Busy week, not
complaining but no time to write and no spankings to write about anyway (boo!!). So here's one of my travelogues which I haven't posted
before and yes there is spanking in it but not until near the end and
it's not very strong (boo again) because it couldn't be under the circumstances, you'll see why. We were in South Africa by
the way. It's a bit long even by my sometimes standards.
"Oh that's not
a riding crop," said Johan, our host. He'd obviously overheard me mention
the metre long leather whip hanging from the wall. "It's a sjambok, made
from rhino hide; herdsmen used them traditionally but they got corrupted
into other uses including the police force only theirs were made of dense
plastic because of budgets." He was smiling ... South Africans did have a
sense of humour then.
We were in the main lodge of a game resort on the
Pilanesberg national reserve, waiting for our guide to come and collect
us. There were trophies around the walls too, and tribal artefacts and
crude weapons, old uniforms next to animal hides and flintlock rifles,
about which P commented he wouldn't fancy just that standing between him
and a charging lion. There was a picture of David Attenborough on one
wall, I didn't read the script underneath it but assumed he must have been
doing something worthy. Johan saw me looking. "Yes he's been here, there's
a dam not far away and he endorsed some conservation work that was undertaken there. He's not just a British treasure, you know, the whole world holds that gentleman in esteem and has a right to
him."
Johan must have done his homework, I thought, or he was just
naturally knowledgeable about his own country. He was certainly proud of it. Then our guide came. I had one last look at the sjambok on the wall as we followed him out, perhaps they sold them in the souvenir
shops.
There were five of us in the Land Rover, us and a Canadian
couple. Apparently the bush camp where we were going would only have seven guests that evening whereas it could accommodate up to two dozen, all in tents. It would be virtually full the next night. The Land Rover had no air conditioning so all the windows were open. It was old, P thought probably 1950's. The driver, who turned out to be our camp manager and head gamekeeper, told us later it was made in 1958 and that he could replace virtually any part on it without recourse to a garage, he seemed proud of that, it was obviously his baby. I asked about sliding some of the windows shut, I was thinking of my hair although I didn't say it, but he said not to because it would get stuffy and it was best to keep them all open so anything that flew in could fly out again. I didn't like the sound of that but he knew his business, I'd say he was about forty to forty-five, athletic and bronzed with an easy way of talking, his name was Jacob, I thought if I happened to get stranded in the jungle I could think of worse people to be with.
The journey to the
bush camp was about thirty minutes, I don't think it was many miles as the
crow flies but on the bumpy higgledy piggledy road that connected the camp
with the lodge it was slow going, no problem at all for the sure footed
Land Rover but out of consideration for his passengers, Jacob wasn't
rushing. It wasn't quite like the air conditioned comfort
we'd enjoyed on the two hour drive up from Pretoria but more
enjoyable because Jacob was talking all the while, filling us in on the
wildlife we could expect to see, safety regulations when at camp and when
out on safari plus meal arrangements, washing facilities and security
aspects which we hadn't even thought about. Commonsense stuff, perhaps,
but to be taken very seriously. He said some of the stories he could tell
us about guests who thought they could just do as they pleased and somehow
they'd be all right, because it was an organised tourist trip, would make
us laugh and some would make our hair stand on end. He said to forget that
we were tourists, we weren’t covered by insurance for most aspects of our
stay and there was no guarantee we wouldn’t get hurt. He said we’d have
more chance of making a claim if we tripped over a mop bucket than if we
got bitten by a lion. I was sure he was being serious, too, even
though he said with a smile.
Our home for the next two days was a
clearing amongst the trees with a space for vehicles to park and turn, a
thatched roof open sided hut which was the focal point of the camp and
where all meals were served, with a small bar and a few lounge chairs
scattered around the perimeter. It was raised off the ground by about
three feet, plenty of room for snakes to slither under it without
disturbing us, P joked with me. I didn't think it was funny.
We
were taken to our tents which were separated by about six or eight metres, they were also raised off the ground I was pleased to see after what my husband had said. Whether it had been true or not. There was a double and a single bed in each one, Johan followed us up the steps
into our tent and for one ghastly moment I thought we'd be sharing but
that wasn't the case, he was just making sure we were comfortable and happy with the arrangements. P assured him it was fantastic, the porter who'd accompanied us showed us the bathroom, which was a part open-air cubicle at the rear of the tent, and how to work the shower. There was nothing
else to show; no aircon, no electricity and only kerosene lamps in the
evening, which would be lit by the staff. Oh and a whistle hanging on the
wall ... for emergencies. Blow it hard, said the porter with a beaming
white smile, and someone would come running. I didn’t like the sound of
that, it had to be a wind-up surely.
