Thursday, 2 February 2017
Here we are in February already. Where did January go? I feel as though I blinked and missed it somehow. It's several weeks since I last posted and I must apologise for not answering comments on my last post.
I didn't mean to be away so long. My absence was precipitated by a ridiculous thing that happened to me in the checkout queue in Sainsbury's on the morning of Christmas Eve. I was standing patiently behind Harry as he loaded our goods onto the belt - he has his own method, I don't mess with it - when I was overcome with a violent coughing fit and WHAM! Pain ripped across my lower back and I couldn't move. I thought it was just a bad flare but after a couple of days I realised it was a fresh injury. I'm not going to bang on about it, once the damage is done it's all about pain management through exercise, medication and rest. It didn't ruin the Christmas and New Year holidays, the break just didn't go as planned. There wasn't much we couldn't work around, though I had to forego the traditional pink Champagne on Christmas morning so that I could get drugged up to cook dinner and I also missed being spanked to the chimes of Big Ben on New Year's Eve.
Spanking may have been off the agenda but ttwd was firmly in place. Harry was extra attentive, making sure there was no slacking with the exercises and reminding me to rest. On the third day, Boxing Day, I levered myself up from the floor after exercising and managed to twist my left wrist in the process. I am right-handed but my left hand is the one that holds my iPad - disaster! Harry thought it would be a good thing to be parted from it for a while. I managed to dabble a bit in social media on my phone but it's too small for reading the newspaper or blogs.
It was frustrating not to be able to shower or dress by myself for several days. At times, before ttwd, I have chafed at being so dependent on Harry, pushing back against being mollycoddled, but this time it was curiously freeing to let go and lean in to him. He took over completely, doing most of the cooking and other chores as well as looking after me. Our elder daughter and her partner came to stay for a few days to celebrate Harry's birthday and make a shopping trip to London. Harry insisted on cooking his own birthday meal, firmly shooing everyone out of the kitchen. I did manage to make his birthday cake the day before, though.
By the end of the holidays I was starting to mend and Harry went back to work. A couple of days later, I felt confident enough to make the short drive to the salon for a haircut. Harry noticed the hairdo when he came home and asked how my back was. I said it had felt a lot better that day and he said "Oh, good," with a glint in his eye. I hastily said, "Not that good!" He just gave me an enigmatic smile and a pat on the bottom.
After dinner we were watching a re-run of The Big Bang Theory when he suddenly turned off the TV, held out his hand to me and led me to our bedroom. To my surprise, instead of sitting on the side of the bed he carried on round to the end. He hardly ever spanks there because the foot board is shaped, needing a lot of faffing about with a throw and pillows to make it comfortable. He did the faffing bit, then tugged at the belt on my jeans and told me to take them and my knickers off, whilst he selected his implements. He was most solicitous, bending me carefully over the bed, making sure my back was fully supported and in no danger of being jarred by his 'attention'. He remarked how taut my bottom was in that position and I reminded him that would make it hurt more. I suggested he should start with feathers, as it was a while since there had been any hand to bottom contact, and recited Cat's wise words: "Wood is no good, leather is better, feathers are best." That was to no avail and I soon had a hot bottom. It was a much-needed reconnection for both of us, with a lot of laughter in between the ouches.
I've had no twinges in my back the last couple of days and am cautiously optimistic that it has healed. I'd like to say life in the Jones household has now returned to normal but we have both caught the dreaded lurgy (upper respiratory tract infection, according to a doctor friend) that is doing the rounds in our part of the world. It's been over a week since it started and we are fed up with it now and getting a bit tetchy. That may or may not be the reason I have an 'appointment' at 5 o'clock this evening...
Hoping to be back soon,
Friday, 23 December 2016
... when tempers can easily become frayed.
Even the most angelic among us can fall from grace when pressure mounts up...
When your HoH looks like this
whatever you do, don't poke the bear.
Take a deep breath...
Picture some fluffy kittens...
or pour yourself a glass of wine. Well, it is Christmas after all.
Make sure the only goose that gets cooked is the one in the oven...
then all your spankings
will be Good Girls
And on that happy note, all that's left to say is
from Rosie and Harry
Thursday, 8 December 2016
Things have settled down here, we're slowly getting back to normal, whatever that is. The thing about normal is that life is uneventful, which means I have nothing to blog about. Instead of disappearing again, I thought I'd have some fun and write a story. This is a fictional tale but any resemblance to living people may not be entirely coincidental.
Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin...
