That's Life

One of the excuses I made for not starting my own blog was that my life is so uneventful I'd have nothing to blog about. I like uneventful, it doesn't mean boring, we're always busy but there's little drama, not much to rock our steady little boat.

A few weeks ago we had what seemed like a force nine gale blowing, when anything that could go wrong did. I won't bore you with all the gory details, it would take all day, but these were some of the things that were sent to try us:

Harry was ill. He went to the doctor's without any prompting and took four days off work. 

No sooner had he recovered than I got an ear infection in both ears. The antibiotics upset my stomach for a whole week. Bleugh!

We had to abandon a day trip to France when we got a puncture half way to the rail terminal. Harry's car is fitted with run flat tyres. It took over two hours for the breakdown service to source and fit a replacement; I suppose we couldn't expect better at 5.30am.

Harry filled my car with petrol - it runs on diesel. It was an expensive mistake, but no harm done. He took it badly though.

Our business email accounts were compromised and blocked. We didn't realise quite how much we relied on email to interact with our clients and suppliers until we lost the facility.

It was a really frustrating time but we kept our lifejackets on and weathered the storm; nobody died.

We're in the middle of a happy event right now; our younger daughter came home for a week's visit a few days ago. She lives what seems like a million miles away on another continent, so we don't see her often. There's never a dull moment when she's around and we miss her sorely when she goes back. She's a loving, caring, young woman but, at the same time, fiercely independent. She sent me this a while ago and it suits her to a tee:

Harry was on airport duty on the morning of her arrival and we were both awake early. I was sitting on the side of the bed reading my iPad, when he sat down beside me with a pensive look on his face. I told him I'd be off to the bathroom in a minute, I was just checking my emails. He smiled and said, "No, that's not it. You're going across my knee but I can't decide whether to do it now or wait until you've showered and put on your body lotion." I told him that was really mean and asked why I was getting spanked anyway, I'd been over his lap only the day before. He said we had to put one in the bank and it would have to last a while; with Daughter 2 around we didn't know when we'd have another chance. With that, he sauntered off, so it didn't take much guesswork to know what he'd decided. It wasn't a hard spanking, mostly fun, but the wooden paddle put in a brief appearance.

Our elder daughter lives a five hour drive away so we don't see her very often either - at least she lives in the same country as we do. She called to ask if she could stay with us one night, between business meetings in two towns not too far from us. Harry and I were ecstatic to have both daughters under our roof for the first time in many years. They hadn't seen each other for nearly four years so, despite being Facebook friends, there was a lot of catching up to do.

Daughter 2 is away for a couple of days, staying with a friend, so I'm expecting a "happy weekend" meeting later. Those have become something of a fixture recently, not so much a reminder to be good as a reconnection at the end of the working week.

D2 leaves on Tuesday, then we'll really be back to uneventful and that's okay with us.


Rosie 

Come Fly With Me

This time last week I was packing for a short break. Harry had a couple of spare days and decided to book a long weekend in one of Italy's fair cities. As we were only going for three nights we elected to take carry-on luggage only, instead of our usual suitcase or two. We had nothing suitable so, armed with the carry-on rules from the airline's website, we took a trip into town. By the time we got to the third store it was apparent that the airline's allowance was smaller than most other carriers' and suitable baggage was impossible to find. 

Tiny!

We didn't want to buy an odd size just for one trip anyway, so Harry said we'd just buy the standard size, he was confident that the airline wouldn't even check it. I had read the airline's guide that said the rules would be strictly enforced and over-sized bags would have to go in the hold at excess baggage rates, so I wasn't happy with that decision. Harry wouldn't budge and the ensuing argument was not pretty. I left him to choose the cases while I moved away a bit to regain my composure. 

He hadn't made his choice when I returned so I thought it was worth having another go, in a more moderate manner. I told him he may be right but why take the risk of having to put two small bags in the hold at a cost of 90 euros, when we could take a full-sized case in the hold for 15 euros each way? Harry agreed the logic in that so off we went home, no hard feelings. Nonetheless, you know what happens to naughty wives who argue impolitely don't you? I didn't get spanked though. Before we left for town I nipped back to our bedroom for something I'd forgotten and saw that Harry had arranged the bed for a 'good girl' treat. I hadn't been a good girl, so I forfeited that pleasure. Harry left the bed as it was and it stayed that way until I re-arranged it when I went to bed. I got the message. There was a reset the next morning and a 5 o'clock the day before we left, so I wasn't entirely without attention of the spanky sort.

You'll probably not be surprised to hear that Harry was right; the airline staff didn't even glance at all the standard sized carry-ons passing through the gate.

