Friday, 19 December 2014

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Halls are decked, trees up. Cards posted, just the neighbours to be written/delivered the weekend and a couple of last minute pressie to buy.

I smiled to myself and thought 'lucky girl' when I spotted this card in Clintons the other day. The store was quite busy so I had to stand a bit awkwardly, close to the card racks so that people could get past me, and snap it close up with my phone.


Then I heard on the tv news later that Clintons were in trouble over one of their humour Christmas cards which depicted Santa on a council estate, apparently Clintons apologised and removed it from sale. I wondered whether the card I'd snapped had been produced in the UK and, if so, whether it's subject, humour or not, might offend that bunch of idiots who have been laying down the law recently about certain adult practices. I hoped it might and that Clintons would tell them to bugger off if they made contact.

Have a fun weekend.

Ronnie
xx

Wednesday, 17 December 2014

Comfort from a Caning

Bizarre heading isn't it but I think it's true, at least as applied to me, recently, and explained by my husband whose words I never doubt:)

It's weird, and I know I've mentioned before about my love-hate relationship with the cane, but I've come to have a better understanding of it, aided by P's wisdom, some practical experience and some thinking.........the cane causes me a lot of thinking. My love-hate has progressed from around 40-60 to more like 60-40 and still a work in progress. I'm still a bit sore from the recent application of the cane, which was only yesterday, and that's a good time to write a post while its effects are still impressing me both physically and mentally.
 
I suppose you'll want to know why I was caned and I'm going to tell you anyway, it was because my dearest thought I needed it; that doesn't sound like a very good reason for assaulting someones bottom with a long whippy stick, does it, but that was nevertheless the reason I was given when I asked him why he'd ordered me upstairs to our little store room where he was going to give me a 'good' caning.
   

We were at our office Friday, the building had closed and apart from a new tenant at the bottom of the corridor we were the only ones left. I'd been ranting on and off during the afternoon about getting things done for Christmas, P not being helpful by giving me a list of present ideas, me having to do all the client Christmas card addresses over again because the spreadsheet had been stolen from my laptop and P didn't have a copy and other petty niggles which were mostly season related. It was time to go home but I made my way upstairs and opened our little office as instructed, I didn't actually want a caning I wanted to go home, change and have some dinner but there I was waiting for my husband to come and cane me. We have one chair and a small desk in the office and lots of boxes stacked almost ceiling high along two walls and several, the most accessed, scattered about. In the corner, leaning against the wall, unseeable from the the door, leans a school cane with a curvy handle. It used to be under P's desk, stuck with packing tape, in our main office but he moved it when some electrical work was being done, I don't think he wanted the technicians to discover it and I certainly didn't.

P came into the office, took the keys out of the door and closed it, turning the snib just in case. He told me to take my trousers off as he went to the corner and brought the cane over to the desk, moving the chair aside to make some space. He didn't talk, why the bloody hell didn't he talk, slow things down a bit, give me chance to adjust gear, admonish me if he liked (and me usually), I don't know why he was just very business like. I'd thrown my trousers on top of one of the open boxes and stood in the middle of the floor in my knickers and a cotton shirt, my hands clasped in front, I always do that, protective instinct I think although it wasn't the area that needed protecting. My husband took me by the arm, over to the desk, told me to bend over, grab the far side and lean on my elbows, I was to stay like that and not get up until he told me I could. He lifted the tail of my shirt and pulled my knickers down to my thighs, I emitted a squeaky whimper and shivered even though it wasn't cold. Then he spoke. 

"I know you've got a lot of things on your mind but there's no need to make such a fuss about it, don't waste time moaning and groaning just get on with them. Then they get done, then they're no longer a problem. I'm going to cane your bottom very hard to snap you out of it and remind you that I'm here for you and to help sort things out with you.....and to give you something else to think about apart from your 'to do' list."

"You could have just...." I started to say he could have just told me that, he didn't have to cane me, but then I heard the movement which told me he'd raised his arm and then the rush which you sense rather than hear as the cane slices through the air and lands across your bottom.
 