Once upon a time, a little girl was born into a family that had not heard the patter of tiny feet for many years. Her grandmother, the family matriarch, had expressed her preference for a boy but, on holding the infant in her arms for the first time, declared that she wouldn't change her for a boy if his backside were studded with diamonds. The child was christened Rosamund on account of her fair English complexion, with her rose-coloured cheeks and rosebud mouth.
With seven grownups in the household twisted round her tiny fingers, it was almost inevitable that she was a little spoilt. She was treated like a princess by them all but her biggest fan was her doting Grandmama. The old lady wasn't a total pushover, though. She insisted on ladylike behaviour and taught Rosamund her Ps and Qs.
In spite of, or maybe because of, having three younger siblings, she grew into a somewhat solitary child, with her nose often stuck in a book. Though no hand was ever applied to her bottom, the little princess had a fascination with spanking, fuelled by the many instances in the story books of the day. By her early teens, she had begun to fantasise about being spanked, mainly by handsome men on horseback.
She was mistress of the witty put down and, as a consequence, found herself over the knees of two early suitors. She liked how it made her feel but neither of the young men touched her heart. Her Grandmama told her she was a very special girl who would need a very special man. She was biased, of course, but that's the way it is with Grandmamas. She advised the princess to carry on kissing frogs until her prince arrived.
And so it came to pass that a knight in shining armour came forth on his trusty steed, Lambretta, and stole her heart away. Sir Henry's kisses made her swoon, but before long she craved the thrill of a spanking and asked him to oblige. He was appalled. He had been to knight school with his peers and learned that a man's job was to care for and protect his fair lady. Only a coward would strike a woman. Rosamund was nothing if not persistent, chipping away until, in exasperation, Henry forbade her from raising the subject ever again.
Many years passed, during which the pair married and had two beautiful daughters.Their union wasn't all sweetness and light; this may be a fairy tale but they had their ups and downs like everyone else. Rosamund could be a handful when she didn't get her way and Henry's strategy was to keep his head down until her ill humour passed. In the meantime, doors would shudder on their hinges and no-one could pout or flounce better than she.
Their daughters had left to make their own way in the world long before the day that was to turn Rosamund's life upside down. Henry was gazing fondly at his wife, who was slumbering in the afterglow of some mighty fine loving, still clad in the *F--k me* outfit she had worn for his pleasure. She had fulfilled many of his fantasies over the years and it was to his sorrow that the only one she wanted for herself was the one thing he couldn't bring himself to do. Lately though, he had begun to wonder whether it was such a bad thing. A story had been written about many shades of grey, it's fame spreading far and wide, with its scenes of spanking setting feminine hearts all a-flutter. When Henry told Rosamund he was willing to try spanking, solely to add some extra spice in the bedchamber, she wasn't at all sure she wanted to after all these years. She told him she would think on it.
She dressed with great care the first time, choosing undergarments that would present an appealing target once her skirts were up and her knickers were around her thighs. Henry had always admired his wife's bottom, a little on the large side but smooth and firm. The last thing he wanted was to smack it but he had promised. Rosamund jumped when the first spank fell, out of sheer anticipation. Henry made himself deliver another twenty or so smacks, turning her bottom a warm shade of pink, before picking her up and carrying her to their bed.
The next time, to Henry's chagrin, she was left with some light bruising. Perhaps it hadn't been her brightest idea to mention pat-a-cake when he asked how she felt about the first spanking. She cared not a jot about the bruising, her worry was that Henry would not spank her again. What was she to do? There was only one thing for it, she would use her magic tablet to consult the Fount Of All Knowledge. Tapping three times on the glass to summon Google she asked her question. The answer came from a man who spanked his wife, avoiding bruising by warming up gradually with moderate smacks before the real spanking began. A few more taps led Rosamund to the Land of Blog, where she found many women who were spanked by their husbands, not only for pleasure but for discipline too. She passed on the warm up tip to Henry but kept the rest of her discovery to herself; she didn't want to put any ideas into his head.
Her deviousness was in vain for, once Henry accepted that spanking caused no lasting harm, it was only a matter of time before Rosamund was spanked for real. She had been in a foul mood all morning and Henry bore the brunt of her ill humour. When all else failed, he decided to spank her out of it. Rosamund was shocked to be summarily upended over his knee but knew she deserved it and was soon making her apologies. That day wrought a change in our trusty knight. With his soft, contrite, wife in his arms he vowed that, henceforth, he would brook no argument from his feisty princess. Peace and harmony would come to his domain, for now he had the means to rein in her waywardness. For good measure, he would give her frequent reminders of his new expectations, whether she needed them or not.
