The mornings are getting darker. This weekend the clocks go back for the winter, in England. So that means that tomorrow morning we get "an extra hour" in bed. Sadly we will soon get used to it and will lose the benefit. I also hate the fact that the nights will seem so much longer.
This morning I got up quite early for a Friday. It was far too cold to dash downstairs without a robe. I stamped my feet whilst waiting for the kettle to boil. I noticed that Dan had bought in a supply of "luxury drinking chocolate" in readiness for the evenings ahead.
It's strange how we both view drinking chocolate with on-coming colder weather.
I took Dan a "Gingernut" biscuit with his tea. Gingernuts are his favourite "everyday" biscuit. They are probably the only biscuits you can "dunk" in boiling hot drinks, that don't fall apart; they hold their shape beautifully. (Nothing better than dunking biscuits!)
I also dropped a heap of large envelopes containing cards on the bed between us, and started to sing, sotto voce, an old song by the Beatles before sidling up to Dan and rubbing his right foot with my left.
Dan finished his tea and put the mug down carefully on his bedside table, before pulling me over his lap. I sooooo love skin to skin spankings. They are the best, but I was soon sent to fetch the Little Nipper. I did protest at first that everyone else's husbands got the implements themselves, but Dan immediately lifted his eyebrows at me.
"I like the Nipper. My arm doesn't get tired using it and I like the patterns I can make with it."
I resettled myself and he began with a warm up that didn't seem nearly long enough.
"Are we counting yet?" I enquired after he had planted at least eleven snappy swats on my chilly and tender flesh.
"No, you can start now," he replied.
"One, two, three, four...."
"....twenty three, twenty four, twenty five...."
"....Ow! Ow! Ow!....thirty seven, Ow! thirty eight, Ow! thirty nine..."
"Fifty...Dan, oh God, Dan!, Ow! fifty one...."
"Stop, stop, stop. I can't, ouch! stop! Ow!"
"Too high, too high!"
"And one to grow on." Splat!
"Stupid custom! You really thought I would want a birthday spanking?!"
"Happy Birthday, Dan," I tell him.
I really believe I may have taken submission to a new and higher level. After all, how many wives take their husbands birthday spankings for them?
"When it comes to a spanking in this house, you are going to be the only recipient," I am told in no uncertain terms.