I gasped and went ...Oowwww! and stomped my foot on the floor just as the second stroke landed and caused me to suck in air through my teeth and whine through my nose as I let the breath out. I didn't want to scream, I was trying to work out how far the new tenants' office was from where we were now, could they hear me from there, I didn't think so and then another swish of the cane seared into my buttocks and I screeched ...Ohhhhh P pleeease... . and stomped foot to foot wiggling my scorched bottom to try and shake away the pain. My husband paused, not to give me space but because he couldn't cane a moving target, he barked at me to BE STILL! and I whimpered and did my best to keep my bottom steady and the fourth stroke burned into it sending me into another flurry of urgent stompings. I begged not so hard *pleeeeeeease* but he said not to be so silly I was getting a caning and there wasn't any point to a caning that wasn't hard. 


Then he moved closer to the desk and me, I felt him against my side, his left arm went across my back and gripped my waist, he held me very tight. "I told you you'd be getting GOOD CANING my girl, and that's just what you're going to get!" I squealed again as the strokes started raining down at an angle now, diagonally across my cheeks one at a time, they were fast too and still hard, probably not as hard as when he was standing back but there were lots of them and my backside was on fire. Stomping didn't help and wiggling was hardly possible with my husband's strong grip restraining me. I started sniffling amongst the owwing oohing and squealing, I thought I might cry and I suddenly realised I actually wanted to cry and then it went away because as soon as you realise you want something and try to help it happen, it stops. P stopped presumably when the caning had become 'good', not for me I might add, it was unexpected and unnecessary. I thought he might fuck me, which I wouldn't have liked, but he didn't. Instead he brought my trousers over and put his arm round me.
 
"There, you needed that, now lets have no more moaning about all the stuff you've got to do." Then he kissed me on the forehead and told me to put my trousers on and let's get going, it was time to go home. We went downstairs together my backside was smarting awfully, I was sure I must have several welts. We locked our office and let ourselves out the front door, I was walking a bit stiffly that's how much it hurt. When we got home P made dinner because he's quicker than me, I changed into jeans, loose ones, I looked at my bum in the mirror and it was red with purple-grey parts and several angry lines and a little blister on my right cheek, I didn't think there were welts but I thought it might be stiff later. Over dinner P talked away as normal in between snatches of tv news, I moved about a bit but didn't wince or complain and by the time I was putting the dishes away, the fire had reduced to a mellow burn which I actually find quite nice although some wouldn't.

P went to collect a parcel from a neighbour's and when he came back I was sitting in the lounge, he came across and sat on the arm of my chair, he rubbed my shoulders with his hand and asked me if I felt better now, I said my backside didn't. He smiled and said he'd give that a rub later if it was still hurting, I said I thought he'd given it enough attention for one day but really I hoped he would.

Later P said he was going down the pub for an hour, he sometimes does on a Friday, I went with him which I don't often do these days, on the walk down he told me it was nice to have my company and that he'd help me get organised and I said thanks. It was no problem, he said, that's what he was there for.....that and to give a good spanking if I let the stress get the better of me. He patted my bottom and I said ouch but I liked it really and I didn't care who saw it, I put my hand in his and felt comforted and looked after, it was a nice end to my week. 


Ronnie
xx

Monday, 15 December 2014

UK Bans Spanking

Other banned acts include:

Caning
Aggressive whipping
Penetration by any object “associated with violence”
Physical or verbal abuse (regardless of if consensual)
Urolagnia (known as “water sports”)
Female ejaculation
Strangulation
Facesitting
Fisting


I think it's an un-necessary and stupid intrusion on individual freedom to do as we choose, responsibly, and the State getting involved is unwarranted and hypocritical (how many members of Parliament - both houses - engage in at least some of the practices outlawed:)) As a whole I doubt it will impact on the spanking community but I feel for those who rely on aspects of it to provide an income and I hope they can find a way round it. The fact that the whole thing is laughable is underlined by a small tongue-in-cheek piece in yesterday's Sunday Times by Rod Liddle, who takes a weekly look at sillyness, usually 'committed' by idiots in authority or high public profile who should not be. 

His take was:-  

A sitdown protest for porn’s wild side.

To Westminster, then, for the mass demo protesting about government restrictions on certain sexual acts in pornographic video films.