His lady wife submitted to her husband's strictures for she found them curiously calming and, by some alchemy, his strong leadership brought her and her knight closer together. That's not to say everything ran smoothly from then on; the princess could no more change her character than a leopard could change its spots. There were times when she would try her husband's patience to the limit and her hindquarters would feel the sting of his wrath. He knew he would never tame her entirely, nor would he want to. Life would be dull if his Rose lost her thorns.
Cue Happy Ever After music...
** I have used narrator's licence here. Harry is a benign dictator but were I to use the
f-word in real life I wouldn't sit comfortably for quite some time.
Wednesday, 30 November 2016
Harry and I had a busy but productive three days over the weekend. First up was a trip to the Midlands, to inspect the work being done on our younger daughter's house. Then, straight from there to Cornwall at the other end of the country, to carry on helping with the renovation of the ancient cottage our elder daughter and her partner are doing up. It's coming on well, though there's still a lot to do. The phone signal is poor there and they still have no Wifi. No wonder BT has been rated below the banks for customer service.
Cornwall wasn't looking quite so lovely as on our previous visit -
Ah, here's a much better view -
|Gratuitous photo for Meredith and me|
Anyway, Harry agreed to answer the questions in Lilli's meme, so here's our shot at it...
1. What is something I always say?
Have you locked the back door?
Yes, I say that a lot, I have a thing about it.
2. What makes me happy?
Going across my knee.
3. What makes me sad?
Getting up in the morning.
I wouldn't say it makes me sad, I'm just not a morning person.
4. How tall am I?
5. What is my favourite thing to do?
Reading your iPad - can't keep you off it.
Guilty as charged.
6. What do I do when you're not around?
Read your iPad.
There is some truth in that but I do keep house sometimes.
7. If I became famous what would it be for?
In Harry's dreams, I could pen the next £1million best seller.
8. What makes you proud of me?
Your intelligence and good looks.
9. What is my favourite food?
And crème brûlée.
10. What is my favourite restaurant?
A special place.
11. Where is my favourite place to visit?
France - no, wait! New York.
I love New York.
12. If I could go anywhere, where would it be?
13. How do I annoy you?
Let me count the ways...
No, let's skip that one.
14. What is my favourite film?
A Good Year.
France and Russell Crowe, what's not to love?
15. You get a phone call that I am in trouble, who will I be with?
Your Mum. She'd be the one in trouble, you'd be looking after her. (Pause)
Sixteen seconds. (Puzzled look) Sixteen seconds is the time it would take me to
collect up the necessities and hit the road if you needed me.
But would he remember to lock the back door?
Thanks to Lilli for sharing this meme.
Thursday, 17 November 2016
Come out, come out, wherever you are! Don't be shy!
It's the eleventh annual Love Our Lurkers event, two special days when bloggers invite our silent readers to come out of hiding and say ''Hello". I was a long-time lurker, so I know the thought of making a comment can be daunting. The first time I made a comment I deleted it twice before summoning the nerve to hit the blue 'publish' button. But you don't need to do that, I'd love to hear from you and I'm really not at all scary, I'm more like this...
Wednesday, 16 November 2016
I didn't mean to be away so long, I don't know where the time went. No - this isn't going to be another account of how busy I am, far from it. A reader of my last post commented that, though I am very busy, I have a lot to be thankful for. She is absolutely right, I do. Yesterday, I came across a piece of advice in a similar vein: "Stop focusing on how stressed you are and remember how blessed you are."
These are some of the things I have been thankful for since my last post...
🌟My loving, spanky, husband's bone-melting stress relief.
🌟Fun with my younger daughter on her visit home from a million miles away.
There should have been a silly Snapchat photo of me disguised as a demented rabbit here but the minx put it up on Facebook, so you'll just have to imagine that one.
🌟A bonfire party with friends to celebrate Guy Fawkes not blowing up the Houses of Parliament on November 5th 1605.
🌟My mother had an extra scan that showed no change in her condition, a great relief.
🌟I am up to date with our company's accounts and the VAT return balanced first time.
🌟A bit of a splurge on new clothes.
🌟Sunday afternoon dates.
🌟Last weekend in Poldark country with our elder daughter and her partner.
No sign of this chap, sadly.
🌟And did I mention my loving, spanky man?
Yes, another reset but I count it among my blessings; there's nothing like it for restoring my equilibrium and setting my world to rights.
🌟I couldn't end this post without being thankful for my Blogland friends. Thanks for the emails and sorry for the lack of comments lately. Normal service will be resumed shortly.
Monday, 24 October 2016
Life here continues to be frustrating. I like to look at my wall planner and decide how I will divide up my week between all the tasks I need to do. I don't like it when my best laid plans go awry, such as when our broadband supplier messed up and left us without WiFi for two days last week. We have a business to run and so much is done online nowadays. Service was restored on the day Harry and I were travelling to the West Country for a long weekend, so I had a lot of juggling to do. I was even less happy when I got a call from the hospital at short notice, moving my mum's appointment forward to one of the days I'd be away. And don't get me started on Harry's relentless work schedule.
