TBT - You can put that in your blog!

Originally posted 2nd June 2016

Harry is not very happy with me. Monday was a Bank Holiday and we were looking forward to the extra day off. It started well, a bit of a lie-in followed by a leisurely breakfast, then pottering about until lunch time. After lunch, we planned to do some work in the garden before going on to our favourite afternoon activity...

I've neglected the garden this year but it seems to have got along nicely without me. Most of my plants are in containers and just needed watering and weeding. I had nearly finished a small patio area, when I spotted a weed growing up between the slats of the wooden bench from the border behind. Several feet of it came snaking up through the seat as I pulled on it, though it still remained firmly in the ground. Foolishly, I gave it a good tug and an excruciating pain shot up my back. 

I couldn't move and Harry was nowhere to be seen. He came running when he heard me hollering and, half carrying me, managed to get me into the house and flat on the floor before I passed out. Harry knows the drill, we've been there before, though not for a while. I have a long-standing disc problem that gives me little trouble as long as I take care. Even before we started ttwd, I had a list of rules designed to keep my back pain-free. Not weeding in the borders is one of them.

Once I was settled, Harry went to clear up outside, returning with a face like thunder. He reminded me that, firstly, weeding the borders is his job, not mine. Secondly, what I had been tugging on was a sucker from a tree, not a weed. He said he'd like to spank me there and then but, obviously, I'd have to wait for my punishment. I must have looked shocked because he said, "Yes, I did say punishment, you can put that in your blog."

I'm still waiting but not for much longer. I've been diligent with my remedial exercises and should be fit again in a couple of days. Maybe Harry will remember that punishment doesn't figure in our version of ttwd. Wish me luck.


Follow up 6th June 2016

The 'P' Word

Thanks to all of you who commented on my previous post. I hope you will forgive me for not responding to each of you individually. 

I have had the disc problem for about twenty years and generally manage it very well. I really don't know what came over me when I wrestled with the offending plant; I can only plead temporary insanity. The pain was terrible for a while but a combination of pain killers and gentle exercise took the raw edges off within a few hours. A week later, I still have some residual discomfort but am slowly getting back to normal. Many thanks for your good wishes.

Harry's decision to punish was borne out of concern for my wellbeing, as he waited for me to regain consciousness following my faint - the cause of which was entirely due to my own carelessness. Had he been able to spank me within a day or two, I have no doubt that it would have been a barn-burner. After nearly a week, however, he felt that too much time had gone by for a punishment spanking to be meaningful. Instead, I had a well-reddened bottom from a reset on Sunday morning.

That doesn't mean the predictions of a shift in our dynamic were wrong. The p-word has entered the Joneses' ttwd lexicon and it can only be a matter of time before Rosie's are very red indeed.


So far, I've avoided a barn-burner and aim to keep it that way!

Rosie

Sir Spankalot

I had a great vacation with a group of wonderful women, with whom I could be my true self for a whole week. You may have read a snapshot of our convention on Meredith's site.  After two of these trips, it has only just occurred to me that before I joined the Beach Belles last year they used to get into all kinds of trouble. Tales of needing bail money and being rescued by hunky firemen come to mind. I hope I'm not cramping their style!

As I was going to be on the other side of the Pond for eight days, Harry decreed that I would be spanked on each of the eight days in the run up to my departure. He decided each one would have a different theme. You can probably tell that it would mostly be on the fun side.

So here it is, Sir Spankalot's fun and games.

Saturday: We'd had a busy Friday, no time to play, so the first of the eight was a 'Happy Weekend' spanking, held over from the previous day. That followed its usual course of a lot of fun and laughter, topped off with a few smacks with an implement as a reminder to keep calm.

Sunday: Ha, this is one of Harry's favourites. I came out of the bathroom fresh from the shower and slathered in body lotion. He was waiting for me, propped up against the headboard with a pile of pillows over his lap. Anyone familiar with being spanked on a wet bottom will know that it takes little effort on the spanker's part to raise a sting.

Monday: Was a surprise. We had just finished washing the dishes when he directed me over the kitchen table and produced the London Tanners' heavy leather paddle. It wasn't on the bare but it had me dancing!