They re-enacted them too. An uncomfortable experience for us men, I confess.

I ended up lying on the wet grass with an angry sex worker perched on my head, like a particularly outlandish hat seen at Ascot.

Some 500 squatting protesters made their point that a whole range of practices — some of which I do not understand, and none of which is ever undertaken by decent Christian folk — have been deemed illegal if shown on film in the United Kingdom.

These practices include “humiliation” — which, by accident, is my default position on the two occasions each year on which I am allowed sexual intercourse (my birthday and Walpurgisnacht, since you asked).

Anyway, if it’s consensual and doesn’t maim or kill you it should be OK, the protesters averred.

Hermione's brunch from yesterday covers this same topic.

Out Christmas shopping today.

Have a good week.

Ronnie
xx

Friday, 12 December 2014

Tender Flesh

Not long ago I posted one of P's extravagant little analogies or theories about tenderised flesh. He expounded the virtues of tenderised flesh, relating (somewhat dubiously) the culinary logic to the spanking equivalent. I knew he was talking tongue in cheek but it got my attention, even more so when he said he would practically demonstrate it to me later. Unfortunately he didn't get the chance because we had visitors but he made up for it.

To prove his theory, all he needed was a volunteer to allow their flesh to be tenderised and then, after a little resting or maturing of said conditioned flesh, test it to see if it had altered in quality, if it had become tastier as he put it, more responsive, more pleasurable to handle, pliant, juicy, blah blah, words roll off my husband's tongue. Feigning interest in helping out in his little experiment and suppressing the urge to ask him to just spank me, *Urgently*, I volunteered to be his guinea pig.

He didn't use the rolling pin he'd been pulverising his veal with; instead he used our Leatherthorn Paddle, one of our most enduring and loved implements, still as beautifully fearful today as it was when it was shipped from the US many years ago. 



I like love leather which is just as well because I got near a hundred or so swats across my knickered bum, in batches admittedly, with little breaks in between for P to switch hands. When he let me up I was hot, seething in fact and he told me to just pull up my jeans while he went off to make a cup of tea. I sat next to him on the sofa pretending to read a magazine while we drank our tea and P caught up with some emails on his ipad. After nearly an hour, and having long since run out of tea and vaguely interesting magazine snippets, P told me it was time. Thank god I thought, squeezing my thighs together, good things come to those who wait right? Well they do, but not so soon. 

P picked up the Leatherthorn again and told me to take my jeans off which I did but with suspicion, which turned out to be well founded. P told me he was going to spank me again and to get across his lap, I started to remonstrate that surely it wasn't appropriate and I thought my flesh was ready for, you know, succulence testing or whatever he wanted to call it. No, he assured me, I needed further tenderising, no question about it he said as he thumbed my knickers down over my hips, and it had to be on the bare bottom this time. I wiggled involuntarily because both the lowering of my knickers and the words bare bottom always send a little ripple through me when I'm across my husband's lap. Then the paddle started and gosh it was sharp, it always seems so much more on bare flesh even though the thin satin of my knickers could hardly have made much difference. The mental aspect makes a difference though and so did the fact that I'd already been well spanked not long ago. It was sexy and very painful and I was struggling and begging him to stop towards the end, which I wouldn't have done if I'd know the end was coming. I think I got about the same as earlier but of course my bum was much more tender at the start so if felt many times worse. When it stopped I was heaving deep breaths, I held myself taut for a while in case it resumed but then when it didn't I just flopped into my husband's lap exhausted.

Was that it then? Experiment over? When did I get to hear the results, when did I get paid?:) I didn't say anything, I didn't feel sexy either, just lay there feeling spanked.

After about 5 minutes I felt P's fingers starting to trail ever so lightly down the small of my back, resting near the top of my crack before drawing tiny light circles first on one cheek then the other. I could feel them but almost through a haze because my bottom had been partially anaesthetised by the Leatherthorn, yes it seemed to me that feelings had been bloody lessened not increased. But my husband knew better. He followed on with a little light squeezing then some gentle rubbing with his palm, then more finger feathering, in circles getting bigger so that part of the circumference caused his fingers to fall into the crevice between my cheeks then out again keeping a steady light pressure. Then the other cheek, same again only now I started clenching and shifting my hips each time his finger dipped between the mounds of my buttocks. 

