Happy Hurricane

I really shouldn't use the word hurricane in respect of the high winds which have affected the UK last weekend, not when I see coverage on TV of real hurricanes affecting people in other parts of the world, but Happy High Winds doesn't sound so neat. Anyway the unusually windy weather got me spanked and the noise it made covered the noise I made so I was thankful for it, although not when it kept me awake at night.

The wind strength overnight Friday and into Saturday was exceptional. We were going to an informal dinner at a friend's house, we were going to have fresh made pizzas (he does his own dough) with choice of toppings and I said we'd bring over some rosemary bread, ciabatta and a selection of olives. We have a little baker in town who's been going for about a year and a half, he's brilliant, artisan, he sells out every day by mid morning and closes shop so you have to be there early if you want something specific. We also have an open market on weekends and an olive bar is amongst the stalls with a good and different range which you can pick and mix from. So P came with me and dropped me near the bakers while he went to park the car and I got in the queue (line to you US guys) outside his door, yes they were waiting for him to open. P said he'd go to the market after he'd parked and we'd meet there.

So my part went well enough I got the bread I wanted, it smells so wonderful in his shop I would have been happy queueing longer, then walked to the town square to find my husband. When I got there the area was almost blank, only about four or five stalls were set up from what normally must be about thirty or more. P was talking to the veg man, who he knows, and apparently the atrocious winds and forecast for more throughout the day had put traders off and they'd decided it wasn't worth attending with likely low numbers of people and the risk of having their canopies and produce blown around the square. Too risky. Unfortunately the olive man wasn't amongst the heroes who'd decided to risk it. My beaming smile and bag of still warm bread wasn't enough to take the look of disappointment off P's face. I put my arm though his and said not to worry we'd have some nice dips before our pizzas, then I noticed an Indian trader had made it and said we could always take some bhajis and vegetable samosas to pick at. My grumpy husband said they wouldn't be in keeping with what was planned. He said he would walk up to MandS and see what they'd got on the shelf and I said OK I wanted to go to Superdrug for some toiletries so we'd meet back on the square. We parted and I thought within seconds that MandS have moved their site to out of town, I turned to call P but he was already well on his way and there was no point shouting into the wind he wouldn't have heard me.

I got the stuff I wanted and returned to the square, P wasn't there, I went and bought a mixture off the Indian guy while I waited. When P finally returned he didn't have kind words for MandS, or for me for not telling him they'd moved, or for a little deli that's recently opened in a small boutique under the old Corn Exchange but didn't have any olives. 'I mean what sort of deli doesn't have ****ing olives', he said.

So we walked back to the car and it wasn't until we go in it that he realised I'd bought some Indian food because the smell was wonderful and you couldn't miss it. He told me it was no good we wouldn't be using it and I should take it back. I refused and told him not to be silly and said I'd phone Jane and ask her what she thought but he said no way, really adamant, we'd stick to what we'd promised. I said well look on the bright side, we've got half of what we'd promised, my half actually, it was his half that was lacking. He said well I'd just wasted a tenner or whatever on the Indian food because it would be going in the bin. Then he told me I needed a good spanking for even thinking about it let alone buying it, especially after he'd said no. Then we were quiet for a bit and I thought about what he'd said and I knew darn well I'd done a sensible thing but, hey, a spanking's a spanking, so I kind of sheepishly said I was sorry.

Nothing more was said until about a mile out of town he hit the brakes and screeched a bit as he turned last minute at a roundabout, he said sorry for it he doesn't normally drive badly, I could see he was heading for Waitrose. I told him they don't do their olive bar any longer, he said he knew that, worse luck, but they still had a deli counter and it definitely had a decent range of olives. So to cut it short we got some, he cheered up and we went home.

Later in the morning, towards lunchtime, he told me I'd be having a lovely little assortment of Indian food for lunch. I told him no way it would spoil my appetite as I'd already had a breakfast. 'Hmph, thought as much,' he said, 'it'll be going in the bin then, shocking waste.'

I said I was sorry again.

'Not as sorry as you're going to be,' he said. And he took me upstairs, to the bedroom not the office. He wasn't in a bad mood at all and nor was I, you have to know by now that I have an agreeable if not always understandable relationship with my husband and spankings, it is unwritten but covers the whole spectrum of spankings from near tearful punishment to sexy foreplay and everything in between. I guessed what was coming here and my heart was thumping for it.

I was right, I got my knickers taken down and ended up across his lap on the bed with him giving me a lecture on food waste and disobeying him. Oh he makes it sound so bad but actually it's music to my ears and he can spank me as hard and as long as he thinks he should for my 'wrongdoing' and I just get wetter and wetter. Eventually I started crying out but the cries were overpowered by the howling wind and the annoying garden chimes our neighbour has, as well as someones fence way up the hill which had obviously come loose and was flapping like crazy.

Unfortunately my spanking was stopped short, although I think it was probably near its end anyway, when we heard an enormous crash on our terrace P said quick get off my lap and dashed to the window. He couldn't see what it was but said he needed to find out and he left me there with my knickers down with just a parting 'I hope you've learned your lesson.'

He didn't come back up and I made myself respectable and went downstairs fifteen minutes later. He was still outside sweeping up fragments of terracotta from a very large Italian plant pot which had blown over and smashed, and re-siting some of the other stuff so that they were wedged against each other and couldn't meet the same fate. I went out and helped him.

When we were done we went in and had a mug of tea. I repeated I was sorry about wasting the Indian food and told him my bottom still hurt from the spanking he'd given me. He said not to worry about the food, he'd be freezing it, it would come out fine. I said 'Bastard so you spanked me for nothing.'

'Not at all,' he said, 'I spanked you for disobeying. And I haven't finished yet.'

I'm sure I felt a dribble. We finished our tea, neither of us had lunch, he took me upstairs again but he didn't spank me. Instead he fucked me and thank goodness the wind was still doing its job although thankfully not on any more of our plant pots.

Have a fun weekend.

Ronnie
xx