Tuesday: We had a late night and I really didn't want a spanking, but refusing was not an option. Harry read my mood and kept it short and sweet. I was soon on my way to the land of Nod, tucked in under his arm.

Wednesday: He positioned me on the bed on all fours, chest down and bottom up, brandishing the horrid jam spoon. As soon as he ran his hand over my bottom, he realised  that implement would be too harsh on stretched skin, so used his hand instead, before moving on to other activities.

Thursday: Harry called me into the sitting room, where he was lying in wait on the sofa with a cushion over his lap. I had to remove my jeans and knickers but it was a sensual hand spanking that had me purring like a cat.

Friday: OTK in the bedroom. Harry started off with his hand but I soon felt the smooth wooden paddle circling my cheeks prior to a few ouchy spanks. As the circles began again, he said he bet I was glad he made that paddle for me. I told him I have a love/hate relationship with it. I love it because he made it and - Owww! - that's why I hate it.

Saturday: Last day! He had me sit on the side of the bed while he chose his toys. I was alarmed to see he'd pulled out the LT heavy paddle, the love/hate paddle and the horrid jam spoon. He was teasing me. After a nice long hand spanking, he gave me three taps with each of the implements and we were done.

Early the next morning I was heading for the beach.


Rosie

I've had this post in draft for a few days, waiting to get some time to add photos. We're off to the West Country for a long weekend now, so I'm afraid this post will have to go unadorned.

Leavin' on a Jet Plane

Gone to the beach...

Rosie

TBT - Bedtime

Originally posted on 28th July 2016

Life has been crazy busy of late. Harry has been working all hours and, as well as trying to keep up with the business admin, I have had a lot of family commitments. There just haven't been enough hours in the day and we have both ended up exhausted by the time evening comes around. 

Harry bounces back as soon as his eyes are open but I am not a morning person at the best of times. I have to come back into the world s-l-o-w-l-y and with at least two cups of coffee. If I don't get enough sleep I am not nice to know, grouchy just doesn't cover it. Harry has been very helpful on the worst days, either by using his magic sleeping aid (why do we sleep like babies after a spanking?) or sending me to bed early.

That's another of the many things I thought I would never write. When I first started reading blogs, I was astonished to find women being sent to bed by their husbands. There was no way I'd put up with that, absolutely not!


Unfortunately, Harry must have missed that memo because one night, not long after my first 'real' spanking, I was up late reading when he came into the room, saying I should go to bed; the next day was going to be busy and I needed my sleep. I said I'd just get to the end of the chapter first and carried on reading. It was a gripping book and, two chapters later, Harry came back and told me to go upstairs or I'd get a spanking. I protested that he couldn't do that, I'm not a child, and I would go to bed when I was ready and not before. I got spanked.


The following evening, as he was leaving for a late session at the local sports centre, Harry told me that as I'd had a long, tiring, day he wanted me to be in bed by the time he got home. That did not go down well, as you can imagine, and I was quite determined I was not going to comply. Much later, I was immersed in my book when my phone buzzed beside me with a text alert: "I'm just leaving, you have fifteen minutes." My resolve melted away and I dived into bed just as Harry drew up onto the drive. He knew I'd only just made it but he kissed me and said, "Good girl." I know some of you melt when you hear that but I loathe it, it makes me cringe. That amuses Harry, who uses it as a non-impact means of letting me know who's in charge.

I really struggled with the bed time issue and Harry was patient but unrelenting. The learning curve continued something like this:

H: Rosie, time for bed.
R: Okay, I just need to finish this, five minutes.
H: Do you want a spanking?
R: No, but...
H: No buts. Go. Now.
Still having trouble giving up control...

H: Rosie, time for bed.
R: Okay, I just need to...
H: (smack) Off you go.
R: Okay (kiss).
Getting there...

H: Rosie, time for bed.
R: Okay, night, night.
H: Sleep tight (smooch) (pat, pat).
Got it!

Sweet dreams...