Feeling was returning to my bottom generally too, even the crests of my bottom were relishing the light teasing of my husband's fingers and becoming greedy for more. I started to wiggle. Got a playful slap and told no. That made me want it more and I started moaning as well as wiggling. Then P's hands held me firmly one each side of my hips, his thumbs kneading my bum flesh and I felt him shuffling his thighs under me to allow his head to bend down and then I felt his lips on my bum gently kissing, and his tongue flicking at my throbbing flesh while approving mmmm murmuring sounds escaped from his lips. Murmuring sounds were escaping from my own lips too and moisture was beginning to trickle below. P told me he thought I was wonderfully sensitive, even the tiniest touch now was setting me off, he asked me how my bum felt and as he asked me he was gently stroking it and it was as much as I could do to remain coherent as I almost squealed it was tender, and then he asked me if it felt nice while he was still stroking, and I groaned that it felt fucking nice and it hurt and it wanted him and I wanted him. Then he slapped my bum because I'd been wiggling again and shoved me off his lap onto the sofa with my knees on the floor.

I felt P's knees between my legs, pushing my own knees apart, then his lips and tongue started working over my bottom. He used his hands to guide my hips but he needn't have bothered they had a mind of their own. When my husband's tongue started burrowing down between my cheeks while his thumbs gently pulled them apart, I thought I was going to cum and my hips started to hump the sofa, P noticed immediately and withdrew his tongue and slapped me again. I begged him to put it back but he wouldn't, he was teasing, he asked me how I was enjoying his little experiment and I just kept saying please. Then he turned me over, he had a beaming grin on his face, he was pleased and I was desperate and then he told me he was going to fuck me with his tongue and I started bucking into the air even as he was going down onto me, in fact I'm surprised I didn't cause him to bite his lip...or mine....it was that violent and then his mouth found me and I screamed for all I was worth and time stood still as waves of pent up emotion surged through me. Phew!

P got up and sat with me, his lower face was shiny with my spend and his saliva. He asked me if I agreed with his theory. I said yes but then I'd have agreed with anything at that moment.

Have a fun weekend.   


Ronnie
xx

Wednesday, 10 December 2014

Fifth Annual Great Online Cookie Exchange.....

Started by JZ.

Mince Pie Cookies.

This is an easy peasy Jamie Oliver recipe.

If you're like me you need a cuppa first. So grab your apron and put the kettle on and lets get started....



You will need...

250g unsalted butter, softened
140g sugar
1 egg yolk
Grated zest of 1 clementine (any orange will do)
300g plain flour
1 x 411g jar fruit mincemeat
2 baking trays
Greaseproof paper

Makes 30

Heat the oven to 180C/gas 4
Line 2 baking trays with greaseproof paper.

There will be an egg beaten in this recipe


yes I know have posted it before but it makes me smile

Beat the butter and sugar together in a large bowl until creamy then add the egg yolk and clementine (orange) zest and beat again to combine. 


Sift in the flour

Try not to get flour on your bottom


then fold through most of the mincemeat
Stir until the mixture starts to come together – use your hands to make a dough, if needed.
Pull off little biscuit-sized clumps of dough and space them evenly over the trays and gently press down slightly to shape into cookies.
Dot a little of your saved mince on top of each cookie.
Pop them in the oven for 10 minutes, or till golden but still a bit doughy in the middle.

You can serve warm (delicious)
Or leave them to cool on a wire rack and store them away.

You can shape the dough into biscuits then freeze. 


Now make sure you clean up before your partner gets home or you will be doing it with a sore bottom.



Thanks JZ.

Lots of wonderful recipes for you to try so go check them out.





Ronnie
xx

Egg spanking picture from Au Fil des Jours. Let me know if any of the others are yours.

Tuesday, 9 December 2014

Cookie Exchange



Tomorrow, Wednesday 10th is The Fifth Annual Great On line Cookie Exchange organised by JZ. Read about it here.  Don't forget to stop by.

Ronnie
xx