We had a really interesting weekend, not exactly relaxing, there was so much to see. The highlight had to be standing on top of the cathedral roof, nearly 100 metres above the ground, looking out over the city. Of course, we couldn't visit Italy without sampling the wonderful gelato. I just had to take a photo of this glorious confection. The shot doesn't do it justice, I'm not used to taking photos of food. Mine was based on raspberries and summer fruits, you can just see Harry's yummy death by chocolate in the background.

All too soon it was time to get online to check in for our homeward flight and what a performance that was! Harry tried on his iPhone, my iPad and for more than an hour on the hotel's laptop the next day, only for the procedure to crash at the same point each time. Not only could we not download our boarding passes but we couldn't check in our suitcase, which meant it would be charged at the excess baggage rate!

We had an hour to spare between checking out of the hotel and leaving for the airport, plenty of time to squeeze in just one more ice cream.

Rosie

Drawbridge Day

Well, that break flew by, didn't it? Harry stayed fit and well; thank you for all your blessings, positive thoughts and good wishes. It didn't exactly go as planned here in the Jones household, but there was plenty of spanky action, nevertheless. Four spankings in five days!

Despite his best intentions Harry had to work on Thursday, though not a full day. He sent me a text in the afternoon saying, "Your 3 o'clock has just left the building." Uh, oh! I know what that means!

Friday night, Harry decided I needed "help" to get a good night's sleep in preparation for a busy day on Saturday.  Saturday night was "Just because."

It wasn't until Monday that we got to pull up the imaginary drawbridge to keep the rest of the world at bay. We'd had a pleasant but tiring day with relatives the previous day, so we slept late and had a leisurely breakfast. Harry was up and dressed first. As I made my way to the bathroom he told me to give him a shout when I had showered and not to bother putting on clothes. I did as I was told and what followed was the longest, most sensual, spanking I have ever had. When Harry patted me to let me know we were done, I couldn't move straight away. My bottom was red and stinging but I was overcome with a feeling of calm and contentment that lasted all day.

Harry cooked a superb dinner that evening (rare fillet of beef with a red wine, cream and mushroom sauce, sautéed potatoes, and red peppers roasted with baby plum tomatoes, in case you're interested!). As he ushered me to my seat, he asked how my bottom was and I replied that it was still a tiny bit tender but I wasn't complaining. He had a quizzical look on his face as we raised our glasses in a "bottoms up!" toast and I said, "No, I don't know how it works, it just does!" He said he'd accepted that a long time ago, he was just wondering if I'd ever want to stop. If he spanked me every day for a month, would I be over it? I'd certainly be glad the month was done and dusted but I'm sure I wouldn't want to go back to life before ttwd, it's part of who I am. Fortunately, Harry wouldn't want to go back either; he loves the changes this dynamic has wrought as much as I do.

He's not working tomorrow. After he kissed me goodbye this morning, he said he'd see me at 5 o'clock. Uh, oh! I know what that means!



Rosie

Under the Weather

I've been under the weather for the last few days with a stinker of a cold.
My head ached, my chest hurt from all the coughing and, as for the runny nose, I probably used enough tissues to fell a small forest. You'd probably have preferred not to know that.

Yesterday afternoon, Harry phoned me to remind me to put some Champagne in the fridge to celebrate the end of his nine days' run of work. It had to be pink Champagne, he had some colour matching to do. I protested that I wasn't well but he said that would make it easier for him, I'd be too weak to struggle. He loves to tease.

I was ready and waiting for him when he came upstairs, with the fizz and two glasses in hand. He had me lay across his lap on the bed, my favourite position, and the fun began. 
Harry couldn't cure my cold but he knew just how to lift my spirits.

I'm feeling much better today; the combination of a warm bottom, chilled Champagne and a loving man was a great pick me up. We had a sweet reconnection of a different kind this afternoon. 

Harry's taking a couple of extra days off over the Easter break. Fingers crossed that he doesn't catch my cold.





Rosie

Suck it up buttercup

Before I go any further, I want to say a big thank you for the wonderful Blogland welcome I received after my fledgling post. I was blown away by your kind comments.

I ended that first post at the point where discipline entered our mix. It was then that I realised this was the kind of spanking I'd craved all those years. The kind that meets my primitive need to know my mate is stronger than I am. That's not to say that sex doesn't come into it, I'm sure you'll agree a man in charge is hot!

I'm a strong, independent, woman and Harry has no wish to change that. There is no punishment in our dynamic. We don't have a whole bunch of rules, just a few of what he calls Standing Orders, such as not standing on chairs to reach up to cupboards and keeping my mobile phone charged. When we started spanking, at that time strictly for fun, I gave him my consent to spank me at any time and for whatever reason he saw fit. That consent suits the way ttwd works for us, it's still fit for purpose.

We discovered together that nothing sets my world to rights better than a reset over Harry's lap. And who knew the value of therapeutic spanking? Who needs a sleeping pill with all those endorphins rushing around to counter the effects of a hot bottom? Then there are the reminders, good girls and just because...  All in all Harry makes sure my blog title fits.