I asked Harry if he recalled that first tussle. Laughing, he said he remembers me, hands on hips, full of indignation, quite convinced that sending me to bed was not within his remit. I remember the debate ending, with him calmly asking why I was still standing there arguing when I could be half way up the stairs!

He had a chuckle about the following evening too.

Rosie

Thanks, NJ

Rambling Rosie

Thank you for the kind comments on my last post; sorry I took so long to respond.

We are still busy but it is manageable and we have been able to carve out some 'us' time. In theory, Harry works a four-day week but something usually comes up to put the mockers on that and Fridays become just another working day. Since the beginning of last month, though, he has been scrupulous in taking his day off and we have been enjoying lazy mornings, with no alarm going off at 5.45am. He has also reinstated 'Happy Weekend' meetings on Fridays. Those are mostly fun but a paddle usually makes an appearance at some point, for good measure.

At the beginning of May, we took my 90-year-old mother for a long weekend in the West Country, where we were joined by our elder daughter and her partner. We stayed in a swish hotel, perched above a beautiful beach that had been one of our favourites in the surfing years. Nowadays, it's our daughter and her partner who surf, whilst Harry looks on admiringly. The weather was glorious.

The week leading up to the break had been hectic and, as we had an early start to our getaway, Harry decided I needed a dose of his sleep-inducing medicine to ensure an uninterrupted slumber the night before. Yes, I slept like a baby. Having only been spanked a few hours ago, I was surprised to see him sitting on the side of the bed with a paddle beside him when I came out of the bathroom the next morning. Apparently, I needed a reminder to keep calm over the next few days. Despite that reminder, I somehow managed to annoy Harry with some sassy remarks on the second night of our stay. He didn't say anything, just clapped his hands. I was pretty slow realising he was conducting a noise test but he was really fast bending me over the end of the bed, delivering a hard and fast flurry of swats. He doesn't usually spank in hotels.

Since then, life has been uneventful and that's the way I like it. We took two weekend trips to our daughter's and her partner's cottage for more renovation work. It is nearly finished now and bears little resemblance to the near-wreck they took on. As usual, I accompanied our daughter on dog walking duties. The hedgerows and coastal areas are bursting with colour, as Mother Nature delivers her summer bounty. Not far from where this photo was taken is a small cove where seals come to bask on the rocks. We only saw one that morning, bobbing up and down in the shallows; the sun hadn't quite reached the rocks at that point.

Harry has to work a few hours today but I can't complain, after last week's five days off in a row. He'll be back late afternoon for the Happy Weekend meeting...

Rosie

How Time Flies

A few days ago, I happened to see on a friend's blogroll that there hadn't been a post on Rosie's are red for two months. I knew it had been a while but where had that time gone? I can tell you that March went by in a blur of all work and no play, as Harry took on a big project that meant working all hours and hiring extra help. I was very busy too, taking it all in my stride, until the second bout of snow sent me into the doldrums and I didn't seem able to shake off the gloom.

I was so glad when Good Friday came around and Harry had to take a four day break. We pulled up our metaphorical drawbridge and spent a lazy day together, starting off with coffee and croissants in bed. When I came back from the bathroom, Harry was sitting against the headboard with a pillow over his lap. He has a thing about spanking me fresh from the shower, before my body lotion has sunk in. He says it makes it easier, the same effect for less effort. I reminded him as I went over his lap that it had been three weeks since I had last been spanked. After just a few spanks he stopped and squeezed my bottom, first one cheek then the other. Then...

H:  Have you lost weight?

R:  Yes, I've been shedding the extra pounds I've put on since last summer.

H:  Well, stop! I don't want this lovely bottom wasting away.

R:  But I've only got two pounds to go!

H:  No!!  No, no, no, no, no!

Smack!!  Smack, smack, smack, smack, smack!

I didn't protest, best not to argue with a man when you're naked over his lap. 

