Luckily for my backside, this was the final spanking in the series. Four spankings in eight days has been an interesting experience for me, particularly as they were all very different. The last spanking was possibly the most intense, and has since been repeated, though the circumstances were very different and I deserved every stroke! I now fervently agree with the saying
Wood is good
Leather is better
Feathers are best.
Let me explain.
We were fooling around. I happily remarked to Dan that as the spontaneous spanking he had given me a few days before had been such a success, why didn't he give me another one?
He replied that it couldn't possibly be spontaneous as I had just suggested it. But that he would be happy to relieve my tension if I wished.
I did wish.
"So go get an implement" he told me.
"I hate always being told to go get an implement. It would be so much nicer if you would get one occasionally," I told him.
I didn't think he would, but he rolled off the bed and sauntered (yes, it was definitely a saunter) over to the chest of drawers where we keep our toys.
I wasn't paying much attention, but he seemed to be taking his time making up his mind. It's not as if we have a huge arsenal hidden away in there under all my winter sweaters.
"What the heck is this?" he asked me.
I turned round, craning my neck, and froze.
"That is most definitely not an implement" I assured him. "It's the second drawer down, not the first."
"Well, I would say it's a perfect implement," he grinned, brandishing it.
"I can assure you it isn't. It's a pre-holiday skin toner."
"That what you call it, eh? I can think of a better use."
"If you don't believe me, read the label." I was beginning to get just a tad concerned.
"Come on, hurry up, over my lap. You wanted it, you are going to get it." Dan tried his best to look stern. However, when you know the man as well as I do, you realise he is at his most mischievous. Help!
I slid over his lap somewhat anxiously.
"Is this how you use it?" he asked, scrubbing away at my butt, and making a surprise detour between my legs.
"Er, yes, squeak! It's meant to get rid of all the dead skin cells that accumulate over the winter months when you're inactive. But mostly for the thighs and upper arms."
"I like the size of it" he told me. Brandish. Brandish.
(It is not very much bigger than a hairbrush approx 3 inches across the head).
I tried to shoot upright but was held firmly in position. The slap reverberated round the room like a gunshot.
"You can't!" I shrieked. "It's for my cellulite!"
"I can!" I was informed. "You don't have cellulite!"
Slap! Crack! Slap! Crack!
"Ow! Ow! Ow! Bloody hell!"
"Did you swear?"
"Well no swearing. You asked for this"
Crack! Crack! Crack!
"But not with my cellulite brush. I didn't know you were going to rifle through my knicker drawer!"
Crack! Crack! Crack!
"This is a great implement. They could have made it with me in mind!"
I didn't know whether to eat the pillow, burrow underneath it, or scream blue murder and dissolve into tears.
I opted for the latter two.
Much later, I lay on my stomach in an exhausted state. The cellulite brush lay forgotten at the end of the bed, but Dan still had a glint in his eye.
It certainly worked wonders as far as stress relief is concerned, but never again will I hide something, naively assuming Dan will never come across it.
Our bath brush hasn't had an outing for ages, thank goodness, but all of a sudden my new cellulite brush has become Dan's favourite implement.
(Just so you know, this is our bath brush next to the cellulite brush. Note the difference in size!)
The wood is thick and hard too!
If anyone would like one I can acquire one easily in the beauty department of a local department store.
(We are off on holiday for a week, at the weekend. I know one darling little piece of equipment that will not be making the journey with us!) Ha!