I do get stressed at times but it would be ridiculous to claim I am hard done by when, in reality, I lack for nothing but time and sleep. My mum is being monitored for any changes in her condition and, all being well, she will not need the hysterectomy that was recommended after the MRI scan. Harry has taken on some temporary help for the business so he won't need to put in quite so many hours. We got a lot of work done on the cottage last weekend and won't be making the trip again for another month. Light is slowly seeping through the tunnel and I know all this will pass.
In the meantime, there is a very bright spot to look forward to at the end of the month, when our younger daughter is coming 'home' for a short visit. She lives a million miles away on another continent, so we don't see her often.
The Universe fascinates and terrifies me in equal measure. We have had some beautiful clear nights in our neck of the woods recently and Harry has called me out into the garden a couple of times to look at the moon and gaze at the stars. On one of those nights we were able to watch the International Space Station hurtling across the sky at around 5 miles per second. I read that it orbits Earth and sees a sunrise once every 92 minutes. That's truly awesome.
...and Spanking is Harry's method of choice for relieving stress and keeping me on an even keel. When he steeled himself to land those first, tentative, spanks on my behind I could never have foreseen that the reluctant spanker he was then would gain the confidence and assurance he has now. I'm not going to pretend he's a strict disciplinarian, he still spanks mostly for fun, but these days he doesn't hesitate to spank when a reminder or reset is called for. During a particularly difficult week, he decided that little and often was the way to go, so we had what Katie calls 'dailies', only it was 'nightlies' in our case.
Sadly, one of our trips to Cornwall triggered a reset. It's difficult away from home, when small things can escalate because they can't be taken care of straight away. We were in a pub with our daughter and her partner, taking a lunch break after a hard morning's work on the cottage. Harry and I were being a bit snippy with each other but there was nothing that really needed attention, until I crossed the line between teasing and attitude with a barbed comment. The atmosphere between us was distinctly frosty for a while, but we got over it. By the time we arrived home, late on Sunday, I thought we were good. Monday evening, however, Harry arrived home from work and poured two glasses of pink Champagne. Instead of handing me one he cocked his head in the direction of the stairs, telling me it was for colour matching. It was a particularly dark shade of rosé, not good news for my bottom. He set the glasses down on my bedside table and told me to take off my jeans and knickers whilst he sorted out the pillows and implements. I'd prefer it if he removed my clothes but he insists I do it myself. I think it's a way of reaffirming consent.
Anyway, he sat against the headboard and I went over his lap. I can usually tell when a reset is over because he uses the wooden paddle for the last five spanks, two on each side and one in the middle. This time, after he put the paddle aside there were four more spanks with "Owww, what on Earth was that?!!" He told me it was the strap. We don't have a strap. What he had used was the evil rubber thing with raised bumps that was only supposed to be used if I did something really bad. I complained but he said he rather liked it and gave me two more smacks. When he let me up I reached for the Champagne but he held me back, telling me I'd forgotten something. I always thank him for spanking me. That's not something he requires but I've done it right from the start, when spanking was solely for fun and he was going against his nature to do it. It appears it's something else he rather likes.
I told him I wasn't sure I could thank him for the last six spanks but, to be honest, he's used the 'strap' a couple of times since and it's not so evil after all. Like anything else, it depends on how it's wielded and he doesn't put much force behind it.
We still find time for fun spankings. Yesterday, Harry was doing some vacuuming that I'd neglected during the week and called me from the sitting room to come and see the mess in there. I knew there was no mess and guessed it was a ruse to get me in there for a spanking. I was in the kitchen and called back that I couldn't come, I was really busy, to which the response was "Get in here!" I went across his lap on the sofa, where he started right in with the leather paddle, saying naughty girls don't get warm-ups. There was a lot of shrieking and laughing and when I went back to the kitchen it wasn't only the pans on the stove that were simmering nicely.
My mother came for a late lunch and I wasn't sure whether we'd make our calendar tryst but as Harry was leaving to take her home, he whispered in my ear that he wouldn't be long and I should make sure the heating was on in our bedroom.
Good loving and good spanking. Really, what do I have to moan about when all is said and done?
I started this post last Tuesday but had to abandon it until today, so references to 'last week' are actually from the week before. I'm still pressed for time, hence lack of any pictures. I'm hoping to be around more but next week I may be up north helping my younger daughter sort out her house prior to selling it and will have no access to WiFi.