I think three weeks is the longest I've been without a spanking in the last five years and I missed it. Evidently, Harry did too as he spanked twice more over the break. Then he was back to work, tying up the loose ends on the big job before returning to a more regular schedule. In the middle of the week, he sent me this text - the hearts were from me:

Oh, that red dress! I wore it for a reconnection once, with seamed stockings and red patent shoes. We both needed that spanking and I thought the dress and stockings would make a pleasing frame for the target area, giving Harry some extra interest. On that occasion he turned my bottom almost as red as the dress but since then it has mostly been worn for fun. The spanking that followed the text was bone-meltingly delicious. I'd had four delightful spankings in five days. My cup runneth over! 

And yet...

When Harry overcame nature and nurture and started spanking me it made me happy, rejuvenating our love life and, by some alchemy, bringing us closer. It wasn't until the first 'real' spanking that I recognised that alchemy as his growing assertiveness. Sitting afterwards on his lap with my head nestled into his neck, calm and contented, I realised that what I'd needed all along was the primitive knowledge that my mate is stronger than I am. That he would not only save me from the lions but, also, sometimes from myself. Non-discipline spankings are wonderful but I'm sure I'm not the only one whose nether regions stir at the sight of her man with a stern look on his face and a paddle in his hand! Nothing sets my world to rights better than a reset, though they're pretty rare nowadays. 

Ronnie borrowed this meme from Ella recently. It seems apt to use it here too...

...and I got my hug. Equilibrium restored.



Rosie

The Day That Rocked My World

I can't remember a time when I wasn't fascinated with spanking. I'm pretty sure I was wired that way from birth. In my early teens I made up a fantasy about a jeans-clad girl I called Jennie-Lee Sheridan. She got into heaps of trouble, for which she was spanked by her big brother, who looked a lot like Adam Cartwright in Bonanza.

When I started dating, in the early sixties, I was spanked playfully by a couple of boyfriends and liked how it made me feel. How ironic then, that the love of my life should turn out to be a dedicated spank-no. He was appalled when I asked him to spank me and, eventually, tired of my persistence, forbade me from raising the subject ever again. I understood his reluctance, it was against his nature and upbringing, but I wanted it so!

Over the years, I still made up fantasies, like mini-series in my head. They were mostly along the lines of loving husband spanking wayward wife. There were a couple of times when I toyed with the idea of telling Harry just how much I wanted to be spanked, despite his ban on the subject. I had some good material. A man wrote to an agony aunt in a Sunday supplement for advice, after his wife had asked him to spank her.  He was shocked and horrified that, in his words, she wanted to turn him into a wife beater. The agony aunt put him straight. There it was, a positive slant on spanking in a mainstream publication! I didn't show it to Harry though, I still remembered the revulsion in his face that first time I asked him to take me over his knee.

Another time, I was leafing through a lads' mag whilst waiting in the barber shop for Harry. There was an article in which a man told how much he loved spanking his wife and, in turn, the wife told how much she enjoyed a spanking, applied by the firm hand of her loving husband. I contemplated putting the magazine in my handbag but, again, I chickened out.

The years rolled by and, sometime in my fifties, I accepted it was never going to happen so there was really no point in fantasising about it any longer. You can imagine my shock when, one morning after some MFL, Harry told me the Fifty Shades of Grey hoo-ha had made him think that spanking might not be such a terrible thing after all and he was willing to try it. If you've ever wondered what caused the Earth to tilt on its axis one Sunday in January 2013, now you know that Harry caused it! I was sixty-one at that point and wasn't sure I wanted to go there after so long. I took some time to think about it so it was another four days until Harry steeled himself to spank me for the very first time.

Sometime back in January was the fifth anniversary of that first, tentative, spanking.
You would think that the date of such a monumental event would be forever etched in my memory. I remember the date when Harry first kissed me and the date he first told me he loved me. I'll never forget the day when we told the world we were an item (it was complicated!) or the first time we lay together. I also remember not only the date of our wedding but also the date we got engaged, 49 years ago.

But I don't remember the date that changed my life. I know it was a Thursday but which particular one in that month eludes me. We've come such a long way since then, I'd really love to celebrate the anniversary of the day when the last piece of the puzzle fell into place and Harry finally had the whole of me. Maybe next year we'll celebrate on each Thursday in January, one of them will be the right one!


Rosie