home Plus." All right! This is looking good.

A few scenes later Margie is back in the store with two large bags, heading to the service desk. No one is there so she rings the bell for service. Greg approaches her from behind, and she explains that she bought the wrong size of furnace filters and needs to return them. Instead of going around to the other side of the counter, he bends over it to retrieve the necessary form. Margie glances down at his presented bottom with a thoughtful look. He scribbles on the form, gives it to her and she hurries away. Benny has been watching, and when Greg looks up and notices him, he starts spanking himself with a wooden ruler that has suddenly materialized out of nowhere. 

Bennie goes after Margie, tells her to stop flirting, and says that his father doesn't want her shopping there anymore. Margie protests that Bill knows she has had relationships with other men in the past, and isn't jealous.

"Your father knows that I dated other men before him and he's fine with that," she explains. "Are you, Benny?"

"Well, he's not fine knowing that you're into spanking them. That you're a big spanker!" he shouts as she walks away.

In the final scene, Margie confronts Bill about what Benny has told him, and asks about not being allowed in the store. Bill declares that he has said no such thing, and has no need to be jealous of what has happened in the past. Margie is relieved. She ends their conversation by saying, "By the way, the spanking was Greg's idea. I never even liked it that much." The look on Bill's face makes it clear it's the first time he has heard about Margie spanking Greg. He immediately phones his partner and tells him to have Greg transferred to his other store.