Monday, 19 February 2018

My Valentine's surprise

I didn't tell you about Valentine's Day last week because it was on Wednesday and I'd already posted and I had an 'In with the New' planned for Friday. And I ration myself to posting three times weekly unless something quite attention-grabbing crops up. So I'll tell you now, I got by backside spanked, really hard, for trying to be kind and considerate and romantic and it all backfired on me.

You see we had agreed we wouldn't be going out on the 14th because it's often a bad experience and over-priced with restaurants offering 'specials' which don't turn out to be so special. P said he would cook something nice, bottle of wine and we'd have a night in and watch a movie. Well I was in Waitrose and they had twenty-quid meal deals on offer, obviously for Valentine's, which included a bottle of wine and three courses for two people. I stopped and mooched, there was quite a good choice, the wines on offer weren't bought in 'specials' some were over £10 at normal shelf prices and the items making up the menu were available individually in store so it was was easy to see there was a genuine discount on quality products.

So I decided to go for it, save P the hassle of cooking, which he always does, and I made my choices and left the store smiling. P had to go to Northampton, he said he'd be back late afternoon and he'd stop off and pick up our dinner on the way. I said no need, I've got it all arranged. I had a smile on my face, a frown appeared on his. He said he wasn't going out, we'd agreed not to, we don't do that. I said no, it's OK, we're eating in but no need for you to stop off, it's all in hand. He couldn't stop to interrogate me although I could see he wanted to. He dithered then his Northampton meeting and traffic on the M1 took priority in his brain and he was gone.

He didn't get back until after 6pm, I heard the car door close. He had a bunch of flowers with him which was a nice surprise. Then I told him of my own little surprise. Oh dear, he was not best pleased. "What? I'm not eating a bloody ready meal," he said. I told him it wasn't a ready meal, it was just partly prepared, I thought it would save him time. He said it could go back or it could go in the bin, there was still enough time for him to go and get something decent. He didn't really want to, he just wanted a shower and a nice meal, he'd been driving nearly three hours, a lane closure had pissed him off, he didn't need this dumped on his at the last minute.

"Why don't you come and have a look what we've got," I asked sympathetically. I'd got everything ready for him, I mean I often act as his commis, it's a little joke between us.

He followed me into the kitchen, it was all out on the work top, admittedly in foil containers and cryovac. I told him it was from Waitrose, hoping to help my cause. It didn't.

"Very poor," he said. "I don't care where it's from, it's processed mush."

"It's not mush," I retorted. "I spent years in the business just the same as you and it isn't mush. I thought it would be a nice surprise, less work for you."

"Well you'll be cooking it then. And probably sit down to eat it on your own," said my other half. "But first you can come upstairs with me. I'm going to grab a shower but before I do I'm going to spank your bloody arse so hard you most likely won't want to sit down at all." I was taken aback, even knowing P as I do and knowing his aversion to convenience foods as he calls them. I thought he could have been a bit more generous in his attitude, he could see I'd made an effort.

He took me into our office, pulled my jeans and knickers down, put me across his knees and spanked me for about five minutes. He has strong hands and it hurt and got harder as it progressed, with him admonishing me and making me feel bad, telling me I should know better and buying and preparing food was a pleasure not a drudgery to him and it was always worth the effort to buy fresh and do a proper job. And he hoped the proper job he was doing on my bottom would teach me a lesson never to do it again. I didn't know whether to cry at the end of it, I could feel tears welling and my throat tightening, not from the spanking which had really hurt but from the telling-off he'd given me. Then there was a tiny spark, a chance that the evening wasn't totally wrecked.

P told me to get off his lap and make myself respectable. I turned away and pulled my knickers and jeans up. He told me to face him when he was talking, he hadn't finished yet. He said he was going to take a shower, meanwhile I should go downstairs and put the oven on, then an apron, then take all the wrappings off the food and get cooking, or should he say 'heating'. It was unfair, he hadn't even properly looked at what I'd bought. I was in two minds whether to sweep the lot off the work top and into a bin sack when I got downstairs or whether to fire the oven as instructed. But then what? Was he really going to make me cook? There were steaks and I hate cooking steaks, especially these types which I hadn't seen before.

Less than ten minutes later P was in the kitchen refreshed from a shower. I was in my apron, the oven was on, all the wrappings were in the bin, I was arranging my flowers in a vase and my bottom was smarting. His mood was refreshed too, it seemed. He came up behind me and planted a tiny kiss on my neck.

"Ok let's have a look and see what's what, I'll help you," he said and started putting stuff into dishes and into the oven. He prodded the steaks. "Flat iron," he said. He obviously knew the cut and said they were well flecked, butchers favourite, not known to many shoppers, clever girl. What! One minute he's spanking the backside off me next minute I'm a clever girl. I didn't smile because I was still displeased but I was glad his attitude was changing.

