Commis Chef Spanking

It was delicious to get an unexpected spanking last weekend, the only trouble was I wanted more.

We had guests you see, and they have children, and children play and pry, innocently of course, but in our house that could mean coming across something or other which is not so innocent and might be a tad difficult to explain away as 'props for a school play' and that sort of thing. Especially as the sort of places they might encounter these items might seem a bit odd, if not to the children then certainly to their mom and dad. (Or perhaps not to their mom and dad, who knows) I'm sure you understand. I mean why does 'Uncle P' keep a cane taped under his desk, why is there a leather paddle in the one of the drawers, what's it for? How come there's horse's riding crop under the bed in the spare room?

So we pre-empted any possible embarrassment, well I did actually, by gathering up all our bits and bobs and locking them in a suitcase. P's brother joined us in the afternoon, with his son and a friend, all in all we had a house full and we had preparations to make for dinner and things were a bit chaotic. P's brother could see the problem and suggested they all went out to the park for an hour or two, he had a football in the car, they also have small boats for hire, crazy golf and other amusements. So off they went to let off some steam, leaving us to get organised. P's department, I have to admit, and he soon had the kitchen sorted, stuff blanched, trimmed, chopped, marinated, garnishes done, all the little things that might get forgotten later P likes to know they're done, then he's relaxed about turning out some great food later. He told me he'd left the cleaning down to me, he did the skilled stuff, he said, his 'commis' had to clean up after him, all great masters had apprentices, he said, and patted my backside condescendingly.

I told him that truly great masters cleaned up as they went along. No not a chance, said my husband, and furthermore they don't tolerate any lip from their commis, and he led me by the arm from the kitchen and up the stairs, he told me he was going to set me straight, warm my backside, I'd soon find out how great masters dealt with cheeky commis.

He took me into our little office but he'd forgotten all our implements were locked away, so we went to the bedroom and he pulled the suitcase down from the wardrobe top and asked me where the key was. I was sure I'd put it in a little jewellery case but it wasn't there, I told him I didn't know where it was then I must have dropped it somewhere. I'm sure he believed me but he pretended he didn't, he said I needed a very sound spanking and maybe my memory would improve. He took a slipper from my side of the bed, undid my jeans and had me across his lap on the bottom of the bed in no time at all, and he walloped me good and hard for several minutes with me initially giggling but soon struggling and genuinely ouching; rubber soled bedroom slippers pack quite a sting. He stopped abruptly,

I was a bit disappointed.

"Now go downstairs and I want that kitchen spic and span inside fifteen minutes, young lady, and while you're doing it you'd better jog your memory as to the whereabouts of that key. If I have to snap the padlock off to get into the case you won't be sitting comfortably at dinner I can assure you." Music to my ears.

"Yes, Sir, " I pouted and left the bedroom holding my bottom. I looked at my watch, fifteen minutes, eh, I reckoned I could do it quicker than that especially with the implied threat of further bottom warming.

It wasn't to be. I finished the kitchen no problem, P came in and asked me if I was going to tell him where the key was, I couldn't. Wouldn't have actually even if I'd known, I really fancied some further 'masterly' warming. Unfortunately we heard tyres on the gravel outside. P put his hand on my bottom and told me I was very lucky. I'd say I'd been unlucky, wouldn't you?

Great weekend though.

Sorry about the writing sizes, not sure why it keeps happening. Maybe it's because I'm still using old Blogger interface

Ronnie

xx

Pictures from MarQe's Study and Miss Pink.