Don't think for a moment, though, that all is sunshine and flowers in the Joneses' household. Just a few days ago I was pretty miffed with Harry. He told me he had to re-arrange his work schedule because he'd taken on a new job that would run through the weekend, with no compensating time off the following week. Once upon a time, I would have had a thing or three to say about that, probably accompanied by some world class pouting, but those days are gone. I could have expressed my feelings in a respectful manner but it wouldn't have made any difference, the deal was done. My best option was to suck it up, no sulking or distancing. I couldn't change the way I felt but I could choose the way I dealt with it. Harry has left each morning with the imprint of a smiling wife in his mind and returned to hugs and kisses. As is often the way in this dynamic, I still got spanked. Harry sent me a text as he left work on Friday, telling me to be prepared in our bedroom when he got home. It was mostly for fun, with a few harder spanks at the end to ensure a happy weekend.

On a lighter note, here's a little snippet that might make you smile. A few hours after I hit 'publish' on my first post, Harry and I were in France on a shopping trip. We were happy to find that one of our favourite Champagne houses has produced a new brut rosé. Harry held a bottle up and I knew exactly what he was thinking - that the colour was a perfect shade to turn my derrière. We bought two cases.

Cheers!

Rosie

Rosie Jones Bites the Bullet

Hello! Welcome to my blog.

Now that's something I never thought I'd write. I've been reading in Blogland for around three years now, commenting here and there, writing some Fantasy Friday stories and even being a guest on the blogs of two good friends. But blogging myself? No way! Not on your nellie! I had the excuses ready - I didn't have time, I was much too busy and, anyway, my life is too uneventful to write about.

Have you ever had the feeling that resistance is futile? Oh, of course you have, silly question. Little by little, with patience, charm and much encouragement, my resistance was whittled away by a determined friend. I expect you can guess who. But what can I write? Where shall I start? The obvious answer is at the beginning, so here goes.

Spanking has always fascinated me; I think I was wired that way from birth. I can remember watching, goggle-eyed, as Miss Whitworth, the kindergarten teacher, applied a gym shoe to the seat of Ronnie Cox's grey shorts. That was in the 50s, when corporal punishment was commonplace and if you were spanked or caned at school you were likely to get another dose when your dad got home. I'm not speaking from experience, of course; I was an angel. I'm old enough to have watched the Bonanza episode where Ben Cartwright spanked a girl when it first aired. That fuelled many a fantasy, like a mini-series in my head, only the man of my dreams was Adam Cartwright, not his father. I was spanked playfully by a couple of boyfriends in my mid-teens and liked the way it made me feel. It wasn't until I was seventeen, when I was soundly spanked by an older boy, that I identified that feeling as a turn-on. Soon after that, Harry and I got together. We had met two years earlier but disliked each other on sight. Jupiter must have aligned with Mars or something later on because we fell madly in love. He was shocked when I asked him to spank me, totally repulsed by the idea. I persisted until, eventually, he forbade me from raising the subject ever again.

Fast forward 43 years to a bright January morning, the two of us entwined in a post-loving embrace. Harry eased away from me, reached into his bedside cabinet and pulled out a package that was to turn my world upside down. It contained a short, black, skating skirt and he told me, stumbling over his words, that if he ever saw me wearing it he would spank me. I was gobsmacked; that's an ugly word but it fits how I felt then. It turned out that a combination of the Fifty Shades phenomenon and Sheldon spanking Amy had opened his mind to the idea that spanking could be fun and he was willing to give it a try. But did I really want to? I'd stopped fantasising about it years ago and isn't there something, well, undignified about a sixty-something woman being upended over her husband's lap having her bottom smacked?

We tried role play the first time, naughty wife being chastised by loving husband. Harry delivered about twenty light smacks to my behind, with the ridiculous skirt flipped up round my waist, before moving me to the bed for other activities. The second time he spanked harder. I was like the cat that got the cream but Harry was concerned because I had a few light marks. That's how I found Blogland, using the Internet to find advice on how to spank without bruising. I told Harry the answer seemed to be a warm up spanking first; I didn't mention the blogs I had begun reading avidly.

I can't say Harry really enjoyed it but, once he accepted that spanking left no lasting effects, he soon gained confidence. Somewhere along the line we even acquired a paddle; leather of course, I had it on good authority that wood is no good. It's odd the way spanking can change a relationship. We had always been an affectionate couple but spanking added an extra layer of intimacy somehow and made us even closer. He learned surprisingly quickly to read me so well that he knew when I needed a spanking "just because."

Spanking was only for play, until a fun session to lift me out of a bad mood morphed into something more serious. We weren't sure what had happened but we both liked the result. That was the beginning of ttwd in our marriage.

And this is the end of my first post. Phew!

Thanks, M.

Rosie