We ate in town recently
and I was lucky enough to have a nice soft cushion to sit on.
Why? Well for two reasons 1) that I'd been spanked and 2) that the seat, or at least the one I was given, was hardwood and unpadded, like a little wooden throne and I had to ask the waiter for a cushion. I did! And didn't I blush when he brought it back and P was smiling at me. You can see part of the seat, part of me and part of the cushion in the photos below which my husband was kind enough to insist on taking with his phone which for some reason has stopped flashing hence the blurrdness.
The place we were eating is a little bistro over 300 years old, with beams and nooks and crannies and reasonable food but not a place to go after you've been spanked, unless you like being reminded of your spanking throughout your meal of course, in which case I suppose it's an excellent place as all the seating is either solid wood or straw seats on wooden frames.
What got me spanked was my own fault really, I'd been whingeing about P's untidy habits, not serious whingeing and I suppose not serious habits really, it was mostly about him kicking shoes off all over the place and never putting them away, he had sandals behind a chair here, brogues under a foot stool over there, espadrilles in the hallway, trainers by the fireplace, it goes on. I put them all away for him and when he came home he complained he couldn't find any of his shoes.
They're all upstairs, I told him, where they should be. And that was the end of the matter until it was close to going out time.
When it was nearly time to go out he wanted a pair of light slip-ons as it was quite warm (yes we had a few warm days). He couldn't find them and called me from upstairs to ask where they were; I hate when he does that, calling loudly from one room to another and expecting an answer, I mean it's rude as far as I'm concerned and if it became accepted as a norm well things would obviously get ridiculous so I didn't answer him. Nor when he shouted a second time. He didn't shout a third time, he came downstairs looking frustrated that he couldn't find his shoes and angry that I hadn't answered him.
"It's polite to answer people you know," said my barefooted husband.
"It's impolite to shout from room to room," I countered sweetly, "why not put another pair on you've got plenty to choose from and they're all in one place now."
"So you did hear me then."
"Yes P, I'm not deaf but I soon would be if we always shouted around the house."
My husband didn't seem impressed with my reasoning. He strode across the lounge, sat next to me on the sofa and started to pull me across his lap. I said no, please, I'm ready to go out, my trousers will get all creased, I'll be too hot, my hair'll get messed up.......you know the kind of things that sound like excuses to men but are serious issues to us girls. Anyway my husband doesn't let excuses stand in the way when he's decided a spanking is called for, he did make a concession though...he stood me up.
"Take your trousers right off, fold them and lay them somewhere neatly."
"I'll come and find your shoes, P, I'll do it now." I tried to escape but he wouldn't hear of it.
"The only thing you'll do now is take those trousers off or I'll do it for you and you won't like that."
I took them off, they were white linen which creases too easily, my knickers almost came down with them, they were the M&S no pantyline ones which are wispy as anything, but I pulled them back up. I stood there, I don't know why because I knew what had to happen, perhaps I just subconsciously like hearing his voice when he tells me to bend over his lap. He didn't actually say that, instead he said I'd better get across his lap if I knew what was good for me. I got across.
"And you might as well have let these go with your trousers for all they're worth," said P as he lowered my knickers to my thighs.
He spanked me hard and fast, have I ever told you my husband's hands are capable of inflicting considerable pain? I sometimes forget how strong they are, I mean he doesn't do manual work but his hands are still so bloody strong and I was struggling from the first spank. Of course it was no use, he just held me firmer and spanked harder,
No this one isn't me (I think a Red Charles picture but don't have a link)
it went on for some minutes and I could hear his breathing raised and my own struggling became so violent that my knickers ended round my ankles and I thought I heard them rip I was kicking so much.
When he finally stopped I just slumped, exhausted and sweaty, snuffling because I get a touch of hay fever but I'm sure it sounds to my nearest and dearest as if I'm crying.
"There, let that be a lesson to you, now you can go an fetch my shoes for me and we'll get going."
"P, I'll need a shower, I told you you'd make me all hot," I complained, "and look at my knickers the seam has split."
"You don't need a shower at all you'll cool down, the only thing that'll stay hot is your backside. Now go get my shoes or you'll be back across my knee."
I scooted off and up the stairs, knickers and trousers in hand. I found his shoes easily (what's wrong with men, they can find things when they're untidy) and then pulled my knickers on, I'll be taking them back to M&S by the way, and my trousers which felt somewhat tighter. I looked in the mirror and twisted round to see if there was a glow, there wasn't but it felt like there should be.
So, that was what got me into the situation where I needed a cushion. Now I haven't got time left to tell you about what we ate or talked about or how my husband's hand was on my bum as we walked through the town back to the car on a lovely balmy evening, or how I was so horny by the time we got home I think I could have come just from touching, or that our son's car was back in the drive when we parked up and he was inside with a girlfriend and I didn't get what I wanted, but at least I told you about the spanking:)
Ronnie
xx