The porter left to take Johan
to his tent and P started unpacking our stuff, or at least the bits of it
he wanted, then he passed the job over to me. I couldn’t see much point
putting things into the limited cupboard and drawer space available so
there wasn’t much to do. P was playing with the digital camera and a
videocam, making sure he had spare batteries and data cards and generally
fiddling. I found a Marlborough leather belt amongst P’s things, I hadn’t
put it there and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him wear it,
especially not with shorts. I asked him if he was going to put the digital
camera into its case and attach it to the belt, there was a loop on the
case for exactly that purpose. And perhaps a nice long knife in a leather
sheath would look well on it. He’d look the part when we went into the
bush, I said. He laughed and said no, it was to tan my backside with if I
gave him any problems. “Ooh how thoughtful,” I said, “I’ll have to be on
my best behaviour then.”
We were to report to the main hut (it was
the restaurant, bar, meeting area and focal point of the camp) there would be hot and cold drinks and a short official introduction to our itinerary over the next couple
of days and a recap on camp protocol and health and safety. After that we
were going on a two hour drive, we’d see some wildlife at a watering hole near
dusk and have sundowners half way up a small mountain. We’d be back in time
for dinner which would be served around 8 pm. We were told to take a warm
top with us as it got cold very quickly after sunset. I was
excited.
We went back to our tents to get cameras and tops and ten
minutes later set off in a converted open back Toyota Landcruiser. It could carry eight and was two-tiered in the back to make sightseeing easier. We got the higher tier seating which pleased me because if anything attacked us I thought our chances would be better. I told P but he said what about if something came out of the trees, then we’d get it first. I hadn’t thought
of that. The Canadian couple who’d travelled from the lodge with us earlier were
on the lower seat in front of us plus a couple who’d arrived the previous
day who were actually South Africans but living and working in Europe. I
didn’t like her, Lizelle, she was snobby but her husband was okay. P thought she was fit, only because her bottom filled her shorts out unignorably fully though. He’d mentioned it earlier when she’d strutted down the path to her tent to get the stuff she wanted for the drive.
He’d commented she was quite a bit taller than her husband too but I said
it was just the ridiculously thick soled walking boots she was wearing and
I was surprised he’d even noticed as he'd seemed mesmerised by her behind. I thought if a lion jumped onto
their seat I hoped it would be her side.
We actually saw our first lions on
that short trip but it was purely by chance, not planned. We were near the
watering hole watching water buffalo and antelope when a pride shuffled
past us no more than ten metres away. We didn’t see a big male, the female
was leading 5 smaller lions, two male and three females, larger than cubs
but not full grown. They weren’t distracted by us at all apart from the
odd glance and, amazingly, none of the other animals were stressed by the
lions. It was as if they had some sort of pact at drinking times, though
not presumably at meal times. The ranger told us we had more to fear from water buffalo than we did from lions. They, and hippos, killed more people each year than lions, he told us. Nevertheless he had a rifle in a holder near his leg.
P took loads of photos until the light
faded, he said he’d edit them later but he didn’t because we were a bit
later than planned getting back to camp and it was straight to dinner. We
didn’t get our sundowners either. Dinner was a meat feast plus a
vegetarian dish followed by bought in puddings,then exchanging stories
round the camp fire. Well it was the cook’s fire actually and set slightly
away from where we ate but we could still feel the heat from it and the
flames were cheerful.
Snobby lady Lizelle was employed by the UN and
her husband, Darren, was a data scientist. She wasn’t happy about
her food, she said they’d had one of the same meats on offer the previous evening so she ordered the alternative which was springbok which she said was dry. I had warthog and some local made sausage which I thought was wonderful. P had some of everything including the vegetarian dish, Johan did the same. We also had a couple of bottles of Pinotage and some Lion beers which
came from a small bar where we could help ourselves from and sign for. The
Canadians drank beer, the South Africans stuck with soft drinks which were
free. I asked P if he should offer anyone a glass of wine but he said no,
they could get their own wine.