He said we could add some garnishes, a splash of oil, he'd make a fresh green peppercorn sauce not use the stuff they'd supplied...da dada...this and that...have a look in the fridge....he was mumbling away more to himself than me by this stage. Clearly he'd decided the evening was recoverable. I took my flowers into the lounge, he called after me "Did you get some wine with it?" I took the wine in to him, it was a Rioja, their Club Privado, he knew it and said it was decent. Oh god I'd done another thing right, things were looking up.

So long and short of it, we sat down an hour later to a very pleasant meal of spinach and feta tart which he'd made pretty, rare flat iron steaks au poivre with veg and dauphinoise and fruity pana cottas in cute little glasses. Half way through, P said it was very nice, most enjoyable.

"So you spanked my backside for nothing then," I said. "It's still hurting in case you're interested." I pouted. It was but only when I moved and, frankly, I was enjoying it.

"I wouldn't say it was for nothing," said my husband. Was he being defensive? "You were definitely out of order and I'd do the same again under the same circumstances."

Thank goodness for that, I thought. But didn't say it:)

Have a good week.

Ronnie
xx

Friday, 16 February 2018

In with the New - Late Valentine's Edition

We have Twitter users, Authors, Blogs and Tumblrs.
Hope you'll the find time to stop by.

An experienced male spanker of misbehaving ladies who crave to be disciplined. 

EJReineBooks
Writer of BDSM/Spanking.


A Bluebird's Flight
A blog about life and submission.

Gracie Malling on Twitter
Author. Kinkster. Hates writing. Loves having written. (Be aware: all her novels contain spanking.


Joanne's Dorm
A ten-year reflection of an agreplay middle's behaviour, attitude and disciplining.


Marie Hall
Author of Erotic Romance 

Ophelia Adams
Over the knee aesthetic


Brat
Nuna Starks! Spanking model and Sass Brat.


Domme de Plume
....Tales of the whipped.She lives and works in a BDSM dungeon.  It’s her lifestyle and her calling. The stories posted are for entertainment.  No names or other identifying details are used.  

Bethany Leigh
Spanking crimeance author.


Tam Toman
Lifelong switch role player.

Living a Loving Life
Nora Jean and Frank, a couple of sixty something year olds sharing the intimate details of their life. This is Nora Jean's journal of their journey.

We all love reading/seeing new blogs - so please -  if on your travels,  you discover a new blog (or you've started one yourself), with adult only spanking-oriented material please email me the link at ronniesoul@gmail.com and I'll be happy to list it in the periodic 'In with the New' feature.

Have a fun weekend.

Ronnie
xx


Thanks to BonnieElla and Meredith for their contributions.

Wednesday, 14 February 2018

Stropped but not stroppy

No, definitely not stroppy, not after becoming acquainted with our (my husband's actually - he refers to it as 'his' now) new razor strop. I apparently had been stroppy before, while we were at the shops and during lunch which consisted of a roll eaten on the hoof against my wishes. Just because P didn't want anything at all and so refused go in anywhere.

I didn't get the shopping I wanted either so that made matters worse. And he wouldn't take me into Chester, only a stone's throw from Manchester where we'd stayed overnight. He said the presentation we'd attended at the Macdonalds  (the hotel not the burgers) had been a waste of time, no point wasting even more time. Unreasonable. I mean he'd booked it, it was for him not me, I was a hanger-on, hanging on for the shopping which hadn't been promised but was expected. So we left Manchester, me with only a tiny bag and a crap lunch and made for the M6, me in a surly mood.

Half way down the motorway I still wasn't answering properly or volunteering conversation. We got to the Stafford turn-off and P asked me if I wanted to go there. I told him men didn't understand at all about shopping, why would I go to Stafford when I could have been at Cheshire Oaks. I remained moody. Then he told me he would deal with me when we got home, I was acting childishly he said. I resisted the temptation to fire something back.

Ten minutes from home I started talking, pleasantly, to lighten the atmosphere. He noticed and told me it wouldn't change anything. I explained I'd just felt a bit let down and was grumpy because I hadn't got what I wanted, I suppose hadn't go my own way really. I said I was sorry, he told me I would be.

We got in, I went to put our stuff away but he told me to do it later and to follow him up to the office. "I know how to deal with bad tempered girls," he said as he led the way up the stairs. I knew he did and I knew how and while the tone of his voice and authoritative manner excited me, I felt butterflies because I knew I'd been a bit of a bitch earlier and I sensed this wasn't likely to be one of those sexy little spankings but more likely the cane which he keeps in the office. I was wrong.    

