There is something about this empty road through the fields at the back of our house that whispers to Abel: “Spank your wife, now.”
The emptiness of the road is really open to chance. Plenty of people drive there and back along the unevenly paved track, and it’s a great quiet spot for joggers, dog walkers and riders. But not, as we have often found, at eight o’clock on a Saturday night.
We were at a drinks party at our friends’ house, and I was flagging.* We were lazily gearing up for the walk home, when Abel leaned close to my ear and said: “You’re getting your bottom smacked when we’re in the lane.” The promise gave me a pleasant chill, and sure perked me up enough to go looking for my boots and coat. I would normally feel apprehensive about this, but we’d had a few vanilla days before that, and the evening had been mostly vanilla too, so I quite fancied a reminder that I was, in fact, kinky.
There are no streetlights along the road. When we turned into it from the village green, the first few paces were still lit from behind our backs, but all the rest was darkness. The trees ahead were obscuring the lights from our village ahead, and the town that lies across the fields was curtained with mist. We walked and held hands. I was still warm from wine and anticipation, but Abel was shivering.
“I think, I need that spanking now,” I said, without adding: to warm you up, mate.
“Ah, yes,” he said. “Bare your bottom.”
“Huh? What? It’s February!” I can’t pretend I hadn’t counted on this, but foregoing the haggling part is like cheating at spanking.
He heaved a very put-upon sigh and reached under my short coat to unbutton and unzip my jeans. Rolling my eyes,* I wriggled them down together with my panties.
Abel’s hand pressed into my back, and I bent down with my hands on my knees, while he swept my coat up onto my back. His other hand cracked down onto my cooling behind; the pain was startling: bracing, like the cold of the evening. I couldn’t help dancing around a little as the smacks descended. Slightly out of breath, Abel ordered me back into position, and spanked on. I yelped, but there was a wide grin on my face.***
“Right, this is enough. You may dress,” he said, waving his hand in the air. “Ouch, this hurt!”
“No. Really? Poor you.” I pulled my jeans up again with a hiss, and gave Abel a hug and a pat on the head: “Aww.”
We walked on. He rubbed his hand, and I rubbed my bottom. We weren’t cold any more.
P.S. The next morning we had to walk back again to collect our car, and I got a few licks of a switch while watching out for joggers and riders, but that’s a different story.
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* My switch-off time is 9pm, after which I turn into a pumpkin, or some sort of vegetable, anyway; it was nearing eight.
** Which I’m sure he didn’t see: it was dark.
*** Which he also didn’t see.
Delightful, as usual!
Unrelated to this exact post, but did you know that there is a Latin word for “one who deserves a whipping”? It’s verbero.
No comments? Well I can fix that! I had the good fortune this morning to hear an interview with the author of ‘Mating in Captivity’ – a ‘must read’ – and I believe that she would wholeheartedly approve of your little dalliance on that dark country road. And I even made notes to prove it. “Sexual desire comes from the unpredictable.” It is the “space between fiction and reality”. We must make use of “mystery, imagination, novelty.” Couples need to bring back “the creative force”.
Now I wonder if those readers “mating in captivity” – like me – could use their creative force and follow the lead to spank in public places. Not all 2 million of them at once, of course. I’m not taking responsibility for a spank-a-thon!
Picking up another thread in your post, I am tempted to mention the sentence, “Slightly out of breath, Abel…spanked on.”, but that would be teasing, and I would never do that!!
Quote Rob – “I am tempted to mention the sentence, “Slightly out of breath, Abel…spanked on.”, but that would be teasing, and I would never do that!! ”
Ooooooh, you big fibber! 😉
Sarah: Are you trying to get me into trouble!!
Rob: No need, you are far too good at doing that yourself! :_)
Sarah: Giggle, giggle. What happened to the notion of sisterhood, girl power……? Seriously, don’t I get a point or two for TRYING to get into trouble??? Now if we could just get Abel down from the high road……
Awsome post! I loved it! My style of romance! You two are a really cool couple.
I myself can boast some intimacy out in a hayfield on a summer night (more than once), which included spanking, and the same in the car which was driven into another hayfield at another time. It also reminded me of stepping out (no, being chased out, really) in 0 (Celsius) temperature with no clothes on (and I don’t mean “no overcoat”), and my fully clothes husband, armed with a cane. We have some acreage and quite a few outbuildings, so we should explore those options some more, good thing the spring is coming.
Puella – my husband would love that Latin word, gotta tell him.
I’ve rethought that idea about Abel coming down from the high road. He might, in fact, like to TAKE the high road – in the form of the West Highland Way – Scotland’s first long-distance footpath. I’ve just read an article in the Travel section. There are a variety of walking tours, with each day ending at a pub. Doesn’t it sound wonderful!! There is a tour where luggage is taken from one hotel to the other, thus avoiding the carrying of a daypack. If one is inclined to being “slightly out of breath”, I would suggest this option. (LOL If this doesn’t get me into trouble nothing will!!!)