Jacob joined us for dinner, he hadn’t
been the ranger driving us on the outing, we didn’t know where he’d
disappeared to. He wasn’t drinking alcohol, he was on high alert, his
wife was pregnant and due any time, he said he had to be prepared, I
thought his wife had a good husband, I hoped she appreciated him. We asked
him if she was at the lodge but he laughed and said no, she was less than
five minutes away through the bush, they had a cabin there. There was a
registered nurse at the lodge and she would come out to the cabin for the
birth, they didn’t want a hospital. Her mother was staying at the cabin to
keep her company.
The evening was enjoyable. The South Africans retired
around then-thirty, the Canadian girl too but her husband stayed and had a
few beers. Johan impressed everyone with his knowledge of his country’s wildlife and got a bit merry as he isn’t a regular drinker. Jacob left us near midnight and told us to help ourselves if we wanted more drink, just list it on the clipboard. We didn’t, it was a full day and an early start next morning so we all decided to turn in. The cook, who was still on duty, lit a kerosene lamp for each of us and escorted us to our tents. The funny thing was, she carried a powerful flashlight, sensible woman I thought, I would have swapped it for one of our kerosene
lamps.
We were first stop, she saw us enter the tent then reminded us
to zip the outer flap, there was no need to lock it unless we wanted to.
The tent to our right was empty and to our left was Johan. It was quiet, I felt isolated, the light from the kerosene was dull and yellowish even when we turned it up. P used his key fob torch to shine into the corners and make sure nothing was in there with us. I’m not sure what we’d have done if there had been.
P set his phone to wake at seven then
undressed for bed. He told me cheerfully to remember to stuff a sock into
each of my trainers. “Why?” I asked. He said to stop anything settling in
them and I told him to bloody well stop it at once or I’d go back to the
lodge. He was chuckling, I suppose it had been a silly threat to make.
Anyway I made him wait with me in the bathroom while I brushed my teeth
and used the loo, then I stripped to my knickers and jumped into bed. P
was beside me a few minutes later, the kerosene lamp on his bedside
table.
He told me he’d noticed me watching Jacob during the evening and
asked me if I fancied him. I said of course not, I just admired him, he
seemed like a sensible well balanced man. P put his hand on my thigh and
asked me if I thought he was well balanced too, I told him I did. “Even
when I have to spank you?” It was an un-necessary question but I answered
it. “Yes,” but then added, “but you don’t often ‘have to’ spank me, you do it because you like doing it and you know it keeps me well behaved. Well mostly.”
“Hmm. I think I’m going to spank you now, before we go to
sleep,” he said.
“You can’t here, it will be heard, they’re only
tents,” I whispered as if to emphasise the fact.
“If you don’t make
a noise, all they’ll hear is the splat of my belt across your bottom and
nobody will venture out from their tents to investigate, you can bet your
life on it. And Johan’s our nearest neighbour anyway and if he asked in
the morning, I’d just say I splatted some mosquitoes.”
The bed
cover was pushed back by now and P got out to fetch his belt. He made
me turn over onto my tummy, pulled my knickers down and gave me a dozen
good licks of it across my bare bum. It was loud but it was over quite
quickly and he was back in bed cuddling against me and stroking my bottom
where he’d spanked. I purred, I wanted sex, he did too. Then we were both
distracted by noises outside. There were animals out there (dur...surprise
surprise). I could hear them walking, in fact I could hear them snorting and breathing! Perhaps they were pigs, I thought, but
P whispered they could be anything even rhino. Oh god no, I thought as
I lay dead still. P did the same until we heard the noises fade. Thoughts of romance were suspended. I asked my husband if we should take turns to keep watch, or keep listening as was the case. “Why?” He asked. “Are you going to go out and shoo them away, because I certainly won’t.” He had a point.
As it happened neither of us had a full night’s sleep;
successive unfamiliar sounds kept us half awake and our imaginations did
the rest.Some of the animals must have been quite large, I would
say, from the noise they made as they trundled through our little encampment. At breakfast next morning we were told rhino had been through the camp,as had warthog and several other smaller animals, we were shown some of the tracks later.
P said he could do with one of those sjambok
things. I told him he wouldn’t dare use one even if something poked its
head through the tent flap. He said he didn’t want it for the animals, he
fancied using one on my bottom. I just said “Ooh, P, I didn’t know you
cared that much.”
Have a fun weekend.
Ronnie
xx