In the office he told me to close the door and un-belt my jeans, take them down to my thighs and kneel on the seat of the futon, bending over the back and touching the wall. As I was doing it he removed the razor strop from its brass hook next to his desk and uncoupled the business end so the leather separated from the linen. I said "Oh no, P, please not with that." I'd been expecting it to be used ever since it arrived but not in these circumstances. Funny how you get things fixed in your mind. "Perhaps you should cane me, I mean that hasn't been tested." What sort of idiot was I, asking for the cane. Lol.

Anyway I got my first taste of the razor strop. P pulled my knickers down to join my jeans and I got it from slightly above and the side so it impacted at a diagonal and it didn't seem too hard at first but then I realised P was getting the measure of it. After a few strokes across each buttock which made me squirm, he moved position and bent a little lower so that the strop could land almost horizontally against both buttocks with much more force and an almighty THWACK! I don't know if it was the thwack or the fierce sting which shocked me the most but I screamed out and reached my hands back. "Hands on the wall," my husband barked. "Now!"

I did as I was ordered and received several more strokes which made me OUWWWWW!! and PLEEEEASE NO! and stretch up the wall to try and embed my bottom into the soft seat back to escape the ferocity. It didn't work. P stopped but only to switch sides so that the strop could even up from right to left. It didn't hurt so much from that side because P's right handed and couldn't control it as easily. He realised then straighted up and started spanking diagonally again, more confident strokes which made me howl. He stopped after about 20 or so strokes, neither of us was keeping check, and stood back surveying his work. He told me I was very lucky he hadn't had time to gain more experience or I'd have got it a lot harder. He said it had wrapped a bit around my right cheek and asked me how I felt. "I can't feel where it's wrapped," I said. "It just feels burning hot all over." I had my best post petulance voice on and I asked if I could put my hands there now, it hurt so much. He stepped forward and laid the palm of his hand on each side, declaring it was 'warm enough for this occasion'.

P told me I could get up and to pull my knickers and jeans up, no rubbing, and to go and make us both a cup of tea. He said he hoped there would be no more bad temper from me or I knew what I'd get. There wasn't but it wasn't long before I was invaded by horniness and almost wished there had been. On the evening, because he hadn't eaten lunch and maybe because he wanted to please me, he asked if I fancied having a bite to eat in town, something we hardly ever do on a Sunday night. It was lovely.

I think I liked the strop, it covers more ground than the belt and stings more than the leatherthorn but less than a cane, or at least in a different way. P said he will use it a lot harder but he'll have me lie flat next time he uses it. I asked when will that be but he just smiled and said, "Next time you deserve it." 

A big thank you to my dear friend for the new addition to our his toy box.

Happy Valentine's Day

Whatever you're doing - have a wonderful day/evening.
Ronnie
xx    

Let me know if the picture is yours.

Monday, 12 February 2018

Spankchain - I kid you not

A variation on blockchain, I think.  A term more of us are becoming familiar with as the media report increasingly frequently about bitcoin, cryptocurrency, blockchain, ethereum and all the rest of it, way too complicated for me.

But then google sent me a link to Spankchain, check it out, it's a new company, and apparently offers currency (crypto of course) and complete privacy for 'adult transactions'. Oh Ann Summers you're starting to look so old fashioned.


So I don't know whether to get my spankchain wallet right away and start collecting coins or wait till P has time to take a look at it and let me have his view. I think the latter somehow:)

How long before I can take payments in spankcoins? Will my bank accept them? Tongue in cheek. 

Have a good week.

Ronnie
xx

Friday, 9 February 2018

I like leather

I mean I sell the stuff so of course I do. But I like it for other reasons too, I like its smell, its tactile qualities, its durability, the way it crinkles and takes on character, and I like it being used on me too although that hasn't happened much of late. Leatherthorn comes out from time to time and an old black belt which my husband adapted years ago still gets an occasional airing.

I like wood too, and kooboo naturally. Perhaps because they are all natural products, I'm not sure. I wonder, if I were blindfolded and spanked with a similar size weight and shape product, I would find it so appealing. Would I be able to tell the difference? How much of it is in the mind, I mean let's say P hooded me (he doesn't and never has) and gave me six of the best for being a naughty girl and then, when the hood was removed, I found him standing there holding a bright red delrin cane in his hand. I would be horrified of course but would it be my brain or my bottom guiding my emotions? Just me idly wondering and looking for a way to revisit the prospect of my introduction to the razor strop:)

It still hasn't happened. I thought it might last weekend but it didn't. It hangs from a brass hook next to the curtain tie to the front and side of P's desk in the office, our home one. I like seeing it there, intimately close to where my husband does a lot of his work. Does it remind him that it has yet to be used, I hope so, I'm sure it must.

Have a fun weekend.

Ronnie
xx

Wednesday, 7 February 2018

A Smile for Today


Ronnie
xx

Picture found at OBB